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bookshelf-in-progress · 3 years

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Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of “The Frog Prince”

If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.

The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of how humans look. I can take them in small doses, but in groups? My skin was crawling. I powered through the crowd as quickly as possible and tried not to let any of them touch me.

I sped several blocks away from the train station before I realized I was nowhere near my hotel. The buildings in this neighborhood were old, made of crumbling stone bricks that had been stacked by physical labor rather than printed by machine. Half the windows were made of colored glass, and half of those were broken. Garbage rustled in the gutters, holes marred the concrete sidewalks, and all the signs were written in an unfamiliar alphabet. I was, somehow, lost in a tephan neighborhood. And not a nice one.

I turned in circles, trying to figure out which way I’d come. Tephans watched me from storefronts and doorsteps and alleyways, and I kept walking to prevent them from figuring out just how lost I was. I was Priscilla Overton, wife of a Coalition finance minister, pillar of this planet’s elite—and human. Some groups violently opposed human rule, and tephan attacks against humans were on the rise. Who knew what these savages would do if they knew how helpless I was?

I rushed through narrow, dark streets until I reached a wider thoroughfare--a residential area with slightly less grimy apartment buildings. Still not a nice neighborhood, but not a place where I suspected otherworldly rats would tear the flesh from my bones or criminals would murder me for my technology.

I pulled my datapad out of my purse to look for directions. Dead.

I unfolded my wristcomm and tried to call for help. No signal.

I put my fist to my mouth to stifle a frustrated scream. Why did these things happen to me?

I stormed further down the street, cursing Roger for ever bringing us to this planet. We’d been happy on Earth. Comfortable. Respected. With no chance of wandering into streets where aliens stared at you with their off-kilter eyes. The rewards we got for helping to civilize this backward planet weren’t nearly enough to make up for this torture.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a long, low yellow-brick building with dozens of small windows. The window boxes had flowers in them—fist-sized bundles of tiny red and gold petals. Not something you’d find on Earth, but...nice. Nice enough to pull me down from my fury and make me think I could give my wristcomm another try.

I powered down the wristcomm and stood next to a pink metal lamp post (Arateph has strange color trends) while I waited for it to restart. A metal grate was below my feet. These primitives still used storm drains! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the road clearly wasn’t made of Draincrete, but it was still jarring. Living on Arateph was a strange combination of living on another world and living in the backward past.

My wristcomm buzzed, still powering up. I was ready to explode with anxiety. There were tephans straggling by—not many of them, but too many and too poorly dressed for my taste. To calm myself, I played with my wedding ring—a gold band with a spray of amethysts and pearls. The ring had been in Roger’s family for centuries. Some days, it felt like my last tie to a familiar world.

I kept my life on Arateph as Earth-like as possible, but it could never be the same as living on Earth. Alien things always lingered at the edges. Trees that turned purple in autumn instead of familiar orange. Toothy red-and-purple-feathered birds that rooted through the trash and woke me with their awful screeching. And around every corner, people who looked like grotesque parodies of my own kind. An entire world conspiring to make me constantly aware of how far I was from home.

My sisters were going about their own lives on Earth, and the few times we could afford appointments at synced comms stations, we found little to talk about--we literally came from different worlds. If Roger and I ever had children--doubtful but possible at our age--our families would only know them as data-images.

This was why I hated being alone on this wretched planet. Gave me far too much time to think about these things.

My wristcomm chimed—finally awake. I unfolded the screen and attempted to bring up my list of contact codes. I found Roger’s; he’d be in the middle of a meeting, but I couldn’t help that. I pressed the code and waited.

A discordant note sounded. No signal. I threw down my hand in frustration. My ring flew down with it. The golden band slipped off my finger, tumbled toward the ground, bounced off the edges of the grate, and fell into the drain.

I gasped in horror and fell to my knees. It couldn’t be, not now.

The ring sparkled in the sunlight, caught on a lip where the structure of the drain met the tube of the deeper pipe. I put my purse on the ground and slid my arm through the grate, but my arm got stuck just above the elbow. The ring was still a foot beyond my reach.

I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After the day I’d had—lost among tephans, fighting faulty technology, no hope of help from people who looked like me—this was the last straw. This planet had taken me from my home, my family, my friends, everything familiar, and now it was taking my one reminder of it all. Anybody would have cried.

Long before I felt any relief, a harsh voice broke through my sobs. “Are you finished yet?”

I looked up, furious at whoever was rude enough to interrupt my misery.

A tephan girl sat in the stairwell of the long yellow-brick building next to the gutter. I yelped and reeled back, tears still flowing. Have you ever seen a tephan child? They’re ten times worse than the adults; all their slightly-wrong features stretched even further out of shape, their eyes big and bulging in their heads. This girl was gangly. Her skinny limbs dangled out of baggy green clothes, and a wild brown bush of curls frizzed around her face and over her eyes. By human standards, I’d have judged her to be about twelve years old (though I have no idea if these creatures age like humans). By any race’s standards, she looked positively feral.

I couldn’t believe the creature had spoken to me. “Did you say something?” I asked.

She held up a thick book, bound human-style but with blocky tephan letters on the cover. “Can you cry somewhere else? I’m trying to read.”

She spoke Anglese with only a lightly slurring tephan accent. Somehow, this child spoke the Coalition’s language better than most of the tephan diplomats at Roger’s interminable meetings.

In my shock, I blurted, “How do you know Anglese?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I go to school. With humans and everything.”

Roger hadn’t been in favor of the integration policy, but it apparently had some benefits. Or would have, had I any interest in talking to the child. Before I could decide if I wanted to reply, I glimpsed the ring again and burst into another involuntary round of tears.

The girl closed her book with a sigh. “What are you crying about anyway?”

I couldn’t tell her that I was crying because of her terrible, technologically backward planet and all its inhabitants, but I had to talk to someone and it was so good to hear human words, even from an alien’s throat. I pointed to the drain. “My ring,” I gasped. “It fell...”

She picked up her book, scrambled down the stairs, and peered in the drain. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re making that much noise over that?”

I drew back my shoulders and snapped, “It’s an irreplaceable heirloom! Centuries of human history! You can’t get those stones anywhere but Earth!”

“Then you should have been more careful with it.”

That made me want to scream, but before I could gather enough breath, the child gathered the book to her chest and turned away. “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

As the girl sat on the building’s stone stairs, the wind tore a scrap of paper out of her book and sent it fluttering. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. My gaze fell on the girl’s arms—long, lanky things that were thinner than human arms. With four-fingered hands that could easily slip between the bars of the grate.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Little tephan girl! What’s your name?”

The girl cast me a dark, distrustful expression, but she finally intoned, “Tanza.”

Not bad, as far as tephan names went. I could pronounce this one. “Tanza,” I said, “Do you think you could reach it?”

The girl shifted her hand behind her back, her face becoming a hard mask. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to her, rambling in my excitement. “Your arms are thinner than mine. Just as long. You could probably reach...”

Her brow furrowed. “You want me to dig in a sewer?”

“Not a sewer,” I said. “A storm drain.”

“Still dirty.” She looked at the storm drain with narrowed eyes.“If I get it for you, will you go away?”

I wanted nothing more. “Immediately.”

"What'll you pay me for it?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. "What? Who said I'd pay you?"

The child pointed one long finger at the storm drain. “If I get dirty digging in there, it’ll be my tenth laundry demerit and I don’t get supper. I’m not doing it for nothing!”

The building behind her held one of the few signs I’d seen with Anglese translations beneath the tephan words: Alogath Charity Home for Unwanted Children. I could see why this child was unwanted.

“I don’t carry cash,” I told her.

“Do you have a credit stick?”

I put a protective arm over my purse. “It’ll be deactivated the moment you touch it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the whole stick. Just buy me something with it.”

A truck—a noisy, clanking tephan thing that actually rolled on the ground—roared past us. The glimmer on the ring shifted closer to the drain pipe. If I didn’t act fast…

“What do you want?” I asked her.

“A lot of things.” Her eyes went blank as she stared at imaginings only she could see. Finally, she declared, “A meal at the High Palace.”

She really said that! As if it were a reasonable request! I don’t know how this urchin even knew about human restaurants, much less the finest of fine dining establishments.

“That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I lose a meal, you buy me a replacement. That’s fair.”

“Do you know how much a High Palace meal costs?”

“A lot less than it’ll cost you to replace that ring.”

I growled in frustration. The child had me backed into a corner and she knew it. I shuddered at the thought of taking this…thing into the sparkling society of a High Palace dining room.

I pointed a fierce finger at the child. “Only if you give me the ring immediately. Understand? There’s not a place on the planet a creature like you could sell it without suspicion.”

“I don’t want your ring. I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. And you’ll live up to yours, or that ring’s staying where it is.”

Of course I couldn’t really take her to the High Palace, but one more street-rattling truck could take the ring forever out of anyone’s reach. I’d have agreed if she’d asked for a hovercar.

“Fine!” I shouted. “I’ll buy you the meal. Just save my ring!”

The child placed her book on a clean patch of sidewalk and returned to the edge of the street. I snatched up my purse and stepped aside while the girl laid face down in the gutter. She slid her arm through the grate, all the way up to the shoulder. I held my breath for an eternal moment and didn’t release it until the girl emerged with a ring of gold and amethyst in her hands.

The ring sparkled merrily at me, grimy but whole. I snatched it from Tanza's hands and tucked it into an inner pocket of my gray blazer. I wouldn’t wear it again without resizing it—and not until I was in a neighborhood where I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen from my finger.

The child picked up her book and looked at me expectantly. Demandingly.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a complete stranger. I’d made the promise under duress. Not a court in the universe would hold me to it. What right did a tephan child have to make such ridiculous demands of a woman of my stature?

“Thank you,” I said. “You did a very good thing.” Then I sped down the street.

The creature was right at my heels. “The High Palace is the other way.”

I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. I walked faster.

She yanked at my arm. “You promised me a meal!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get you into the High Palace.”

“A human lady dressed like you? You could get me in if you wanted to.”

I yanked my arm away from her. “What a pity I don’t want to.”

She gave a feral yowl. I started sprinting—or as near as I could manage in the heels I was wearing. The girl kept pace with me. I was a foot taller than her; why couldn’t I outrun her? Could I lose her in her own streets when I was lost myself?

Just when I thought I’d never be able to escape, I rounded a corner and saw the green-and-silver uniform of a Coalition policeman. My heart soared as I raced toward him. Help, protection, guidance, all only a few steps away. Something wonderfully human in this alien world.

“Officer!” I shouted to his retreating back. “Please, I need help!”

The officer stopped and raised a hand. A four-fingered hand. When he turned around, his face had the skewed proportions of a tephan face.

I nearly screamed. I’d stumbled into a nightmare.

The officer said, with the crisp diction of a tephan overcompensating for an accent, “Have you a problem, morik—madam?”

I’d heard that a few tephans had been admitted into the police forces, but I’d never thought I’d meet one. This tephan was young. Wiry and blond. Almost insignificant-looking if it weren’t for the uniform and the stolen sense of authority. Would he help a human?

Tephan or not, he had an obligation to assist the public. “Officer,” I gasped. “I need directions to the nearest train station. I’m trying to get home and this child is harassing me.”

The girl stormed up to him and shrieked, “She’s a liar!”

She shouted a stream of gibberish, and it wasn’t until the officer responded with similar sounds that I realized they were speaking the tephan language. Flowing, musical vowels were interrupted by harsh consonants, like rocks in a river. The sounds sent chills down my spine that only grew fiercer as the officer’s expression grew darker.

When the girl finished, the officer looked at me, not like an innocent victim needing help, but like a criminal who needed hauling to one of their barbaric tephan jails. “You have wronged this girl.”

I lifted my chin. “She’s lying! I’ve done nothing to her!”

“She claims she rescued your ring in exchange for a meal at the High Palace, and you are attempting to break your word.”

“I owe her nothing!”

“Did you promise her a meal?”

I threw out my hands in frustration. “It’s not like we had a contract or anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your promise means nothing without a legal document?”

“She had no right to hold me to a promise. I was desperate!”

He put a brotherly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And she was kind enough to help you.”

I scoffed. “For a heavy price.”

The child shouted, “It’s one meal!”

The officer examined my face carefully. “You are Priscilla Overton, are you not? The wife of the finance minister?”

My jaw dropped. I’m prominent enough in human circles, but I’d never dared to consider that my face was known among tephans. It terrified me, but I knew it could be my ticket out of this. “I am, and when my husband finds out about how I’ve been treated—”

“Your husband is not a popular man. Not among tephans.”

I had never cared about Roger's reputation among the tephans. These primitives didn’t know what was best for their planet. But that wasn’t something I could say when I was alone in a strange neighborhood with two of them.

The officer continued, “It will not help his reputation if his wife is known as a promise-breaker.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

He leaned toward me and said in low tones, “I am helping you.” He gestured to the street around us. “Do you think I’m the only one who heard the girl’s story?”

I shuddered to see a handful of tephans staring at us from among the crumbling buildings.

The officer said, “The Coalition doesn’t care much for tephan opinion, but if there is enough outcry against one man, even a human representative can be released from his job.”

At first, the thought lifted my spirits. Sent home! To Earth! It was what I’d wanted from the moment we’d stepped foot on this planet. But sent home in disgrace? Roger would have no future in government after such a public failure. It would mean everything we suffered here would be for nothing.

I asked the officer, “You really think they’d protest? Just because I didn’t bow to a child’s ridiculous demands?”

“If a person can’t keep a promise made to a child, how can anything they say be trusted?” His tephan gaze raked over me, like he was dissecting my inner thoughts. “Your people may have different ideas, but tephans still value virtue.”

How dare he—this puffed-up primitive in a human position of power—accuse humanity of being inferior?

My opinion didn’t matter. These creatures thought it a matter of morality that I feed this ragged brat finer cuisine than their planet had ever produced, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Now it seems ridiculous to think that those tephans could ruin us, but in that moment, alone in those unfamiliar streets, seeing how these two strange aliens teamed up against me, I could believe their kind capable of anything.

I looked down at the child. Her big eyes. Her frizzy curls. Her long limbs clutching the book to her chest. The grimy, bog-green clothes that fell short of the wrists and ankles. The smug smirk of a spoiled child who knew she was about to get her way. I had never loathed anyone more in my life.

“Do you have a name?” I asked her. “I’ll need a full name for the restaurant register.”

“I told you,” she said, as though she’d expected me to remember. “It’s Tanza.”

“What’s the rest of your name?” Most tephans I’d met had at least three or four names and were obnoxiously eager to explain them.

The girl's face darkened like I’d offended her. “Just Tanza.”

The officer looked at her with new pity, and even I understood why. You know how important names are to tephans. One name was a badge of dishonor--forever marking her as a child who’d never been claimed by any family, who’d never been given anything beyond the minimum necessary label. Tanza would have felt the shame of that, and I wasn’t quite so surprised that she’d turned into such an irritating little brat.

But I had no room for pity. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

She tugged at the cuffs, trying to stretch them over her arms. “Just more green. And all in the wash. Laundry demerits."

The officer said, "It'll do." He knelt in front of the girl, then looked at me and held out a hand. "I'll bet a fine lady like you carries all kinds of cleaning tools."

I sighed and handed him the nanocleanser from my purse. I showed him the power button, then he waved the metal wand over the stains on Tanza’s clothes. After a few seconds, the stains evaporated and the dirt from the gutter fell away as dry sand.

“Good as new,” the officer said, while Tanza gaped at her freshly-cleaned clothes. These primitives were astounded by the simplest things.

The child brushed through her wild curls with her fingers, swept them back over her shoulders, then stood with her hands at her side and feet apart, as if presenting herself for inspection.

I sighed. “I guess it’s as good as we’ll get. Let’s get this over with.”

Tanza tucked her book beneath her arm and her eyes sparkled with victory.

I looked balefully at the tome. “The book’s coming with?”

“Well, I can’t leave it here.”

I considered insisting that she take it back to the home, but I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Bring the book.”

I was seriously planning on entering the dining room of the High Palace with an alien who thought the proper attire included a set of green work clothes and a giant book. I had gone insane.

The officer stepped aside and gestured for both of us to walk past him. “I’ll escort you there.”

And there went my last hope of escape.

The officer escorted us through winding streets, side alleys and dried up canals until we finally crossed a bridge into a civilized portion of the city with human-designed buildings. One sprawling building of white stone-print bore a black sign with elegant script that proclaimed it The High Palace.

As we approached the building, Tanza suddenly skittered across my path. I almost tripped over her feet.

I glared at her as she fell into step on my right side. “What are you doing?”

She glanced warily to the street corner. “Kids from school.”

I glanced back and saw a pre-teen human boy with short black hair and immaculate clothing. He leaned against the corner of a building while he spoke with a handful of human friends. Well-groomed, friendly, human—why couldn’t that child have rescued my ring? I’d have been glad to take him as a guest to the High Palace.

As I engaged in fruitless wishes, the human children disappeared, and I arrived with my tephan escorts at the entrance doors of the High Palace. Wide glass windows showed a sparkling three-dimensional display of Old Paris in springtime. Tanza studied the images of bakeries and floral shops and fluttering Earth songbirds, as if attempting to dissect the technology. The few people passing by looked askance at the tephan pair with me.

Tanza asked, “Are we going in?”

I looked back at the officer. He just smiled at me and waved us toward the door.

I took a deep breath, put a hand behind the girl’s shoulders and pushed her inside.

The interior was a vision of white and cream: pale artwork on the walls, a glass fountain trickling crystal-clear water, rugs in intricate shades of vanilla, beige and ivory upon white marble floors.

The street sounds disappeared when the door closed behind us. No foot traffic, no rumbling vehicles, no screeching of alien animals. Just the hush of quiet voices, the gentle strings of a European symphony and the trickle of the fountain. It was like we'd stepped into a different world. My world. Except for the alien next to me.

The host standing guard at the dining room entrance stared at Tanza, then looked at me with the horrified compassion of someone trying to tell you there’s a wasp on your shoulder. “Madam, are you aware…?”

The only way to get through this with any dignity was to brazen my way through it. “I’d like a table, please. Two seats. For Priscilla Overton and guest.”

I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Your guest? You mean she—?”

“Is my guest. Is that a problem?”

He stared as if incredulous that I didn’t know the problem. I didn’t even blink.

Finally, he put a stylus to his datapad. “Does this guest have a name?”

The girl stood as straight and dignified as I did. “Tanza.”

He poised his stylus over the datapad. “Anythin—”

“Just Tanza.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he set his stylus aside. “Two seats for Priscilla Overton and…Tanza.”

The host led us into a blindingly beautiful dining room. A full wall of windows overlooked a river that glittered in the afternoon sun. The other walls were meshed with holonet that made the room look like a small nook in a formal European garden, with the tables and chairs surrounded by roses, tulips, lilies, and a thousand other flowers whose names I’d forgotten in my years away from Earth. Real potted plants scattered among the tables added to the reality of the image and the string quartet played some of the finest music from Earth's history. The room was a bastion of civilization in this barbaric world. A taste of home. It was more filling than any food could be.

The host led us to windowside tables with an excellent view of the river. My heart lifted. Prime seating—a sign of my place on this planet, which not even a tephan could take away. And it was flanked by two potted gardenia plants that would screen my guest from the handful of other diners.

I took the right-hand seat and motioned for Tanza to take the chair that sat closest to the shrub. Its branches brushed her as she sat down.

The host left us as a waiter handed us our menus. As Tanza sat down, she reached toward the branch above her head, plucked a single white gardenia blossom, shoved it in her mouth, and began to chew.

I froze in terror, then glanced at the waiter. Had he noticed?

If he had, he’d been well trained. He didn’t even stumble in his recitation of the day’s lunch specials.

“Would you like a few minutes to make a selection?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving him away before my guest could decide to take another nibble of the greenery.

He bowed and vanished toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Tanza spit the flower into a gold-embroidered napkin and wiped her tongue on the far corner. While her mouth contorted in the most disturbing shape, those tephan eyes glared at me. “That’s not a spiceblossom bush.”

“No,” I said, my tone stretched with scorn. “It’s a gardenia. And the blossoms aren’t for eating.”

She wiped her tongue on another corner of the napkin. “Why do they put flowers by the table if you’re not supposed to eat them?”

“For decoration,” I hissed. “And if you can’t behave in a civilized manner, we’ll leave this restaurant, promise or no promise.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know all the fancy human rules of eating.”

Her sarcasm made my blood boil—until I saw her blush. She was prickly, yes, but unless I was very much mistaken, she was embarrassed. Now she was lost in an alien world, and I’d experienced that sensation too recently not to feel a little sorry for her.

But only a little. She had demanded this, after all, at great expense to me. Let her suffer the consequences.

“Rule one,” I said. “Don’t put anything in your mouth unless I tell you to.” I tugged her napkin out of her four-fingered hands before she could run it across her tongue again. “That includes napkins.”

With the napkin gone, Tanza's tongue was on full display in front of her chin as she kept the taste as far out of her mouth as possible. I don’t know if you know this, but tephan tongues can stretch further and thinner than human tongues, and this child made hers come almost to a point. I couldn’t look at that for the entire meal, but I couldn’t have the child destroying all the table linens either.

I waved over a waiter carrying a carafe of water, and I pointed him to our empty glasses. He leaned over our table and filled my glass almost to the brim. Then he turned and saw my guest—her pale skin, green clothes, those big eyes and that long, thin tephan tongue. He yelped, recoiled, dropped the carafe, and knocked over my glass. Water flooded the table and spilled onto my lap.

The child yelped, shouted something in her alien language and scrambled to pull her book out of the path of the water. An old man at the next table dropped his fork and stared at her. Fortunately, the few other diners in the room were too far away to see.

I hushed the child and found myself in the strange position of apologizing to the waiter while I was the one standing drenched. I didn’t know what reznat meant, but I was sure it wasn’t a nice thing for a tephan to say to her waiter.

“Could we...” I asked as I ran the nanocleanser over my clothes, “have another table?”

“C...certainly, madam,” he said, looking at Tanza as if waiting for her to pounce. I half-expected it myself, from the fierce way she curled around that book.

Once my clothes were dry, the waiter brought us to an empty table nearer the center of the room. No window view. No shielding plants. But it was further from the kitchen—where I was certain all the servers would be gossiping about us as soon as this klutz left us.

Once we were settled with new water glasses and dry menus, the server scurried away as if the girl were a poison frog. Tanza muttered alien words while she brushed water from the edges of her book, and gulped water until she got the taste of the flower out of her mouth. Then she glared at me and reverted back to Anglese. “He almost wrecked my book.”

After watching her lug that book around for an hour, my curiosity—and frustration—were mounting. “What’s that book about, anyway? And why are you willing to curse out waiters over it?”

“It’s a biography of Queen Marastel.” She set the book deliberately on the table, and looked around the room as if daring waiters to spill more water on it. “And it’s mine. I finally have a book of my own, and I don’t want it wrecked by an idiot with a water pitcher.”

The book was thick. What I’d seen of the print was small. It was not a children’s history book. I hadn’t expected this grimy alien child to be the biography type. Was there a developmental disorder that gave children irrational attachments to academic texts?

“Who is Queen Marastel?” I asked.

Tanza showed me the book’s cover. It had a picture of a young tephan woman—in her mid-twenties, to my human eyes—with a pale, narrow face, and deep eyes. The woman's dark hair was covered with an elaborate system of veils, and she wore a dress covered in so many white jewels and so much gray and white beadwork that I almost couldn’t see the ivory fabric underneath.

“Her,” Tanza said. “The last queen of Arateph.”

“Arateph had queens?” I asked in surprise. They hadn’t had queens when humanity had found them. It must have been part of their history.

I’d never thought of this planet as having a history. If I’d considered it at all, I suppose I’d assumed that they’d been muddling along the way we’d found them for the last few centuries, waiting for us to show up and drag them into modern civilization.

Tanza said, “The planet was ruled by a monarchy until about forty years before the Coalition showed up.”

“The whole planet?”

Tanza sat straighter and her diction became crisper—she looked like a little lecturer at one of those cultural symposiums that Roger and I always had to make appearances at. “After Kepha joined the other eleven kingdoms, the entire planet was united under the monarchy for three hundred and fifty-eight years.”

Not just a monarchy, but a planet-spanning monarchy. Such a thing hadn’t happened in all of human civilization, and these people had accomplished it when they were still on their home planet, believing themselves alone in the universe. I hadn’t thought such an archaic form of government could rule an entire continent without overextending itself, yet it had ruled their world for centuries. For the first time, I found myself wanting to learn something from the tephan people. How had such a government come about? How had they managed it?

Why did the woman on the cover look so sad?

I didn’t ask any of these questions because just then, a waiter appeared—not the water-spilling one, thank goodness. (I didn’t trust my guest to look at that one without throwing something at him.) This one was older, with crisp lines in his clothes and face. He looked like he could have won a staring contest with a statue—perfect unshakable professionalism.

“Are you ready to order, Madam Overton?” He didn’t even look at my guest.

Tanza’s eyes brightened as she picked up the menu, flipping through the pages to examine the options.

I asked her, “What you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had human food.”

My jaw fell. “You wanted to come here and you didn’t even know what you wanted to eat?”

She gave me a withering stare, as though I was the stupid one. “I wanted to try it.” She closed the menu. “Besides, you said I can only eat what you tell me to eat. So what am I allowed to eat, Priscilla?”

I picked up the menu and realized with horror that I didn’t know the answer. What could tephans eat? Were there foods that were delicacies to us and poison to them?

I asked the waiter, “Do you have any suggestions?” I doubted these people served many tephans, but food was their area of expertise, and we were on Arateph.

The waiter looked at Tanza for the first time. “I’ve heard that people of her...race...are rather fond of the amphibian.” He pointed to an entry on my appetizer list. “The frog legs are popular. And a specialty of the chef.”

I hadn’t eaten frog in years. But if I could choke it down for Roger’s political dinners, I could manage it to satisfy a petulant tephan child. “We’ll have that.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?”

I didn’t want to give Tanza any more chances to upset the wait staff. “No. Just get us our food as soon as possible.”

As the waiter walked away with our menus, an afternoon crowd filled the dining room; within a few minutes, we went from being nearly alone to being surrounded by other diners. I could tell by the sideways glances that most of them noticed my tephan guest. And I could tell that Tanza noticed them. She sat silently at first, growing more and more tense as we all tried to ignore each other, but when a bald man at the next table stared at her for several long moments, she finally snapped.

“Can you stop it?” she barked at him. “You’re giving me the shivers.” The man, red-faced, studied his menu as if his life depended on it.

Tanza turned back to the table, muttering, “You humans look so creepy when you stare.”

I was too stunned to scold her. I’d never considered that the distaste for the other race’s looks went both ways. If she’d lived her life in a mostly-tephan neighborhood, a human face would look just as slightly wrong to her as a tephan face did to me. It sounds strange, but the idea that she found us ugly made me like her more. It certainly made her more relatable.

But I couldn’t have her making a spectacle. “Please, don’t bother the other diners.”

She seemed ready to protest, but I spoke before she could argue. “That woman in your book. You said she was the last queen of Arateph. What happened?”

Her eyes lit up, rude diners forgotten, as she flipped open the book. “Revolution. The People’s House took over and had her and the king executed.”

I shivered. “So violent. And so young to die.”

Tanza gave me a confused look, then glanced at the cover and understood. “Oh, that’s from her first years as queen. She was almost seventy when she died.”

I pictured the woman on the cover with hair turned gray, but the same dark, sad eyes, facing an angry mob as they led her to the scaffold or the firing squad or however these people killed their leaders. It was brutal, but humanity had often been equally brutal, so I couldn’t dismiss it as their backward alien culture.

Tanza flipped through the pages. “They say she was weak and self-absorbed, but this book gives her more depth.” She looked at a page near the cover. “Verai’s a good scholar. Uses lots of primary sources. Very readable.”

Now that her interest was unleashed, Tanza talked on and on, taking me through an alien history, the tale of a queen beset by tragedy upon tragedy as she helped her husband rule a crumbling planet and struggled to produce an heir. All the scholars at those Coalition events were nowhere near as enthralling as this alien child sharing her favorite book.

As fascinating as the story was, I was even more entranced by the pictures—dozens were embedded through the text. Tanza condescended to turn the book around so I could see. It was grandeur like I’d never seen, buildings in alien colors and shapes and patterns, but bringing to mind the grandest palaces in human history, from Versailles to the Forbidden City to the red spires of the North Martian Emperor's summer home. The people in the pictures wore elaborate, brightly-colored clothes, and feasted upon vast tables full of unfamiliar food—including blossoms from the potted trees next to the tables. No primitive civilization could have created such a culture. No wonder this alien urchin was enthralled, and no wonder she’d seized the chance to attend the closest modern equivalent to such feasts that she knew of.

The return of the stone-faced waiter snapped me back to reality. He planted himself next to the table, passing blank-faced judgement by how thoroughly he didn’t look at the book or the way we bent over it. Face burning, I sat back in my chair and felt ashamed to be caught hanging upon an alien’s story like a dim-witted child.

Tanza swept the book under the table and sat primly as the waiters placed the food in front of us. First a gold charger, then the crystal plates bearing the food—ten frog legs, crisply fried in butter and lemon, dotted with parsley and surrounded by a handful of greens.

Half a dozen nearby heads surreptitiously craned in our direction.

The waiters set a similar platter in front of me, and after I’d arranged my napkin on my lap, I thanked the waiter, picked up the silverware, and began to cut the meat.

Tanza watched me carefully as the waiters left. She picked up her silverware, examined it closely—did tephans even have silverware?—and tried to imitate me, but when she touched the food, the prim little professor became the feral street child again. She still used the silverware, but that was her only concession to decency as she gobbled her foot, downing the frog legs almost whole. The butter sauce ringed her mouth and splattered on her clothing. She made the most inhuman snorting noises as she swallowed.

Now everyone was staring—the red-faced man at the next table, his three dining companions, the ten people sitting at the other nearby tables, the waiters who'd halted on their way to the kitchen. People murmured to their companions. Diners flagged down waiters and asked discreetly if there was something that could be done.

My face burned in embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the girl. With all these eyes watching me—watching me, Priscilla Overton, entertaining an animal at the finest restaurant in Roshen—I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to sink into the carpet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to run from the restaurant, flee from this planet, and return to comfortable, civilized Earth. But mortification left me paralyzed. I just sat and did nothing as Tanza devoured her food and licked every last drop of sauce from the plate.

Finally, she dropped her plate back on the charger and leaned back with satisfaction. Her big tephan eyes were bright. “That was amazing.” She licked all eight of her fingers, so lost in the euphoria of her food that she was unaware of the horrified crowd surrounding us. She looked at my plate with confusion. “You’ve barely touched yours.”

I let my fork drop to the tablecloth. “I’m not very hungry.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I have it?”

“No.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You can’t waste food. At least try to eat it.”

After that display, I’d never be able to stomach another frog leg. “It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then I’ll eat it.” Before I could react, she leaned across the table, speared a frog leg with her fork, and was chewing it before she settled back in her chair.

I wanted to scream. I could have tried to correct her, but I had no idea where to begin, and by now, it was far too late.

The stone-faced waiter leaned over my shoulder. He was pale and his eyes were wide—apparently there were some things that could rattle him. “Madam, if you cannot eat your food here, we can send it home with you.”

He was offering me a doggy bag. The finest restaurant in the city, which usually recoiled in horror from such vulgar practices, was so desperate for me to leave that the staff were sending me home with leftovers. I was, in effect, being kicked out.

I didn’t even care. “Yes, thank you.”

