easy to forget that this is a bubble of sorts. apparently on other platforms there is a sizeable portion of the fanbase that hates max and jessica parker kennedy. the rate of comment sections' unexamined prejudice shocked me frankly

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 15

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

Previous Chapter: Chapter 14

Next Chapter: Chapter 16

Will covered his face with his hand. ‘I do not understand why after yesterday you’d want to return to the woods,’ he said. ‘Well, I understand the recklessness of some of you, but I was expecting a little more sense from Alastair.’

Lucie had to agree that if any of them had the common sense not to run towards danger, it was Alastair.

‘If we do nothing, we stand little chance of saving Thomas,’ Alastair said, his voice betraying no emotion but he did seem a bit stiff.

‘Excellent point. I’ve heard I am to congratulate you, by the way, Alastair. And Thomas too, of course. Here I was hoping that after James and Cordelia broke up, I’d have another chance for a Carstairs in the family with you and Lucie.’

Lucie wished she could disappear. She deeply regretted telling her father about her crush on Alastair, almost two years ago. Nowadays, she realized she’d probably just looked up to him, she had been grateful for the way he’d defended her. She had liked him better than most boys in school, and had mistaken that for a crush. However, when it came to boys in school, the bar was on the floor.

Alastair, for his part, looked horrified. ‘That will never happen. I’m gay.’

‘So am I!’ declared Lucie. She figured this was as good a time as any to bring it up, and she’d been meaning to tell everyone anyway.

Everyone stared at her. Alastair looked amused. ‘Well, that is one way to come out. Congratulations, Lucie.’

Her father looked surprised. ‘Really? You always told me about boys you liked.’

Lucie shrugged. ‘Yeah, that’s weird,’ she said. ‘I think at some point I started looking at girls and realized what I felt for boys didn’t really compare.’

Lucie wasn’t sure that made sense, but on the internet she’d discovered plenty of lesbians had had crushes on boys before realizing. Feelings were confusing for sure, and the longer Lucie thought about it, the more she began to understand those oblivious book characters who were obviously in love but had no clue.

‘I didn’t realize,’ Will said. ‘But I’m glad you told me. Can’t wait until you tell us about any girls you like.’

Considering her father’s fondness for the Carstairs family and how determined he was to bring one into the family, Lucie wasn’t sure telling him how she felt about Cordelia was a good idea. She didn’t doubt her father would think it a good idea to help, which would end in disaster.

Lucie felt that was enough said about the topic for now. ‘Back to our plan,’ she continued. ‘We need to find the selkie skin, which according to our source is located in the woods, in the land in between. The same place Alastair and Thomas ended up finding yesterday. There was a trap door they couldn’t open, but cortana could cut through the lock, so that’s our way in.’

Lucie didn’t mention the minor risk of getting trapped all the way in the realm of the thief of souls. Nor were they completely sure the trap door hid the selkie skin, but it had to hide something interesting, right?

‘Hold on, whose selkie skin, and why?’ Will asked.

Cordelia summarized last night’s visit. ‘Grace needs that skin, or she will be forced to use her power on us. Even if our plan has its risks, the risk of doing nothing is falling under the spell of a siren.’

‘I thought you said she was a selkie,’ Will said.

‘Something in between, I think,’ Cordelia said. ‘She is a selkie, but she has the voice of a siren. Something about myths being muddled. I don’t know, I can’t say I have much experience with the lovely ladies of the sea. That’s what she called herself, by the way.’

Lucie had to admit Grace was indeed quite lovely.

Will sighed. ‘I guess you’re right that someone has to go. I’d do it myself, but there must be a reason she asked for Cordelia specifically and I don’t have any weapons. But I do want you to be back by dinner. Now hurry before Tessa, Gideon or Sophie learns of your plans.’ A playful smile appeared on her father’s lips. ‘And if anyone asks, this conversation never happened.’

Lucie quickly put on some walking shoes, heart beating fast until the four of them were out of sight and she was sure her mother couldn’t stop them anymore. Her father might be lenient when it came to recklessness, but her mother was not.

‘If anyone gets mad at us, I’m definitely blaming your father,’ Alastair announced.

‘That’s not fair,’ Lucie protested. ‘He covered for us.’

‘Let’s just focus on our mission,’ Thomas offered. ‘Yesterday, we took this path and it took us to the ruins.’