In seconds, another waiter appeared, carrying a green box that had probably held some kind of produce in the kitchen, repurposed into this restaurant’s first take-home container. I sat in silence as they poured the frog legs into the container, then I handed them my credit stick, and when I examined the payment screen of their datapad, I added on a gratuity that cost twice as much as the food did. Perhaps with a tip like that, they’d let me show my face here again. At the moment, I doubted I’d ever want to.

I gathered my purse and stood. That creature gathered her ridiculous book and followed me, smiling, out of the dining room.

When we reached the lobby, I thrust the box into the child's hands. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

The girl's eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Are you sure? It’s really good.”

“I think it appeals more to tephan tastes.”

She thanked me as though I’d given her all the jewels that the queen on her book was wearing, then tucked the box under one arm and the book under the other.

I put a hand behind her shoulders and pushed her out the door. When we emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk, all my frustration exploded.

“There!” I snapped, giving her one last push beyond the awning of the restaurant. “You’ve had your meal. Take your food and go!”

She stumbled forward, then stared at me in bewilderment. “What set you off?”

My laugh was tinged with hysteria. “What set me off? Maybe I’m just a little peeved at being disgraced in front of some of the richest people in the city by a tephan who gobbles her food like an animal.”

She stood with her mouth open, struck speechless. Those big green eyes showed surprisingly human-looking hurt. “Was it that bad? I know I’m not fancy, but...”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice all those people staring.”

The creature turned red. She stammered, “I thought it was because I’m tephan. You told me not to bother them.”

I couldn’t bear to have that creature looking up at me with those big, sad eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Maybe in a few years they’ll let me dine there again.” I pushed her steadily but firmly away from the restaurant. “I have more than paid you in full. Thank you for saving my ring. Goodbye.”

Still looking baffled, the girl trudged away from the restaurant. I walked in the other direction.

My anger started fading the moment the child was out of my line of sight. Each step away from the restaurant felt like a step back into a normal world. There were humans around me. I could read the signs. I even knew how to find my way to the train station. I’d be back at the hotel within the hour and I could pretend that this whole horrible afternoon had been a bad dream.

Light footsteps skittered behind me. A green-clad tephan child with a book and a box appeared to my left.

I yelped and reeled back. “What are you—?”

Tanza fell into step beside me. “I’m really very sorry for embarrassing you. I need to make it up to you. Let me show you the way to the train station—”

My previous anger felt like a candle flame compared to the volcano that those words set off within me. “Leave me alone!” I towered over her in my fury. “I gave you your meal! I fulfilled the promise! Now leave!” I stormed away, but at the first sound of footsteps behind me, I whirled around. “I swear, if you take another step toward me, I will see you arrested!”

The child’s face hardened into the petulant mask that I recognized from my first sight of her from the gutter. “Sorry for helping.”

“Helping,” I mocked. “Your help comes at too high a price.” I gave a short, cynical laugh. “I see through your plan. You think you can trail after me demanding handouts all day. Well, I have had enough.” I secured my purse over my shoulder like I was holstering a weapon. “Get out of here!”

Face white and lips tight with anger, Tanza bowed her head and turned away. I strode away in triumph.

An old man looked at me sideways, shaking his head. I made it to the end of the block before the guilt hit me. The old man had reason to disapprove. Tanza had made an offer of help, and I’d responded by screaming at her in a public street. Perhaps she had felt remorse. As embarrassing as it had been to be seen with a girl who ate like an animal, how much worse would it feel to be the one who’d done it? I thought of those pictures in that book of hers. Would I have fared any better at a tephan feast?

I turned around. “Tanza, wait—“

“Hey, Tanza!”

The voice, coming from the other end of the block, was louder, harsher, and younger than mine. A crowd of boys stampeded down the sidewalk—all humans, about twelve years old, and led by a boy with slick black hair and gray and white clothes in the latest crisply-cut fashions. The children Tanza had noticed when we’d first arrived at the restaurant.

Tanza—standing near where I’d left her—tried to move away from them, but hesitated when she saw me standing at the other end of the block. In seconds, the boys had her surrounded.

The ringleader prodded her shoulder. “Escaped from your cage, Tanza? What are you doing among civilized people?”

His yellow-haired friend poked at the box of frog legs. “Looks like she’s looting houses.”

Tanza yanked the box away. “I’m not a thief!”

The ringleader tugged at the book under her other arm. “That’s a big book. Still playing at being smart, small-brain?”

Tanza pulled it back. “Don’t touch that!”

One boy pried up her arm while two others slid the book away from her. “Ooh, it’s a small-brain book!” the ringleader said in mock delight. He flipped through the pages with dirt-stained fingers. “It’s even written in their pretend letters.”

Tanza snarled, “Give that back!”

He slammed it shut and pulled it toward his chest. “Why? Scared it’s too complicated for me?”

“It’s mine!”

He looked at it thoughtfully. “Is it, though? I don’t think a charity case like you can afford a big book like this.”

“It’s mine!” she repeated, nearly shrieking now. “Teacher gave it to me!”

“Bet she stole it,” said a voice from the crowd. “She’s just a grubby little nameless charity house thief.”

Tanza, driven past the breaking point as the ringleader held the book just beyond her reach, shrieked in outrage and pounced. She tore at the book while the boys yanked it away from her. The individuals disappeared into a storm of arms and legs and paper. Five against one. I watched in terror for a few moments before thinking to call for help. I had my wristcomm. I could hit the emergency button….

It was over before I could lift my wrist. Tanza was sprawled across the sidewalk, surrounded by the shredded, dirty pages of her book. Her box had been torn open. Fleshy frog legs were scattered on the ground as though the animals had been thrown against the wall.

The boys, barely scuffed, loomed over her, mocking. They lifted the empty binding of the book like a trophy, cheering over it and slapping each other on the back. Then, satisfied with their destruction, they ran off the way they came, leaving their victim on the ground.

Numbly, I shuffled toward her, feeling lost in a different sort of nightmare--one where I was one of the monsters. Those boys had been waiting for her. If she’d had an ulterior motive for coming after me to apologize, she had been hoping for protection, not handouts. And I’d thrown her to the wolves.

Tanza pushed herself onto her knees and pulled the pages toward her, like a mother hen gathering up chicks. She looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her, eyes wide and glistening, her face slack with horror. Her emotionless mask was gone. She pressed an armload of shredded pages to her chest, curled into a fetal position, and cried.

Curled up like that, face and hands hidden, she didn’t look like a tephan. Not like the rude negotiator at the gutter. Not like the little professor or even the animal at the table. She was just a friendless little girl, surrounded by the wreckage of her most prized possession.

I thought of the last time I’d seen her lying in the street, arm threaded through a storm drain while she reached for my ring. The ring was in my pocket, safe and whole. How had I thanked her for her service? Tried to duck out of the promise, treated her like a savage, screamed at her in the streets, and left her at the mercy of bullies.

The ring I loved so much was one of dozens that I’d brought from Earth, and my day had been destroyed at the thought of losing it. This book was the only one she owned, and it was gone forever. I couldn’t imagine her distress.

How had I thought her the savage?

My stomach twisted with loathing, and for the first time all day, it was directed toward myself. I could fool myself no longer; I’d done nothing to be proud of today.

But that could change.

Approaching Tanza with soft, careful steps, I crouched next to her. “Tanza?” I brushed a finger across her shoulder.

The girl recoiled from my touch and turned away. She came up on her feet, but stayed scrunched into a ball, protecting her pages and hiding her red eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her voice was thick with tears. “Go away.”

I grabbed one of the pages. “I can help—“

She whirled her head toward me and snapped, “I said go away!”

I stumbled back, and for a moment I was ready to do as she wanted. This was not my problem and she didn’t want my help.

Then my good sense returned, and I barked, “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave a child in the street.” I started gathering pages. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I looked around for help. The crowd had merely started taking a wider berth around us, but after a moment, I saw the green and silver flash of a Coalition policeman’s uniform—on a policeman with tephan hands.

I’d never thought I’d be glad to see that officer again. I waved toward him, shouting, “Officer! Please, can you help?”

My voice startled the officer, and his surprise turned to concern as he neared and saw the devastation. He crouched next to us and asked me, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” I said. The twist in my stomach reminded me that those words weren’t the complete truth, so I amended, “I didn’t destroy the book. There was a group of boys...”

The officer had already turned his attention to Tanza, speaking low-toned words in their tephan language. When they finished, his demeanor toward me was less hostile but more disappointed.

“Now you want to help her?” he asked.

That now was an accusation that cut like a knife. I deserved it, but I met his gaze boldly. “Yes,” I said, daring him to deny me.

He spoke a few more words to Tanza, then told me, “Gather pages.”

He helped Tanza to her feet while I gathered what I could of the paper. Torn edges, smeared alien words, and pictures of long-dead royals who stared at me with accusing eyes. The queen providing food to the poor, shelter to the homeless, clothes to shivering orphans. She’d done all that and wound up executed; looking at Tanza and the tephan officer, I couldn’t help wondering how much worse they thought I deserved.

When I’d gathered all the pages I could into a crinkling, crunching mess, I followed in silence as the officer led us along the route we’d taken, every block seeming as long as a mile. When we reached the familiar yellow building where everything had started, I gave the pages to the officer, and he motioned for Tanza to go toward the stair of the building.

“Is there anything else I can do?” I asked Tanza, almost desperate.

Tanza just turned her head away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the officer said. The words were soft, but I heard the condemnation in them.

I shouldered my purse more firmly, avoided Tanza’s eyes, then asked the officer, “Can you tell me where to find a train station?”

The officer pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where I’d originally approached the building. “The nearest one is just beyond the Killing Square.”

The words shocked me out of the numbness I’d been feeling. “The what?”

But the officer was already rattling off directions, and I was too busy memorizing the steps—left, then right, past the purple tower, turn two blocks after the bridge—to ask what exactly a Killing Square was. I didn’t think a uniformed police officer would purposely send me to my death, so I assumed something had been lost in the translation.

“Thank you, officer,” I said when he finished. Then I looked at the girl and added, “Thank you, Tanza.”

Tanza's green clothes—now scuffed from battle—hung loosely off her slumped shoulders. After a long moment, she raised her head and looked at me from beneath lowered lids. “Goodbye,” she said.

Her tone meant, “Good riddance.”

My pride flared at that. I thought I'd been rather compassionate--helping her gather the pages, hailing the officer, even trailing her all the way to her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Surely she could show a little gratitude.

But as I walked through the narrow, battered streets, it was my own rudeness that haunted me. Snatching the ring from her fingers as though afraid she'd contaminate it. Fleeing from her rather than fulfilling the promise. Leaving her to fight five against one when a moment's action on my part could have saved her. All day, I'd thought myself better than her because I was human, but my actions had been inhumane.

I tried to put it behind me. There was nothing else I could do. The book was gone, beyond repair. Tanza probably never wanted to see me again. It was best to move on and forget all about the tephan girl and the dark-eyed queen that so fascinated her.

Then I turned the corner and came face to face with Queen Marastel. A picture on the gray stone wall, larger than life, showed the woman whose face I’d seen a hundred times in Tanza’s book. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. The image was a photo, more or less, but not like any photo or holo-image I’d ever seen from human technology. The colors were more muted than reality, while a strange vibrant shimmer added depth to the image, so it looked as though I could walk inside the pictured scene with a little effort.

The queen’s hair had gone completely gray, her jewels were gone, and her vividly colored gowns had been replaced by a white fabric sheath. What I noticed most were her eyes—they were striking in most of the book photos, but here, her gaze knocked the breath from me. Surely no human gaze could show that much sorrow.

How was she here? Would this queen haunt me wherever I went on this planet, reminding me of my sins against the child?

I noticed a small plaque next to the picture, with a tiny Anglese translation at the bottom, which explained that the image showed Queen Marastel in front of this very building, moments before she was led to death in the center of the square. “Oh,” I said aloud, turning slowly to examine the streets and buildings around me as understanding struck. “The Killing Square.”

This was the center of the revolution that had ended this planet’s monarchy. It was a hauntingly bland neighborhood; no sign of the violent destruction that Tanza had told me of, not after more than eighty years’ worth of repairs. But pictures and plaques decorated almost every building I saw, telling the story that time had erased. Seven brothers from Kepha stood scarred but proud before a jeering band of executioners. A red-haired older woman tried to cheer up three children as armed rebels escorted them all to prison. The king himself stood tall and white-haired, every line of his face showing his fierce love for his planet even as his people tried to kill him.

I could list examples all day, but I could never make you understand the feeling of being there, gazing at these people in the moments before their deaths. They were young and old, tall and short, had hair and skin in every imaginable shade. They came from regions I hadn’t known existed--desert wastes and mountain ranges and snow-covered tundras. These people had families they’d hated to lose, homes that were as familiar to them as the cottage by the Atlantic had once been to me. They’d made mistakes and suffered for it. They, too, had regrets.

Fear, anger, hatred, love, bravery, cowardice--every possible human emotion filled those alien faces, and it didn’t take long for me to stop seeing them as alien at all. They were people, who’d lived on this planet just as I did, who had loved it the way I’d loved Earth.

I’d never even wanted to know about this world before, but now I was desperate to understand every story these pictures presented. Without Tanza’s book providing context, would I even have paused to look at these pictures? Would I have cared about these people? I doubted I would have. Tanza's childish enthusiasm for a book had upended my world--as I’d upended hers.

With that thought, I found myself back before the picture of the queen. Her sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. It seemed, to my overworked imagination, that she was disappointed in me.

I glared at her. “What else do you want me to do?” I demanded. “What’s done is done. I can’t fix it. I don’t even know what book it was.”

In that hall of death, it seemed a pitiful excuse.

I tore my eyes away from the picture, and my gaze landed upon a door I’d wandered past in my history-induced daze. It was brown and wide, with a sign above proclaiming it the entrance to the Museum of the Alogath Execution Center. I wandered toward it, then froze in my tracks only a few steps away. Next to the entrance was a window—and through the window, I saw books.

This was a museum! Museums—even tephan ones—had gift shops! If there was one place in this world that sold books about Queen Marastel, it was likely the museum that displayed her face on a public street.

I raced into the building, almost giddy, and found the shop just beyond the main entrance. The tiny nook held pamphlets and trinkets, and at the front of the room, a big, silver BookVend machine printed and bound volumes with lightning speed.

I raced through the door. The tephan woman behind the counter dropped her book in surprise as I leaned, panting, against her counter.

The woman asked in smooth Anglese, “Can I help you?”

I stood up and tried to look less like a maniac. “Yes,” I said, in my best politician’s-wife voice. “I need you to help me find a book.”

The door to the charity home loomed large in front of me. I hesitated with my hand before the door. Was I doing something stupid? The freshly-printed book under my arm might not change the fact that the child would want nothing to do with me.

This wasn't about me. I had to try.

My knock was answered by a pale, knobby tephan woman with wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She stared when she saw my face and clothes. “Madam?”

“Excuse me," I asked, "but does a girl named Tanza live here?”

The woman's eyes glazed over as she struggled to translate my Anglese.

I tried again, speaking more slowly. “Is Tanza here?”

“Tanza…” She trailed off in confusion before her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh!” Gently, she corrected, “It’s pronounced Tanza.”

It sounded exactly the same to me. I was starting to believe those people who said tephans could speak and hear sounds that humans couldn't.

The woman called into the building, and after a storm of voices and footsteps, a slight tephan girl in green clothes came to the door, her curls making a curtain over her still-puffy eyes.

Tanza scowled when she saw me. “What do you want?”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize,” I said. “For what happened. How I treated you. You saved my ring and I treated you like an animal. That was wrong.”

Tanza crossed her arms. “Glad you noticed.”

This child kept finding ways to irritate me, but I swallowed my words before I snapped back in response.

I pulled a book from under my arm. “I know this doesn’t erase what you went through, but I wanted to undo some of the harm that I’ve done today.” I handed her the book, which had the same cover as the book she’d brought to the restaurant. “This is for you.”

Warily, Tanza examined the queen on the cover. “It looks the same.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes brightened. “It is the same!”

“I printed a new copy. There’s a BookVend down the street. You rescued my ring; it was only fair that I replace your book.”

"Yes, but I didn't think..." She examined the book in amazement before turning that astonished gaze upon me. "This is really mine? To keep?"

“Yes, of course,” I said.

Tanza clutched the book to her chest and smiled at me, positively radiant. That smile transformed her from a feral orphan into a polite little princess.

I couldn’t keep from smiling back.

“Thank you,” Tanza said. Then she saw the other book under my arm. “What’s that one?” she asked, as though hoping it was for her and not daring to ask.

I pulled it out and showed her the cover. It showed the same image of the queen, but this time above an Anglese title—The Queen of Sorrow. “The Anglese edition,” I explained. “This one’s for me.”

If I’d thought she was happy before, it was nothing compared to her radiance now. “You’re going to read it?”

I shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You made it sound so interesting."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wait until you get to Chapter Five. That’s when she first meets the king, and you would not believe the uproar it causes."

She set down her book, grabbed mine, and started flipping through the pages, desperate to show me the start of the story.

From down the hall, an adult voice barked, “Tanza! Don’t bother the woman. I’m sure she’s busy.”

Embarrassed, Tanza closed the book. She pushed it back into my hands. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about it much.”

“I don’t mind. You’re an excellent instructor.”

Her eyes brightened with hesitant hope. “I could show you more. If you want.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Tanza called over her shoulder. “Garsa! Can I have a visitor in the study room?”

The tephan woman appeared in the entryway. She blinked, taken aback. “As long as she leaves before supper."

Tanza looked up at me. “Do you want to stay?”

No tephan had ever asked me that question before. In all my time here, I’d been an outsider. An invader. I’d never had the desire to be anything more. But those words, coming from Tanza, felt like a welcome.

I was glad to receive it.

I put a hand on Tanza’s shoulder and smiled. “I’d love to.”

#arateph #fairy tale retelling #sci-fi

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ao3bronte · 3 years

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when chaos reigns [the sirens come to play]

A Merman AU. (Rated T with some suggestive language.) Now on AO3! READ PROLOGUE - PART 2 HERE!

[Part 3]

Covid-19 forced a lot of people to stay stuck in their homes until they inevitably went mad and uploaded cringe videos of themselves dancing to Blinding Lights on TikTok. But Adrien Agreste, having been unable to leave his underwater ivory tower since the mysterious disappearance of his mother, really doesn’t know any different.

“Final question. Who was the fifth king of the Sea of Okhotsk?”

Slumped against his seagrass cushion, Adrien sighs into his palm. “The Sea of Okhotsk doesn’t have a king. They have clans and elders.”

“Excellent,” Nathalie Sancoeur responds, wordlessly motioning for him to stop slouching. “I think that concludes political history for this evening. Onto diplomacy—”

“Can you give me a minute?” Adrien tries not to give away his intentions as he glances through a porthole. “I think Father is home and I’d like to greet him.”

Nathalie raises a brow. “He won’t change his mind, you know.”

“Didn't we just talk about erosion?” With a firm flick of his tail, Adrien makes his way towards his usually barred bedroom door. “It works on rocks, so why can’t it work on him?”

“Your father is not a rock, Adrien.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Adrien murmurs under his breath, leaving anyway. He snakes his way through the narrow halls of his palatial home towards Father’s atelier and hopes he doesn’t miss him; he rarely sees Father at all these days...sometimes it feels like Adrien hardly knows him at all.

Especially when he’d announced that Adrien was going to mate with his betrothed, whether he liked it or not!

“Good afternoon, Father.” Adrien straightens and bows his head in greeting, swallowing painfully as his father peers down at him from his pedestal. “I’m thankful that you made it back home safely.”

His father sighs. “If you’re here to argue with me once again—”

“But Father!”

“You are NOT getting out of this arrangement! I already told you!”

“Please, Father. Hear me out—”

“I have no intention of letting you leave this kingdom,” his father rages, slashing his hand through the water with enough force to shake the entire structure around them. “Everything you need is right here where I can keep an eye on you. I will not have you outside in this dangerous world.”

“It's not dangerous, Father. I'm always stuck in here by myself. Why can't I leave our home? Why can’t I explore the Ligurian Kingdom and make friends just like everyone else?”

“Because you’re not like everyone else! You are my son! You are the heir to my—” his father stops himself and pauses to gather his composure, his eyes ablaze with discontent. “Adrien, the kingdom of the Tyrrhenian Sea is relying on me to unite our families. You don’t want to disappoint an entire kingdom, do you?”

Adrien’s shoulders cave. “No.”

“Then don’t continue to disappoint me. Return to your studies immediately and do not trouble me with this matter again.” His father turns and ushers him away with a shoo of his webbed fingers. “Nathalie, where is the sentimonster you promised for the administrator? M. Damoclès has wronged me for the last time.”

“It will be finished this evening,” Nathalie responds, her fingers gently toying with the enamel brooch hanging from her neck.

“When I hired you as my assistant, you assured me that you could complete tasks on time.”

“I did.” Nathalie flicks her crimson tail in irritation. “And I will continue to serve your interests in a timely fashion. Is there anything else I can do for you at this time, sir?”

The imposing interim leader of the Ligurian Kingdom simply pinches the bridge of his nose. “That is all. Ensure Adrien’s bedroom is secured immediately. And get on land as soon as possible to finish your spellcasting; I didn’t hire a sea witch for her to rest on her laurels.”

“Of course, your Regency.”

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

Nathalie tries not to smirk as her sheepish charge continues to wriggle his way through the barred porthole in his bedroom. “That depends entirely on what you plan on doing with your freedom, providing you can get your dorsal fin uncaught.”

“I’m—” Adrien grunts, desperately trying to shimmy his backside through the stone barricade. “—I want to go back to where you took me before!”

Nathalie quirks an eyebrow as he finally manages to free his dorsal fins and slither outside his bedroom relatively unscathed. “Humans are not to be trifled with.”

“Says the sea witch who can transform into one!”

“My Miraculous doesn’t exactly work underwater.” Nathalie explains, raising a sculpted brow. “I don’t suppose you plan on visiting the grotto?”

Adrien nods in earnest. “The flowers are out and I wanted to see them again! And there aren’t any humans there, so I’ll be fine!”

Flower pollen, of course, is like catnip to merpeople. One whiff of the stuff and it’s Boogie Nights for anyone with a tail and a propensity for caterwauling sea shanties.

“Be back by nightfall.” Nathalie tells him, having orchestrated this escape since the very beginning. She watches him swim away as fast as his tail will take him none the wiser, and grazes her nails down the curved edges of her Peacock Miraculous, the likes of which holds the immeasurable magic of a mermaid on a mission that will surely bring the Mediterranean to its knees.

[Part 4]

For all of Marinette’s near compulsive need to prepare for things ahead of time, it can be assumed that she is most definitely not prepared to find a merman scooching his body up on shore like a sea lion and shoving his face into an oleander bush.

And her screams of shock and horror most certainly confirm it.

“Aaaaaauuugh!!!!!” Marinette, having just crawled through a small cavern to a grotto to investigate the golden gleam, falls flat on her face yet again. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

The merman, equally as frightened, shrieks and rolls backwards as ungainly as one can when you’ve just been caught shoving your face into an oleander bush. She catches a brief glimpse of his face — speckled and smeared with golden pollen — before he promptly flings himself back into the sea.

Marinette is horrified. Astounded. Dumbfounded! Merpeople are impossible to find and even more impossible to survive! And she just—it was right in front of her! Green and gold and—she saw it! With her very own eyeballs! It was there! Huffing flowers!

For the second time in almost as many minutes, Marinette sits down and stares dumbly at the waves.

Merpeople kill humans for fun...and she just survived! Holy crap!

Marinette keeps one eye on the watery mouth of the grotto and the other on her surroundings. She never would have spotted the grotto had she not performed the act of becoming a human pancake back out on the main beach; the entrance to this cave is so small and so hidden that Marinette wonders if anyone has ever discovered it before. It’s about the size of a lorry and covered in moss and spindly vines that meander up towards the small window of sunlight at the top. The limestone walls are strangely warm here, radiating heat and spurring the growth of the plants that are blooming as if it were summertime. Even the sand is different here; startlingly white with speckles of black and grey, the tiny shoreline creeps down into a cerulean underground cavern alight with bioluminescence.

It’s magnificent, but she’s not safe here. “Are you still there?”

Marinette nearly enters cardiac arrest when a mop of golden hair suddenly pops up from the vibrant depths. He heard her? Can he understand her?

The merman blinks. “Uhhh… I…”

“Are you waiting for me to leave? Because I can leave,” Marinette says, pointing towards the tiny crevice she’d just crawled through, “But then I’d have to take my eyes off of you and then you could drag me into the ocean and drown me and then my grandmother would be looking all over for me and then the police would have to come here and try to find my dead body and my parents, they’re stuck in Paris because of the coronavirus and—”

“—No, no! I was just trying to—” The merman disappears under the water for a moment, only to emerge at the edge of the beach. “—I didn’t mean to scare you! You scared me!”

Marinette screeches and scurries backwards to create some more distance between them. “How do you know how to speak French?!”

“How do you know how to speak Nereid?”

“I asked you first!”

“Well, I don’t speak French. I speak Nereid!”

“What’s that, merman language?”

“Yeah.” The merman cocks his head. “What’s French? Human language?”

“Well, for some humans, yes.” Marinette crosses her arms across her chest and narrows her eyes. “Wait a minute...are you making fun of me?”

The merman flashes his gleaming set of triangular teeth just long enough for Marinette to notice that he has not just one row of razor-sharp teeth in his mouth, but two. “I wouldn’t dream of causing a commocean.”

Marinette’s nose wrinkles at the pun. “Now you really are making fun of me.”

“I mean, maybe.” The merman winks. “It’s kind of fun seeing you turn pink. Is that a human thing too?”

“I’m not turning pink.” Marinette harrumphs, turning her shoulder away from him. “And humans turn pink because...because they’re warm. I’m just warm, that’s all.”

“It’s probably because of your...” The merman gestures to her raincoat and jeans. “Do you need help getting out of them?”

With all of the poise of a particularly erratic squirrel, Marinette simply splutters. “What?!”

“Well, you must be trapped in them or you would have taken them off already. We get stuck in your human garbage all the time, it’s awful.” The merman opens his mouth and taps against one of his larger teeth with his fingernail. “Here, I can cut them off for you if you want—”

“You’re not coming anywhere near me with those things!�� Marinette recoils, scooching towards the oleander bushes on her bottom. “You could rip me apart!”

“I’m not going to kill you!” The merman exclaims with a huff. “Besides, if I was hungry, I’d have eaten you already!”

Marinette’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. “You eat people?!”

“Sometimes.” The merman shrugs as if it’s no big deal, “Haven’t you ever had human fingers before? Crunchy, yet satisfying.”

“No! That’s disgusting!”

The merman’s straight face dissolves into laughter at Marinette’s expression of utter horror. “Now, I’m actually making fun of you!”

“Well, it’s not funny!” Marinette grabs a handful of sand and hurls it at him, dusting his face and hair. He continues to giggle at her expense and Marinette has had just about enough of him. “Stop it!”

“Sorry!” The merman grapples to get himself together. “I just wanted to show you that I’m funny, I swear! I've never really been out on my own before and I've never had friends. It's all sort of new to me.”

“Joking about eating people is not how you make friends,” Marinette grumbles, still keeping a wary eye on the merman before her until the implications of his words catch up with her ears. “Wait, you don’t have any friends? How come?”

“Father doesn’t let me out of my home...ever.” The merman rubs the back of his head nervously. “I kind of escaped to come see the flowers, which is how I met you!”

“Is...is that normal for merpeople?”

“To come see the flowers? Yeah, we love flowers!”

Marinette shakes her head. “No, I meant the ‘being stuck in your house’ thing. Why don’t you...you know, swim around and, uh...talk to people?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The merman waves her off, looking a little uncomfortable before turning his attention back to her. “What does matter is that we can be friends! Would you like to be friends?” The merman shimmies forwards with excitement and thrusts his hand right under her nose. “I’m Adrien! Pleased to make your aquantance.”

Marinette looks at his outstretched hand and hesitates. “You’re not going to pull me into the water and drown me, are you?”

“I’m not a dolphin, you know, I have manners.” Adrien huffs, hoisting himself further up onto the sand bank. “See? Only my tail fins are in the water now, I couldn’t pull you in even if I tried.”

Marinette carefully reaches out and gently clasps his hand, revelling in the strange texture of his skin. He cups his other hand over hers and she mimics the gesture, smiling a little as he squeezes his fingers and then shakes once before letting go. “There. Now we’re friends!”

“I don’t know about that,” Marinette says, still keeping a wary eye on the merman in front of her. He settles back down on his elbows and Marinette’s eyes are drawn to his chest as he brushes the granules of ivory sand from his sides, his muscles clenching at the movement. “You’re a merman and I’m a human. We aren’t supposed to be friends.”

[NEXT PART]

#miraculous ladybug #mermaid au #lovesquare #adrinette #adrienette #Bronte's Mermaid AU #ml

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florrickandassociates · 3 years

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TGF Thoughts: 5x02-- Once there was a court...

Season five is off to a great start. I’m feeling more energized about TGF than I have in ages, maybe since the beginning of season three. After the mostly standalone premiere, I wasn’t sure what to expect from the rest of the season. Episode two introduced a lot of new elements that I’m intrigued by and excited about, so here’s hoping the rest of the season can sustain that energy. (Many) more thoughts under the cut.

And, again, since the most consistent thing about Tumblr is its inability to roll out new features that are actually helpful, here is a link to view the post so you don’t have to read it all on your dash. (Omg, Tumblr, not only do you force people to keep reading on their dashes but you also jump down to the middle of the post when the full version opens? Do you have ANYONE beta test these features?)

Reddick/Lockhart is bustling when the episode opens. The fact they’re calling it Reddick/Lockhart seems like an indication that Liz chose to partner with Diane—it's not. The firm just needs a name, and it can’t have Boseman in it. (The signage still says RBL... for now.)

Everyone in reception is talking animatedly, except for Carmen Moyo, who’s just taking it all in. You might be tempted to read her as nervous. You would be very, very wrong. But we don’t know that now. Right now, it wouldn’t be wrong to assume she’s Maia 2.0. This scene strongly parallels Maia’s first day at the firm (opening with the reception saying “Good morning” and the firm name, then showing new associates waiting for an orientation by David Lee). And in that scene, Maia is absolutely nervous, like you’d expect a new hire might be.

Carmen focuses on another associate’s hand. I assume this is meant to be a parallel to how Maia fidgets with her rosary ring in that initial scene. Carmen then peels a price tag off her portfolio—possibly another Maia parallel, since the portfolio Diane gives Maia is such an important symbol in Maia’s arc.

I also see shades of Alicia and her first scene here—Alicia's silent and focuses on small details (the thread on Peter’s jacket) too.

I don’t say any of this in hopes of comparing Carmen directly to either of those characters. Carmen is not like any other character this show has had before. But these parallels are quite good at establishing character, building intrigue, and showing contrast (even if you don’t see them as parallels, we’re still getting a lot about Carmen just from watching her reactions, even if we don’t yet have the context to understand how to read Carmen). Since I’m now thinking about Maia and Alicia, I’m also now thinking about how Carmen is different from them and triangulating her spot in this universe—that's a good thing. She’s not a copy of either character, but I understand a little more about what the writers are telling me about her from the parallels.

The RBL sign in the background is being taken off the wall. It falls and adds even more chaos to reception.

David Lee walks in and screams, “Stand up! Those seats are for clients.” This is the exact same language he uses in the 1x01 scene; this is definitely an intentional parallel.

Btw Carmen already has more personality than Maia and she’s been in one episode so far! I didn’t hate 1x01 Maia, but I will say that nearly everything that intrigued me about early Maia was that I could project more about Alicia (whom I, obviously, care a lot about) onto her. I can and will compare Carmen to Alicia, but when I do, it won’t be because Carmen is an interesting lens through which to analyze Alicia... it will be because Alicia is interesting precedent to use to understand Carmen.

I still hate Maia, yep.

David Lee accidentally instructs a client to stand and then has to save face, heh.

In David’s tour of the office, we see the partners squabbling. Sounds about right. And STR Laurie is still a thing, which explains why David is there (though not why he is giving a tour).

Throughout the tour, we get a lot of shots of Carmen. Again, she’s silent and looks like she could be nervous. (Spoiler: this is a fakeout and when you rewatch this scene, you can see what new cast member Charmaine Bingwa is doing here—expertly putting on a face that looks like anxiety in one context, but is actually just Carmen calmly sizing things up.)

Marissa eagerly joins the tour. “That’s right. They’re letting you play lawyer, Marissa. How nice,” David says. Carmen takes this in, too. “Fucking prick,” Marissa mutters. Carmen hears.

David Lee introduces “someone from HR” which is a great sign that HR is very effective at this firm.

In the conference room, the partners are still arguing about who should replace Adrian. Diane tries the “all options are open to us and we plan to decide in the next 48 hours” strategy, but this audience is too smart for that. Madeline asks about the new leadership structure. (I am kind of hoping that one nice side effect of having to kind of shoot the season in a COVID bubble will be that we’ll get more small recurring characters. Madeline’s been around for a little while but we’re already seeing her get to do more this year.)

“Diane and I are going to run the firm together. For now,” Liz says. Oh, no, Liz, do not open the door to change. Letting the partners know you’re not sure is probably the worst strategy. You’ve gotta decide or they’ll sense weakness.

“Just the two of you? A black firm being run by a white woman?” a partner asks. “Well, I’m not running it alone. I’m here to assist Liz,” Diane says, trying to deflect. “Really? Because she needs assistance?” he counters. Diane doesn’t know what to say, but she and Liz both know these questions aren’t going to go away.

HR is running an orientation for the new hires and it involves having them all take pieces of toilet paper. Man, I hate ice breakers. Carmen takes a moderate amount and then passes it to Marissa, who takes only one square. Carmen notes this and makes eye contact with Marissa. And this is where it starts to become obvious that Carmen is not nervous—just observant and not chatty. Carmen knows Marissa is one to watch from how David reacted to her presence. She gives Marissa a look that’s meant to be noticed and start a conversation. It works, and Marissa explains that for each square you take, you have to share a fact about yourself. Carmen hates this and hides the rest of the toilet paper so she only has one square.

Liz tries to say there will be a discussion about the partnership, and Daniel (that’s what the captions call him, though they do reference him as “Barry” at one point but I'm like 99% sure I know which actor is Barry and it’s not him) says it feels like they’re just being told what the new state of things is. Liz says she hears him but right now they need a senior associate to backfill Lucca.

Daniel doesn’t think they need one. I don’t get why, unless it has to do with the budget cuts.

“We need someone with real experience to take on her caseload,” Liz notes. Hell yeah you do!

Liz asks if any of the partners want to take over family law. None do.

After the meeting, Liz asks Diane if she can call a head hunter. Diane approves. David Lee pops up to ask which one of them is taking Boseman’s office and they haven’t discussed it yet. I love that they managed to order a sign with their names on it before they’ve talked about how being partners will actually work.

(Also, Adrian’s office is quite obviously going to end up with Liz. And it would be weird if it were Diane, anyway, because it’s Diane’s old office from Lockhart/Gardner and it would look it if she sat there again lol)

David notes that an empty corner office looks like failure. He is correct. He gives them until Friday to decide.

Marissa does not like the ice breaker at all and pointedly notes she only has one secret, and it is that she used to be married to a mime. She makes a whole bit out of it and then whispers to Carmen, “I usually just make things up.”

Carmen’s next and she finally gets to speak her first words of the series. You know who else didn’t speak at all in her first scene? Alicia Florrick. Very different scenes, but I can’t help but think this is intentional. From what I’ve seen of Carmen, both she and Alicia use silence strategically and are comfortable with quiet. Alicia’s first scene is silent because she doesn’t need to use words to be expressive, but it does establish that she’s going to be a character with a lot of internal thoughts she won’t vocalize and that she’s observant and tries to maintain composure. Sure, you can watch the first scene of Pilot and just see a woman who’s stunned into silence, but when you watch it knowing Alicia and realize how much of the essential parts of her character are in her totally silent intro sequence that kicks off the show... it’s kind of amazing.

So comparing Carmen’s introduction to that? I mean this as a huge compliment. Carmen deploys silence for reasons both similar and different to Alicia. While Alicia uses silence to maintain some kind of boundary between her inner thoughts and the outside world, Carmen uses it to get a chance to observe and take things in without showing her cards. (We do see Alicia do that as well, especially at work, but I would call this a side-effect of Alicia being a quiet person rather than her intention; Carmen seems to be more conscious of how she uses her silence.)

Carmen is from Victorville, California. That means nothing to me but I’m sure there’s some significance. Carmen mimics Marissa’s response when asked for her secrets—she also responds with, “secret,” emphasizing she only has one. But what she says next also shows her in contrast to Marissa. She says her secret is she hates games. We already know so much about her and she’s said like ten words!

I think it’s smart to set Carmen up as a contrast to other characters. I know who Carmen is not because of how she differs from more familiar presences like Alicia, Maia, and Marissa. Marissa hates ice breakers, but her reaction to them is to use them as an opportunity to say something funny and over the top. Many others (including probably both Alicia and Maia) would likely resent the activity but play along and say something unremarkable (I could see Alicia overthinking it and sharing something surprisingly quirky though!). Carmen just does not give a fuck, and in a different way than Marissa doesn’t give a fuck. Marissa insinuates that she thinks the whole activity is stupid... Carmen just flat out says it. I would not pull this move on my first day of a new job! And that is the point—who is this person who is so self-assured she’s willing to insult HR on her very first day of her very first job as a lawyer?

ALL OF THIS FROM A FEW WORDS AND SOME WELL-ACTED GLANCES! As I said, I’m very intrigued by Carmen. I have some questions about the logistics of this plot, her endgame, and how she’ll function when brought into the firm drama/debate plots, but for now, I only have good things to say.

Liz interrupts the ice breaker to announce that everyone will be assigned a mentor. She then pauses to greet Marissa, which Carmen, again, notices. Liz is really there to say that they’ll be working on client maintenance that day, and each new hire will get to help with one of their clients. When she reads off their top clients, all the hands shoot up—except Carmen’s.

Madeline’s last name is Gilford. Noted. John’s last name is Wilson.

No one raises their hand to assist with Oscar Rivi, who is in a maximum-security prison. Carmen confidently raises her hand.

Barry’s last name is Poe. Noted.

Marissa and Carmen exchange glances. Super curious to see how this evolves. There are too many Marissa/Carmen exchanges in this episode for the writers to not plan to have them interact more in the future.

I’m kind of loving that it seems like the show’s leads are now Diane, Liz, Marissa, and Carmen. Diane’s obviously great, Liz is someone who’s been deserving of leading material for ages, Carmen seems interesting, and I’m so impressed they have managed to make Marissa, usually good in small doses, into a character who can handle larger plots without wearing on my patience (like that awful Elsbeth centric episode of Wife).

Diane has a client who received a summons directly, which Diane finds strange. But, since she is already working with this client on the same case (teaching kids during COVID) in another court, Diane is optimistic about this second suit. She thinks it could set a good precedent.

Diane introduces Phoebe, an associate who will help out on the case. Diane says she’s not personally going because it’s a formality and Diane needs to work on the brief. I’m like 99% sure Diane isn’t personally going because Diane’s role here is to convince the client she’s getting senior-level attention while having junior people do the work, but nice story!

Diane asks Marissa to go along with Phoebe. Marissa thinks she’s going to get to argue in court... Diane says no, Marissa gets to hand hold a client.

Oscar Rivi is basically Lemond Bishop, which is the only explanation I have for why RL would represent him. And, you’ll recall, I didn’t understand why RL would represent Bishop either. But we’ll just have to go with it.

(I think representing multiple drug lords is probably a bigger PR issue for RL than having a white partner! How come no one ever talks about this! Actually, new complaint: wasn’t Liz, who now has more power than before, the one who was most against representing Bishop?)

(I guess it may make sense that she’d be more okay with this Rivi dude than Bishop. Whatever Rivi’s done, I don’t think he’s threatened Liz’s kid like Bishop did!)

(Also, I’m fine with them switching it up and suddenly having this new drug kingpin. Mike Colter is obviously unavailable since he’s a lead on Evil, and I was tired of Bishop anyway. If the writers stop using Bishop and Sweeney as shorthands for corruption I will be very happy; I don’t think there’s much more mileage left there. Speaking of, Dylan Baker popped up in 2x02 of Evil!)

“I don’t want you to be intimidated,” Barry tells Carmen as they arrive at Rivi’s prison. Carmen reads articles about Rivi on her phone, saying she’s taking notes. Barry tells Carmen to “sit, listen, leave.” But then he discovers his ID is expired (he didn’t get it renewed during the pandemic) and he can’t go visit Rivi as a result. Carmen says she’s fine alone—she'll sit, listen, leave. She’s calm and not at all cocky as she says it, and it really takes until she’s actually talking with Rivi to realize that she’s not (just?) a hypercompetent law school grad trying to impress. She doesn’t seem to care at all what people, no matter how powerful, think of her, as long as she’s able to find security of any sort. (Tbh, it is kind of amazing she doesn’t get fired in this episode.)

(I’m getting ahead of myself but in Alicia’s first ep, she also changes up strategies on the partners. Alicia does it almost without realizing she’s gone against their wishes—she's just sure of the right strategy—and Carmen does it much more intentionally.)

Marissa and Phoebe can’t locate Judge Wackner’s court. Marissa asks a security guard she’s friendly with (of course she is) for help. He says there’s no Judge Wackner there, and the security guard notices that it’s a summon for a “9 ¾ Circuit.” The guard laughs at the Harry Potter reference; Marissa is not amused. They leave the courthouse when Marissa spots a sign for “9 ¾". She follows the sighs down an alley. Phoebe wants nothing to do with this; Marissa and the client are intrigued. They end up in a store called Copy Coop and are directed to a warehouse.

In the warehouse, an argument is resolved through Rock, Paper, Scissors. Then it’s Marissa’s turn. She asks for a continuance just like she was supposed to, but she uses the wrong phrasing. Judge Wackner notices. That’s when Marissa notes she’s not a lawyer, and Wackner responds that he’s not a licensed judge. So it’s fine that Marissa isn’t a lawyer.

Marissa tries to protest again that she’s not a lawyer, and Wackner basically tells her to proceed anyway. The client wants to stay, weird as this fake court seems.

Carmen reads with Rivi. She stares at him, getting him to speak first. His translator asks if there’s another lawyer with her; she just introduces herself. The translator does a terrible job of translating Rivi’s complaints, sharing very little of what Rivi said with Carmen.

Unsurprisingly (to me at least, because scenes like this ALWAYS have the twist where a character doesn’t let on that they speak the language until the exact right moment), Carmen speaks Spanish.

She lets Rivi know she speaks Spanish AND insults the translator in one go. Pretty big move. That gets Rivi’s attention and he kicks out the translator. He asks who she is and she repeats her name again (characters reacting like this will never not remind me of “Who are you?” “Kalinda.”).

Carmen notes that she’s just out of law school, explaining that’s why she’s eager to help. She doesn’t reveal that by mistake—she's using it to her advantage.

Credits! As I predicted, things are blowing up again this week like normal. No more kittens and puppies. There’s a new couch that blows up in the credits. Wackner’s desk also makes it in. I can’t remember if the purses were in this position before; they might be new. All the exploding TVs show footage of January 6th (which I hear is going to be a major theme of the season, though it’s not heavily featured in this episode). And the zoomed in shot of the closet (that I’ve never really liked) is gone, as is the falling curtain!

I still hate the font of the logo for this show. I also don’t understand why the show seems to have three logos—the one that’s the TGW logo but with “fight”, the one in the credits, and whatever the one they’ve come up with for this season’s marketing materials is. I like that they’re trying with the marketing of this season but I don’t get why the show has three logos.

While I’m talking about the marketing, can we just talk about the “Goodbye Lucca” graphic the official social media account posted? It had a fucking crown drawn over her head like this is a 2013 Tumblr shitpost!!! Who are they targeting with this?! WHO ARE THEY MARKETING TO? DOES THIS WORK ON ANYONE??? It literally says, “Chi-Town” on it. I cringed so hard. Sometimes I feel like the marketing of this show is meant to cater to the people who would, like, watch the credits of last week’s episode and be like, “Yes! It IS all now puppies and kittens! Everything bad in the world has been resolved!”

But hey, at least it’s better than the absolute trash they used to post for TGW. Remember when there’d be episodes about Alicia making career moves and they’d be like, “#TeamPeter or #TeamWill????”

OR, OR OR OR, the fucking time they tried to crosspromote TGW and the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show (yes) with a tweet that read, “All ‘Saint Alicia’ needs is a pair of wings&she practically turns into an Angel.” I... have no words.

Hey, Caleb is back! I was not expecting them to actually wrap up his arc with Liz. I think I’m actually pretty thankful it’s ending like this—he comes back for what I assume is one last episode and I don’t actually have to deal with the Liz/Caleb plot. Apparently the writers were setting that up so they could do some plots about power dynamics and interracial couples and who is seen as having power. Caleb and Liz were going to have an encounter with the police, who were going to listen to Caleb instead of Liz even though this encounter would’ve taken place in Liz’s house and Liz is the name partner and Caleb the employee. Interesting enough, but anything boss/employee just squicks me out and I don’t need it around and Liz deserves better.

But I did like Caleb as a character, so I’m glad he gets an exit, unlike past characters who have just disappeared. (Remember Robyn Burdine? Or that time Taye Diggs was a major character for two seconds?)

Liz was NOT expecting to see Caleb as a candidate for Lucca’s old role. Things are instantly awkward. I guess Caleb left STR Laurie?

Diane immediately senses that things are awkward with Liz and Caleb. Caleb is very professional throughout all this. Diane gets an important call and leaves the room, so Caleb and Liz can chat privately.

Caleb says he thought Liz was reaching out; Liz says she should’ve reached out but things ended abruptly. Love that Caleb checks that no one else is in the room with Liz before getting even more personal. He says they should just act like nothing ever happened between them and Liz asks if he can do that. “I’m the employee. Of course I can,” he says. This is why you don’t sleep with employees.

He says he really does want the job and he liked the firm. Liz says she’ll talk to Diane. Caleb says if it doesn’t work out he’ll be fine.

Phoebe tells Diane about 9 ¾ and Diane does not understand... at all. “If it has no power, and it doesn’t have jurisdiction, what does it have?” Diane wonders.

A little more on the case: RL is representing a woman who taught a small group of students during the pandemic, and some parents are suing her for preaching socialism at the children.

The woman suing did NOT like being called a Karen by her daughter or being compared to the family from Parasite. She wants a refund.

Marissa objects and makes up her own grounds, realizing that since it’s not a real court, she can object for any reasons she wants—as long as they follow common sense.

These scenes could so easily feel ridiculous, like a gag that goes on for too long. They do not. There’s just enough zany humor and theatrics to make the 9 ¾ court feel surreal. And, most helpfully, Wackner is a GREAT judge. He is engaged with the work and only concerned with the facts and arguments rather than politics. He’s tough but fair. He’s direct and he maintains control over his court. He’d be one of the best judges in a normal court. His sincerity is enough to make you wonder why courts DON’T operate like this. It’s easy to see why the characters are sold on this BS-free, rational, and effective system, even if it makes no sense that it would exist and it has no power. It’s simultaneously idealistic (if only things were resolved fairly) and threatening (how can something like this exist?! What does it mean that the real courts are so ineffective that there’s a need for something like this?! What happens if this goes beyond what are basically mediations for simple issues?).

This type of thought experiment is where TGF excels. I think they were going for something like this with Memo 618 (which hasn’t gone away!), but that arc always felt like it was on the verge of going off the rails. Mandy Patinkin’s performance and the writing for the 9 ¾ court already have me more invested in this than I was in Memo 618.

Marissa tries yet again to wait for help to arrive, but Wackner insists that they keep things moving. She tries to stall and ends up referencing George Clooney. Wackner cuts through that, too—he hates speeches “unless I'm giving them, and even then I’m just trying to stall.” Then he holds up a sign that reads, “CUT THE SHIT” and the audience laughs. He says this isn’t the kind of court where you can just run out the clock. Kind of ridiculous that real court IS that kind of court, no? (And that’s why this is an effective device so far.) (I say so far because I have watched content from these writers for long enough to know that things that work in small doses or initially can go wildly off the rails.)

Marissa changes strategies and does what she does best: she goes on instinct and adjusts her strategy as she goes. She eventually catches the woman accusing her client of teaching socialism in a lie about Parasite. It’s very Legally Blonde and very smart of Marissa. And I’m rather proud of myself for seeing what Marissa was doing (getting the woman to commit to a time frame and then baiting her to talk about a moment that proved the time frame fake) before she revealed what she was doing.

Sarah Steele is so good in this scene. I love her smile when she realizes the woman took the bait, and that she reacts with “AHA!” instead of something more proper. This is pretty much the perfect court for Marissa.

Diane and Jay arrive; are confused.

Carmen leaves Rivi after quite a bit of time has passed, making Barry nervous. Carmen tells him very little and repeats that she sat, listened, and left. She told the translator to go fuck himself (almost in those words) so she’s gotta know that Barry will hear what happened from someone. She does not care. She lies to Barry like it’s nothing.

Diane does not understand the 9 ¾ court, nor does she understand why a non-lawyer like Marissa is arguing. She does not understand why losing in this venue would matter or why a lawyer she knows (ha, I looked him up to see if he’d been on Wife or Fight before, and he has... as a totally different character!) is there.

“Okay, I’m losing my mind. Look, this is not legal. We have got to get out of here,” Diane says. Toni, the client, wants to stay.

I don’t actually know the answer to this—would there be repercussions to someone who is a member of the bar participating in something like this? Everyone knows it’s not real or binding, so nothing is being misrepresented, but this FEELS illegal?

Toni notes that a lot of people suing her are there watching, so walking out or losing would look bad. She also likes Judge Wackner because he is “better than the judges in real court.”

“Diane, what is real?” the client asks when Diane points out again that this court is fake. The client’s spent 8 months on this case in limbo, so this feels like reality to her. Fair point.

Diane chats with the other lawyer and asks what he’s doing here. He says he’s getting paid—with business down and court dockets backlogged (how much would that affect a large firm that settles most cases out of court? I’m actually curious about this), it’s a good source of money.

Diane realizes it’s basically arbitration. Then says she doesn’t understand anything anymore. The other lawyer replies, “Sure you do. That’s why this is throwing you. Welcome to 2021.” Yup.

Diane goes with it. A former teacher is on the stand. He’s got a grudge and wants money, so he’s helping out. He tries to say something that is the most obvious hearsay ever... and Wackner has no problem with it. Marissa likes that.

Wackner basically says he’s fine with hearsay because he can use his brain to figure out what’s real and what’s fake, just like we all do every day. Crosstalk is also allowed.

Wackner also doesn’t allow for bullshit breaks where lawyers tell clients what to say, because he “likes the truths found in sudden utterances.” All his rules make a lot of sense. They are all also counter to every single sneaky legal strategy these characters tend to use.

Toni made a comment that she “couldn’t fall in love with anyone who voted for Trump.” That gives a point to the plaintiff. Diane notes that this belief is shared with most of the country, and Wackner asks her if she shares it. “I’m not the question,” Diane replies, because she definitely doesn’t want to talk about her husband who worked in the Trump administration.

Wackner flat out tells Diane that Marissa should argue instead of her. “Marissa is not a lawyer,” Diane tries to say. “Well, I’m not a judge!” Wackner responds. And that’s it for the day.

Diane asks Jay for intel, and then we get one of the most effective Jay scenes in a while—he bonds with the Copy Coop security guard, who only has good things to say about Wackner. I like how the writers use COVID in this episode—they treat it like it’s recent past (fingers crossed) and reference it when it makes sense, like how the courts are backlogged, or this guard was laid off.

The security guard notes that he thinks Wackner is building something good in his spare time. He also notes that Wackner is a big Grateful Dead fan.

Carmen takes it upon herself to visit someone else in prison to help Rivi. She points out they’re under surveillance and convinces this other dude to take the fall for Rivi so he can go free. It’s very smart. I assume this is all her own strategy, as we see her look up this other dude before she’s even met with Rivi, though it’s possible Rivi came up with some of it.

There is something about Carmen’s demeanor when she deals with clients that is very Alicia-like in interesting ways. She’s very direct and unflappable in a way that people seem to take to (remember how all the creeps loved Alicia?), and she only shows emotion when she decides to. The similarities stop there. Carmen doesn’t seem remorseful or conflicted (Alicia always did). Sociopathic definitely isn’t the right word for her, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it didn’t cross my mind. Carmen knows that her clients are bad guys. That doesn’t trouble her. And she doesn’t try to take the easy way out—she does more than she needs to. I don’t know what she’s really trying to do here, but I suspect she does.

Carmen is 28, just fyi.

Liz gets a call from Charles Lester. Obviously, Lester now works for Rivi, because Rivi is New Bishop. (Usually I’m a bit against saying any character is the new version of an old one, like how Lucca was not the new Kalinda (even if she was brought in to bring new energy to the space Kalidna occupied) or how Carmen is not the new Lucca (same), but I’m pretty comfortable saying Rivi is New Bishop. He’s not the same personality, but he... is New Bishop.)

Lester notes that Rivi only wants to meet with Carmen from now on. Liz does not understand this and she’s not thrilled with it. She notes that Carmen is a first year who has been there for two days, but she doesn’t want to lose Rivi’s business so she goes along with it. Was that Carmen’s endgame? Job security? Does she not care about the RL job and see a good opportunity to... just represent Rivi without a firm behind her? I can’t tell.

(This is where I could see this arc faltering. I get why Liz keeps Carmen on—she doesn’t want to lose the client—but I don’t really understand why Liz wants Rivi as a client. Losing Carmen who’s been there for two days and Rivi who she probably doesn’t want to represent seems like a fine outcome to me. And, beyond that, if Carmen doesn’t care about the firm and also doesn’t need them, what’s in it for her to stay? I don’t think she really cares that the firm would have more resources to use in defending Rivi. Like, why isn’t the outcome here just that Carmen teams up with Lester and leaves RL behind?)

Diane listens to the Grateful Dead and writes down lyrics she can use in court. Kurt gets home from work. Diane asks him if he thinks she should give up her name partnership since it’s a black firm. Kurt asks if she’s the best lawyer there. She says no, but she’s one of the best, and besides, it’s a bad look and she wants to do what’s right for the firm. “You and I disagree on so much. You obviously ask my opinion because you know that I will argue something you know you won’t,” Kurt says. This is a very good, and very accurate, response.

Diane keeps going, though. Kurt plays along and starts talking about identity politics. Diane starts debating back, ignoring that Kurt is not really wanting to play devil’s advocate. Kurt doesn’t give Diane an easy out and tells her she’s right—she should step aside. That’s not what she wanted to hear. Kurt laughs and then goes to take a shower.

Liz is eyeing Adrian’s office when Carmen walks up. She’s invited Carmen to talk to her. She asks her how things are going. Carmen just wants to know if she did something wrong. Carmen says she likes the firm and it’s great to be out of the legal clinics.

Liz shares the news that Rivi only wants Carmen going forward. Carmen is pleased and says that’s surprising... though she looks more pleased than surprised.

Liz suggests maintaining a professional distance, to which Carmen replies “I’m very professional.” “Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Liz tries to backtrack. “Is the firm dissatisfied with my work?” Carmen asks bluntly. Liz says no. “It’s my intention to treat all my clients like humans. Even the ones who might be murderers, or definitely are murderers. And I think Mr. Rivi might be responding to that because it’s something that he hasn’t received at this firm previously,” Carmen notes. This is QUITE the tone to take with your boss.

One question I have—and this is mostly inspired by the recap at I think Vulture?-- is to what extent Carmen knows what she’s doing. It seems like a lot. I can’t tell how much Carmen knows vs how much Carmen THINKS she knows. She’s definitely smart, and I don’t think she is an idealist (when she says her intention is to treat her clients like humans, she means that’s her strategy), but she is young and new to the law and only out for herself, which makes her vulnerable.

Liz does not take well to Carmen’s talk and notes she’s talking about her personal safety. Carmen thanks her and says she’d understand if Liz doesn’t want her on the case.

There is something a little unnerving about Carmen. She keeps saying things that are boldly inappropriate but masked by how professional and correct her arguments sound (like the line about treating clients like humans). And she has a way of gaining power over a conversation. Liz squirms way too much in that conversation and loses some of her control as a result.

I just need to know more about her!!! The fact that I can’t understand her makes her immediately interesting.

Diane and Liz interview Julius for Lucca’s position. They all know it would be a demotion for him, but they’re seriously considering it. I feel like this would look awful for the firm and they are going to handwave it anyway after a few lines about how bad it would look.

Diane quotes the Grateful Dead in court and it works. The other lawyer tries to quote songs too... it does not work.

Carmen gets Rivi a bunch of candy bars from the court vending machine so he can have a snack he enjoys. The security guard doesn’t want to let Rivi eat them, but Carmen is right that this is permissible. The guard smashes the bars in defeat. Carmen opens one for Rivi.

It is a little distracting to see the main characters pretend that COVID is in the past when the extras have masks, but honestly, that’s kind of what life is like right now?

Carmen zones out a little in court—not sure if she just does that or if she is trying to look unfamiliar with the rules so people will go easy on her/have low expectations. I think it’s a combination of both, considering that we’ve seen her laser-focus on things elsewhere in the episode AND she tells the judge it is her first day in court.

Court stuff happens; Carmen’s strategy works.

The judge tries to give Carmen advice and a warning. Liz is also there, watching, which is good because I was shocked anyone would let Carmen do this unsupervised.

Carmen is also kind of like if you removed all of Maia’s worst traits (her selfishness, her spoiled brat attitude, her sense of entitlement) and skipped right to her willingness to partner with Blum.

Liz and Carmen talk again, this time about the reputation of the firm. Liz notes that Carmen is clearly capable and reminds her sternly that she needs to conduct herself in a manner that does not put the firm at risk and that’s the only reminder she’s going to get. Carmen twirls a pen and stares at it instead of listening to Liz. She says she’s just listening like she’s perfectly innocent. It’s the right thing to say and, again, it’s SUPER UNNERVING.

“Wow. You really don’t give a shit what people think about you, do you?” Liz says in frustration. “I’m here to do a good job for my clients,” Carmen notes. Is she??? Does she just not care who she’s representing and want to do a good job, and that’s her whole motivation?? I would find that interesting but I need more to believe it. She’s so perplexing.

(Again, I don’t really get why Liz hasn’t fired her, because if she and Carmen keep having these interactions, Liz IS going to end up ceding all of her power and looking weak. But maybe Liz is as intrigued as I am.)

Liz also tells Carmen she’s going to be her mentor. Carmen says thanks and that she respected Liz’s father. Liz does NOT take that well. Audra’s reaction—a mix of shock, irritation, and confusion—is perfect here. I think Carmen is trying to say that she respected Carl Reddick—but she has no such respect for Liz. (It could also be about the sexual harassment, but I don’t think that’s public knowledge.)

I noticed earlier that the courtroom was #305 and was wondering why they chose that number (it’s similar to Courtroom 302, the book that inspired the bond court arc, which is why 305 stuck in my mind). I see now that the Copy Coop’s address is 305. Heh.

Turns out that the woman suing Toni is someone who would break COVID protocol and be generally terrible. I’m shocked.

Wackner decides to skip closing arguments and rule. He sides with Toni.

See, this is where this kind of thing is dangerous. Wackner is great and fair. But you can’t really replicate a system like this (though I also think this system would fail if replicated on too large of a scale; the reason it works is that everyone involved is buying into it and if it were to be corrupted no one would buy into it unless forced to—and if people are forced to buy into an extrajudicial system then that’s its own problem). What if some other judge were to just decide to skip closing arguments or decide suddenly a trial was over? That could be unfair in so many different ways.

After the resolution of the case there’s clapping and even Diane is surprised at how reasonable the verdict was.

Wackner then insists that everyone shake hands because “the thing we all crave most is respect and acknowledgement.” They also have to say, “I respect and I love you.” And they do! And no one even seems that unhappy with it Marissa and Toni are super into it.

And, someone in the gallery wants to get Marissa’s number because she did such a good job. Yep, sounds about right.

Diane fills Liz in, and Liz can’t believe it. Liz wants to hire Wackner (jokingly). Then she says she wants Julius since they know and trust him. Diane’s good with that, but she also chooses this moment to playfully let on that she knows Liz slept with Caleb. We’ve seen Diane observe Liz’s reaction to Caleb/mentions of Caleb all episode, and I don’t think it’s coincidental that Diane brings this up now, and in a friendly way. Diane doesn’t need to bring it up. I don’t think Diane needs the answer. I think she just wants to throw Liz off without making it obvious that’s what she’s doing.

I really, really hate to say it, because my whole thing about this season is wanting to see Liz be a great manager, but I don’t... actually think... Liz is a great manager? She’s second-guessing herself far too much. She’s more thrown in this scene than Carmen, who has like two days of experience, is by anything she encounters. And worse, she doesn’t hide it when she’s thrown. I think Liz is very smart and capable, but this episode is a pretty good case for why she might not be able to manage alone.

I know I’ve said that I want to see Liz manage and think she’d be good at it. I still think she could be. But I’ve also tended to think that Liz is a good manager and Adrian talks down at her, and I’ve dismissed some of her less strategic ideas as the fault of the Adrian/Liz dynamic. But nothing in this episode seems out of character, so now I’m less sure. (And to be clear, Liz not being a great manager isn’t a problem with the show, it’s actually pretty interesting to me.)

(Here are some of the things Liz has done in this episode alone that she needs to stop doing to be more effective: 1) Everything about her reaction to Caleb (and the fact she slept with him-- and yes I would, and did, say this about Will too so this is not a double standard!) 2) Not having a clear plan when meeting with the partners, even though she—and not Diane—is the one who is seen as having power. 3) Not being able to hold her own nearly as well as she should be able to with Carmen. I’m curious to see how the other partners hold up, and in fairness to Liz, I may be able to make this criticism of any character who doesn’t just immediately fire Carmen.)

And, I say all of this now because Diane in this scene is SO smart and SO strategic. She mentions Caleb to disarm Liz, then casually notes that she thinks Liz should take the corner office since it’s a black firm.

Liz isn’t sure if she should thank Diane for that (it is a little patronizing) but she does anyway.

Diane has another “last thing” to say, and it’s that she wants to bring on another partner, a black one. She wants to be in the discussion and to retain a name partner position. Liz says yes, as long as she has any power over the decision. This is a very smart move for Diane. It’s a compromise that’s to her benefit, and she makes the request of Liz at exactly the right time. I think Diane likes Liz as a person and wants to work with her, but she’s definitely buttering her up. This is kind of like an audition to show Liz that she should stick with Diane—Diane will be friendly with her! Diane won’t judge (but definitely knows about!) her indiscretions. Diane is reasonable and not power-hungry! Diane is understanding!

(And again, to be clear, I don’t think Liz is falling for Diane’s trap or anything. If Diane is smart enough to plan all this out, Diane is absolutely someone you’d want to keep on as a name partner. It’s just that Diane showing how smart she is, is a pretty stark contrast to Liz getting disrespected by a first-year associate.)