She followed Thomas and Alastair, who remembered how they’d come upon the ruins yesterday. It was a nice route, Lucie had to admit that, with a small pond on the side. In the end, after a long walk by Lucie’s standards, they exited the woods back where Lucie had entered to follow Tatiana, at the side of the village.

Lucie frowned. ‘Are you sure that was the right route?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t see any ruins.’

‘Perhaps the entrance is somewhere different today,’ Thomas suggested. ‘Maybe we should go back and try another path.’

After trying several paths and walking for hours, Lucie was getting tired. She wasn’t used to taking walks this long like Thomas and Alastair were and she was pretty sure she had blisters on both feet. Determined not to complain, she trailed behind the two boys, who kept exchanging longing stares. They really were adorable together. Thomas at some point took Alastair’s hand in his, which caused Alastair to stop in his tracks. Lucie nearly bumped into him.

‘Why isn’t this working?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Well, yesterday was the first time we found the ruins,’ Thomas said. ‘Before that, the forest was normal. Apart from some gnomes, things like that. Nothing unusual, at least. Perhaps today, the gateway isn’t there. Or perhaps there’s another trick to reaching it.’

‘Is there anything we did different yesterday?’ Alastair wondered.

‘We didn’t intend to find the land in between,’ Thomas said. ‘What if we cannot find it now that we’re actively looking?’

‘Then how would Tatiana find it?’ Alastair asked. ‘If that’s where she hid Grace’ skin, she can’t have stumbled on the ruins by accident like we did.’

‘Could be part of the deal she made, her learning how to come there,’ Lucie said. ‘Is there anything else you did differently?’

‘We were there earlier,’ Alastair added. ‘Thomas decided to sleep in today, whereas yesterday he and I went into the woods early in the morning.’

‘I think I was on my way there when I followed Tatiana,’ Lucie added. ‘When I returned, Cordelia said I was gone for an hour when it didn’t feel that way, just like you were gone for a whole day.’

‘I’m not sure stalking Tatiana until we can follow her there is such a good idea,’ Alastair said. ‘Perhaps we should try it again tomorrow morning.’

They tried again the next morning, and then in the evening for a short walk, but no result. She had patched up her feet with blister band aids from her mother’s first aid kit and kept going, even if her feet were still hurting and it was getting worse. It wasn’t the time, it turned out, and Lucie started to get frustrated. Grace hadn’t come back, and how were they supposed to get her skin if they couldn’t get back into the land in between?

The third morning, after another fruitless attempt to find the land in between, her mother was waiting for them in the hallway when they returned to the house.

‘Where have you been all morning?’ she scolded.

Lucie realized none of them had a good excuse for this morning. Most of the time, no one had noticed them return, and they had been ‘reading’ the whole time in their bedrooms. At least for Thomas and Alastair, it was believable that they’d want to spend time together in a bedroom “reading” any time of the day. She looked around to see if anyone would come up with something. At least Cordelia was a decent liar. But no one offered a believable excuse and Lucie had no inspiration.

‘We were looking for a way back into the land in between,’ Lucie said, deciding not to reveal her father’s role in their adventures. ‘But we couldn’t find it. So no harm done, we weren’t in danger and the only injuries sustained are my blisters.’

Her mother sighed. ‘You’re just like your father, Lucie. But I’d hoped some of you had more sense.’

Her mother looked at Alastair, her expression stern. ‘I thought you could be a voice of reason among them, Alastair. I don’t understand why you’d do something so reckless. Promise me you won’t go into the woods again.’

Lucie agreed that out of the four of them, Alastair probably had the most common sense, but it was almost painful to see Alastair respond. Lucie knew her mother often came across as harsher than she meant, but Alastair probably didn’t. His face went blank, he retreated back into his shell. Lucie might not have noticed anything was wrong if Cordelia had not looked so concerned.

‘I’m sorry to have disappointed you, dr. Gray,’ he said and before anyone else could say anything, Alastair disappeared inside, presumably to his bedroom.

Her mother had a PhD and did all sorts of medical research, Lucie knew she liked it when people called her by her title, but at the same time she’d hoped Alastair was close enough to her parents to call them by their first names.

Thomas and Cordelia also made their way inside before her mother could get angry with them too, Lucie remaining behind.

‘It was for Thomas,’ Lucie said. ‘We needed to find the place in between again. We needed to find Grace’ selkie skin or else Tatiana will force Grace to enchant us with her voice.’

Tessa sighed, putting her hand on Lucie’s shoulder. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Lucie? We could have gone in your place.’

Lucie figured she shouldn’t tell her mother her father had encouraged her to go.

‘I didn’t want you to put yourself in danger,’ Lucie said. ‘Cordelia has cortana, Alastair has his memory, so they had to go. I think you’ve upset Alastair, I better go check if he’s alright.’

Tessa sighed. ‘No, I will check on him. You’re right, I was too harsh on him. I didn’t consider… Never mind, I’ll go. But don’t think you’re out of trouble, young lady. You’re not leaving the house until otherwise specified.’

Lucie groaned and went inside, taking off her shoes and replacing the patches on her blisters. She had a pair of fit flops she could still wear, and Lucie decided that even if those shoes weren’t the most suitable for the forest, she would wear them for their next walk. If she was ever allowed to leave the house again, that was.

She wasn’t sure where Cordelia or Thomas had gone, upstairs to find Alastair? Perhaps she should join them, but her father found her first.

‘Tessa caught you,’ he concluded, sitting down next to her.

Lucie made a face. ‘Now I’m not allowed to leave the house.’

‘I’ll talk to her,’ her father promised. ‘Have you found anything yet?’

‘No,’ Lucie said. ‘I don’t understand why. Thomas and Alastair one day walked into the land in between on accident, but now we can’t find it and it’s frustrating and my feet hurt and these blisters are bursting open.’ She paused. ‘Did you see where Thomas and Cordelia went?’

‘Upstairs,’ Will said. ‘I’m thinking they’re talking to Alastair. He seemed rather upset. Is everything alright with him?’

Lucie sighed. ‘I think it’s something mom said. She didn’t mean to hurt him, but because he’s the oldest out of the four of us and definitely the one with the most common sense, she said that she’d expected more from him.’

She couldn’t explain it exactly, she didn’t always understand what upset Alastair. But she suspected Alastair felt like he didn’t deserve to be here, or that her parents liking him was very conditional. Perhaps in Alastair’s mind, all love was conditional, and any mistake he made meant he’d lose someone’s love. Lucie was trying to understand what was going on in his head. As a writer, she should be able to understand how people thought and why they did what they did. As a friend, she should be able to offer support. She wasn’t sure she was doing a good job with either.

‘I imagine that’s difficult for him to hear,’ Will said. He sighed. ‘This is all my fault. I’ll talk to your mother, and tell her I encouraged you to go.’

‘Mom will be very mad with you,’ Lucie said.

‘Now she’s angry with you, and I deserve it more,’ Will said. A playful smile lit up his face. ‘Besides, you’re not little princess Lucinda who needs to be locked in a tower, that’s for sure. What’s life without a little risk?’

Lucie wondered if he’d feel the same way after facing her mother.

She went outside into the garden on her fit flops to feel the sun on her skin after reapplying sun screen. The weather was nice today, not too hot, a soft breeze against her cheek, and only a few clouds in the air. That could change any moment though, Scotland was known for is changeable weather. A good atmosphere for a nice romantic scene, or bonding between friends or family. Or just fun scenes that might not need to be in the book but balanced out the dark ones. Lucie felt a book should be balanced in that sense. While she loved drama and darkness, she did not like gritty stories where everything was dark and terrible. She liked to balance out the darkness with a sweet romance or gentle characters still remaining kind and hopeful in the worst circumstances. Or characters who might have turned bitter, but were trying to be better. Thomas had a bit of a weakness for those, which totally wasn’t because that archetype resembled Alastair.

The garden still counted as the house, right? She suspected Thomas and Cordelia were both still with Alastair and she didn’t think it would be a good idea to join them. She didn’t know Alastair as well as Cordelia did, she feared she’d only say the wrong thing. Besides, Alastair didn’t seem to like people taking care of him or fussing over him, Cordelia had told her she sometimes had to force him to let her protect him for once. Lucie feared her mother’s comment had reinforced some deeply held belief of his that he was worthless, even if she had never intended to make him feel that way.

She wondered how she’d never seen something was not right at the Carstairs home. Cordelia hadn’t either, but she remembered how when she was young, Cordelia would sometimes come to her for sleepovers, whereas Cordelia’s parents had rarely invited her over at their house. Of course, when she was little Lucie would get homesick and preferred having sleep overs at her own house anyway, so it had never bothered her.