(And, because I feel like I'm being quite harsh on Liz, I don’t think Liz has handled the Carmen situation badly... yet. I just see signs that Carmen is able to shift the balance of power in her favor without really trying, and that Liz is getting flustered. I think Liz mentioning the mentorship is a way of Liz asserting power, and I think/hope that now that Liz knows the situation, she will try to regain control. And, I could very easily see this same plot happening but with Diane—it's just that there are a few other plots where Liz seems flustered in this episode alone, so it feels like a pattern. I’ll be looking out for more of this.)

Marissa and Carmen, both with large folders of casework, get in an elevator together. “So. I guess it begins,” Marissa says as the episode ends. I very much want to see more of Marissa and Carmen interacting. Mostly, I just want to see what Carmen does when she’s in situations that aren’t about representing a client or defending her work. I know what type of lawyer and employee she is, but who is she as a person?

Wow, this might be the most I’ve written about characters on TGF—as opposed to plots—in quite a while. I think that’s what has me so excited about this season. Carmen is interesting as a character because she’s so unique (or, perhaps, because she feels so much like a part of this universe yet so little like any other character—that's why I keep trying to compare her to others and find out where to place her). The 9 ¾ court is interesting because Wackner is so grounded, because it challenges Diane’s sense of reality in a way that’s new and interesting (this whole series is about making reality seem like it’s shifting under your feet; this is a new take on a familiar theme), and because it is a great match for Marissa’s personality and will give her a lot of opportunities for growth. It seems like we’re heading for some interesting material with Diane and Kurt, and there’s been a little bit of a tense undercurrent in their interactions in these first two episodes—I truly can’t tell if it’s supposed to be part of their banter or if there are mounting frustrations; I think the former but could see it being the latter. And, as I’d hoped, Liz is getting a lot more material.

#tgf thoughts #the good fight

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wexhappyxfew · 3 years

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i literally choked on my pizza when i saw your writing and analyzing questions post, I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!! first of all, what sort of process do you go through when creating characters? what kind of things do you take into consideration when creating them? i’m fascinated because creating characters is far from easy, especially when you’re creating someone like agent mortem! i’m always interested to know what the writer’s thought process was when creating a new character!

okay, so secondly, i wouldn’t say i’m having trouble with keeping all my planning organised and ‘precise’ in a way, but it’s really not easy 😅 i was wondering what kind of processes you go through when planning, whether you have like a specific structure or a set of steps to follow, or if you just kind of roll with it? at the moment when i plan it’s okay and it makes sense, but it’s literally just 4 or 5 pages of really chunky paragraphs which makes it really difficult to pick out the events again when i come to needing the plan to help me. i don’t really know if you do anything different, but if there is any way you know of that i could keep it more organised and easy to follow, that would be great :)

i’ll keep the last ones a little shorter because this ask is already looking veryyy long — what have you enjoyed writing about natia, what struggles have you faced and what have you learned? and basically the same with agent mortem if that’s possible :) i have asked a LOT of questions in this, so don’t feel like you have to answer them all because it will probably take quite a while 😅 anyway, thank you for putting up with my endless questions, and i hope you have a good day <33

ROSE AH HELLO MY FRIEND!!!! <333 sorry ive just gotten to this omg! it’s been sitting here for a little while but i’ve just had so much going on right now and wanted to make sure when i answered that my *full attention* was put on this! (because i’ve been very excited to answer this ESPECIALLY as i see agent mortem questions poking up on here and that just makes me even more hype!!! :D enjoy! <3

Ooooo this is a cool question! I’ve been asked it before but I feel with different characters and such, it always seems to fluctuate for me at least? In the sense, it’s almost never the same process for me in the developmental stages of a character haha! Sometimes I get characteristics first hand, or sometimes a certain scene pops up that just makes the character click and I can build from there, or sometimes, it’s just a last name or a first name that I work with and suddenly have an idea for!

For example, since we’re on the general topic of Landslide, I’ll talk about some things I did when creating specifically Natia. The “Natia” who is currently portrayed in the fic, was not always really like that. Natia initially was not a SOE Agent/Polish Resistance Fighter and instead a Dutch Resistance Member who would meet with Easy in Episode 4. I always sort of knew Natia, in whatever form she was, would meet Easy in Episode 4, but I wasn’t sure how, so the building in the first 17 chapters was the toughest part to come.

I did heavily feel the Polish were underrepresented in terms of the situation of the war along with everything that happened in the Warsaw Uprising and so I felt it was important to see if I could do something with that and that’s really where Natia came into play!

Natia means “hope” essentially and something I really like doing with her character is to parallel or juxtapose different ideas together, to continue on this sort of theme of her being a quite ominous and ambiguous character — you get the general sense of what her morals are, but in certain points it’s questionable. Morally-ambiguous characters have always been fascinating to me, especially female morally-ambiguous characters and so creating Natia in that respect I felt would be interesting to see what I could do!

Something major that I’ve slowly began to take into consideration with characters more and more, is the sort of general theme I want to be present with them — what’s that goal i that they are moving towards in the end and what’s the them surrounding it? For Natia it’s a multitude of things; family, revenge, being silenced, numb, grief, mentor vs protégé, lone wolf etc….the list could truly go on! And with these basic sort of ideas and themes, I can then move on from there and expand.

Why did she want REVENGE? Because the enemy killed her FAMILY, which is extremely important to her, and she wants to feel some sort of REDEMPTION for them.

Why was she BEING SILENCED? Because of the *past* conflict of the HARMFUL MENTOR VS SILENCED PROTÉGÉ situation that occurred between Agent Mortem and herself, where she allowed herself to be silenced by someone who abused the SUDDEN POWER he never had before in his life, ultimately leading to her continued issues of TRUST that she would meet throughout.

Why is she NUMB? Because at a fairly young age she experienced heavy and intense GRIEF that struck unforgivably at a time where it seemed things were safe. To rip something from a character, especially the main character, like FAMILY which is extremely important, you pull at the heart strings and it makes that character move forward on a quest for that in a way, ultimately by the end of the fic. (Basically you up they are least get a semblance of that lost thing, found again by the end)

Why is she a LONE WOLF? Because of the MENTOR VS PROTÉGÉ situation yet again, where she was taught to rely strictly on herself and no one else and so when TRUST and COMPANIONSHIP and TEAMWORK were introduced to her character, she didn’t know how to cope because she had been so desensitized to the ways of Agent Mortem that working back in the morals of family and friends was a challenge in its own respect.

It’s sort of a like a ripple effect if you think about it and that’s what helps me eventually move forward and develop the character arc I want to take place. She’s this way because of this — sort of like cause and effect. It’s really helped me out with major scenes or plot holes that have risen throughout the fic!

AGREED! Writing in general is not an easy feat and now including mind you ORIGINAL CHARACTERS, you’re literally, essentially, creating human beings from scratch and giving them characteristics, a backstory, trauma if you wish, friends and family, people they love, people they hate, morals, standards EVERYTHING! ITS INSANE! AH AND AGENT MORTEM! I’m so very glad that you brought him up, because his creation definitely stemmed directly from the want to experiment with the relationship of failed mentor vs protégé, entirely. I wanted a foil to Natia that was not directly with her all the time. Mortem plays such a MASSIVE role in her story and yet any interactions between the two are either from her mind or from memories and that’s just such a fun way to play around with their dynamic! (I just finished the creation of his backstory and character arc I want him to take and it’s only made me even more excited for what’s to ultimately come for him as well as Natia!)

A song that HEAVILY represents their dynamic is Ghost by Marvin Brooks (2WEI) and I’ll explain why. Even though Mortem is not always inherently *with* Natia, he still is a huge factor of her life, and still heavily controlling many aspects of her life such as recurring memories, reactions, and how she is also conditioned to react to certain things as well. He is essentially a “ghost” who is “haunting” Natia and I feel that’s an interesting take on their connection because they’re two people who clearly had a power struggle and a difference of opinions of multiple things and that just makes it so incredibly interesting to write!

song:

OOOOOO good question!!! So many people have such different ways of approaching story writing and planning and drafting and writing and editing and it’s honestly amazing!! I will say, I’m not an excessive planner or even a real great planner with writing, I never really have, and even as I’ve developed my writing and learned that “it’s okay to slow down”, or “it’s okay to take time for different portions to provide a deeper focus”, I still have not been someone to plan out every bit of my writing.

Reason being is I enjoy seeing where I can take the story in that time and place. Maybe if I’m doing a quick little writing segment and suddenly this idea just appears and hits me, I work it into the fic and it takes it a whole new direction and I end up not being super upset about it because it just…it works! And of course, this is not how other people operate and I have every respect for people who plan and have every detail laid out and figured out and just….completely and utterly planned to the dot. Lile kudos to people who genuinely get the planning all cleaned up before even writing, truly.

I just finalized Agent Mortem’s backstory and where I want his character arc to go and I’ve had him as a character since August of last year LOL! But ya know sometimes, I sit and I think back and go, maybe I wasn’t ready at that time to develop him completely yet because I, the writer, didn’t understand him enough to and I had to write more of him to be able to get a grasp of who he was and his character (and just about everything else!) and that’s okay!!! :)

Going with this idea I just stated above — the 4 or 5 pages of info — KEEP IT MY FRIEND!!! I swear, half the reason ideas even come to me is simply because I just write a big info dump that has all my little ideas somewhere inside and will ALWAYS be there. I recommend maybe taking a day though - away from focusing on writing or editing - and just picking that apart. (That’s what I did the other day and it helped me out MAJORLY! and it was worth it in the end!) Maybe keep the original 4-5 pages and then copy and paste the same thing in another doc so you always have the original!

And then just go through and split ideas apart! If you start reading and see it moving into another realm of headspace of ideas, just press enter and separate the two — you didn’t delete it, it’s still there and still intact! It’s just easier to look at now because instead of two, jumbled and completely different ideas, you now have two paragraphs and portions of text that relate to their own respective idea. It definitely makes it an easier pill to swallow when trying to get yourself organized!!

This really helped me when I was in my beginning stages of figuring out Landslide ESPECIALLY the first 17ish chapter where Natia was not in contact with Easy yet. I’ve explained it before but those chapters are there because we are seeing her final days with the resistance in Warsaw and how she ultimately ends up with Easy PLUS we see who she is as a character by herself and how she is not merely an extension off of Easy, but her own character, her own person. She has her own story and her own morals and ways of going about her life that don’t even relate to Easy. Their paths just happened to cross!! :)

By getting those first 17ish chapters planned, not extreme planning though I will admit, half the scenes were very much thought up on the spot for example like Natia driving to Munich in disguise or the introduction of Zdzich — two very important scenes that show us something about Natia. (1) She’s willing to go to extreme lengths for the people she loves to ensure that in the end they are safe, even if it means sacrificing herself and (2) she has trouble realizing that there are people out there that genuinely care for her, a connection to her ultimate, unruly and upsetting past. And the best part about it is THESE WEREN’T EVEN PLANNED! So sometimes, just let the story take the reigns and your mind and just guide you through it. Sometimes it is for the best :)

If you have your basic ideas and concepts and themes for how you want your fic to eventually go, the scenes for me most of the time just appear I guess when they should. Sometimes even in the times I'm not writing, I sit theorizing and questioning and thinking and developing ideas in my mind and it's a real good exercise, so when you get back to writing, you already know where you want the fic leading in the end!

MAN I LOVE THIS QUESTION. Anytime I can provide some meta or give some insight to Natia who is just one of the best characters I’ve gotten the pleasure of working with, I’ll gladly answer!

The thing I enjoy writing about Natia the most I feel, and I’ll probably always say this, is her complexity — as a writer, her character orders a healthy challenge for me that I gladly have accepted! You don’t know everything about her as a reader and as you read each chapter, that’s how you slowly uncover and discover what she hid about herself to protect herself. There’s so many different aspects of her that I could discuss truly!! (There has been so many parts that I’ve scrapped because I read through and just think “Man this doesn’t seem like Natia!”. She’s tricky sometimes to stake down exactly how she would react because of her past and her trauma and how long she’s been in war, but I just LOVE it!)

Many different aspects of her character though, come from her past and that’s what makes her interesting. I’ve really enjoyed working with the ideology of “Chekov’s Gun”, a writing device that can be used, with how I will mentioned something and it almost might seem out of the blue, yet later it all just makes sense?! When the flashback is revealed or a small portion of her past is finally allowing *light* in. It's a device I've used with Natia that has just really helped to develop her story at the pace I want it to be revealed! :D

For example, the OCEAN is mentioned many times. I make constant reference to the WAVES, the RECESSION of them from time to time, the comparison of the OCEAN both ABOVE and BELOW surface — all of that sorta stuff! For her character, it seems a bit out of place. She’s COLD. She’s NUMB. She’s BROKEN. What does an open body of water consuming at least 70% of the Earth have to do with an OC based in Warsaw, Poland?

This is where the importance of her PAST will play it’s role, as it has a major INFLUENCE on her and her CHARACTER and her MORALS. One of the main reasons the OCEAN is inherently connected to Natia is because of her PAST and one of those main reasons is AGENT MORTEM and her TRAINING, especially WATER training. I can’t comment further on this though as readers have only touched the tip of the iceberg for the use of the OCEAN and it’s IMPORTANCE so far in this fic! (Ask me again about it once this fic is finished up for the most part, unless….by Part 4 readers understand why!)

Natia just remains a character who constantly is developing and changing inside my head - where I want her path to ultimately end up leading by the end of the fic, where I want both her mental head space vs emotional head space should be and etc. So many portions of this fic are dealt specifically on her internal monologue and how she calculates and problem solves from that portion of her sort of *engagement* within the conflict. There never seems to be a dull moment when writing her!

Another thing I really have enjoyed about writing Natia is her clashing personality traits that make her interesting to write in both different scenarios and reactions. She's stubborn yet humble. She's numb and cold but internally extremely caring and giving and filled with these bottled up emotions. She's mentally strong yet she's been through so much and let the war take so much. She never complains about what she's doing, but she's lost nearly everyone she loves. She's a fighter in this war and refuses to back down from a battle she know she can wage, but the second she is pulled from the aspect of war, things crash and burn around her. Just even these few combating sort of things, really show her character and what, through writing, has slowly developed! They always lay around in the back of my mind and it's one of the main things I remind myself when I write Natia all the tme.

I think one of the most important things I've learned from both writing and creating a character like Natia is that (1) it's okay to ask for help, about anything, literally anything. You don't have to confine everything to yourself and build up this immense pressure to do what you must to continue moving forward. It's okay to have people there to help you and support you. (2) It's okay to be strong alone and even if you seem to be the only one on the current path you're are on, it does not mean you are wrong. it can still lead to the right destination in the end!

Oooo okay! AGENT MORTEM!! I am totally down to chat about some things I've loved to write with him with and some challenges I've discovered, but as far as what I've learned from him, I will be holding off and could answer that when the entire fic is both completed and then updated on platforms....just because ;) don't want to give away any spoilers haha! <3

Something I've enjoyed about writing and crafting Agent Mortem is letting him remain as mysterious and secretive as he is for so long. Initially, I can't even begin to recall what his character would be like even a year ago, but seeing where he has developed now, I'm really happy with where he is. He's mysterious, he's shadowed, he seems like a figure in the background, a past mentor who is half deranged and lost his mind with a background with so substance. It makes for such a fascinating way to begin to reveal his past! (something I've began to insert into part 4 of Landslide and man I'm just so HYPE!)

I feel I'm excited simply because he's finally getting the time and moment he deserves to finally explain and show himself as to what has occurred. There's so many fractured and disconnected parts of what is currently going on with Natia and her connection to both Agent Mortem and then Death is tossed in the mix and it seems this big complicated mess of 'how' Agent Mortem got to be this way, 'why' he does a thing such as this, just different and varying aspects such as that. it makes for those big final reveals to all be even more worth it!

He has been quite the challenge though I will admit. There's so many perspectives he could quite possibly be viewed from and his *character* + morals/values could be pulled in a various amount of ways as well. Making sure he accurately comes across the way I want him to both appear and come across to the reader and to myself has definitely been tricky. He's not as easy as suspected, you know, not just a 'dude who had a bad day and went insane in the end', there's a whole multitude of levels and reasons and a deep, heavy and traumatizing background starting from his birth really (which is a whole other story). Managing and balancing that all in one has definitely been something I've had to keep on top of and monitor but I feel has really been worth the challenge in the end. Because at the end of the day, I'm someone looking to constantly challenge myself.

And a good challenge, whether it be writing or academics or a workout, is healthy and GOOD! That's what Landslide in a whole has really shown me, to challenge yourself daily to see where you can push yourself and your imagination and creativity, just to see where you can even go!! it's exciting and refreshing!

Thank you so much for this wonderful ask Rose! I appreciate it more than ANYTHING as you well know, and I know it's taken me *quite* some time to answer, but I've been working on it for weeks now and finally got it out because it was ready! I really wanted to take my time with it and develop it to its full potential in the end and I feel I have (without giving away any spoilers haha!) As always, please know if you have any further questions regarding Natia Filipska, Agent Mortem, Death (along with other characters of Landslide), writing, the process (my own included), tips for writing/planning, or just anything else in general, I will always be happy to help in anyway I can! You're always welcome, anyone always is!!! <3333 Thank you again, I had so much fun doing this more than anything! :D

#writing #writing tips #band of brothers #bob fic #band of brothers fic #also hello landslide day tmr and it’s a good one hehe :d #natia filipska #agent mortem #death (character)#basic aid on characters + writing/planning #plus gathering thoughts #thank you again for this rose! i had so much fun! <3333

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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Lessons and Lamentations

Crowley has been alone for so long, he doesn't remember any other way to be. And then an angel in a tavern tries to tempt him.

A lesson in music, and what it means to not be alone.

Another Good Omens fic for @bingokisses - this one for the prompt “Learning Guitar/Piano together” (well, lyre, close enough) which on my card was paired with “Over-the-shoulder kiss.”

Available on AO3, with detailed history notes for those who like that sort of thing.

Crowley still wasn’t sure what had happened.

“Start by placing your hands like this,” Aziraphale instructed him. “The lyre goes against your thigh, here.” The curve of the tortoiseshell pressed into Crowley’s leg, partway between knee and waist. The angel’s arms wrapped around him, lightly holding the instrument. “Go on. I can’t show you how to play if you don’t take it.”

Five hours ago, he’d been sitting in a tavern, looking forward to getting comfortably black-out drunk and sleeping off the rest of his assignment. Five hours ago, he’d been just about ready to write off the entire ridiculous planet and all the useless beings who inhabited it. Five hours ago, he’d been alone, as he’d always been alone, for so long he couldn’t remember a different way to be.

And then an angel had tried to tempt him.

“Good. Now, when you actually play, you’ll have both hands on the strings. One behind, one in front. But for now, just keep it tilted just like this, so you can see what I’m doing.” One soft hand stayed on the back of Crowley’s helping him cradle the instrument. The other, the right, brushed across his skin as fingers reached to pluck a few notes.

It wasn’t that Crowley had wanted dinner. He ate, when he wanted, but not oysters. If he was going to put something in his mouth, it wouldn’t be a slab of barely-cooked meat that smelt of salt and had the consistency of a particularly phlegmy cough.

But, bless it, that angel was so determined to be friendly and how could anyone resist that? Crowley’s specialty was the irresistible. He knew when something was a lost cause.

“Now the simplest method is plucking, like this, and you’ll notice if I press down here,” his left hand shifted to rest on the strings, “the note is – is sort of abbreviated. Muted and quick. But if I leave the string free…” A soft note reverberated through the atrium. “Then it holds for quite some time. So you can combine several of those to make a chord, like this.” He plucked three strings rapidly, and their sounds combined into a single, rich note, warm, almost liquid, flowing together into something even better.

It had taken some time to warm up to each other. They disagreed on everything. Politics. Morality. Whether or not Caesar had deserved to be stabbed quite so many times. All the big questions, really.

But then, Aziraphale had taken a mouthful of the sharp red wine and spat it back out. This is no sort of wine! My dear fellow, how can you stand it?

S’Rome. You drink what they have. Not any worse than that beer in Uruk.

It absolutely is! My word, how your standards have fallen.

“Now once you have that down, you can start strumming – and you have to make sure your fingers are exact, or it won't work. Hold down all these strings from the back, here and here and here…like that. Then, instead of plucking, you just run your thumb across them all like this—” Seven notes all rose through the air, one sound that was everything together, pure and clear. Crowley gasped and, without thinking, leaned back a little against Aziraphale’s chest. “Mind your legs,” was all the angel said, shifting his knees and feet to hold Crowley’s legs in position.

The argument about wine had turned into a long digression about the drinks of a hundred different cultures. They agreed the pear wine to the north had been the lightest, smoothest of all, that Egyptian beer was superior to Sumerian but really the whole concept needed work, that the plum liqueur drink of the far east was simply delightful, though they disagreed on whether or not it should be drunk by the jarful.

From there they moved on to the decoration of the jars – the simple patterns of the northern cultures compared to the elaborate (and often erotic) scenes of the Greeks. And then to art generally, to paintings, to sculpture, to the general agreement that the emperors’ enormous monuments were rather on the gaudy side. After some discussion, they determined the best work in the city to be a simple but beautifully carved statue of the goddess Hygieia stepping from a pool, located by one of the city’s many baths. Crowley particularly liked that she carried a snake, and Aziraphale had laughed at that.

“Do you want me to play a song for you? So you can see how it goes?” Crowley nodded, not trusting himself to speak. “Alright, let me think.” Aziraphale leaned closer, resting his chin on Crowley’s shoulder, arms absently tugging at his waist to pull them more firmly together, before returning his hands to rest on the backs of Crowley’s. Now every part of Crowley pressed against a part of Aziraphale. It should have felt like an intrusion – Crowley hated to be touched, hated other people in his space – but somehow it felt the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve got one. Now watch.” He rested his left hand against the back of the strings, and with his right lifted a wedge of tortoiseshell, which he used to pluck one string after another, a slow and stately rhythm.

Speaking of art had brought them to talking about the theater, which they both confessed to enjoy. They’d discussed whether the current plays could ever be as good as the classics – a difficult conversation, as apparently the angel preferred slow-paced bore fests whereas Crowley liked the ones with good jokes and fast dialogue. Eventually Aziraphale conceded that Plautus was one of the best playwrights in recent memory, and Crowley agreed to go see Seneca’s take on the Agamemnon story.

Are all angels so obsessed with tragedy? The restaurant had brought a bowl of figs, which were much more to Crowley’s liking. Makes sense, I suppose. Predestination and the plans of the gods and all that. Humans learning to accept their fate.

Oh. Aziraphale’s face had fallen. No I…I rather think I’m the only one. He’d shifted uncomfortably. That is…theater isn’t considered a particularly angelic pursuit. Nor is sculpture, or food or…well…really any of the, you know, human arts.

Crowley had cocked his head, rolled over to lie flat on his couch and stare at the ceiling. Makes sense, he had started in his usual cool, detached manner. They’re very demonic pursuits. All those, you know, delicately carved ladies, that just inspires lust and…and envy and all sorts of sins. And the theater! Comedies about sowing confusion and throwing the entire world into disorder. Mocking power structures. Tempting young men into lives of romance and – and fun, instead of duty and war and whatever else? Yes, very demonic.

He had grinned to himself, satisfied with his explanation, until a glance at Aziraphale’s face had made his chest ache. The brilliant smile had vanished completely, leaving the angel looking downcast. Hopeless. And alone, so blasted alone, in a way that resonated deep in Crowley’s soul.

So, thankful for the glasses that hid his eyes, Crowley had sighed with as much drama as he could muster. Least, that’s what I tell my superiors. Don’t think they really buy it, but I keep trying. Aziraphale blinked at him in confusion. Don’t think I’ve ever had a chance to, you know, talk about it properly, not with anyone who understands. So. S’nice. A look of understanding dawned on the angel’s face, with an entirely new kind of smile, and Crowley had to turn away before it burned him alive. Yeah. So. That’s theater…nh…what do you think of music?

Which brought them here, to the villa of the family Aziraphale had been assigned to, and the lyre, and a music lesson that so far had been an education in something very different.

Each note fell like rainwater, gliding up and down the scales. His hands began to move independently, sometimes plucking notes from the front and back of the instrument, sometimes gliding across the strings, sometimes one finger would rest on a single string, making it quaver and reverberate. Every time Crowley thought he knew the pattern, it would change, faster or slower, higher or lower, a sweeping glissando to bring a chill up his spine.

It was a lament, infinitely sad and alone, and yet filling the air with a bright rhythm of undeniable, unremitting hope.

Crowley couldn’t keep up with the movements of Aziraphale’s fingers, dancing up and down in an incomprehensible pattern. Instead, he half-closed his eyes and leaned back, resting his head more comfortably against the angel’s shoulder. Aziraphale said nothing, intent on his music, but he tilted his head so that their cheeks rested together.

Nobody liked Crowley, not really.

They tolerated him, or were impressed by him, or flattered by his compliments, or drawn in by his intrigue – all the tricks of a tempter. He could roll into any city or village in the world and have the locals eating out of his hand in a matter of days. But once he’d done his job, once he’d accomplished his goal and could drop the pretenses…nobody ever stuck around, and it was on to the next job, the next temptation, the next act.

He didn’t miss the company. He didn’t need it. He had passed four thousand years on this planet quite happily alone, and could do the next four thousand the same.

And yet.

And yet here he sat, on the floor of a fancy villa, surrounded by Aziraphale, wrapped in his arms and his legs and his music. Welcomed. Accepted. Wanted.

Just for the length of a song, nothing else needed to exist. No Heaven, no Hell, no sides, just two beings enjoying each other’s company, just the smell of Aziraphale’s perfume and the brush of his toga against Crowley’s arms, just two heartbeats dancing to the sound of the lyre.

The song wound to a close.

Crowley tipped his head back, trying to meet Aziraphale’s eyes, but could only see a round cheek, a pursed mouth, a snub of a nose.

He wished the song could go on forever. He wished…something. He didn’t know what, but he wanted it more than anything.

Aziraphale plucked the final notes.

And, as the last chord reverberated through the room, their lips met.

Quick as an echo, just as soft and mysterious. An unmistakable brush of lips, the slightest parting, a hot stream of breath. A greeting. A thank you. A promise of…something, someday, Crowley couldn’t imagine what, but he would gladly wait ten thousand years to find out.

And then – the last note faded, and Aziraphale pulled away.

“Well. There you have it. Quite a tidy little instrument, isn’t it? Quite – quite clever, I really prefer it to the cithara, you know.”

“Yeah, um.” Crowley turned his face away. He didn’t actually remember starting the kiss, but it must have been him, the eternal tempter, always pushing for whatever he could get. Pushing too far. Already, he could feel the tension building in Aziraphale’s stomach.

“Perhaps that’s enough for one night?” Crowley’s heart fell. “Yes, I – I rather think…yes, probably sufficient…”

“Can you—” Crowley gripped the instrument a little tighter. “Can you show me a few notes? While you’re here. While I’m here,” he corrected.

“I…you still want to learn?”

“S’why I came, isn’t it?” He shifted his hands and tried to pluck a note; it came out more sour than sweet. “Something like this?”

“Nearly.” Aziraphale’s fingers came around to nudge his, but they hesitated. “Perhaps I should, er, sit facing you? That might be less…”

“You don’t have to,” Crowley said, far too quickly. “I mean. S’easier this way. Facing it the same way, hands on the same side, all that. You don’t…you don’t have to move.”

“Ah. If. If you’re sure.” Crowley nodded. “Right then. Ehm. When you pluck, you should pinch your fingers like this…”

The lesson went on until the early hours of the morning, Crowley nestled against Aziraphale, as the warmth and the music filled him.

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ellewritesathing · 4 years

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Infernal - II

Summary: In your sleepy little town of Greendale, nothing ever slept for long. And ever since October, everything felt like it was waking up. Everything except for you, that is. One teensy trip to Hell (and an infuriatingly cute guy) later and suddenly you felt wide awake.

Word-count: 2.5k+

Masterlist Prev. | Part 2

A/N: thank you guys for all the support for Part 1!! i really appreciate it and i hope you enjoy this one 💕 (also this is my first time making a tag list, could please you let me know if it worked properly?)

Things went back to normal so quickly that your trip to Hell almost felt like a dream that you just couldn’t shake - the only visible sign that it ever happened being the carefully covered bruise on your forearm. That’s just the way life was now; spikes of supernatural intervention and then the lull of Baxter High. But then Sabrina burst into Harvey’s garage again, holding a gigantic book in her arms and calling for a Crisis Fright Club meeting. Another spike.

She explained how one of her new duties was dragging souls to Hell and that she needed your help to get the next guy. Jimmy Platt. Her plan was that once she took Jimmy’s soul, you guys could grab his newly-dead body and she could use it to house Lucifer and free Nick.

“So, it’s like Freaky Friday!” Harvey said. His enthusiasm made you laugh, which you quickly stifled when you noticed that your friends were still on edge about the whole ‘reaping the ice-cream man’s soul’ thing.

“It’s called a soul transference, but kind of,” Sabrina said.

The four of you agreed to take the Spellman hearse and steal Jimmy’s body while Sabrina took his soul to Hell, but she grabbed your arm before you could follow the others to Harvey’s pickup truck.

“What’s up, Brina?” you asked, trying to hide the hesitancy in your voice. She seemed unsure for the first time since you’d met her, and you doubted it was because of the body-snatching. “Do you need to talk about being Queen of Hell?”

“No, it’s not that,” she answered. She bit the inside of her lip for a moment as she chose her next words. “Well, I mean, it kind of is. Do you remember Caliban, the guy from the beach who’s also trying to rule Hell?”

A face like that was hard to forget, but you didn’t want to tell Sabrina that.

“Yeah, why?”

“I want you to stay away from him,” Sabrina said. The words tumbled out of her mouth and she worked quickly to explain what she meant to your arching eyebrows. “Not in like an ‘I forbid you from seeing him’ kinda thing, just be careful if he shows up. I don’t know anything about him except that he’s bad news and clearly has a thing for you.”

“First of all, I don’t think demons have things for anyone,” you said, overcompensating for the rush you got when she said he was interested in you. “And second, this is the same guy that wants to enslave all of humanity, right? Not really my type.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t really into the bad boy thing at first either-” Sabrina looked over at Harvey and Roz for a second when she spoke - not long enough to seem significant to anyone who didn’t know her, but long enough for someone like you. “But things change and I just want you to be careful if they do. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Trust me,” you said, using your other hand to move Sabrina’s off your arm and interlace it with yours. “The only way I’m going to get hurt is if the ice cream man tries to make a break for it.”

She gave you a not entirely convinced smile before the two of you piled into the back with Theo. You picked up the hearse, played musical chairs with the seating chart, and then waited for something to happen after Sabrina left to reap her first soul.

Rather disappointingly, the only thing that did happen was Sabrina coming back empty-handed and confused. Undisappointingly, Jimmy had kidnapped a little girl in order to extend his contract, and if he died then she rotted away somewhere in Greendale.

---

The last thing you felt like doing was going to the pep rally after Sabrina accidentally got locked in Jimmy’s murder-freezer and Lucy got returned to her mom, but there was nothing else you could do. They had a plan and you were just backup if it went south. The plan did not include you trying to kick Jimmy's teeth in.

You didn’t want to third-wheel Theo and Robin or Harvey and Roz, so you picked a spot against the fence where you could still be a part of the pep rally but you had some distance from the over-eager teens. Leaning against the fence, you got lost in your thoughts until a voice woke you up.

“I thought it was tradition for all the pretty girls to dance up there in their little outfits, not for one to be left behind in the shadows.”