And when Lucie was little, her father would always come sing her a Welsh lullaby. He was Welsh through his father, whereas the house here in Scotland had been in her grandmother’s family for some time. He was a horrible singer, and it was hilarious how he kept trying and did not care what people thought. It was sweet and Lucie had always felt safe and protected when her father came to tuck her in and sing his horrible songs. Cordelia had told her it was usually Alastair who sang her good night songs and tucked her in. That had made sense too. Alastair had a beautiful voice after all, and who wouldn’t want to listen to him sing? Back then, Alastair had seemed much older and wiser than the two of them, but really, he’d been a child too.

And Cordelia had regularly had to cancel plans because her father was sick and she couldn’t leave him. Lucie had understood, although the disappointment never quite faded. But when Lucie’s father was sick, he might whine and moan like a typical man flu patient and complain that he needed uncle Jem’s care and support, but he would never have asked Lucie to choose taking care of him over spending time with the few friends she had.

None of those things had struck her as odd in childhood, but now she was thinking maybe they should have. Maybe someone should have seen something was not right at the Carstairs house. Perhaps then Alastair wouldn’t be in so much pain now.

‘Lucie!’

Lucie looked up, but didn’t see anyone calling out her name. Nor did she recognize the voice. It was a smooth, feminine voice.

‘Over here!’ the voice hissed and Lucie followed the sound to the trees and recognized Grace.

‘What are you doing here?’ Lucie asked.

‘Tatiana left me alone. She didn’t realize I had enough free will left to come here.’

‘I’m sorry, we don’t have your skin yet,’ Lucie said.

Grace rolled her eyes. ‘I know. I’ve seen you walk in the woods once or twice. Honestly, that was embarrassing.’

Lucie frowned. ‘How so?’

‘You never even opened the gateway,’ Grace said.

‘How are we supposed to do that? We’re not Tatiana!’ Lucie exclaimed. ‘And Alastair and Thomas entered the land in between by accident.’

‘It sucks people in sometimes,’ Grace said. ‘But rarely by accident. Alastair was targeted when he and Thomas came there, Tatiana found out he has a memory ability and she thinks he’s a threat to her plans. I think she’s scared her brother will remember something. That’s why the werewolf was after him.’

Lucie frowned. ‘They know about that?’

‘Yes. But they do not yet know about you,’ Grace said. ‘I figured it out when I realized you could see Jesse. You better get my skin back before she realizes what you are. She’ll want you dead for sure.’

‘What I am?’ Lucie asked.

‘You have power, Lucie,’ Grace said. ‘You’re a witch.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Lucie said. ‘I just see ghosts. That’s all.’

‘I know you see ghosts. You talked to Jesse. Do you have any idea how rare that ability is?’

‘I’ve never met anyone else who could do it.’

‘Exactly!’ Grace exclaimed. ‘You have no idea what you’re capable of. You can open a gateway into the land in between. And even more important, if you find yourself trapped you can open the way back.’

‘How do you know?’ Lucie asked.

‘Because I have heard legends of one other person like you. A witch who was born centuries ago. She wasn’t like other humans who used magic, she used dark magic, but hadn’t acquired it through a deal and there was no price to pay to something powerful. As a little girl, all she knew was she saw ghosts. And when ghosts stayed around her, they became stronger. But she learnt there was much more she could do and grew stronger. She learnt to open those gateways and use them as a weapon, she learnt to control the dead.’

Lucie was horrified. She could do such things? ‘What happened to her?’

‘As a woman of her time, and an odd one at that, she was treated badly of course. At some point she snapped and became a dangerous, evil witch. Who can blame her, honestly. She was defeated by the ancestor of the Carstairs, the one who carries cortana. Before he could deliver the killing blow, she jumped into the sea and drowned herself. She lost her dark magic, but came back to life as a daughter of the sea, a mermaid. She repented, changed, and lived her life peacefully in the sea. That is how we know her story.’

Lucie frowned. ‘I don’t want to be an evil witch,’ she said.

Grace’s grey eyes were cold and void of emotion. ‘Then don’t be. Just because magic is dark doesn’t mean it’s evil. Be a good witch or a neutral one or whatever you want to be. But you can’t change that you are a witch, and I need you to find my skin. You, the bearer of cortana, and the one with the memory. Without you it can’t be done. But you need to know what you can do, you need to open a gateway.’

‘How?’ Lucie asked.