You turned your head to see Caliban waiting for you to respond, so you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. He was bad news, even if he was attractive bad news. Like a car crash that you just couldn’t keep your eyes off. Did car crashes usually have such phenomenal bone structure?

“And I thought it was tradition for all the demons to be in Hell, not hitting on unaccompanied minors,” you said, doing your best to seem unrattled. Ignoring the smirk on his face and turning your gaze back to the cheerleaders, you continued, “You do know that Sabrina will kick your ass if she finds you here, right?”

“I think the Morningstar has other priorities at the moment,” he said. The sand crunched under his feet as he came closer. “But you can try to kick my ass, if you’d like.”

Casting a glance at him before turning away, you reminded yourself not to get involved. A pretty trainwreck was still a trainwreck, no matter how much you wanted it not to be. The ground shifted again and Caliban was right next to you, lifting his hand slowly to move your hair off your neck. The places where his fingers brushed your skin lit up.

“You truly have no idea what you are, do you?” He asked it like he was telling you a secret. Despite your attempts to seem unnerved, your jaw clenched. He moved in your peripheral vision and took something out of his pockets. Stepping in front of you, his hands lifted to drape a necklace over your head. “The shell is from the Shores of Sorrow. When you’re ready to find me, just break the shell. Use it wisely, love, because it only works once.”

Choosing to look at his face instead of the necklace, you noticed something in his eyes that made you think at least part of what he said was true. There was something else that made you feel like you didn’t want to find out which part it was.

Determined not to be unnerved, you put on your best war face and straightened up. “And why should I believe anything you say?”

“Why should I have any reason to lie to you?” he asked, seeming amused by your standoffishness.

“Because you want to get the Throne, which means you have to go through Sabrina,” you said, taking the necklace off and wrapping the rope around the seashell as you spoke. The shell was white with specks of faint color creating patterns along the outside. A very pretty trainwreck indeed. You reached for his hand and lay the necklace in his palm. “And you’re trying to go through me to do that.”

“Do you really think so low of me?” Caliban asked.

You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely hurt behind that stormy expression of his or just trying to manipulate you. You looked down at your hand, still holding the back of his, and saw your sleeve had rolled up. Pulling away, you tugged your sleeve down to cover the ugly yellow- purple that had been sticking out. Looking back up to say that yes, you did think that low of him, you found Caliban staring at your forearm.

“You didn’t get that in Hell.”

He said it so matter of factly that it sent shivers up your spine.

“How would you know?”

Harvey called out to you, breaking your staring contest and signaling that it was done. When you looked back, Caliban was gone. The necklace lay in the sand where he had been. Telling yourself it was better if you had it than some unassuming girl, you picked it up and shoved it into your pocket. Then you rushed over to your friends like you hadn’t just consorted with the enemy. The very distracting enemy.

---

In an effort to prove that you were right to distrust him, Caliban challenged Sabrina’s right to rule with a challenge to find the Unholy Regalia. The first part was finding the Crown of Herod, so you spent the day at the Academy with Ambrose trying to figure out where it could be. Zelda was hardly enthused about your presence, but Hilda asked what the harm was of letting you poke around under Ambrose’s supervision. Besides, she said, they had bigger problems to worry about than you reading about witches.

After scrambling to find the location of the crown, Ambrose left to find Sabrina, leaving you alone in the Academy’s library. Figuring this was the only opportunity you’d get, you started looking for books about … something. You didn’t know what Caliban meant when he asked about what you really were, and your dad had told you countless times that Delilah was based on you. If she wasn’t human, that had to mean that you weren’t human either, right?

Or that your dad was crazy. Either option seemed equally possible, if you were being honest with yourself.

One of the books you pulled was about changelings; fairies or demons that replaced human babies and terrorized their host families. But you knew it wasn’t right. It just didn’t click with you, and you doubted that they’d just dump a fairy with humans without an evil instruction manual or a card with the time and place of Evil Babies Anonymous. If you were a demon or a fairy, you felt like you’d know about it.

Sighing, you checked your phone. Multiple texts asking where you were, if you were coming to the carnival, and did you need a ride. You sent off a few texts that all essentially said the said thing: you’d meet them there as soon as you could.

You made your way back home and dumped all your school things and research on your chair in the corner of your room. You grabbed a jacket and pulled your hair up into a ponytail before heading out the door so none of your friends put out a missing person’s report on you.

“Bye, Dad! Don’t wait up!” you called.

Just before opening the door, you heard your dad say something that you didn’t quite catch. Hand hovering over the doorknob, you had to decide between heading out or see what was responsible for the nagging feeling in your stomach. The nagging won.

“I thought you were going to the carnival with your friends,” your dad said with an easy smile when you leaned in his doorway.

“Yeah, I am but I thought you said something,” you said.

He seemed to be doing better today at least. The good days used to be the norm, the bad days were a foggy nightmare that you woke up from with a stack of your dad’s homemade pancakes, and then you turned sixteen. Now you could count the number of good days on one hand.

“Oh.” He straightened up in his chair. “I just said to be careful. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and all that. Have fun.”

“Wait, what did you just say?” you asked, muscles tensing slightly. He couldn’t know about Herod’s crown.

“To be careful,” your dad blinked.

“After that.”

“Have fun?”

“Right,” you said. He’d forgotten what he said. Another lapse in memory, did this still go in the good day pile? “Will do.”

The Carnival was way more unsettling than you expected. You couldn’t find your friends anywhere, all the sounds were too loud, and the lights got brighter and brighter as the sun set. Your dad’s words ringing in your head didn’t do much to ease the anxiety either.

You jumped as one of the games rang out next to you and a hand reached out to steady you. You pulled your arm away and caught the hand with your own, twisting it at an angle and waiting for the wrist to snap.

“Easy,” Caliban warned, leaning into the movement to protect his wrist. “You could hurt someone like that.”

“That’s kind of the point,” you said, dropping his hand and crossing your arms over your chest again. Even though you acted like it didn’t, this place felt a little bit safer with him next to you.

“Oh, I know,” he said with a devilish smile. He ran a hand through his hair as he stepped closer to you. “I see you kept the necklace.”

He couldn’t have - you were very careful to hide it under your clothes - but you knew he expected you to check. That would give him an answer as to if you kept it. You didn’t move or say anything, but you did jump when another game celebrated a victory with loud chiming.

“A little on edge tonight, are we?”

“Only because there’s this guy that keeps popping up whenever I’m alone,” you said, turning and starting to walk again. “People are telling me to get a restraining order, but I’m not sure it’ll do anything to stop him. I think something more dangerous and less orderly might be what I need.”

“Perhaps I could be of some help,” Caliban said, making it clear that he understood what you were implying but refusing to acknowledge it. “I happen to have an affinity for doing dangerous things.”

“Oh, I bet you think you do,” you said, stopping and turning back to look at him again.

A dangerous thing with an affinity for doing dangerous things looked back at you. Maybe it was your anxiety clouding your judgment or maybe it was the way the Ferris wheel lights caught in his eye, but all you wanted in that moment was to forget Sabrina’s warning and kiss him. After all, one dangerous thing never hurt anyone; it was always the harmless things that got people damned. Like apples. And Caliban was hardly an apple. Though if you thought about it hard enough, maybe that meant he was the snake.

Realizing that it had been almost a minute since either of you had said anything and a smile was slowly etching its way across Caliban’s face, you shifted your weight and asked, “Don’t you have places to be, people to torture?”

“Now that you mention it, I do have somewhere I need to be.” He ducked his head slightly as he spoke and took a step back, readying his hands for whatever spell he was about to cast. Looking back at you with a smile that managed to be both conniving and grim, he added, “Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and all that.”

“Wait, what did you-”

But he was already gone, a few burn marks on the ground the only evidence that he’d been there at all.

Taglist: @peachesandknives @caliban-is-my-girl @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @music-movies @miss--moose

Part 3

#caliban #caliban imagine #caliban x reader #infernal #chilling adventures of sabrina #caos

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jetsetlife138 · 4 years

Text

Imaginary - Chapter 4

Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: A mysterious device throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Pentagram City’s residents are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Suggestive language, explicit language

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3

Note: Just a reminder to my uninformed and curious folks out there: Asexuals can become aroused. Asexuals can have the desire to become aroused. Asexuals can enjoy being aroused. Asexuals can take steps to becoming aroused. Asexuals can be aroused by someone else. Asexuals can be curious about arousal. Asexuals can alternatively have no interest in arousal. Asexuality doesn’t mean that you are celibate and have no interest in sex. Do yourself a favor and do some research. Talk to your ace friends. Trust me, they’re more than happy to educate you on that subject. Brace yourselves for another fun-filled chapter!

Looking back, acting so aggressively towards the infamous demon was probably not the smartest plan. It may have been a bit premature to assume that he was making any kind of sexual advances towards you. After all, he never really confirmed that was his intention. You may have just dug yourself into an even deeper hole.

Then again… you wouldn’t put it past him considering how he carried himself and also by the way Angel Dust encouraged more illicit behavior. Even with the small amount of time that you had spent with him, it was obvious that the Radio Demon was an opportunist, and also a crafty bastard who got off on manipulating others for his own personal gain. You had wondered if there was a part of him that genuinely wanted to help Charlie with the hotel, or if he had any ulterior motives. Maybe Vaggie had the right idea about him after all.

Whatever the case, you had to be smart about this. You weren’t going to get anywhere by being so negative. However, it was also important to brace yourself for any impending threat, especially considering that you were, after all, in Hell. Cartoon or not, this place was filled with evil creatures, and you had to watch your back.

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself to leave the safety of your room, equally curious and terrified of what would await you in this mysterious land. Stepping out into the hall, you took a moment to really look around, admiring the creepy hotel structure as well as the art on the wall. Painting of strange beings lined the halls in old, corroded frames. You weren’t sure if the creatures on the canvas were important historical figures, or if they were just members of Charlie’s family. Either way, they were haunting.

Hearing a commotion downstairs, you decided to go and investigate. Following the noises, you had eventually found yourself in a large room where Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust were gathered together, bickering about something with an odd, furry cat demon who was positioned behind the bar next to them with an annoyed look on his face.

Upon seeing you enter, Charlie cut the conversation short, forcing a nervous grin. “Oh, hey there! How’s it going?”

Keeping your expression neutral, you replied, “I’m hanging in there, thanks. Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all!” she assured you, clearly deflecting. “We were just, uh… discussing tactics to get you home. It would help if we had a little more to go off of. Can you tell us more about you?”

“Just ask Alastor,” Angel suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. “The two a them were gettin’ real familiar upstairs. I’m sure he’d be happy to fill you in.”

“Um. What?” Vaggie snapped, her expression equally enraged and horrified.

Glaring at the spider-demon, he merely blew a kiss at you in return before snickering fiendishly, eager to see how this would play out.

“He came to my room after the two of you left,” you admitted, noting the nervous glances between Charlie and Vaggie. “It wasn’t a big deal. We just talked.”

“Oh, honey,” Angel began. “You was doin’ a lot more than that. These walls talk, babe. And these walls told me they saw you two in bed together.”

Oh, fuck. Not good.

Charlie looked horrified while Vaggie seemed to be on the brink of a conniption. “No, no, no, it wasn’t like that,” you urged, putting them slightly at ease. “He was trying to help me.”

“How is being in bed together helpful to your cause?” Vaggie pressed, clearly not buying it.

“He did something to me… I’m not even sure. He said that he could help me and then he put his hand on my head. Next thing I know, I’m blacking out. I woke up later in the bed, and he just happened to be lying next to me. That’s it.”

Angel Dust rolled his eyes, crossing one set of his arms in disbelief while Vaggie pursed her lips in a disappointed manner. Charlie took a moment to find her words before she asked, “What exactly did he do to you?”

“Apparently, he could see inside my head. By looking through my memories he could see what my world looked like. I’m not sure how that’s beneficial. Maybe he just wanted to see if I was telling the truth. He didn’t say. He’s… weird.”

“That’s an understatement,” Vaggie murmured, earning a chuckle from the cat-demon behind the bar.

“Was that all?” Charlie inquired curiously.

“Yeah, toots. Was that all?” Angel teased, biting his lip to keep from laughing. Ugh, he was going to be the death of you.

“He tried to make a deal with me,” you finally divulged.

“Hijo de puta,” Vaggie seethed, baring her teeth in anger.

Swallowing thickly, Charlie asked, “What kind of deal?”

Shrugging your shoulders awkwardly, you replied, “If he succeeded in somehow returning me to my world, he wanted me to take him with me. I guess he thinks my world would be entertaining for him.”

You glanced at Angel, knowing that he was well aware of the other services that Alastor allegedly offered you. Pleading with your eyes, you hoped that he would take pity on you and keep his mouth shut just this once.

A smirk graced his lips as he considered your silent request. Much to your relief, he kept quiet. You’d probably pay for that later, but it was worth it to avoid more horrified expressions from the others.

Charlie wrung her hands together nervously while Vaggie approached you, worrying her lip. “Please tell me that you didn’t make a deal with him.”

“No!” you confirmed, shaking your head. “Of course not. I barely know him.”

“You gonna give her a history lesson? Looks like I’m not the only one around here who isn’t familiar with the Strawberry Pimp,” Angel drawled, now apparently bored of the topic.

Rolling her eyes, Vaggie sighed with exasperation. “Alright, look. No one knows how he’s accomplished so much since arriving in Hell. Overlords that have ruled Hell for centuries were no match against him. To prove his dominance and establish a reputation, Alastor pretty much massacred anyone who posed as a threat to his power. He broadcasted his carnage all throughout Hell, the mere savagery of his slaughters attesting to his abilities. That’s how he got his name, “The Radio Demon”. How original, right?” she jeered.

Furrowing your brows, you continued to listen intently. “It’s still unclear as to how he attained the power to overthrow our world’s most ancient and devastating evils, but it’s evident that he's a nefarious demon and dangerously unpredictable--capable of unimaginable destruction.”

Holy fuck. You knew he was dangerous, but you had no idea what he was actually capable of. And you had the audacity to berate him.

Struggling to keep from trembling, you asked, “So… if he’s so dangerous, why are you partnering with him?”

Charlie smiled timidly, trying to maintain her optimistic demeanor. “He offered his expertise because he supports what we’re trying to do here!”

“You cannot possibly believe that,” you countered skeptically.

“I don’t,” Vaggie barked back, scowling. “I want nothing to do with him.”

“Vaggie, come on,” Charlie implored. “We’ve been over this. We’ve got to at least give him a chance. Everyone is capable of redemption. He hasn’t done anything to hurt us or the hotel. He could be the best thing to happen to this place. Other than you,” she finished with a smile, earning a flirtatious eye roll from her girlfriend.

“You could always try commanding him to leave,” Angel taunted. “I’d like to see how Hell’s princess pairs up against Hell’s most powerful demon.”

It was then you remembered hearing her mention that she was a princess the day before when she had saved you from the mob. In all of the calamity, it had completely slipped your mind. “Wait, so you’re actually a princess?” you asked. “How does that work?”

“Jesus, you really are from another world, aren’t you?” Angel interjected, reaching for a drink at the bar. “Ever hear of Lucifer? The Big Bad of Hell?”

Nodding your head, Angel then pointed to Charlie. “That’s his kid.”

Your eyes were probably the size of baseballs as you stared at Charlie, completely at a loss for words. “It’s really not a big deal,” she assured you, her face flushed with embarrassment, which only added to her already rosy cheeks.

“Wait, you’ve been here for less than a day. How do you even know about Lucifer?” Vaggie questioned.

“I mean… I don’t know about your Lucifer,” you clarified, trying to find the right way to explain yourself. “In my world, Lucifer isn’t an actual person. He’s more of a myth, or a religious figure, depending on who you ask. There’s stories about him and no one knows if he actually existed. He’s always been portrayed as evil incarnate. He brought sin to the world and God cast him down into Hell. That’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Interesting,” Vaggie commented, pressing a finger to her lips inquisitively. “Your world’s version of him isn’t too far off. Rest assured, he’s real. And he’s not really a fan of our business.”

“Yet,” Charlie corrected her.

“Yet,” Vaggie agreed, grinning slightly.

“Wow,” you huffed, trying to comprehend everything.

“I know that this is probably a lot for you to take in,” Charlie sympathized, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, but we’re going to help you. All of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” the cat-demon commented before taking a swig of his booze.

“Oh! I forgot to introduce you! This is Husk. He’s a friend of Alastor’s--”

“I ain’t his friend!” he barked back, seething. “That stupid son of a bitch dragged me in here outta nowhere! I’m just biding my time until the booze runs out.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, thoroughly enjoying his callousness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I can’t say the same,” he grumbled, reaching for a new bottle of alcohol after pitching the old, empty bottle behind him.

Clapping her hands together, Charlie quickly changed the subject. “Right! Let’s get started! What can you tell us about how you got here?”

It was mostly a blur, but you tried your best to concentrate and remember exactly what had happened. “I was out with my friends and we had passed by this old thrift shop,” you began, trying to recall the details. “It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I was looking around and saw an old television set on display. It looked like it was at least fifty years old, still in prime condition. I love that kind of retro stuff. I remember grabbing the remote for the t.v. to see if it still worked. I pressed the power button, and bam!” You threw your hands up dramatically for affect. “That’s the last thing I remember.”

Charlie hummed in thought, looking to Vaggie for her input. “I’ve never heard of anything like that,” the moth-demon thought aloud. “Could it have been cursed?”

“That kind of stuff doesn’t exist in my world,” you countered. “Magic and curses and stuff… none of that is real. It’s all mythical.”

“If none a that stuff is real, how do you explain this place, sugartits?” Angel chimed in, cackling.

He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t sure how to explain your situation. “I… I don’t know,” you stammered. “Maybe magic is real. Or maybe it’s something other than magic. Of course, there’s always the very real possibility that I’m just insane and all of this is in my head.”

“Oh, no, my dear,” an eerily familiar voice resounded ominously throughout the room. “I’ve been in your head, and I can assure you… you’re as sane as I am.”

Everyone was looking around frantically, wondering where Alastor was hiding. Moments later, a shadow appeared on the floor close to your feet, causing you to jump back and yelp as it grew rapidly until the Radio Demon himself materialized next to you, grinning widely. You briefly caught the glares and nervous expressions from the others out of the corner of your eye as he loomed over you. Wincing at his misguided assurance, you replied, “Great. That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Ha! I do so enjoy your brazen disposition,” he jeered boisterously.

Your automatic response was to bite back with an aggressive jab, but after hearing what he was capable of, you instead avoided his gaze as you fought back the urge to antagonize him.

Immediately picking up on your hesitance, he carefully gauged your reaction as he stepped closer to you. “Now, now, darling. No need to muzzle yourself.” He then reached forward to place one of his slender fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. It took everything you had to remain still and maintain eye contact rather than smack his hand away.

Baring his teeth in a leering smile, his eyes morphed into intimidating red slits as he purred softly. “We are going to have so much fun.” Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #radio demon #charlie magne #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin angel dust #alastorxreader #alastorxyou #self insert #afab

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royalnugget42 · 4 years

Text

SPN is ending

And here’s my take on how it will go down, based on the limited knowledge we have. Please be aware that these are not foolproof predictions. Title analysis can only get you so far, and some of the titles are vague enough that they could mean just about anything. Still I’d like to try my best to predict the narrative based on how I would go about it and based on the vague references.

I’ll go episode by episode, include as many details as I can reasonably add, and try to keep my Destiel shipping goggles off as much as possible. Buckle up.

First one is pretty easy. Episode 14, “Last Holiday” promises to be kind of literal, with a mysterious figure appearing and giving Jack, Sam, and Dean the holidays they missed out on. However, I was curious, since Supernatural has a habit of including obscure or not so obscure references in their titles, if there was any other thing we could correlate this to.

There is actually a movie called “Last Holiday” starting Queen Latifah, whose character is diagnosed with a terminal illness, which results in her making the decision to abandon her boring life and live like a millionaire in Europe.

The idea of the fight with Chuck being a “terminal illness” on the horizon could be why now is the best time for these guys to live it up.

This possible reference coupled with the ‘last’ seems to say that this episode will be a sort of final moment of levity before the endgame. Past this episode there be monsters, lads. I’d also like to point out that since it will be just Jack and the brothers if the promo photos are anything to go by, this will be a good time to get in some forgiveness and family bonding for our characters before things go downhill again.

Looking at promo photos for this episode again, I’m not sure where, but the episode may also carry some development for the plot. I’m not sure whether the photos of Cas, Amara, and Charlie were for this episode or another one (since they are not listed as cast members for the episode on IMDb), but we’ll be seeing all of them again soon it looks like, and I can’t wait for Cas and Jack to go on a hunt together again.

This episode will be the beginning of the descent. We’re standing on the edge and staring into the void, and we’re about to take the plunge. How do I know this?

“Gimme Shelter”, the title for this new episode, seems to have a literal meaning of the characters continuing to try to hide from God. However, as usual, the title is also a reference, this time to a song by The Rolling Stones. The lyrics to said song are nice and foreboding.

Oh, a storm is threat'ning

My very life today

If I don't get some shelter

Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

Ooh, see the fire is sweepin'

Our very street today

Burns like a red coal carpet

Mad bull lost its way

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

Rape, murder!

It's just a shot away

It's just a shot away (3X)

The floods is threat'ning

My very life today

Gimme, gimme shelter

Or I'm gonna fade away

War, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away (4X)

I tell you love, sister, it's just a kiss away

It's just a kiss away (5X)

Kiss away, kiss away

Cue nervous anticipation

This is definitely where things are going to really pick up plot wise. Most likely, more will be revealed about Billie’s Plan to Kill God TM. Although, the idea of Death herself leading the Winchesters to victory feels sketchy to me still. She is deliberately withholding all the details, and she’s doing it for a reason.

Something down the line is going to make the Winchesters angry with her, and she’s not going to tell them about it unless it’s absolutely necessary. I have a feeling what it is will get revealed in the next episode.

“Drag Me Away (From You)” has some very clear negative connotations, and on top of everything has a weird format. It could be based on the lyric from Africa by Toto, ‘it’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you’, or a reference to the song “Drag Me Away” by Melissa Etheridge, whose lyrics mention angels, and are about resistance and perseverance, two defining characteristics of the Winchesters. However, I’d like to point out another correlation.

Like I said before, the title has a weird format. The only other episode of Supernatural with a similar title to this one is season 12 episode 12 “Stuck in the Middle (With You)”. That episode was about what seemed like a normal hunt, but was actually a mission for Mary by the British Men of Letters to get the Colt. In that episode, Cas came ridiculously close to dying a painful and slow death, which does not bode well for this episode if it’s correlated in any way.

If what I’m predicting for Billie’s plan is true, this episode will be where the viewers are clued in on the thing she won’t tell the Winchesters about. The brothers might not necessarily get clued in (like how they still hadn’t realized Mary’s involvement with the BMOL at the end of 12x12), but whatever Billie is withholding will have serious consequences.

For this episode, I predict that Cas will come absurdly close to death again, because I believe Billie’s plan involves him dying. Billie doesn’t consider Cas a member of TFW. Multiple times in the most recent episodes, she talks about how important Jack is, how important the Winchesters are, but never Cas, and it feels like a weird oversight.

“Ever since I got this new job, I stand witness to a much larger picture. You know what I see? You. And your brother. You’re important.” 13x05 “Advanced Thanatology”

“I told you Dean, you and your brother have work to do.” 15x12 “Galaxy Brain”

Surely Cas has a part to play, since he’s one of the main characters right? But Billie doesn’t trust Cas, as well she shouldn’t. Cas is a wildcard, an angel who doesn’t do as he’s told. He straight up stabbed her in the back, something that she was completely caught off guard by.

I could make an entire post about how Cas hasn’t played by the rules of the universe since season 4 episode 18 “The Monster at the End of This Book”, but I digress. The point is that this episode is probably going to shed some light on the true threat the team is facing. Which leads us into...

17-18

Here’s where things start to get muddy. The titles from this point on get vague, and without any solid information about the previous episodes, these could be headed anywhere.

“Unity” is the next episode, number 17, and that could mean a lot of things. In my proposed timeline it is after a supposed revelation about Billie’s plan, so maybe they feel more unified after learning it.

In Supernatural‘s usual story structure, though, it feels like this episode will probably be the buildup to what seems like the end of the villain, but will actually be the darkest hour.

The episode following right after this is titled “Despair” and I think that’s telling. Supernatural writers do this often, where the boys make a plan, and inevitably when they follow it something goes wrong. “Unity” is the plan being made and carried out, and “Despair” is either the episode where everything goes wrong, or the aftermath.

[EDIT: The title of episode 18 is actually “The Truth”, which I believe may still narratively serve the same purpose, but now I’m more convinced that this is where the Winchesters learn about Castiel’s deal and/or something that Billie has been keeping from them about the plan to kill God. Thank you to @kingofthecrossroads for the updated information.]

Before I go into detail about this two-episode arc, an obligatory

Warning: Shipping Ahead

To my eyes, “Unity” seems like the perfect place for Castiel’s arc to reach a breaking point. If I’m right, and this is the episode where everything seems to succeed, then what better time for The Empty to snatch Cas away from his happiness.

If I was a writer, and I was in fact planning on making Destiel canon, this is where I’d do it. It makes the most sense to have Dean and Cas finally realizing their love for each other be the catalyst for Cas “finally giving himself permission to be happy” especially if this episode also contains a false climax regarding the Chuck storyline. Cas has said multiple times that he’s “far from happy”, so there has to be something huge happen for Cas to get there. Not to mention, Cas would be a sort of vessel for the audience, simultaneously happier than we’ve ever been because we were finally right, and sadder than ever because Cas is gone.

“Despair” won’t just be despair that the plan failed. It could also be Dean’s despair at losing Cas, our despair at seeing our hopes for them dashed.

[EDIT: Again, the title will NOT be “Despair” it will be “The Truth”, but I still think it’s telling that Despair was a working title for long enough that it’s on the IMDb page, and if “The Truth” contains the truth about how Dean and Cas feel about each other, then this will still be a dark episode.]

Shipping over, let’s continue.

Now we come to another referential episode, “Inherit the Earth”. There’s really not enough information to have anything solid regarding the nitty gritty details, but we can take a look at what this title is most likely referencing. “Inherit the Earth” is just a tiny part of a common phrase. It’s used in media all the time, but we’re interested in the original source.

I’m not sure if the episode will contain references to all the pieces of this passage from the Bible, but “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth” seems to build off of the last episode, “Despair”. Another translation for the word meek in this instance may have been “powerless”, and after the negative moments in the previous episode TFW would probably feel pretty powerless. Maybe, in the previous episodes, Jack failed and lost his powers again, and that’s what caused Despair, but now he will inherit the powers that God had, or inherit control of earth.

If the rest of the passage is to be taken into account here, there’s also the “poor in spirit” who will ascend to the “kingdom of heaven”, possibly a reference to Cas being depressed and fighting for Heaven to be maintained. “Those who mourn will be comforted”, and that may actually bode well for Sam and Dean, who constantly mourn for the friends they’ve lost. Maybe in this episode they’ll get some closure on that front, maybe with their friends trapped in Hell going to Heaven (Kevin). The next line after “inherit the earth” refers to “those who hunger and thirst for righteousness”, and if that isn’t Michael/Adam to a T...maybe this will be the episode we see him team up to fight God. I’m not sure who the last line might refer to other than Sam, if you have any ideas feel free to tell me.

And after all this, we have the big one.

“Carry On” is referring to “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas, and I don’t have a clue what it will entail. If the previous episode goes well, then this will be a sort of epilogue, with a (hopefully) happy ending for TFW, maybe we see Eileen and Sam get together, some kind of family dinner with Jody and the girls to resolve that plot line, or potentially, if the writers plan on doing it, a scene confirming Destiel.

It’d be interesting if they showed the brothers going on a normal, run-of-the-mill hunting trip, like a simple salt-and-burn, or even a (different) woman in white. It would be a nice way to bookend the story, to end on a hunt, but instead of the brothers on their own, it’s the brothers with the help of everyone they’ve come to know and care about in their journey, all the lives they’ve touched.

If, however, the conflict is not resolved by the end of the previous episode, this could be the resolution and epilogue all rolled into one, though if it were me I would want as much time as possible to resolve any lingering character questions because, at the end of the day, Supernatural has survived because of the characters. They are what people stay for, what they watch for.

Reminder that all of this is speculation. I do not know what will happen, this is just how I think the story could progress based on what we know so far.

For better or for worse, at this point Supernatural will be over. Will they do a perfect job? Probably not. This is Supernatural, it’s not the most perfect show. However, I’m excited to see where the writers will go with it. They have their work cut out for them.

[EDITED]

#spn #supernatural #supernatural theory #spn theory #spn s15 #spn season 15 #spn 15x14 #spn 15x15 #spn 15x16 #spn 15x17 #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #spn 15x20 #saileen #spn 15x12 #destiel #i tried not to let it influence me #hope this is coherant

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rosierocks30 · 3 years

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Hidden: Ch. 14

Chapter 14: The Game Changer

(Eren and Connor)

After the duo found outfits to blend in with the locals, they walked around town to hear any information about the commanders. It was becoming hopeless, until when they were having a drink at a bar at night.

A group of random men were chatting and drinking with joy as they were celebrating something.

“Tomorrow men. I will be a married man.” The groom raised his mug of ale to give a toast. His friends toasted after him.

“For your future!” They cheered. One of the men whispered next to the other. “Hey, so what happened to all of the military regiments?”

“I heard they all got killed in action.” Another man joined in the conversation.

“Hey isn’t a cousin of yours in the Survey Corps?” The other said.

“Yeah, but my family believes he and the Commander Hange and the rest probably escaped before getting hunted down. I mean the new king had their faces as bounty. This isn’t the first time the Survey Corps were being hunted.” One of them said.

“What do you think of the new king? Our graceful queen had chosen him as her husband.” the other continues.

“Pfft, he looks like a fucking pansy cunt. Our good queen would have picked someone better to rule beside her.” The same man scoffed at the thought of the new king. Many people of all three walls were not pleased with the marriage except the noble families who weren't thrown into prison.

“Shhh not so loud. There’s eyes everywhere.” the groom to be hushed his friend. On the other table, Eren sipped his ale. Connor was about to lose interest in the conversation as it was about to go nowhere.

“I don’t believe Queen Historia had a choice. Look at the massacre in the capital. At what cost will our beloved queen let blood shed happen? I say that snake caused a de coup. This is injustice!” The same man frowned.

“I understand your frustration, my friend. I heard from an old woman that the queen gave birth to a prince but poor lad, he didn’t get to live. I saw two or three men with the garrison uniform today morning. I’m surprised they are still alive.” The groom to be said.

Connor perked up when the groom mentioned the garrison soldiers. “We’ll question him once he’s alone.” He told Eren which the Eldian nodded in agreement.

As a couple hours passed, they watched the groom get up and leave the bar alone. Now, both assassin and titan shifter made their move to follow the other. The streets were dark and cold. The soon married man felt someone following him. He turned his back to see no one. Huh? Maybe walking home drunk was not a smart idea. Paranoia gets the best of him.

He was about to turn around to resume walking when he felt two hands grabbed him to drag to the alley and pinned to the wall. “Please please don’t hurt me. Take my money. I got to be there for my girl at our wedding in the morning.” the man whimpered from the fear.

“Quiet, we just want to ask a few questions and you’ll walk away free.” Eren said.

“Huh? What kind of questions, sirs?” The groom was wary.

“Important ones like are you sure those soldiers were the garrison regiment?” Connor begins to question him.

“Yes, yes they are. They had the rose symbol on their back jackets. T-they were talking to a woman with platinum blonde but short hair. She had glasses.” He gave some details. Eren figured who he just described. Rico Brzenska. The current Commander of the Garrison Regiment.