‘It’s your power, not mine,’ Grace said. ‘Go figure it out. I need to get back before Tatiana realizes I am missing. They say when the witch wanted something, all she had to do was ask. So be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.’

The Weight of Other People’s Thoughts

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for @lilythedragon05, Scotland

It was a bad idea to follow that tugging cord at the center of his being, the one that called him to Ullapool, and he never would have dared to entertain it if he knew it would have brought him here.

Jane sat by the ocean, stone’s throw from the town, but his distasteful frown kept his eyes locked firmly ahead instead of gazing dubiously at it. What had he been thinking? Coming to Ullapool had only make him feel worse, not better, a smirch against Tavish’s memory if there ever was one. Rubbing in Tavish’s face that he’d never go home again—and here Jane was, free to frolic across the whole damn planet, even if it took him to stupid countries ending in ‘land’.

He leaned further over his knees, barely feeling the sea breeze as he thought about his dead friend.

His murdered friend, he reminded himself. Murdered by someone who he thought he could trust, who now had to carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life.

Everywhere Jane looked it reminded him of Tavish. Maybe that’s why he’d come: self-flagellation. Appropriate punishment. Or maybe he was so desperate not to forget, he’d take the pain that came with remembering. Torturing himself truly, since he could look on the hills and surrounding coast that he had once only known through enthusiastic descriptions, see for himself the places where a young Tavish had played with dummy-grenades. He could imagine him talking to the local shopkeeps. He could practically see him walking up this very path, groceries in one hand, a newspaper filled with fried fish in the other as he took a large bite out of it-

Wait.

Tavish stopped dead, his face enveloped in utter shock. Still mid-chew, he said, “Jdra-ne?”

Jane leapt to his feet. “Apparition!” He pointed an accusing finger at the offending spirit. “Do not think for a second I will be cowed into repentance by the spectral manifestation of my guilt!”

Tavish nearly choked as he tried to swallow his bite of fish. “I…what?”

“Ghosts serve no purpose on my journey to recovery,” Jane continued. “Not even ones that look like my dead friend! Be gone creature of the other world!”

“What I- I’m not bloody dead.”

Jane squinted at him. He definitely didn’t look dead, totally opaque, no fettered chains representing his sins in life and his guilt over failing to help his fellow Man.

“…Are you sure?” Jane pressed.

“You’d think someone would know if they were dead,” Tavish grumbled poignantly, now glaring at Jane for some reason.

“I killed you though. It was-” -pickaxe right through the sternum, crushing, all the red bits coming out when they should have been in- “That was definitely fatal.”

“Aye, was, but I managed to limp my was back into Respawn range. Took a better part of an hour, but I made it.”

There was something odd to Tavish’s voice, something he wasn’t saying, but the realization that he might actually-seriously-really be alive was starting to set in and Jane was too afraid to believe it.

He took a step closer, past the bench he’d been enjoying his solitude at and completing a full circle around the Demoman. Tavish’s head followed him all the while, up until Jane came to a stop in front of him. “…Promise you are not a ghost?”

“I’m not a ghost,” Tavish said, as convincingly honest as he’d always been. Not that his acting skills hadn’t covered for his mendacity before-

-no, no that was a trick, it all turned out to be a lie a damn lie-

“Fine then. You’re not.” Though Jane would keep his eyes peeled for phantasmal anyway. “What the hell are you doing here then?”

“I live here,” Tavish huffed. “Gravel Wars are over, wasn’t going to spend the rest of my years in some blighted desert. Better question is what are you doing here, yank?”

Crap. Well, maybe a half-truth would suffice. “You always talked so much about Scotland I thought…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Tavish stood there, one hand still clasped around his groceries. The moment dragged on, vast seas of unsaid things between them, of regrets still festering, to which he ended with, “would you like me to show you around?”

Jane looked down, trying not to stare at his shoes but instead at the foreign soil around them. “…Sure. Why not.”

“Everything is incredibly vertical,” Jane complained as they climbed up yet another hill Tavish insisted was part of the journey.

“Aye, that’s why they call it the Highlands, BLU.”

Jane hated how fucking smug he sounded. Hated, and missed it all the same, missed how this bastard could set a fire in his gut just with one of his damn smiles.

“And there she is,” the Demoman said proudly as the crested the final ridge.

“Damn. Really went to crap in the last couple centuries.”

“Oi, don’t point fingers at me! I’ve only been around for forty of those.”