“Where did you see them?” Eren asked.

“I saw them at the meat shop. They walked into the shop then later came out. My boos usually say they go into the shop everyday around 9 in the morning.” Finally, he was let go. His body was shaken from thinking he would not make it home.

“Go home, but you will not tell anyone about seeing us. I suggest you forget what you saw.” Before the man can say anything. Eren placed his hand on the man’s head to erase his memories including seeing Rico and her soldiers on that day. Both Eren and Connor left the man alone as they walked into the dark streets.

“In the morning, we’ll go to that meat shop.” Connor said while Eren nodded.

The following morning, Eren and Connor were waiting by a flower stand where they could see the meat shop in front. They got here earlier to check if they will see Rico and her garrison soldiers entering the shop across the street. The green eyed man leaned against the cart, but saw a particular flower that reminded him of Eve. He stared at the fresh plucked of lavender and blue winter roses.

(Flashback)

Eren was walking the busy streets of Trost District with his girlfriend. He smiles seeing her looking around the area. He looked away to see a man hold flowers.

The flower man caught Eren and smiled. “Ah, you good sir! Care to buy a flower for your pretty lady?”

The titan shifter stopped to look at so many kinds of flowers. Eve looked at him then at the flowers. Eren nodded at the man and paid to get one. He was about to get the lavender, but Eren got the winter rose instead.

“Here Eve, for you.” He gave the rose to her which she took and smiled.

“Winter rose…” She said softly. Carefully, her eyes stared at the blue flower.

“They are supposed to bloom only in winter or in the icy mountains. My dad used to get them for my mom everyday. When he laid his eyes on her, he would give one. He had stopped when he passed away. Mom had always loved them, so she grew them in a mini greenhouse back home as a memorial for my dad and the love they shared with each other.” She inhaled the scent as it remembered her.

“I didn’t know...but they are rare here like you.” He blushed as Eren trying to be romantic. The emerald green eyes man noticed her smirk. “What?”

“Aww baby, you’re blushing; it's cute.” She coos at him which Eren playfully rolled his eyes at her. She chuckled then pecked his lips. “Thank you. I’ll keep this rose forever.”

“Good because it’s the only one you’ll get.” Eren plays it off cool. Eve punched his arm playfully. “Meanie.”

The flower man gave another flower to Eve. “Here, miss. This one is on me.”

Eve smiled happily as she grabbed the lavender flower. “Now this is my favorite. Thank you sir!”

“No probably young lady. Both of you have a lovely day.” The old man smiled at them. Both Eren and Eve had left to continue walking.

“That old man likes you too much.” Eren scoffed, which his girlfriend can sense a hint of jealousy.

“Really Eren? Really? He is just an old man who’s kind and appreciates a beautiful lady like me.” She teasingly grinned.

“Humph, I’m not jealous if that’s what you’re thinking?” He looked away as trying to hide his obvious expression.

The titan shifter smirked and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He leaned to her ear and whispered. “But I’ll show you, why you’re mine; babe?” His voice made a husky tone.

Eve is now the one blushing from his action. “E-eren, people are watching.”

“Perfect, so they can know you’re my girl.” his tone hasn’t changed.

“Well, if you want this gorgeous face then you have to catch me first.” Eve said with mischievousness. She began to run from him. Eren chuckled as her playful mood showed. He went after her to play her little game.

(End Flashback)

Eren looked away as the memories were becoming painful. Connor tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Eren glanced at his ally to follow the other’s finger where he was pointing to.

They noticed three familiar figures. One of them was Rico Brzenska, Commander of the Garrison. Both Connor and Eren ran across the street to reach the meat shop as the three figures entered. Once they entered the meat shop, no one was here. Connor looked at the over the counter to see some figures below the shop by using his eagle’s vision.

“There’s a small entrance on the floor that has an underground room or something.” He said. Already Eren goes around the counter to pull the string cord as the lid lifts open. Connor jumped into the hole then Eren followed along.

It was dark but there was a mumbling sound. They walked to where the sounds were. Right around the corner, a huge open space where several figures discuss things. Both Connor and Eren found the missing Commanders of the Garrison and Military Police, Rico Brzenska and Nile Dok.

(Levi)

London, England

March 16, 1535

What the fuck? Where am I? Why is it dark again? Levi was questioning to himself. A brightness appeared to see tiny hands and a loud wailing coming from him. Is he a baby?

“Your Majesty. It’s a boy. Congratulations, England finally has a prince!” the midwife said.

The mother cried with joy from seeing the baby crying loudly. Once the midwife and the helpers cleaned and wrapped around the baby with a blanket, the baby was placed on his mother’s arms. The infant opens to show his blue-grey eyes to his mother. His mother smiled with warmth and pride. She did it. Her king has a male heir.

“Anne, he looks like you, but he has Henry's handsome face structure.” A woman next to the queen cooed at her nephew.

The doors opened suddenly as the notorious King Henry VIII barged in. “Is it true? Did you give birth to a son?” He stand next to his queen to see a baby boy in her arms.

“Yes, my love. I’ve given you the son that I promised you.” Anne smiled as she presented the child to her husband. Henry carefully held the baby to admire it.

“My son, how I long waited for you. You shall be….sweetheart, what name do you have in mind? Since you have kept your promise, I will allow you to pick a name.” He said.

Anne contemplated for a bit until she found a perfect name. “Arthur, after your beloved deceased older brother and the legendary warrior king Arthur.”

Henry nodded. “Arthur it is.”

April 2,1556

Little Arthur was playing his toys on a cool spring. He had a curious mind by observing the bocks. Suddenly, a ruckus noise was heard which made him whimper frighteningly. Now the one year old glanced at a figure wearing in black. The figure picked him up then quickly took him away. Prince Arthur cried hoping one of his nannies would come save him. It was too late. The news of the kidnapping of the crowned prince had reached the king and queen. This led to the downfall of the Boleyns.

Eldia Empire

January 15, 1557

Ever since the kidnapping, Arthur had been transporting different locations from horses to boats. He saw many landmarks until his kidnappers reached a port in an unknown world. The men who took him away from his home, got off to walk into a busy area where merchants, slave traders, and farmers came to sell their goods.

The blue-grey eyed infant was in his cage crying while being carried on the top hard surface. Already a seller began the auction. A man and woman frown looking at the poor child.

“Husband, how could they put a baby into the slave market?” The woman said to her spouse. The husband glanced at his wife.

“It’s just a cruel world, my dear.” He sighed. The disgust he saw the slave traders promoting.

“How much do you have with you? I want to save him.” The blonde haired woman felt eager to rescue the infant.

At first, the husband was reluctant since they were here buying materials for their farm on the outskirts of this busy village. He took out his pouch of coins. His wife couldn’t stop staring at the poor little thing. He knew she had a strong desire to be a mother, but both couples had struggled to have children. Maybe buying this baby to raise as their own will help satisfy his wife’s desire to have kids. On the other hand, he doesn’t mind not to have kids, but he loves her and that in some way he’ll make it happen.

“Enough to make you a mother.” He said that she felt tears forming in her eyes. Maybe for once the gods had answered her prayers and led them here on this day. The little boy in the cage was gorgeous and crave for love and safety from a mother and father. The woman wondered if his real mother grieved the loss of her baby somewhere in this big world.

“Oh my love, thank you. Thank you.” She hugged him with gratitude.

The man hugged back his wife then went towards the slave traders and asked to buy the crying infant.

“Sir, my wife and I want to buy the baby. How much?” He said to a random slave trader.

“Hm, usually I would sell 5 gold, but the brat is scaring the customers away. For you, I’ll lower to 3 gold?” The slave trader said with a grin.

“How about 10 silvers and 1 gold?” The husband began to negotiate.

“2 golds and 5 silvers. That’s my final price.” The other man said.

The husband sighed then took a glimpse at his wife. “I’m sorry but that’s all I have.”

“Then I can’t sell the brat to you.” Just as the husband was about to turn to give his wife the bad news, the baby started to wail which the customers started to leave. The other slave traders tried to convince them to stay. Another man marched to the two men.

“You sir, you want the crying kid? Take him please. He won’t shut up. You can give us whether you have.” the slave trader who was negotiating the husband scoffed. “We can just sell the brat almost free?!”

The other slave trader glared at the other. “Do you want to be the one explaining to our boss why we weren’t making our usual amount of money because you didn’t want to get rid of this brat who’s scaring our customers away?”

The other grumbled annoyingly. “Fine! Sir, just give me the money you have and you can take that little runt with you. Good luck in shutting him up.” The husband smiled and gave the money to the slave trader. Then he went to open the cage to grab the crying baby. As the little boy cried, he realized a different man held him but gently.

“Shhh it’s ok. You’re safe now. Come, you will meet your new mother.” The husband gently cradles the baby while walking towards his wife. When the wife saw her husband with the baby, she felt overjoyed and went to them.

“My darling, oh he looks so precious.” She gently caressed his little chubby cheek then wiping his tears.

“Come my sweet child. You have nothing to fear. We will be your family. You’ll grow up with love and happiness.” When the baby listened to the soft voice of the woman, he slowly stopped crying.

It didn’t take long for the infant to finally go to her. She smiled as the child became comfortable towards her.

He holds on to the woman with his dear life. The baby was scared they would change their minds and leave him here alone and cold. He missed his nannies and governess who showered him with love and praise, but the most important being showered with love by his mother and father and sisters.

“Let’s use my shawl to warm you up.” The woman gestured to her husband to take off her shawl to wrap the baby so he could be warm. Once the baby was wrapped with the shawl, the little one yawned and nuzzled on her chest as he drifted to sleep.

“What name should we give him?” The husband whispers while walking beside his wife to go back home.

The wife looked at the baby with surprise. This is truly a blessing from the gods. Maybe this is the reason why she was barren for many years because this little boy will need a loving mother and father to give the best unconditional love he deserves.

“Arne Ackerman.” She said. The Ackerman couples continue walking on the dirt road to go back to their farmland.

The lights started to get bright again. Levi opened his eyes to see the same shit face with excitement.

“This is a historical ground breaking!” Dr. Andersen started writing down on his notepad.

“What do you mean?” Levi grumbled annoyingly. His ancestor was born a prince so what. He doesn’t care at all.

“Of course you don’t understand. You grew up here without the knowledge of learning history. I will happily explain it to you. You see Levi. In history books, Anne Boleyn and King Henry VIII only had a daughter, the Queen Elizabeth I of England. They say Anne had many miscarriages but it looks like she managed to give a prince to the king, but I guess after the kidnapping of Prince Arthur, things went south between them that led the king to behead her.” He then grabbed a tablet to show a general biography of both historical icons. Levi barely can understand English but learns enough to read what the tablet said.

Levi frowned at what he read. This fat ass king was a shitty father and husband to not just with Anne but most of all his wives and his two daughters. The image of Anne Boleyn shows some resemblances to his mother. The eyes are what bring him back to those days as a little boy in the brothel. He had been cradled and loved by his mother, Kuchel. He can see from the memories of his ancestor embracing the love his mother gave when she visited him. Her eyes are the same exacted shade.

He wanted to give his own son the love he deserved. Already the women in his bloodline had dealt shitty things and paid the price. He needs to get his own wife out of here. Hw doesn’t want history to repeat itself. For now he’ll “cooperate” to know more of Arne Ackerman that changed their bloodline destiny. What surprised him was that his ancestor was not Eldian that started the Ackerman clan.

“Put me back in. I want to know more of this brat. Tch.” He said. The scientist nodded eagerly and resumed the machine to continue. Slowly, Levi goes back into reliving Arthur Tudor/Arne Ackerman’s life.

(Sasha and Atticus)

The strange flying object finally landed on the ground. The brown haired soldier was holding the baby. Luckily, Atticus was a quiet one. He rarely cries unless he’s hungry, tired or pooped/peeped his diaper. As Sasha got off the plane, she looked around with wide eyes to see tall building structures that reached so high to the sky. She heard loud noises which Sasha preferred the sounds of the mountains than the cities.

It still amazed her that this place looked so advanced that not even Marley cities couldn’t impress her anymore. It’s a good thing Sasha was good with babies. Back at her village in the mountains, she helped babysit small kids and babies when the mothers needed to go to a nearby town to get more supplies.

“Miss Blouse, welcome to New York City. I’m your coordinator for your stay. My name is Melissa Hawthrone” A woman with blonde hair but with pink colored on the tips of her hair. Her personality was bubbly.

“Oh you can call me just Sasha.” Her thick Eldian accent was showing as she spoke in English. Yes, those months of training all her squad members were educated in a few languages like English, Spanish, Arabic and Italian. Those days were hell since she wasn’t strong in academics, but when she learned a new language; she was grasping better than few of her friends did.

“Alright, Sasha it is.” Melissa nodded.

They walked to enter the airport building. Sasha became jumpy when the doors slid open automatically. “Woah! The door opens like magic.” She forgot that Atticus was a bit sensitive since he’s not used to the outside world. He began to whimper. “Oh sorry Princey, don’t cry. We’ll go somewhere quiet.”

Just as they reached where the food court, Sasha stopped and sniffed the delicious aroma of food. Then her stomach growled. “Can we stop by to get meat? I’m so hungry.” She drooled from thinking of food like meat. Melissa nodded and led her to the food court. To Sasha this is heaven. There are so many options but these kinds of food are foreign to the food she usually eats.

“What would you like to eat?” Melissa said.

“Oh wow, is it possible to try it all?” She grinned as Melissa didn’t know what to say.

Sometime later after trying all the chain restaurants in the airport, Melissa was driving to the new home where Sasha and baby Atticus will reside temporarily. Alright the infant prince was wide awake which Sasha played peek-a-boo to entertain him. The car was filled with his giggles.

“Is your stomach a video or something? I never met someone who can devour cheeseburgers like you.” Melissa said while driving.

Sasha chuckled awkwardly. “I appreciate food too much. I got in trouble a lot back in my cadet years. Heck, even when I joined the Survey Corps.”

Atticus stares at Sasha then begins to make a concentrated face. Next thing you know, the car started to stink.

“Oh god! What did you feed him?” Melissa’s nose wrinkle from the awful scent from the baby. Sasha carefully lifted him up to sniff his bottom and made a disgusted face. “Seriously, this little guy can make titans smell like floras.”

“How far are we to the house? He’s gonna need a bath when we get there.” Sasha is still wrinkling her nose from the smell.

“We’re already here.” The other woman parked by the curb of the street. Beside them, there’s a row of similar style buildings. Melissa turned off the car then unlocked the doors so Sasha can open the passenger’s door. Sasha held on to baby Atticus to get out of the car then closed it.

“They all look the same.” Sasha said as she glanced at the row of buildings. They all have reddish-brown colored. There’s stairs that lead to the front door.

Once Melissa got out and locked the doors of the car, she walked to the building with a golden number 333 on the blue-green door. The pixie haired woman took out the keys to unlock the door and opened them so they could enter the building. When Sasha entered the place, the interior looked very cozy. The walls were painted with cream yellow. The floor had wooden tiles with shine. On top the floor, a black and light grey pattern pathway rug contrasts the hallway. On the left side, an open wide space where the living room was located. The sunlight shined to make the room bright and aesthetic.

“This place is sooo pretty! Are you sure it’s ok for us to stay here? I’m worried I’ll break some of the place or the baby when he begins to crawl. It just looks so fancy.” She said while looking around the living room.

“You’ll be fine, Sasha. This room is the living room and I can show you Atticus’ room so we can get rid of that awful smell.” Melissa led Sasha to the baby room.

When they reached Atticus' room, the interior design looked like a jungle theme with silver colored walls. The crib was placed next to a wall. The animal stickers were attached to most of the walls except where the crib was placed. Instead animals on that wall, a big tree that reminds Sasha of the Path.

“It’s so pretty. Oh if only Historia was here to see this room for her son…” Sasha frowned from thinking of her friend. She hopes her friend is alright, but knowing what she heard of her, it was hell what Historia is going through.

“I assume that’s Atticus’ mother? What had happened to her? Did she die?” Melissa said.

“No, she’s still alive. She’s in a situation where political schemes are lethal. She had her own son to be sent away to protect him because a certain nobleman wanted to kill his father’s bloodline for good.” The Eldian soldier explained to the New Yorker woman.

“Will didn’t explain much about what had been happening over there. I’m sorry what your friend is going through. I hope our allies rescue her before it’s too late. This cutie deserves to have a mother. So what happened to the father?” Melissa already holds the baby to place him on the changing table.

“Captain Levi had to stay there since he is our trump card. We called him Humanity’s Strongest. He low key hates that title. Sometimes, he mumbles at us when we say it.” Sasha chuckled at remembering those good old days when their squad were relaxing at the Mess hall eating and talking in the Headquarters of Mitras.

Melissa helped out changing Atticus’ diaper. Sasha throws away the stinking diaper into the dispenser. “Levi Ackerman? I heard a little bit of the Mentor’s grandson. Is he really that short?” She said.

Sasha nodded to respond to her question. “Yeah, but don’t mention or say anything about his height unless you want a good beating or make you clean every inch of a building everyday. He’s just plainly scary.”

“I’ll keep in mind not to pissed him off. You know what they say about short people? They are hella scary when they're pissed especially if they are sweet and kind.” Melissa said. “Anyways, let’s get this cutie a nice warm bath.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he got a bath when we left from Paradis.” Sasha said. Both women went to the bathroom to take Atticus a warm bath.

(Nathaniel)

What a disaster the evening was? Luckily, he and the templars had caught Historia and Levi from escaping. Damn that street rat Ackerman! It would be easier to just execute him. What so special about him and the Ackermans bloodline? All they are the true devils that obey and serve to royals like him. That’s all they were meant to do. Since their purpose had been unless; it’s best to eradicate them from their existence.

Nathaniel walked to go to his chamber. When he opened the doors, Gilbert was waiting for him on the bed in a very seducing position. His lover was laying naked. The silky bed sheet only wrapped around his waist and some of his legs, but everything else was exposed for the king to see. The king sighed. He would love to give his precious lover the attention he deserves. With dealing of almost losing his wife and capturing the peasant, Nathaniel didn’t have the energy to give his all to Gilly.

“My darling, I’m sorry but I’m not in the mood. A lot happened in one day. I’m too tired.” The King sat on his bed beside his lover.

“But you had time for that whore, right?” Gilbert frowned as he sat up.

“It’s not like that...you know that.” Nathaniel tried to explain.

“Then please don’t neglect me, my love. I missed you. I haven’t spent time with you since you married her. It kills me seeing you with her. I feel like you’re changing your heart slowly and don’t deny it. I noticed the way your eyes stared whenever she roamed around the castle.” Gilbert said with anger.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gilbert. She’s just a mare to be bred so my bloodline can remain on the throne. I love you. Nothing will change us. I’m too exhausted. Can we talk about this later?” Nathaniel was not having it right now. He understands that Gilly was jealous and feeling insecure about their relationship, but he doesn’t need to worry about it. Right? What is there to fall for that bastard? Beside her golden hair flows like a silky river of gold as the sunlight shined on her. The way her pink lips becomes a smile when she’s happy. Her blue eyes spark with life. The crazy thing was all that happened whenever she looked at Levi Ackerman. Their relationship had been a secret right under everybody’s noses. Probably, they were together before she became queen. Just like her mother, she took into a similar path.

“Maybe for now, but I warn you. The more you get closer to her, the more you’ll walk on dangerous waters especially Levi Ackerman is still in her heart.” Gilbert gets up as he begins to put on his clothes. “Just remember, she will always love him but not you.” Before Nathaniel could say anything, Gilbert stormed out of the room.

Love is beginning to get complicated. Nathaniel had always dreamt to be a king. Long ago he was supposed to marry Historia’s older sister, the late Queen Freida Reiss. Now that woman was a true royal. Her pedigree matches with his. Both their parents made the betrothal agreement. When Wall Maria had fallen by Titans, everything that Nathaniel had dreamt of in the fairytale had died. Zeke Jaeger's father Grisha had killed his fiancée and her entire family expected that fat coward father of hers and the hidden bastard child, Historia. He had wished it was Historia who was killed and not Freida. Freida was perfect. She was kind and caring. She was so ladylike. It’s a shame that she had to hide her position as queen that time.

Yes, Frieda was his first love. Nathaniel may be into men, but he had made an exception because to him Frieda was a goddess that hasn’t had the chance to shine publicly. He remembered his last conversation with her before she died.

(Flashback)

It was night. Nathaniel was looking for Frieda in the palace until he spotted her in the private garden that only the royal family are allowed unless they invited guests.

“There you are. I was looking for you everywhere Freida.” Nathaniel smiled as he walked towards her. The raven haired woman turned around to see her fiancé. She gave a warm smile at him. His heart made a jump whenever she gave a smile at him. He sits beside her.

“Everyone was looking for you. Are you alright?” He said in a concerning tone.

“Hm not really. I’m just admiring the stars one last time before something that will change our history even though there will be deaths.” She mumbled.

“Huh? What are you talking about? I’m sure there’s nothing to be worry about. Beside, our wedding will be tomorrow. We’re finally going to be together as husband and wife.” He tried to cheer her up.

“I wish it was that simple, but being the holder of the Founding Titan; you just learned secrets that nobody here knows about. These secrets are my burden now. Is this what my uncle had to get used to it when he inherited the Founding Titan? Would you still love me if I wasn’t a royal?” Frieda glanced up to Nathaniel. This got his attention from what she said.

“Frieda, my love. I love you for who you are. I don’t care anymore if you're royal or not. If you want to live in peace, say the word and by tomorrow after our wedding; we’ll live in the countryside of my family’s estates where no politics or royal duties determine how we should live.” He meant it. He’ll do anything for her.

Frieda smiled and placed her hand on his cheek to caressed. “You’re one of the kind, Nathaniel. Please don’t ever change. I love you so much.”

Nathaniel embraced her affection and smiled back. “I love you so much too.”

“Can you make a promise to me?” Frieda said. Nathaniel nodded. Yes, he will keep whatever the promise was.

“I have a little half sister. Her name is Historia. She’s the natural child of my father, but she’s such a cutie. Promise me you will look after her. No matter what, can I trust you to have her under your protection? She’s my light. I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to her.” Her eyes looked pleading.

The young lord was shocked from finding out his fiancée has a half sister, a bastard. Yet Frieda doesn’t care. She loves her little sister no matter what. Usually, Nathaniel would scoff at anything related to bastards. After all, his father had sired a few of his own which broke his mother’s heart. The infidelity his father had committed. His father brought his bastard children to be raised along with him. This had made his mother throw a fit. His father didn’t tolerate her behavior and punished her. As a boy, he was scared for his mother whenever he watched her being punished by the late Lord Evans.

He had begun to hate his father and especially his half siblings. His poor sweet mother died when she got an infection from the slashes she got on her back from being misbehaving. Of course, Nathaniel blamed his father and those bastards for his mother’s death.

Once he got a bit older, Nathaniel did the unthinkable by making his father die in an “accident”. As his heir, he became the new lord of the Evans family. His siblings were scared for their lives when he became lord. Only one actually did escape when he killed his siblings. Nathaniel didn’t feel remorse. In his view, they are low beings that destroyed his happy family. When he met Frieda, he felt like a monster because a sweet lovable Frieda doesn’t deserve a man like him. She was his light to his sins.

“I will promise you that your half sister will be under my protection, my love. Historia will be safe. You and I will raise her if that’s what you wish.” He said.

Frieda felt tears falling from her eyes. She hugged the man she loves. “I know you don’t like people like my sister, but it’s not her fault for her existence nor your half siblings…”

He knows where this is going. When they were a few months into courting, he told her his dark secrets. At first, she was horrified. Later, she rant of what he did was inexcusable. How his half siblings shouldn’t be punished for his father’s sins. His mother, if she was alive, would not agree what he did to his siblings and his father. In the end, Frieda slowly begins to warm up to him again.

He sighed. “I’m only doing this because it sounds like she's very important to you and you’re important to me so in a way she’s important to me now. You have nothing to worry about. Everything will turn out fine as we planned.”

She nodded and gave him a tender kiss. The following day, he heard his Frieda died and his heart grew darker.

(End Flashback)

The thought of missing Freida still pains him. He may love Gilbert but Frieda will always have his heart. In a twisted way, he did keep his promise to Frieda. Historia is under his protection. When he met Historia, something in him hasn’t shown in years since being with Frieda. The girl reminded him of Frieda. Like her, she’s caring and sweet. She is kinda ladylike but with a spunk. Historia is very passionate and fair. His now wife can be a bit aggressive when she gets pushed to her limit. He can see how compatible she is with the criminal Levi. They both don’t take shit from others.

In a way, he does feel something for his wife. Gilly is right….he is changing. That’s what angers him the most. A girl who reminded of his first love is capable of taming his cruel heart. Just like her older sister once did. The Reiss girls do have a way taming monsters. It is in their blood. He had been trying not to acknowledge. When his first night with Historia happened, a part of him died for committing an awful act. He can accept him as a cold blooded murderer but a rapist? All he had heard after the act was her voice screaming at him.

You promise. You promise that you will protect her. Why my love? Why?

She’s my light. You’re tainting my light…

Tears fell from his eyes. Her voice had haunted him since then. He couldn’t fall asleep from seeing Frieda in his dream accusing him. Fuck, he really is a monster.

Maybe he should go check on Historia? Slowly, he gets up to wipe his tears then goes to open his door to leave his chamber to go to his wife’s.

(Gilbert)

Gilly knocked on the doors. He waited for Alexander to answer.

“Come in.” The Italian man granted permission to whoever entered his room.

“Grandmaster Di Lorenzo, I’m sorry for disturbing you. I just need someone to listen.” He said shyly.

“Ah, sweet Gilbert. No, you’re not disturbing me at all. Please make yourself comfortable.” The templar guided the other man to the couch. He poured two glasses of wine then handed one to Gilbert.

“Tell me what does it seem to bother you?” He said while sipping his wine.

“I think Nathaniel is falling for that whore- I mean the queen. I don’t understand what makes her so irresistible? The king is into men, the only reason he married her because she has royal blood and will give heirs.” Gilbert mumbled but his tone gave off a venomous feeling.

“Mio caro angelo, don’t let jealousy ruin your beauty face. If he is falling for her then he’s a foolish king to let that happen. He should be lucky that a man like you still loves him. If I was in your situation, I would have left him.” Alexander sat next to him a bit too close.

“I can’t leave him...even if I did; I can’t. I’m his servant in the end.” He looked down as disliking his birth status.

“You don’t need to be anyone's servant. You have so much potential in you. All you need is to have someone from not holding you back.” The foreign man let his silky words enchant the younger man.

“What are you saying? Nathaniel does bring out my potential. We have been through so much together.” Gilbert was getting defensive.

“If he does, he would have long ago or as now released you from your servitude status and ranked you a bit closer to him. A person who claimed they loved would not hesitate to do so. So what’s your excuse to not find what you truly deserved?” Alexander pointed out.

Gilbert was contemplating what his new friend had said. Yes, his king would have freed him to be more like a true lover not a slave to pleasure and love because they have too. Instead, he still hasn't made his first promise to Gilly. Maybe he needs to consider what makes him happy. What does he truly desire?

“I- I get I have been too comfortable with him that nothing would come between my position as his interest. I adore the affection and being worshipped by a deity. I always had the craving to be someone important...someone with influential power.” Gilbert felt the epiphany of the desire to be important.

“You can have all of it if you join me, mio caro.” Alexander holds Gilbert’s hand to have his complete attention.

“But aren’t I already part of your group?” Gilbert said. The grandmaster templar chuckled the way the younger man naively sounded.

“Not as part of my inner circle yet. I can give you what you desire. Power, importance, and freedom.” He whispered to Gilbert’s ear.

Gilbert couldn’t help it but blushed from how close the other man is towards him. He could imagine being part of something big and important.

“If I accept your offer, what do you want in return?” He said cautiously.

“You.” The man said in a huskily tone.

Gilbert knew what he really wanted. Before being in a relationship with Nathaniel, he had so many offers from other men to be their nightly companion. The young man was worried that if he did accept it, he would break his current lover’s heart. What the little voice in his head whispered was: It won’t matter if you do break it. Nathaniel will never keep his promise as long that slut is still alive. Take it. All your dreams are right in front of you.

That’s true. What’s the difference? In both, he still will be pleasuring one of them, but the differences: one of them will make him feel important and powerful. The other, still a shadow...being hidden. Gilbert is tired of the constant heartache of not being open to be showered by someone. He tried to see Nathaniel’s point of view. He did, but at the wedding feast, he just wants to yell and cry.

“Will I be the only person to you and not have other lovers or a wife just to have a family?” Gilbert uses this as an ultimatum. He doesn’t want to make a decision that in the other promise had not kept.

“Oh mio caro, you don’t ever need to worry about anyone else but you. I have no desire to have children. I prefer a life long partner instead. So will you accept my offer?” Alexander said.

Gilbert placed his glass of wine on a table stand. He took a shallow deep breath as he made his decision. He made way to unbutton his shirt and let it slide off from him. Of course, Alexander smirked as the other had accepted his offer. Gilbert had already stripped down exposing all of him. He goes to straddle on the grandmaster’s lap which Alexander gladly accepted by wrapping his arms around the other’s waist.

“I accept your offer.” Gilbert said in a soft tone.

“I’m pleased to hear that you did. Just imagine, once the war is over; we’ll have half of the world in our palms. Soon the rest of the world. Everyone will bow to us as their rulers. You have jewels, riches, and power. Mio caro angelo.” Alexander whispered with sweet words that drove Gilly into a bliss of ecstasy.

“Mmmm y-yes I want all of that and you.” Gilbert panting harder as he felt the other’s lips brushing on his skin like a tease. He gasped when his nipples were being pinched and played with.

“What a gorgeous sound you make, mio angelo.” Alexander chuckled. He begins to leave kisses on the other’s neck. Now Gilbert began to buck down his hips to press on the older man’s cock then started to grind on him.

“And you’re teasing me..” He whimpered. Gilbert moaned softly from the new sensation he was receiving.

“Don’t you mean you are the tease?” Alexander groaned then he pinned Gilbert on the couch. He began to undo his pants to pull down enough for his cock to be free. Once Gilbert felt the other’s cock pressed on his entrance.

Alexander watched how Gilbert squirmed underneath him. “Please I want you inside me.” Gilly begged. The grandmaster grinned then slowly entered into him. He began to thrust slow and steady to put the other over the edge. Gilbert let the guilt and shame be buried deep as he wanted to once make a decision for himself even if there's a chance he’s going to hurt the person he cared for.

(Historia)

Historia for the rest of the night, she screamed and cried on the other side of the guarded doors. The queen was scared for Levi’s life. She can’t lose him. SHe needed him. Their son needed his father. Of course, no one listened to her, especially when she almost escaped earlier or was it yesterday? Historia doesn’t know. Her curtains were covering the windows for her not to know if its alright this morning.

For once the blonde woman prayed to any deity listening to protect the man she loves and her son. She prayed to have the strength in order to defeat her enemies. All they do take everything that she holds dear to. SHe tried to be strong not just as a queen but as a mother, wife, and friend. Oh Walls, Nathaniel better not come for wanting to perform his duty. The thought of him doing it again made her sick. Most of the time, she hears whispers in her head from her old demons the queen used to bury them when she had met Ymir long ago.

“Y-ymir….I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for being unable to keep your promise.” She said while sobbing.

As she stared at a wall when her sobbing had calmed down, the petite woman heard a familiar voice in her head.

Stop crying. Krista or show I now call you Historia? Remember what I told you that day. Live for yourself. Don’t be afraid to fight for what you want. I know you are capable of showing your fury to anyone that is across your path. Underneath that angel face, you’re similar like Captain Hobbit. Fight or Fly, Historia. Fight to survive.

“Y-Ymir? Is that you?” Historia whispered confusedly.

It’s me. See, did I tell you I would always be with you no matter what. By the way, I forgive for crawling into his pants after I left with those two dumbasses. How would have thought Captain Levi would fall for someone.

Historia’s eyes widened in shock. Ymir is in her head. She can feel her presence in her. When her old flame mentioned about that day when she lost her virginity to Levi, her face became red with embarrassment and shame at the same time. After all the things Ymir did for her, Historia slept with Levi right after coming back from the betrayal of Reiner and Bertholdt. Maybe she is her mother’s daughter.

Oh for fuck’s sake stop with your pity bullshit. Where’s that badass girl I fell in love with when you told your dad to fuck off? Now, that’s the real you. The Historia I admired. Levi also fell in love with that girl too. So, don’t hide your true self. Show the world who you really are?

Historia got up then glanced at the reflection of herself. Her hair was messy. Her face had tear stains, but she saw the fire in her blue eyes. Ymir was right. She needed to stop getting pity and crying since it’s not doing nothing for her.

“What should I do now?” She said with determination.

Like what the assassin man said. Pretend you will behave like a good girl but not too obvious. He’s not stupid. Play your part if you want to save Levi. This time you're the hero and he’s your damsel in distress.

Historia let a small smirk. She will play the act.

A/N: So what do you guys think about Nathaniel’s background? I decided to give him what made him to be like this. Just to be clear, he’s bi but more lean towards men. He was groomed to one day be married with a wife and have kids but with what had happened to Frieda, a part of him died. When he met Gilly, buried all his feelings and painful memories of his first love as Gilly did motivated him to rise to power to be king for not the bright reasons. Now, Gilly. He’s something else. He reminded me of how Historia’s mother would be if Rod Reiss continued the affair after the birth of Historia.

So, I don’t know much about how their relationship was or ended but let’s be safe in this AU, Lord Rod stopped favoring her when their daughter was born. This is one of the reasons Alma, which I think that’s her name, despises Historia. To her she’s just a mistake that didn’t get her to where she wanted to be, her Lord’s paramour. Also, we finally get to see the birth of the Ackermans and where they came from. Yes, I added very familiar historical icons. Remember this is an AU. So, imagine if Anne Boylen did give birth to a son, but things still didn’t turn out the way she had hoped for and got executed. Don’t worry, you’ll see more of Arne’s life through Levi’s genetic memories. But I’ll let you guys think how you see these characters. I mean that’s the beauty of it!lol

Thank you guys for the reviews and kudos. I appreciated them. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Have the rest a wonderful week. Until next time, see ya!

#rivahisu #levihisu #historia reiss #levi ackerman #eren jeager #sasha braus #baby atticus #connor #asassin's creed #attack on titan #snk #aot #fanfic #crossover #historical figures are mention

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thesunnyshow · 4 years

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Name: Megan

Writing Blog URL(s): @yunocity

What fandom(s) do you write for? NCT (127, Dream, Wayv, U)

Age: 20

Nationality: Asian American

Languages: English, Hmong with limited knowledge in Chinese and Korean

Star Sign: Sun: Scorpio, Moon: Taurus, Rising: Aquarius

MBTI: ESTJ-A

Favorite color: Black, red, white

Favorite food: Spring rolls

Favorite movie: Miracles in Cell No.7, Love Rosie

Favorite ice cream flavor: Mango

Favorite animal: Baby pandas

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering?: Tea!

Dream job (whether you have a job or not): Marketer for a luxury fashion company or a high-end makeup brand

Go-to karaoke song: Video Games- Lana Del Ray

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose?: Mind Reading!

If you could visit a historical era, which would you choose?: Roaring 20s

If you could restart your life, knowing what you do now, would you?: No, I think the way my life is laid out is how it’s supposed to be. I’ve made mistakes and I’ve learned from them. I think if I were to restart my life, I’d not be who I am at this moment and I like who I am right now, I like who I’ve grown to be!

Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized horses or one horse-sized chicken?: 100 chicken-sized horses

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been?: The dancers/athletes!

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures?: I’m skeptical about them so yes

Fun fact about yourself that not everyone would know?: If you look closely, my eyes are different shades of brown!

When did you post your first piece?: May 11, 2020

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr?: I’ve been on Tumblr for a long time, but I’ve only gotten into reading other accounts’ works 2-3 years ago. Eventually, they inspired me into wanting to make my own writing account and share my stories and ideas!

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr?: Nope!

What inspires you to write?: My emotions and ideas. Also reading old texts from people I love or used to be in my life, tv shows/movies/kdramas, vision boards, and aesthetics of different countries around the world. Most of the time, my mind just comes up with wild random scenarios.

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively?: I take a break! I’d close my laptop and usually go dance (it’s a way for myself to take a break, yet still feel physically inspired), spend time with family, grab a snack, do some digital art, or research a conspiracy theory!

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why?: Yes, I write smut (legal members only ofc), angst, and general. I write those kinds of genres because those are the most common and there’s so much that you can do with them! You can write them however you want and write whatever kind of plot you see fit, there’s so much flexibility.

Do you write OCs, X Readers, Ships...etc?: As of right now, I have been writing for “X Readers” because I want to be really inclusive of everyone! I don’t think I’ll go into OCs or ships (assuming idol and another idol?) because I don’t see that as inclusive. I most likely will stick to “X Readers”.

Who is your favorite person to write about?: Jaehyun from NCT

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most?: I’ve only gotten to post one kind of au (arranged marriage au), but some that I have in my drafts that I absolutely enjoy are idol au, friends to lovers au, enemies to lovers au, mafia au, fwb au, and mythology au. A genre I also love writing is angst!

What is your writing process like?: I usually write at night after I shower and do my night routine. I plug in some headphones, play some music that fits the mood of the story presently, and start writing! If I have writer’s block, I’ll usually watch some old mvs that bring back old memories!

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful?: I haven’t published it yet, because it’s still under the wraps and I want to post about other members too, but I have a mythology au with Jaehyun and it’s my absolute favorite right now! I can’t wait to post it!!

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose?: Yes and no! Yes, because whenever I think of (original) prose I think of a technique of writing that flows naturally with speech and has grammatical structure, so as long as stories have those skills, I would consider them as so. We as humans actually speak, write, and think in prose because it’s seen as a straightforward language and conversational speech. No, because at the same time prose consists of many things. There are several types of prose (non-fictional, fictional, heroic, poetic), so if a story states that it is a specific prose, I would say there is a difference!

What do you think makes a good story?: Emotion 100%. The ability to write with emotions without straightforwardly telling the readers what kind of emotion is felt within a character. Also description of an environment, again, having the ability to describe a moment without stating it like it’s supposed to be obvious.

What do you hope your readers take away from your work?: The emotion that my writing invokes from them. I want them to read my work and feel the emotion that I’m trying to provoke! Also the fact that I work hard and put a lot of thought while being realistic as I can with the plot!

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story?: Not yet!

What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand?: Ones that I love are enemies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, friends to lovers, different worlds (metaphorically), and I have some more that I can’t think of! Ones that I cannot stand are, stuck together to lovers, secret billionaire, childhood marriage promises, amnesia, and “If i can’t have you, no one will!!”

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)?: Definitely my process/planning; on how I think of a story and plan it out on my iPad with a bunch of side notes and idea webs.

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you?: Oh, it means so much, I can’t even explain. I love it when I get asks that tell me about how mad they are, how much they cried, or how happy they are about something that happened in the story. It means a lot because it means that they actually read through my work and enjoyed it. I love it when my followers and anons talk to me in general!

Do you think fanfic writers get unfairly judged?: Yes, I definitely think that we get judged for being too much in our head or having too many unrealistic fantasies. Fanfic writing is just another way of expressing our ideas simply with the person we adore from a group, it doesn’t necessarily mean we fantasize it to happen.

Do you think art can be a medium for change?: Yes! I think that any idea from the mind that expresses emotion and inspiration visually or not, is considered an art. There’s a lot that goes into writing than what people think! Such as finding the creativity for metaphors in a story that will not only bring out emotion from the character and reader, but also a visual representation to symbolize the emotion.

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself?: Yes, I always get asks asking me when I’ll update, but it’s not too much of a bother because I know they’re just really excited for the next part or another set of work.

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times?: Not at all, I think I do a fairly good job at writing to the point where there’d be no misunderstandings.

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr?: No, I like to keep it private because I’d rather have them not tease or make fun of me for what I genuinely like to do.

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers?: That I literally love them all so much and I appreciate each and every one of them. I mean it from the bottom of my heart, they’re all so nice, welcoming, and supportive. It encourages me to write more!

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there?: Definitely go for it! You’ll never know until you try! There will be people who don’t like it, but those who truly love your writing will support you forever, will stick around, encourage you, and lift you up. Be confident in your writing, be confident that your brain came up with such an amazing plot/story and has woven so many things together to create it!

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey?: I do have a few mutuals that I talk to. One of them has read my story and given such good feedback, which I loved because I’m always looking for opportunities to grow as a writer.

Pick a quote to end your interview with: “Throughout life people will make you mad, disrespect you and treat you bad. Let God deal with the things they do, cause hate in your heart will consume you too.” -Will Smith

BONUS K-POP CONFIDENTIAL

Interested in your very own episode of The Sunny Show? Find out how to apply HERE.

#yunocity #thesunnyshow #featured author #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct u

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abigailnussbaum · 3 years

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Legends of Tomorrow, Season 5

I was going to write weekly reviews of this season, and then with one thing and another ended up dropping it in the spring (hey, remember when there was so much weekly TV that you couldn’t keep up with all your shows? Wonder how long it’ll be before that happens again). I caught up with the entire season this weekend, and honestly, that feels like a better standpoint from which to write about it - I think if I’d stuck with weekly reviews, I would have ended up saying the same thing week after week.

A couple of years ago, Emily VanDerWerff suggested that there is a standard lifecycle for high-concept, large ensemble, off-the-wall genre shows:

Season 1: still figuring this whole thing out

Season 2: now we’re cooking with oil

Season 3: we can do anything!

Season 4: whoops, no, we’ve gotten a bit over our skis here

Season 5: ???

Legends, I think, encapsulates this progression to a T. The show’s second and third seasons were some of the best and most exciting genre storytelling on television, but last year was a bit of a mess. That’s not entirely the writers’ fault - Nick Zano’s limited availability due to family obligations forced them to beef up the Time Bureau’s role in the season, and their desire to keep Maisie Richardson-Sellers on board even after Amaya’s story had wrapped up led them to create a character, Charlie, who had no real reason for being on the Waverider. But a lot of it was self-inflicted. The cast was too unwieldy, the Time Bureau story seemed designed to expose the thin spots in the show’s self-presentation as irreverent but fundamentally compassionate (it certainly didn’t help that the decision to rewrite Nate Sr. into a good guy was made almost at the last minute, requiring the entirely unconvincing argument that forcing magical creatures to perform in a circus act is somehow morally superior to forcing them to be secret agents), and some of the character choices felt entirely parachuted in (Zari/Nate, anyone?).

Season five, therefore, had a lot of clean up work to do, while also demonstrating that the Legends formula had more life in it than just those two transcendent early seasons. And while this is undeniably a more successful, more enjoyable season than the one preceding it (which also does a great deal to address some of the show’s structural issues, chiefly the overlarge cast), I also can’t help but notice that instead of finding new places for the show to go, what the fifth season delivers instead is a hodgepodge of story elements from seasons two and three. So we’ve got a mystical object that can rewrite reality (The Loom of Fate vs. season two′s The Spear of Destiny); a token hunt across time and space in which the Legends face off against the estranged relatives of one of their members (the totems in season three vs. the search for the pieces of the loom, Amaya’s evil granddaughter vs. Charlie’s evil sisters); a late season loss that forces our characters into a nightmarish alternate reality in which they don’t even remember who they are (the Legion of Evil rewriting the Legends’ lives to make them ordinary and unsatisfying vs. being stuck in TV shows in a world run by the Fates); which comes about because of a betrayal by a member of the team (Charlie in season five, Mick in season two) whose eventual return to the fold enables to Legends to win in the end. There’s even an abandoned, abused girl who has turned evil, and has to be won back to the side of good through the offer of true companionship and understanding (Nora Darhk vs. Astra Logue).

This isn’t exactly a bad thing - a lot of these storytelling beats cut to the very core of what Legends is and what makes it work, so it’s not necessarily wrong for the show to repeat them. And even if the basic structure is the same, Legends just keeps getting more adventurous in how it delivers that structure. I’ve already written about how well done the season’s mockumentary episode was, and the same can be said for the 80s slasher movie riff, the Mr. Rogers parody, and of course, “The One Where We’re Trapped on TV”. Like the multiple universe episode in season four, these are things the show couldn’t have done when it was just a few seasons old, and they’re proof that whatever other issues it has, Legends is constantly pushing the envelope in terms of the kind of tropes and genres it can graft onto a superhero template. That said, there’s a very real possibility that this is all the show will ever be - a standard story template, enlivened by increasingly gonzo riffs on existing tropes.

Some more thoughts on where the season worked and where it didn’t below.

THE GOOD:

I really hated the decision to make Nora a fairy godmother in season four, not least because it felt like yet another way of infantilizing her (it certainly didn’t help that it was a choice she was forced into, and that she spent the remainder of the season catering to the every whim of Gary, a character I still have very mixed feelings towards). But season five really reclaims that choice. Having Nora embrace the fairy godmother life as a way of both helping children and working through her own issues makes a lot of sense, and the character feels happier and more confident than we’ve ever seen her (certainly a step up from how gloomy she was last season). I even like the wardrobe change - once the fairy godmother dress was ditched except for specific occasions, having Nora dress all in teal is a nice touch, and certainly an improvement over her rather boring season four wardrobe. I still think Legends missed a lot in how it handled Nora last season (I will never stop being annoyed that she and Sara didn’t develop a deeper friendship, given how similar their life trajectories have been), but this was a good way of righting the ship, even in a very limited timeframe.

I already mentioned this in the episode review, but watching the rest of the season really cemented my admiration for how quickly the show embeds Behrad into the crew, and makes it feel as if he’s always been there. That’s all the more impressive given that Behrad doesn’t really get an arc in season five. Most of that storytelling energy goes to establish Zari 2.0, and Behrad is, of course, absent for much of the latter half of the season. And yet he feels almost instantly like a fully-rounded character who is integral to the show, so much so that you’re heartbroken by his death (and convinced that it will be rolled back, even though Zari could easily take over his superpower). That’s really excellent work by both the writers and Shayan Sobhian.

I was a bit nervous when Zari 2.0 was introduced, because replacing a heroic, cool-girl-coded, nobly self-sacrificing character with a version of herself who is extremely femme-coded and obsessed with things like fashion and social media is the sort of move that is ripe for easy misogynistic point-scoring in the guise of feminism - of course the Zari who is good with machines and eats donuts is superior to the one who has a perfume line and spends hours in the bathroom every morning! But the show very quickly established that Zari, though certainly not without her flaws, is awesome in any guise, and it did so without trying to change her into “our” Zari, eventually even establishing that they are two completely different people, each with a right to exist (though not simultaneously, unfortunately). I get why the show didn’t keep both Zaris around - it would be asking a lot of Tala Ashe to play two characters, much of the time against herself, not to mention a production nightmare - but I appreciate that it didn’t decide that Zari 2.0 was the lesser version. (Also a nice touch: Behrad, though obviously fond of Zari 1.0, doesn’t think of her as “his” sister, even though to us she’s the “real” version of the character.)

Similarly, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Ava moved to the Waverider full time - obviously, it would be an improvement on her playing a tinpot fascist at the Time Bureau while the show pretended that this wouldn’t really bother Sara, but at the same time Sara and Ava are both so similar in their functions and abilities that I worried they’d step on each other’s shoes. Instead, the show leaned into their differences and made the season about Ava finding her place as captain of the Waverider, a role she fills in very different ways than Sara while still doing a good job at it. It also allowed her to expand her point of view a little - bonding with Zari 2.0, or reaching out to Astra, both things that would have been outside of her comfort zone in the past. Obviously, this is setup for Ava taking over as captain in season six now that Sara has been abducted (though I hope not for very long - Legends isn’t Legends without Sara), but good on the show for taking the time to bring Ava to a point where she’s ready for this, and in a different way from Sara.

And speaking of looking ahead, the show takes the wise step of thinning out its cast. Personally, I would have kept Ray, Nora, and Mona and written off Constantine and Nate (and possibly also Gary), but either way, it’s good that the writers realized their cast was getting unwieldy. I was concerned, for example, that the show figuring out what to do with Charlie and giving her an elaborate backstory was a sign that she would stay on, but instead she leaves once that story is resolved. And I think that in an earlier season, Astra would have been positioned to stay on the Waverider after the end of the season, but instead she’s clearly a one-off character, who goes off to live her own life once the show has brought her story to a satisfying conclusion. (This also, however, means that Legends has written off two black women in a single season, not to mention Mona, and in fact has only one WOC main character remaining; I hope that’s something season six addresses.)

THE BAD:

I realize that I am very much in the minority on this, but I’m sorry: John Constantine does not belong on Legends of Tomorrow, and certainly not as a main character. Season five feels, in fact, like a perfect demonstration of this simple truth. The early parts of the season feel like two different shows, the Legends show and the Constantine show, that happen to have some points of intersection and shared characters. And even once those storylines converge, it’s notable how John’s quest for the Loom of Fate very quickly becomes Astra’s quest for it, and then Charlie’s, and how they both feel more grounded in that story and more affected by it than he was. What it comes down to, once again, is that John Constantine is a character who can’t change, and putting him on a show that is all about change and growth can’t help but feel unsatisfying for both the character and the show. Season five tries to suggest that change is possible for him - he finally comes clean with Astra and make a real apology to her; he admits that his pursuit of magic has cost him relationships and a chance at happiness; he reaches out to his friends when he thinks his life is about to end; he even quits smoking. But the character just doesn’t have that much give in it. To be John Constantine, he has to be the cynical, arrogant, self-destructive fuck-up we’ve always known. On a show like Legends of Tomorrow, that can work in small doses, but not as the main character that Constantine has been positioned as.

Though I’m glad that the show figured out something to do with Charlie before writing her off, the similarities between her story and Mick’s can’t help but shed a light on how poorly thought out this character has been, and how much her season five story is parachuted in. When Mick betrays the team at the end of season two, it’s barely a season after they’d put him off the ship for being perennially untrustworthy, leading to him becoming their nemesis. They only take him back out of pity for the decades of torture he suffered, and sympathy for the loss of his only friend, Captain Cold. His betrayal is a direct outcome of those cracks in the relationship - he does it because he wants to live in a world where he hasn’t been hurt or hurt others, and where his friend is still alive. When he changes his mind at the end of the season, it’s a culmination of two seasons of character growth, the realization that holding on to the pain in his life is worth it if it means he gets to keep the friendships he formed on the Waverider, and to continue to grow as a person - as expressed by his choice to put Snart back in his timeline, where he will become a better person (and eventually inspire Mick to do the same) but will also die. Charlie’s very similar storyline just doesn’t have this kind of depth. Neither her heel turn nor her face turn feel particularly earned, and a lot of that has to do with the fact that it took the writers so long to figure out who this character even was.

For a season of Legends, this was an awfully heteronormative stretch of episodes. Sure, Sara and Ava are still center stage, and that’s fantastic. But every other romantic relationship in the season, and there are quite a few of them, is a straight one. You might blame this on the fact that season five is a housecleaning season, wrapping up dangling storylines like Ray/Nora or Nate/Zari. But even the new characters like Behrad or Lita express only opposite-sex attraction (I guess Astra never demonstrates a preference). I mean, if you give John Constantine two different love interests in a single season and they’re both women, surely something has gone terribly wrong?

And speaking of John Constantine’s love interests, is putting him together with Zari meant to make the old her’s romance with Nate look organic and true to the characters in comparison? Because I can’t think of another reason for it. Do not want.

THE UGLY:

Words cannot express how much I hate the Damien Darhk episode. Not all of it, obviously - the Mr. Rogers riff, as I said, is pretty good (and pays off handsomely later in the season), and pretty much all the Ray/Nora stuff, especially the moment where she realizes she’s not going to lie to her father about the man she loves and the life she’s chosen, are golden. But it is simply mind-boggling that after two seasons in which Nora was firmly established as the survivor of a lifetime of abuse, Legends takes an entire hour to not only rehabilitate Damien, but pretend that he was always a loving father who just made some mistakes. For crying out loud, the man fed his daughter to a demon in order to gain power for himself. It was always an interesting wrinkle in his character that he clearly saw himself as a loving, protective parent, and was even capable of some level of self-sacrifice on Nora’s behalf, but I had assumed that the show realized this was at least partly a self-serving lie. To discover that we’re actually meant to think that one act of sacrifice cancels out a lifetime of abuse is nauseating. I wanted Nora to stand up to her father, but as a victim calling out her abuser, not a loving daughter trying to renegotiate a relationship with an overprotective parent. It certainly doesn’t help that the episode features inexplicably popular wedding story tropes, such as the groom asking the bride’s father for permission to marry her, or the father trying to keep the couple from physical intimacy before the wedding, which are gross in any context but especially so here. I suppose in the end it’s all worth it to be rid of Damien once and for all, but I was squirming with discomfort and rage throughout the entire episode.

#legends of tomorrow

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starspatter · 3 years

Text

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 15

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 4,800 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Also on ff.net and AO3. ...I lied. This is totally a harem story. *flees*

She held onto my coat that night, like a kid lost in her sleeves Oh we warmed the ground, we hushed our sound We slept on walking feet Oh Darlin’, pardon me Can you help me remember When we were all flying free

-Gregory Alan Isakov, “Living Proof”

————————–

After.

Barbara breathed out as she stood before the large, warehouse-like building, gazing anxiously up at its second floor (and watchful security cameras she knew were installed overhead). The reinforced structure still seemed relatively sound despite the recent disaster. The… original occupant certainly knew how to choose a hideout location and prepare for all potential outcomes. …Must've been a habit he picked up from his previous landlord.

With a wary hand, she buzzed the doorbell.

Sooner than she expected, the entry flew open to reveal an unfamiliar face: a young man with a short crop of mane spiked in the front like flames, similar in color to her own.

"Well hellooo there," he greeted with a wide grin, eyeing his guest up and down. "What can I do you for, miss?"

Barbara stared at him in surprise.

"Er, is Tim home? He… does still live here, right?"

The stranger licked his lips, resting toned muscle casually against the doorframe.

"Who cares about him? What say you and me get to know each other a bit first, as fellow redheads, hm?"

He loomed towards her, admiring her luscious saffron locks. Barbara grimaced, getting ready to give the kid a good taste of a police twist hold (if not taser) – when a voice she recognized interjected from behind.

"She's a cop, Roy. And she used to be Batgirl. I wouldn't try anything if I were you."

Tim emerged beside the other teen, regarding the two dully. Unfortunately the statement only seemed to fuel his friend's lust further.

"Hot damn. You here to arrest me, officer?" He waggled his brows. "Slap some cuffs on me and take me down to the station? I wouldn't mind that on the first date."

"Roy."

"Kidding, kidding. Jeeze, you really have no sense of humor now, do you?" He lowered his limb dejectedly. "Anyway, you didn't tell me you were acquainted with such a gorgeous babe. Ain't you gonna introduce us?"

Tim sighed.

"Roy, meet Officer Barbara Gordon, the Commissioner's daughter and former Batgirl. Babs, this is Roy Harper, a.k.a. Speedy, Green Arrow's ex-sidekick."

"Ex-partner," the other boy corrected. "And it's 'Arsenal' now."

"Whatever. Now could you please give us some privacy?"

"A'ight, I can take a hint to take a hike," Roy smirked with a suggestive wink. "I've got a 'date' myself anyway. I'll leave you two alone. Don't wait up~"

He whistled and growled as he passed by Barbara on the way out, who shot him a dirty look before resuming attention to Tim.

"I see you've been keeping company. Honestly, he's worse than the Flash." (What was it with all the male copperheads she met giving her ginger brand a bad name?)

"We know each other from the Titans," he replied in a dry tone. "He needed a place to stay after Queen kicked him out – again. Dick said it was okay."

Barbara paused.

"You talk to him recently?"

Tim shrugged as he moved aside to allow her in.

"We keep in touch. He calls every so often to check up on… things."

She studied his backside as they started heading upstairs to the loft.

"And? How are 'things'?

"Fine."

She glanced around the interior of the room as they approached the top; it looked pretty much the same as she remembered. There was the ornate wall of Asian-styled checkered windows overlooking the city, and the ninja sword rack hanging next to a decorative dragon panel (behind which she knew there was a concealed compartment that used to contain Nightwing's costume). Dick did always have a flair for the Orient.

Running her hand wistfully along the armrest to the sofa, she recalled how she and Dick used to sit and cuddle together on it, enjoying late-night Chinese takeout and talks, among… other things.

A frown settled on her face as she noticed something… "off" about the couch cushions.

"'Fine', you say. …Is that why you have 'this'?"

Tim's eyes immediately narrowed as she stretched behind the seat and unzipped the foam, removing a bag of greenish-purple powder from deep within.

"It's not mine."

He answered, a little too hasty.

"Whose is it then?"

"Roy's," he stated flatly, seeming nonchalant about selling out his flatmate.

"And you're telling me you've never used any?"

He hesitated, eyes slanting aside in silence. She scrutinized the stash, recognizing to her horror that it was likely the popular new drug that was being distributed in the streets amongst decadent youth; an isolated chemical strain similar to Joker toxin, but more mild. Not strong enough to cause permanent psychological damage (at least when taken in minor doses), but enough to mimic the euphoric high for hours on end.

"Have you been doing deals with Jokerz?"

"Like hell I would," he snapped.

She reached out to sternly grab his wrist, trying insistently to meet his eye.

"Tim. Be honest with me. Please."

He yanked his arm away, glaring fiercely in anger.

"What is this, some kind of bust? Fine, go ahead, book me. I don't care. Why don't you just charge me with murder while you're at it?"

"Tim…"

"You don't get it, Barb." He clutched at his sleeves, digging digits deep into his skin. "You don't know what it's like, living with fucking laughter inside your head all the time. At least when I'm laughing louder I can't hear him."

She swallowed, biting her lip. Gently, she set the plastic down on the table.

"I do understand," she whispered softly.

He blinked at her.

"Tim, the reason I came here, is because… Lately, I've been having these… visions." She sank down on the lounger, steepling fingers in front of her. "You remember the time Scarecrow gassed me and left me in a hallucinogenic nightmare state?"

He nodded.

"It's like that, only now, I get them when I'm awake as well, at complete random. Ever since the quake, I'll experience these abrupt panic attacks, and see all kinds of terrifying shit. Then, the flashbacks start, and there's one that's always recurring…" She closed her eyes, reflecting reluctantly. "All of a sudden I'll see myself back at Arkham, fighting against Harley. We go over the edge of the cliff, and I'm hanging on like before, and she starts to slip… Only this time, I fall with her. I – I die, just like that time in my dream."

She hunched in on herself further as she continued.

"It doesn't end there though. It keeps going, and I can still see everything else play out, like when I visualized my dad going after Bruce afterwards. I – I see him and Joker, and you – JJ – there with the gun – and – and… The shot hits Batman instead."

Her speech tapered off as she finished the sentence. Her audience was deathly quiet as she carried on in a tremulous hush.

"Then you and the Joker – he – he makes you do all these horrible things – so many deaths – including Dick's – and finally my dad's the only one left – and he has to take you both down by himself – and it ends with either him shooting you – or you shooting him – and either way everyone I love is… gone."

She looked at him, tears starring her eyes.

"I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear any of this. I – I just had to come see you…"

"To make sure I haven't gone on an insane murder spree?"

Barbara lowered her head in apology.

"I didn't mean it like that…"

Tim exhaled, unlinking his limbs as he leaned back against the table.

"For what it's worth, I don't think I've done anything recently that would land me a spot in Arkham. …Anyway, shouldn't you go see a doctor about this or something? Or someone else who can help, like…"

The weight of unspoken word hung heavy in the air. She shook her head.

"I'm scared. What if they can't treat it, say my condition's permanent? I'm no good to the force like this, I can't function out in the field. I'll have to give up my badge, after I worked so hard to finally get here..."

Tim rolled his eyes slightly.

"Gee, I wonder what that could possibly be like?"

Contriteness crossed her countenance again.

"…Sorry. That was dumb, I shouldn't have said that. I was being selfish, only thinking of myself. I shouldn't have bothered you with this. You've got enough to deal with, you don't deserve to have my issues dumped on you as well."

Tim held up his hand.

"Look, it's okay, Babs. …Is there anything I can do?"

She lifted timidly, chewing her lip.

"I – I was just hoping maybe we could… I don't know – talk for a bit?"

Tim remained mute, mulling for a moment, before turning and walking over to the mini-fridge. Opening it, he retrieved two chilled beer cans before revolving back.

"You want a drink?"

She boosted an eyebrow, but nevertheless gratefully accepted the offering of booze.

"I'm not even going to ask how you got these."

She muttered as she popped the tab and started to chug it down.

…

A nearly emptied six-pack later, they were both more than a bit tipsy, but Barbara especially so. Turns out she wasn't very good at holding her alcohol.

"I mean, who do those jerks think they are?" she slurred as she slammed her container down. "I'm not some little girl or someone's possession. I can date whoever I damn well please."

Tim perceived her lurch lopsidedly as she groped for another, growing concerned.

"Don't you think you've had one too many?"

"I'll be the judge of that," she hicced as she swatted his hand away. Tim persisted however, prying the prize firmly from her fingertips.

"That's it. I think you've had enough."

As he stood up to put the beverage back, he simultaneously fished out his phone and began dialing with his free hand.

"I'm calling your dad to come pick you up."

He felt a pressure on his lower waist, and he looked down to see Barbara clinging to the back of his shirt, burying her flushed forehead against his spine.

"Please," she mumbled into the fabric. "Just let me stay here a little longer."

He gulped, but submissively sat back down. She warmly nestled her head against his shoulder, causing his chest to beat rapidly in confusion.

"…What the hell happened to us, Tim? How did we end up like this? The four of us, hardly even speaking to each other? Dick would never return my phone calls, and Bruce – God, Bruce – I don't even know where to begin with him."

"To be fair, he was never much of a conversationalist to begin with," Tim griped bitterly. "Besides, don't you, uh, have a new boyfriend now?"

He cleared his throat, and Barbara sighed as she sat up, hugging her knees close to her for comfort instead.

"Sam's great. He understands, but… He doesn't really 'get' it, you know? What we've been through."

She traced a rim of condensation on the counter.

"Hey, you remember that time Bruce almost married a plant-woman? That was wild."

"Yeah? What about when Farmer Brown unleashed a bunch of giant mutant insects on Gotham? That's got to be the craziest adventure we ever had."

"Please. You weren't there when Baby Doll and Killer Croc teamed up and nearly nuked the city. I mean, can you imagine those two together? You can't compete with a weirder pair than that."

It was startlingly simple, to slip so smoothly back into nostalgia. Swapping stories, trying to one-up each other's exploits. Barbara would even fondly describe some of the times she worked with the original Dynamic Duo, back during the "good ol' days" – of colorful costumed villains, wacky crimes, and ridiculous motivations. Telling increasingly tall tales and amusing anecdotes that almost made Tim laugh. …Almost.

"So let me get this straight," she repeated, "You flew the Batplane all the way to outer space… to the Justice League Watchtower… by yourself?"