DeGroot Keep was shriveled and hunchbacked since Jane had last seen it, folding under its own legacy as ages had eaten the tallest spires first and chewed its way down to the cob. Still, he could just make out the choke points, the parapets, the places he used to go charging into with his mêlée weapon held high—all sanded down by the years, the vaguest memories of control points where a portal in time had briefly allowed Jane to witness their existence.

“So what,” he asked, following Tavish into the slight dip in the Highlands where the Keep nestled, “you live in here like some sort of anti-Italian?”

“An anti- what now?”

“Anti-Italians! Despises sun, allergic to garlic, doesn’t show up in mirrors, no sex life. Basic literary reference, RED.”

Tavish rolled his eye. “No, I’m not squatting in the dilapidated castle. Got a perfectly nice home down in the village, I just happen to have inherited this along with…all the other crap.” He waved his hand. “I’ve considered shelling out to having it restored but…dunno. Seeing it go from its heyday to this makes me think that in another couple hundred years it’ll just fall apart again.”

He sat on a piece of tumbled rock, one that used to hang over the Keep’s gate, a bright and shining keystone now used as a stool. Jane joined him.

“Don’t get much of this at home, do you? Old crap. Yer country’s still a wee babe you know, nothing’s even falling apart yet.”

“Incorrect!” Jane amended. “There are plenty of old things in America!”

“For last time lad, Thomas Edison wasn’t immortal, and he didn’t be build a second Shangri-La under Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Your statements reveal both your ignorance and your compunction, but I was actually talking about mounds.”

“Mounds,” Tavish repeated dubiously.

“Yes! Mounds! Fourteen hundred years ago Americans were building ceremonial mounds in order to track celestial events! They look like animals from the top, lynx, bears, fish, all that crap. I used to walk next to this bird one every day on the way to school.”

Tavish blinked at him, tilting his head. “No offense Jane, but including Native people usually isn’t in your worldview. Where’d you even learn all ‘o that?”

“My mother taught me, so think insinuating more cyclops—lest you show disrespect against her memory and I am forced to take out your other socket!”

Tavish raised his hands defensively, but there was a smile creeping at the corner. “Alright, alright, I get ye. A Mum’s honor is a serious thing.”

“Hm. Good.” Jane glanced ahead, suddenly afraid of lapsing back into silence, as though Tavish would start to slip away from him if they did. “How is your mother?”

“Ah…she passed some years back.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright.” Tavish paused. “I still see her sometimes.”

“Metaphorically or…?”

Tavish glanced at him, but then away just a quickly, as though frightened of what he might see. “I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s alright with you.” Instead, he stared ahead, the sun setting between its cradle within the mountains. “Heh. At least there’s something that’s the same no matter where you go. Always a sunset.”

“Guess so.”

Still, Jane found he liked this one better than the ones back home. At least, better than all the ones he’d seen before he’d met Tavish.

The next day was spent in the village, and Jane couldn’t help but yearn for more of Tavish’s time, more of his attention. His friend. His friend who was still alive. Tavish had a kind word for every person they passed, all of whom didn’t seem to notice Jane at all, simply starting up a conversation with their fellow local and submitting to the rhythm of the morning. Breakfast was some sort of potato scone, but Jane wasn’t hungry, so he just walked beside Tavish as the other man ate. They found themselves at the same bench where they’d first run into each other.

“So,” Tavish asked. “Ullapool everything you thought it would be?”

“Hm. It’s…nice. It is obviously not perfect for geographical reasons entirely outside of its control, but. I understand how it made you the man you are.”

“Me? Nah.” Tavish wiped off his mouth with his sleeve. “I made myself like this.”

Again, he wouldn’t look at Jane, wouldn’t say what they were both thinking. That things had gone wrong, that they had both fucked up. One of them more than the other, but Jane had found him again, and maybe they could still figure something out, still have time to unearth all that they had deemed too dangerous and buried in the sand.

Jane reached forward, and put his hand over where Tavish’s was resting on the bench.

And watched it pass straight through.

Jane sprang away. “I knew it! I knew you were a ghost!”

Likewise, Tavish stood up sharply. “I am not. I bloody told you I was’t.”

“Liar! I will not be swayed by any more perjury from your ethereal mouth!”

“I’m not lying!” Tavish snarled at him, his eye dark and narrowed, burning hotter than the words would imply. “I never lied. I never wanted any of-”

“Blasphemy!”

“Would you just listen for-!”

“You cannot guilt me apparition! For I know that-”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” Tavish’s fist closed around the neck of his scrumpy bottle, half drained before noon, and threw it full force at Jane’s head.

Jane raised an arm to block the incoming blow, but the impact never arrived. A second ticked by, then two, then three, and slowly he lowered his forearm to reveal the panting Demoman behind it, shoulders heaving and an inscrutable expression tearing across his features.

“How’s that for the truth you bleeding idiot,” he said.

Jane looked to Tavish, then rotated his neck slowly, staring at the bottle that had landed in the grass behind him. He blinked, willing what he was looking at to make sense, to suddenly disappear and go back to where things were a second ago. To believe he hadn’t seen that bottle connected with his own nose.

There was something he didn’t want to do, but he did it anyway, turning his gaze forward inch by agonizing inch, staring down at his own hands. Fully taking how translucent they were.

The moment shattered, Tavish tore his eye away. “Fuck. Fuck I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve…”

Jane was still looking at his hands. There was panic, deep and overwhelming rising within him, but there was no raised pulse to accompany it, no sweat on the back of his neck.

He lifted his chin to Tavish. “What? I don’t…”

“I didn’t die,” Tavish said thickly. “You did. I killed you and I walked off and you just bled out for who knows how long and-”

-the pickaxe but also a sword, just as deadly buried two feet into his chest and the man above him trying to shove it in a few extra inches, strangled screaming as it pushed deeper-

Jane hadn’t been paying attention to the last half of Tavish’s muttered confession. The Demoman was crying now, pawing furiously at his one lone eye as stared out valley below them, looking anywhere but at Jane as his sclera turned red.

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “Christ Jane I’m so fucking sorry. If you came to haunt me or whatever I just- I just want you to know that you can’t hate me more than I hate myself. That it’s been killing me every day since.”

He collapsed on the bench, curling away from Jane as he buried his face in his hands.

It could have been some sort of trick. A ghost bottle or…no Jane wouldn’t even try. He attempted to remember what flight he had come in on but couldn’t. He grasped for how many years since the Gravel Wars had ended, and couldn’t find the answer.

Jane was a ghost, yet everything still hurt as much as it had when he had lived. Immaterial, and he still so badly wanted to touch Tavish’s hand.

He sat on the bench next to him. “I didn’t come to make you feel bad, Tavish.”

“Then why did you come?” It sounded like it was meant to be venomous, but instead it only sounded empty—empty and wet with tears, like a plastic bag trampled into a puddle.

Jane looked down at his hands. His useless, ghost hands that he could still knit together. “I…I wanted to see you,” he said truthfully. “I missed you.”

Tavish looked at him, bleary-eyed. He whispered, “I missed you too. So damn much.”

“Whatever I was doing before, I missed you enough to come here. To someplace I thought you would be.”

A panicked jolt crossed Tavish’s face. “You’re not leaving, are you?” The same man who a moment ago thought Jane had come to smother him with guilt was despondent at the idea that Jane might go after all, that he wouldn’t get a chance to hurt himself with his own regret anymore.

“No, no not yet,” Jane said. He tried his best to wrap and arm around Tavish’s shoulder. The mortal shivered where their skin met.

“Okay,” Tavish said quietly. “Okay. Good. Thank you. I don’t think I can…When I saw you sitting up here I couldn’t believe it could be fore something good. That the only reason you’d want to haunt me would be because you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

It was true. Even though he remembered now, remember lying there, thinking how they’d killed each other, Jane had only ever hated the man who’d believed the TV’s lies.

“I really did come because I was thinking of you. Missing you.” Jane paused. “Today was fun. I’m sure you have a lot of other places to show me, right private?”

“…Sure. Sure whatever you want.” Tavish wiped at his nose. “I’m sorry Jane.”

“It’s alright Tavish.” He held his head in the crook of Tavish’s neck. “I’m sorry too.”

Do you plan to update your red queen fanfics anytime soon?