"Yup," Tim responded as he sedately cracked open the last metal vessel still in his lap and took a sip.

Barbara shook her head in disbelief.

"You always were a risk-taker. I still can't believe Bruce went missing and got brainwashed… again. How come I never knew about any of this? Why didn't you contact me?"

"You were off at grad school. I figured I could handle it."

Barbara propped her elbow on the plush, leaning her cheek thoughtfully against it as she tucked her legs underneath her.

"...It's good that you went to them for help."

Tim peered down, picking absently at the paper label, peeling off aluminum.

"Mr. Kent told me afterwards, that Bruce did call him in secret. The operating room's walls were lined with lead though, since they used to take X-Rays and brain scans there. Even the curtain and that stupid apron Joker wore had lead shielding. He had hench-spies stationed everywhere, in Metropolis as well, so he could render me unconscious as soon as Superman showed up and I wouldn't be able to scream. …He really was prepared for everything."

Barbara couldn't believe it. Just how long had that disgusting sicko been planning this?

"What about the Martian? He's a telepath, isn't he?"

Tim shook his head.

"Apparently the last time he attempted a city-wide psychic sweep to look for Luthor, he wasn't able to shut it off. The flood of thoughts nearly drove him mad afterwards. Bruce didn't want to risk it."

"That still doesn't excuse-"

"What's done is done," Tim curtly cut her off, crushing the canister in his grip to transfer his own resentful rage, before tossing it in the trash. "I've accepted the damage. There's no use in going back and flinging hindsight accusations at this point."

Barbara surveyed his sullen expression in overwhelming sympathy.

"…There's one thing Joker didn't count on."

"What?"

"You fighting him off in the end. You were stronger than him. You won."

Knuckles balled on Tim's kneecap.

"That wasn't a win. We lost the moment I confessed everything to him."

"That's not true, Tim."

He shook his head.

"I killed him, Barb. I did what none of us were ever supposed to do. And the worst part is, I – I was glad about it."

She extended her palm to wrap reassuringly around his wrist.

"So? You have every right to be, after what he did to you."

Tim's fist only tautened further as he avoided her eyes, ashamed of his own ugly sin.

"You know, it's ironic – Batman got gassed by Scarecrow once too. Only instead it took away all his fear. He was seriously out of control, to the point where he wasn't even afraid to kill criminals. I had to take him down myself. I… managed to keep him from making a big mistake."

He laughed then, though it sounded hollow. His eyes had such a pained look, moreso than anything physical could've caused him. The hurt was in his heart and soul. Barbara's own heart broke to see him like this. Her brain swam, swarming with remorse. Wishing there was something she could do to help heal him, convince him that he had a good heart, one that was still worthy and capable of loving others, and of being loved in return…

…

Slowly, she inclined forward – and kissed him.

…

For a second, all Tim could register was the flavor of liquor mixed with black licorice – lush and luscious on her lips – before panicking and pushing away.

"What are you doing?"

"I… don't know."

"…I think you're making a big mistake."

Barbara bristled.

"Who says?"

From their positions, she was practically on top of him. He grasped her shoulders, keeping determinedly at bay.

"You're drunk. And probably hallucinating."

"I'm not hallucinating."

He sighed, scraping a hand through his hair.

"I'm not Dick or Bruce, you know. …I'm nobody."

"You're not nobody."

Conflict clouded his eyes.

"Look, this is all kinds of wrong. What about Sam? Besides, your dad would probably kill me…"

The whites around her blue irises widened.

"Kill you…?"

…Shit.

"Babs, no, I didn't mean-"

She slid off, seizing arms around herself, impressing into her flesh.

"He'll kill you. You'll kill him. …Everyone's going to be killed. And it's all my fault."

Shit. Shit shit shit. He should've known better.

"No one's dying. We're all still alive." (…If what they had could be called "living".) "You're just imagining it."

Her claws only clamped tighter.

"Sam… What if he comes after Sam? I'm putting him in danger. Oh God." Her pupils contracted, zoning into the distance. "Sam, don't open the door – he's got a gun!"

This was not good. He was losing her. He tried to twist her around, get her to see him instead of… of… whatever it was she was trapped by.

"Babs? Hey, hey, look at me. Look at me. Whatever you're seeing right now, it's not real. You hear me? It's not real."

She stayed stiff as a board though, staring far off into vacant space.

"Dad. Oh my God, what's he doing to Dad? He's trying to turn him crazy too. No, no, make it stop!"

Worriedly, Tim shook her shoulders.

"Babs, hey, c'mon! Snap out of it!"

Her eyes were glazed, no longer glued to one spot but rolling everywhere else. Darting frantically to and fro. Features contorted, seemingly in some kind of phantom agony.

"My legs. I can't feel my legs. He took my legs."

Nails curled around her abdomen area, clenching cloth in anguish. Scrabbling, scratching, as if searching for something.

"Babs!"

"The baby," she sobbed. "I lost the baby. I couldn't protect him. Couldn't protect… im…"

The last part was muffled by a wounded choke, but… From the way she said it, it kinda sounded like…

His name.

Helpless, Tim looked on with an aching empathy as the normally tough, take-charge woman he always knew coiled into a fetal form, crying miserably. He mused if this was how he must've often looked to the others back then. He didn't know what to do, how to help her. He felt so utterly useless.

Running over options, his mind halted at one possibility. Something that used to help him deal with nightmares as a kid, before… everything. It was probably dumb and desperate, but it was worth a shot.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

He dashed to the bedroom, opening up the nightstand drawer and fumbling around inside. Withdrawing the object from the far back, he considered it grimly for a beat, before gritting his teeth and resolutely taking it back to where Barbara was now rocking herself.

"Babs? Hey, look: Remember this?"

She ceased instantly when she saw the Batarang suspended in front of her.

"You always felt safe whenever Batman and Robin were around, right? Nothing… bad can happen to you as long as they're there."

Sentiment welled in her ducts as she reached out tentatively for the reminder, cradling it close to her breast.

"Just in case you run into trouble up there."

"Dick… Bruce…"

Tim drew her in towards him in a compassionate embrace, soothingly stroking her quivering back as if she were the child.

"It's okay, Babs. It's okay." He reiterated the phrase in her ear. "You're okay. I'm… okay. We're okay."

They stayed like that for a while, and eventually the shudders and sniffles subsided as she seemed to fall into a fitful sleep. While she still whimpered occasionally, holding the Batarang nearer did appear to help somewhat.

Just then, he heard the opening and closing of the front door as Roy returned from his "date", bounding up the steps and stopping short upon witnessing the scene before him.

"Whoahey, am I interrupting something?"

He grinned, and Tim scowled at the guy's terrible timing.

"This isn't what it looks like. Just hurry up and help me get her to the bed."

Roy was about to open his mouth to make another snide remark, but promptly shut it upon seeing the searing look Tim speared at him, and the sweat and tears on the moaning visitor's visage. Switching into serious mode, he lent a steady hand with supporting her to the mattress. He was still a hero himself, after all, always available to aid any damsels in distress.

As he agreed to take over looking after the patient for the time being, Tim thanked him and left the bedside temporarily, pulling out his cell again as he traveled downstairs. Inhaling deeply, he began to punch in another number he knew all too well, forever engraved in the back of his skull.

After a couple rings, the other end picked up with a gruff greeting.

"…Yes?"

The cold, almost impatient lack of pleasantry was all Tim needed to confirm he had indeed reached the right person.

"Bruce, it's me. …Barbara needs help."

…

When Barbara finally awoke, the first thing she spotted was Tim sitting on a reversed chair next to her, chin reposed idly on his forearms.

"Hey."

"…Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better, I guess. …How long was I out?"

"The whole night. You were tossing and turning a lot."

She elevated gradually, sensing a moist towel fall from her crown onto the sheets in the process. Had he been nursing her this whole time?

As she tracked its descent, she saw she was still adhering to the Batarang as well. She blushed a bit at how babyish she must have seemed, to have to rely on something like this to calm her down.

"Um, thanks. …You can have this back now."

He relieved her of the improvised crutch, and in exchange he handed her a small vial of medication.

"Here, take this. It's similar to what Dr. Thompkins used to give me, but more concentrated. It's not a permanent cure, but it should help with the terrors. It'll likely knock you totally out for a few more days, but you won't have to suffer nightmares during it. If it doesn't work or you're still experiencing symptoms afterwards, call her and she'll adjust the dosage."

"You got this from Leslie?"

"Bruce did."

She gaped in astonishment.

"You actually spoke to him?"

"He just told me what I needed to know, then hung up and sent Alfred over with the stuff. …Typical, huh?"

His jaw drooped a little further into folds, as did his tired-looking lids.

"You're not the first Scarecrow victim to undergo relapses like this. It's rare, but everyone responds to the fear serum differently. Yours is a more severe case."

Barbara thought about how many others had to live their lives in a compromised state (or lost them entirely) all because of some psychopath who kept breaking out of Arkham – no matter how many times they put him back in – if not released through the revolving door due to (hell, courtesy of) all the corruption in the system. How many lives were really spared, while others still suffered because of their incompetence? Inconsequence.

"You know, sometimes I wonder: If what we were doing was ever really the right thing? After what happened with the earthquake… God, I don't know. Maybe this city is beyond hope. …In the end, did we even make any difference? Was it worth it – any of it? We've saved a bunch of people, sure, but at what cost? I mean, just look at us… We're a mess."

Tim simply shrugged.

"At least Dick's still doing okay over in Blüdhaven. And Bruce seems to be handling things fine on his own. Besides, it's not like he ever really needed us anyway. Because he's Batman."

Barbara observed as Tim toyed with the Batarang in his hands, balancing the tip on the chair back. She dropped her view towards the blankets.

"…You're not him, you know," she pronounced harshly. "You'll never be him."

Her own fingers fumbled with the damp napkin, and bottle of medicine, before looking up again with a smile.

"But, that's not a bad thing."

As she said this, she extended out to pat his cheek, noting the dark bags under his eyes. Had he even slept at all, she wondered? …Then again, she was probably taking up his bed, she realized with sudden embarrassment.

Tim seemed even more embarrassed by the affectionate contact, turning away with a cough. The memory of what she had done surged back to her cheeks, and she hastily detached, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, which bloomed a matching humiliated hue.

"Listen, about what happened last night…"

Tim merely waved off whatever she was about to say in advance.

"We were both drunk. It doesn't count."

"…You're awfully quick to dismiss." Detecting his fidgeting, she gleamed in comprehension. "Ah, don't tell me – you've never kissed anyone before?"

A pure pink tinge faintly colored his complexion, corroborating her suspicion.

"Ehehe, did I steal your first kiss, Boy Virgin?"

"Sh- shut up."

His flush deepened further.

"It's not like I've exactly had much opportunity to try it," he murmured in his defense. "…Besides, if we're counting that kind of thing, technically my first time would've been with Dick."

"Oh."

He sniped a sulk at her reaction.

"I gave him CPR once. What were you thinking?"

"Nothing," she declared innocently, hand hovering over her mouth to obstruct a snicker. "I bet this time was a lot better though. I'm sure you must've thoroughly enjoyed it, if not to some extent."

Tim averted his eyes again as she winked at him.

"Wh- who knows."

"Oh please. Don't deny you were the least bit curious. You think I never noticed you sneaking peeks while we were getting changed?"

Tim burned burgundy as he shifted sight down to his toes.

"I was 13. What'd you expect?"

She nodded sagely.

"You are a boy, after all. It's only natural for these things to occur."

She giggled in entertainment at his expense. When the chuckles died down, she checked the time on the alarm clock by the pillow.

"…I guess I should get going now. I'll need to call in to the station to tell them I'm taking the next days off."

He helped see her out. Standing awkwardly in the entrance, he rubbed his neck before addressing encouragingly.

"You're a great cop, Barb. You're gonna do a lot of good things for this city. I know you'll make it a better place."

She beamed.

"Thank you, Tim. …I'll start by confiscating 'this'."

She held up the contraband, which Roy had taken the liberty of hiding again, but there was no way he could outsmart a Bat, even if she wore a different symbol now.

"And I better not catch you with anything like this again, or I will take you in. Got it?"

Tim winced at the strict lecture and slap on the wrist, but nodded. Barbara softened as she reached around to envelop in a broad hug.

"…Don't be a stranger, Tim. You're the only one I can still talk to about all this."

He wavered, but kindly reciprocated the gesture. As she withdrew, she raised an arm to lightly pet his hair, discerning he had finally hit that growth spurt; he was almost at her height now.

"Listen. Someday, you're gonna meet someone special, who loves you just the way you are. And she's gonna be so lucky to have you in her life."

Tim scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Like that's ever gonna happen."

She took his hands in hers. Hands that still twitched and trembled every once in a while, as if afraid to even be touched. Hands that had, in his opinion, committed the greatest act of transgression, taking another's soul and doomed toll on his own – but had also toiled all night to keep changing her cool kerchief, tending and tenderly wiping her temple in enduring devotion to charitable ideals. That had prostrated and prayed, begging for a favor from "God" for her sake, subjugating self in spite of whatever spiteful feelings he bore towards said sore subject. …That had rescued so many lives at the risk of his own, without asking for any reward other than to have a place to call "home", and a "family" who cared for him as much as he did for them. (And even that had been mostly taken from him too, something for which she regretfully shared the blame.)

"Don't give up hope. Things will change. It's gonna get better. I promise."

She stooped forward to peck his cheek, before letting go.

"Thank you, again, for everything. I'll see you around, Tim."

"Yeah. See ya."

She left with a wave, and he halfheartedly did the same as he watched her go.

…

About a week later, after she'd fully recovered and gone back to work as good as new, she received an urgent call from Roy at the hospital.

…

Tim had tried to kill himself.

————————–

That sky glowed all calico, like phosphor in the sea To the ground we fall, she owns us all Kings and boys and beast Kings and boys and beast

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Barbara Gordon #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #*prepares for pitchforks*

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theonyxpath · 4 years

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Demi? Meaning partial? No, quite the opposite, actually.

The Kickstarter campaign for Scion: Demigod starts on this Thursday, September the 3rd, at 2pm Eastern US time! And unlike the Kickstarter for Scion: Hero and Scion: Origin, the writing for this book is finished before the KS.

There are actually a fair number of important differences, so, as promised last week, here’s a rundown of how this KS is different from the first one for Scion: Origin and Scion: Hero, since we have indeed learned a lot since then (the first Scion KS was our 22nd and we’ve done 24 more KSs since then):

1- Like I said above, the writing is done. In fact, it is at the stage where the writing is over and the heavy lifting for the developer is over. All those words are now “the text” and any changes are going to be tweaks and minor fixes. Errata stuff. More on that later. The writing that was ready when we did the Scion: Origin/Hero KS was at the Redlines stage, as stated on the KS page at the time, and we have learned that we need more finalized text before we go live on a Kickstarter.

2- The rules are done. Well, of course the rules are done if the text is done, Rich! Sure, yet the fact that during Scion: Origin/Hero‘s KS the Storypath System was still being heavily playtested by our teams, and was being developed for two different creative teams (for Scion and the Trinity Continuum) so that design decisions were still happening is actually very different than now. Storypath has been “battle-tested” in numberless games of Scion, as well as the Trinity Continuum, Dystopia Rising: Evolution, and the They Came From…! game lines.

3- The text will be previewed to backers in sections throughout the KS, you’ll have it all by the end, and can back out before we deliver. Almost exclusively, this is how we handle our Kickstarters now. It eliminates a lot of the fear that the game will develop differently as the writing and developing stages progress. And we get pretty solid discussions going about the text all during the KS, which can be a lot of fun for backers.

4- Our average track record (not including Dark Eras 2 which was structured very differently) for delivery of the Kickstarters after Scion: Origin/Hero‘s KS has been 1.6 months earlier than estimated. Part of that has been because we extended out our estimated delivery date, but the rest has been better internal systems, like:

5- James Bell runs our Kickstarters now. We call him the Kickstarter Concierge because his entire focus is managing our KSs and helping out our backers. He does a phenomenal job with getting folks answers and enabling fun conversations in the Comments.

Titanomachy art by Sam Denmark

6- One of our new processes is a set phase to contract and receive art for the KS, which then rolls right into getting art for rest of the book. This practice is also helpful in getting the art for the Stretch Goal rewards.

7- We have at least one Errata phase after the Backer PDF goes out, although in some cases, and possibly this one, other Errata phases can be included at the developers’ discretion. Rather than having backers write in to us on the forums or via Kickstarter, we now have an Errata system that includes a new form administered by one of our in-house development overseers. Not the developer themselves. In fact, the Text to Editing to Layout to Done process contains more than three times the number of eyes reviewing and confirming changes than it did when we were pulling together Scion: Origin and Scion: Hero.

8- There are more devs understanding the game and rules, with Neall as the lead dev as opposed to having to be deeply involved in every phase like for Scion: Origin/Hero because only he saw how all the pieces needed to come together. Meghan Fitzgerald, who developed Mysteries of the World: The Scion Companion that released recently, and Monica Speca, developer of Titanomachy (the Advance PDF of which releases on Wednesday), are just two of the devs who are able to develop Scion books now that the first two main books are available. Danielle Lauzon is able to bring her unmatched knowledge of how the Storypath System works if needed. This means that while Neall directly developed Scion: Demigod, he has other devs he can run ideas past or who can jump in now if real-life issues impact his work on Scion.

9- One book, not two. More focus, less stress on creators. Also, you’re only pledging for one book (although feel free to pledge for as many as you want!) so your pledge amount will likely be less for this KS, as will likely be our total amount.

10- Scion: Demigod presents concepts which are not just the next “levels” of power for our Heroes, but which expand on what happens once a Scion is more than a hero, but not yet a god.

I’m thinking there may be more differences, but let’s stick with these as we get a Top Ten List sort of thing going. We’re going to have a fun Kickstarter with Scion: Demigod, and we’re hoping all of you can join us for it.

Also, we’ll be including links to Scion: Demigod Actual Play sessions all throughout the KS if you want to get an idea of how great it plays!

Sunken Bones art by Pat Loboyko

And Was There More In the Monday Meeting?

Sure, there really was. And I can’t tell you more than that we looked at a list of future projects that the team was extremely excited about, and we had to only hit the highlights of our weekly reports as the energized creative discussion over the new projects took up so much time.

Yep, we sure love creating:

Many Worlds, One Path!

Blurbs!

Kickstarter!

Scion Demigod Second Edition! Coming this Thursday, September 3rd at 2pm EDT! See all my blathering above for more info!

Onyx Path Media!

This week: What’s Up With The Scarred Lands? Featuring an update and interview with SL major-domo Travis Legge!

As always, this Friday’s Onyx Pathcast will be on Podbean or your favorite podcast venue! https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

Vorpal Tales begin their Scion: Demigod actual play from 21:00 EST on the 8th September! It’ll be hosted on our Twitch channel, but please give them a follow too: https://www.twitch.tv/vorpaltales

We’ve got lots of Scion: Demigod interviews and actual plays coming in the next few weeks, so keep watching this section!

For anyone new to our media section, you can find us running and playing games over on twitch.tv/theonyxpath pretty much every day of the week!

Plus, if you’d like your games hosted there, just get in touch with Matthew Dawkins using the contact link on matthewdawkins.com.

Please give our Twitch channel a follow, as you can find a huge number of videos of all kinds of games being run!

This week on Twitch, expect to see these games and streams running:

Scarred Lands – A Family Affair

Technocracy Reloaded – Vorpal Tales

Scion – Behind the Screen

Danielle’s RPG Development Workshop

Hunter: The Vigil – Cold Cases Forsaken Spaces

Changeling: The Dreaming – The Last Faerie Tale

Mage: The Awakening – Occultists Anonymous

Vampire: The Masquerade – Boston by Night

Get watching for some fantastic insight into how to run these wonderful games and subscribe to us on Twitch, over at twitch.tv/theonyxpath

Come take a look at our YouTube channel, youtube.com/user/theonyxpath, where you can find a whole load of videos of actual plays, dissections of our games, and more, including:

Hunter: The Vigil – Hometown Heroes Episode 4 – https://youtu.be/QDwQXsSiGZ0

Scarred Lands – Purge of the Serpentholds S1E13 – https://youtu.be/PNUTWl3eJq8

They Came from Beneath the Sea! – They Came from Devil’s Reef 2/2 – https://youtu.be/hoyYsRLc6Jo

Hunter: The Vigil – Uptown Shadows Episode 3 – https://youtu.be/DWfboQk46RQ

Realms of Pugmire – Paws and Claws S2E13 – https://youtu.be/ARCZGvOKIpc

Subscribe to our channel and click the bell icon if you want to be notified whenever new news videos and uploads come online!

Tom Murr continues with his amazing They Came from Beneath the Sea! audio drama over on his YouTube channel! Radio ReScience Episode 2: Military Entanglement, can be found right here: https://youtu.be/qiTprIriV7Y and Episode 3: Spycraft is here: https://youtu.be/qqS5rM3GA5A

Systematic Understanding of Everything is a new Exalted Explainer Podcast by Exalted Dev Monica Speca and Exalted Writer Chazz Kellner that is breaking down Creation in 45 minute chunks in preparation for Exalted Essence.

Their most recent episodes are available over on https://www.exaltcast.com/, with their newest covering the stunning Sidereals!

The Story Told Podcast continues their Fall of Jiara Exalted chronicle, and you can find their newest episode right here: https://thestorytold.libsyn.com/fall-of-jiara-25

Chris Allen continues his excellent chronicle of Werewolf: The Forsaken over on Paleo Gaming‘s Twitch channel. Do check out Very Angry Dogs!

https://www.twitch.tv/paleo_gaming

Two new Occultists Anonymous episodes for you fans of Mage: The Awakening! Find them right here:

Episode 124: Vibe Check The cabal travel to Seattle with the intent of hunting down Mr. Graves, behind enemy lines, and with little local support. https://youtu.be/kHJ8BVcqDd0

Episode 125: Not Enough… With a single lead from Wyrd, the cabal works to see who they’ve even made contact with. Unsure of their intel, behind Seer lines, they’re given a task to complete. https://youtu.be/w8iEpJoVJUo

Windy City Kindred kicks off their Vampire: The Masquerade Chicago by Night chronicle right here for you: https://youtu.be/nlaJfpABsE0

If you’re a fan of Dread Names, Red List for Vampire: The Masquerade, check out our friend The Primogen‘s video on the Red List! https://youtu.be/_6hEtPIyBs4

GMS Magazine produced a review of Dystopia Rising: Evolution over on their channel! https://youtu.be/Q0Ih1KkUhS0

Please check these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games! We’d love to feature you!

Electronic Gaming!

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is awesome! (Seriously, you need to roll 100 dice for Exalted? This app has you covered.)

We’re told that the App Dev is currently creating an updated version for the latest devices, so keep an eye open for those!

Virtual TableTop!

Introducing a Virtual Tabletop adventure: the Gauntlet of Spiragos for Scarred Lands on Astral TableTop!

Scars of the Divine War, which ended less than 200 years ago, have still not healed. One such scar is the Chasm of Flies, a rent in the earth created when the titan Spiragos the Ambusher was smote down by one of the young gods, Vangal the Ravager. Now, the Chasm is inhabited by spider-eye goblins and their spider allies, but it is also thought to be the resting place of powerful artifacts from that elder age.

Gauntlet of Spiragos is a Scarred Lands adventure designed for 1st level characters, although it can be easily modified for characters of up to 5th level.

Astral TableTop is the easiest way to play any tabletop RPG online, free. Astral already supports popular systems like D&D and Pathfinder, and Astral can support virtually any tabletop roleplaying game. Get started quickly with built-in support for most popular game systems. Whether you’re brand new to TTRPGs or a veteran tabletop gamer, Astral‘s ease-of-use and built in automation is designed to streamline gameplay.

Astral is browser-based and uses the latest technology to streamline your storytelling experience. Connect with your party online and run your campaigns however you like. Astral offers tools optimized for phone, tablet, and desktop devices, no installation required.

Build epic battlemaps using Astral‘s enormous collection of scenery, props, and tokens or upload your own. Pro users gain access to over 12,000+ assets and fresh new packs every month. Add weather, visual effects, triggers, and so much more with easy-to-use tools

Build your own adventure, or choose from pre-generated game kits like Gauntlet of Spiragos. Create character sheets, craft maps, or just jump right in to connect with your friends and start your adventures!

On Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue from which you bought it. Reviews really, really help us get folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these latest fiction books:

Our Sales Partners!

We’re working with Studio2 to provide our traditionally printed books out into your local game stores. Game stores can order via their usual distributors, and can also contact Studio2 directly. And individuals can check out our projects via the links below!

You can pick up the traditionally printed Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau main books, screens, and the official dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

Now, we’ve added Chronicles of Darkness books such as Changeling: The Lost Second Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scion 2e books and other products are available now at Studio2: https://studio2publishing.com/blogs/new-releases/scion-second-edition-book-one-origin-now-available-at-your-local-retailer-or-online

Our Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition books are also available from Studio2 in the US: https://studio2publishing.com/products/vampire-the-masquerade-chicago-by-night-sourcebook

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e at the same link! And now Scion Origin and Scion Hero and Trinity Continuum Core and Trinity Continuum: Aeon are available to order

It’s the LAST DAY of the DOG DAYS OF SUMMER SALE!

As always, you can find Onyx Path’s titles at DriveThruRPG.com!

The Cthulhu Mythos sale at DriveThruRPG finishes this week, and we’ll have some God-Machine PDFs included in the sale!

On Sale This Week!

This Wednesday, the Titans grab the attention in the Titanomachy book for Scion! Advance PDF on sale on DTRPG!

Scion: Titanomachy has everything a Storyguide needs to bring the Second Titanomachy — a phase in the eternal cold war against the Gods — to their Scion Second Edition games.

It presents new threats from the Titans to their servants, plus their fell powers and Birthrights — ripe for use as antagonists or as new material for players’ characters. It also provides adventure hooks to springboard Storyguides into the action.

Scion: Origin and Scion: Hero are required to use this book.

This book includes:

Titans for each of the core pantheons, to be used as enemies or strange allies.

Three adventure hooks to help Storyguides run epic games involving the Second Titanomachy.

Dozens of all-new antagonists from enemy Scions to fearsome monsters.

New, Titan-themed Birthrights and Knacks for players to discover and use.

Note: This is the Advance PDF version. We’re collecting errata feedback before preparing the final PDF and Print versions of the book. Everyone who purchases the Advance PDF will automatically get the final PDF added to their Library on DriveThruRPG, plus they will receive a discount link for the Print version taking into account that they purchased the PDF.

Also this Wednesday, we open up the They Came From Beneath the Sea! Community Content part of the Storypath Nexus! Now you too can design scenarios featuring the terrifying, tentacular, terrors of the seven seas! And even get paid for it!

Conventions!

Though dates for physical conventions are subject to change due to the current COVID-19 outbreak, here’s what’s left of our current list of upcoming conventions (and really, we’re just waiting for this last one to be cancelled even though it’s Nov/Dec). Instead, keep an eye out here for more virtual conventions we’re going to be involved with:

PAX Unplugged: https://unplugged.paxsite.com/

And now, the new project status updates!

Development Status from Eddy Webb! (Projects in bold have changed status since last week.):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep.)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

The Devoted Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

Prometheus Unbound (was Psi Orders) (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

No Gods, No Masters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion Fiction Anthology (Scion 2nd Edition)

TC: Aeon Novella: Dawn (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

TC: Aeon Novella: Meridian (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Legacies of Earth (Legendlore)

Redlines

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

CtL 2e Novella Collection: Hollow Courts (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Adversaries of the Righteous (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Squeaks In The Deep (Realms of Pugmire)

Trinity Continuum: Anima

Second Draft

Many-Faced Strangers – Lunars Companion (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Hundred Devil’s Night Parade (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Novas Worldwide (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Exalted Essence Edition (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Saints and Monsters (Scion 2nd Edition)

M20 Technocracy Operative’s Dossier (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

Wild Hunt (Scion 2nd Edition)

Development

TC: Aberrant Reference Screen (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Contagion Chronicle: Global Outbreaks (Chronicles of Darkness)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Assassins (Trinity Continuum Core)

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

V5 Forbidden Religions (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Adventure! core (Trinity Continuum: Adventure!)

M20 Rich Bastard’s Guide To Magick (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

Manuscript Approval

Crucible of Legends (Exalted 3rd Edition)

V5 Trails of Ash and Bone (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Dystopia Rising: Evolution Fiction Anthology (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

Contagion Chronicle Ready-Made Characters (Chronicles of Darkness)

The Clades Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

V5 Children of the Blood (was The Faithful Undead) (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Post-Approval Development

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Mission Statements (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Editing

Lunars Novella (Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Player’s Guide to the Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

TC: Aberrant Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

LARP Rules (Scion 2nd Edition)

The Book of Lasting Death (Mummy: The Curse 2e)

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Dearly Bleak – Novella (Deviant: The Renegades)

N!ternational Wrestling Entertainment (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Under Alien Skies (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Dead Man’s Rust (Scarred Lands)

Post-Editing Development

W20 Shattered Dreams Gift Cards (Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Hunter: The Vigil 2e core (Hunter: The Vigil 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (They Came From!)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Indexing

Art Direction from Mike Chaney!

In Art Direction

Tales of Aquatic Terror – LeBlanc art in and getting fulls.

WoD Ghost Hunters (KS) – KS page to Paradox for approval.

Hunter: The Vigil 2e

Mummy 2

Deviant – AD’d.

Legendlore

Technocracy Reloaded

Cults of the Blood God

Scion: Dragon (KS)

Masks of the Mythos (KS)

Scion: Demigod (KS) – Ready for Thursday.

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (KS)

TC: Adventure! (KS)

Geist: One Foot In the Grave – Artists are working.

Contagion Chronicle Jumpstart (Chronicles of Darkness) – Sending art buy sheet to Dixie for notes.

In Layout

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad

Vigil Watch

Trinity Core Jumpstart

Aberrant – Gonna start layout with the power section

Proofing

Cavaliers of Mars: City of the Towered Tombs

Yugman’s Guide Support Decks (Scarred Lands)

TC Aeon Terra Firma – Sent back to Josh, looking good.

V5 Let the Streets Run Red – Inputting corrections.

Pugmire Adventure – Need map finished.

At Press

TCFBTS Screen and Booklet – Files at press.

They Came from Beneath the Sea! – Shipping from printer to KS fulfiller.

Pirates of Pugmire – Shipping from printer to KS fulfiller.

Pirates of Pugmire Screen – Files at press.

Dark Eras 2 – Files printing.

Dark Eras 2 Screen and booklet – Files at press.

Contagion Chronicle – Press prep.

Contagion Chronicle Screen and Booklet – Files at press.

Lunars Wall Scroll Map – Shipping to KS fulfiller from printer.

Lunars Screen and Booklet – Files at press.

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate – Prepping files for PoD and press.

Scarred Lands Creature Collection – Shipping from printer to KS fulfiller.

Magic Item Decks 1-3 (Scarred Lands) – PoD proof decks ordered.

Scion Titanomachy – Advance PDF on sale Weds on DTRPG!

Today’s Reason to Celebrate!

Over the weekend we learned of the unexpected and sad death of Chadwick Boseman, the actor best known for portraying King T’Challa of Wakanda, the Black Panther, although in his relatively short career he also played several great and inspirational historical figures. The impact of his work portraying a comic book hero far outweighed the basic idea; we celebrate that his Black Panther embodied an ideal and inspirational place needed by many people around the world. As stated by former President Obama: “To be young, gifted, and Black; to use that power to give them heroes to look up to; to do it all while in pain – what a use of his years.”

#Onyx Path Publishing

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