I take the opportunity of this ask to publish the update of Pride and Prejudice AU but apart from this story, which I intend to finish as soon as possible, I am not sure that I will continue the others, as long as I no longer receive feedback and some requests on how to continue. I hope you enjoy this chapter and quench your thirst for new Red Queen fanfiction! @lilyharvord I must also apologize to you for the very long wait, but life has definitely come between me and my interests

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Words: 2450

After breakfast, the girls took a walk in the village to find out if Mr. Maven was back, and to complain about his absence at the ball. He joined them as soon as they entered the city and he and Mr. Thomas took them home, a double advantage, as Mare could spend time with him undisturbed and the opportunity was propitious to present him to her father and mother. Immediately upon returning home, Miss Skonos was delivered a letter which was immediately opened: the envelope contained an elegant sheet of satin filled paper with beautiful, flowing feminine handwriting, which however changed her expression as she read it. It was from Evangeline Samos, and what it contained surprised her greatly, as the whole party had left the Stilts, with no intention of returning. When, later, Mare too was able to read it, she looked at the high-sounding expressions used with all the indifference of suspicion and, although surprised by the rapidity of that departure, she saw nothing really worrying: there was nothing to suggest that their absence would also prevent Mr. Samos from returning, and about the loss of their company, she was convinced that Wren would’ve certainly stopped worrying about it, being able to enjoy his. Sure it was unfortunate that she hadn't been able to see her friends again before they left the countryside, and that none of them were willing to return that winter, but wasn't that the reason why those who could afford it owned two houses?

"But you don't know everything. I'll read you the passage that particularly hurt me, since I don't want to hide anything from you," added her friend, and finally Mare noticed the second sheet she was holding in her hands.

"I am truly convinced that my dear friend, Lady Elane Haven, has no equal in terms of beauty, elegance and quality, and I don't think I'm at fault if I take it for granted that you agree with me. The affection she has inspired me for years is intensified by something even more significant, namely the hope of soon being able to call her my sister-in-law. I don't know if I have ever told you my feelings about it, but I won’t leave without trusting you, and I believe you won’t find them unreasonable. My brother already admires her very much, all her relatives desire this union for her as much as we do, and I don't think I am deceived by the partiality of a sister if I say that Ptolemus is certainly capable of winning the heart of any woman. With all these circumstances in favour of a bond and none that can prevent it, I am perhaps wrong to indulge in the hope of an event that will ensure the happiness of this many people?"

Mare was stunned. So this was the plan, it wasn't a marriage already orchestrated between Miss Samos and the General, but between her friend and her brother! Wren, however, didn’t want to believe her, and her words about the undeniable affection he felt for her seemed to do nothing but further hurt her broken heart as upstream they didn’t think the same about the letter's emissary, for not to mention that she was convinced that she wouldn’t be able to derive any joy from a marriage to a man whose friends and relatives hoped he would marry another woman.

"You must be the one to decide," said Mare, "and if after mature reflection you discover that the pain of doing a rudeness to his sister is greater than the happiness of being his wife, I certainly recommend you to refuse.”

These words brought Wren a smile, as they both knew perfectly well that she wouldn’t hesitate to accept his proposal, but the shadow of the possibility that he wouldn’t return in six months continued to cast a dark shadow on the general mood, to the point that only Diana’s invitation, addressed to both of them, managed to dispel that constant thought a little, replacing it with genuine curiosity, since she and Wren were by no means intimate enough for such a proposal. The answer to all their questions, however, came the next day when the Colonel's daughter told them that she needed female help, and that Mare was too involved to be the only opinion she would hear. From anyone else, this would’ve been an intolerable rudeness, but Mare knew her friend well, and if it was about romance, an assumption that soon turned out to be correct, she didn't want to be wrong and analyzed every single detail to the point of making the least gesture the most rational. The summary of the matter, however, was that Mr. Jesper had woken up early the previous morning, and unannounced, had gone under her window to ask her for a clandestine meeting. Diana accepted, and he, very awkwardly, revealed his interest in her, as well as his intention to marry her, if she accepted. The entire Farley family would’ve been thrilled with the event, but she had asked him for time to think about it, although she was already certain that she wouldn’t come to any conclusion alone, so she had bestowed that invitation. Wren, who was good-natured, greatly appreciated the gesture, and considered it an unspoken compliment to her sensibility and handling of the matter with Mr. Samos, so she quickly got busy, and all the years they had spent politely ignoring each other were recovered within an afternoon. Mare, however, wasn’t so well disposed towards the idea: she appreciated that Diana had asked for more help to reach the most favourable of conclusions, but she would’ve preferred that she had talked about it with her brother, as Shade had been silently courting her for years, and watched her from afar become the only woman he certainly wanted to marry; the prospect that she might want another man had bothered him and not a little, Mare had noticed, although she hadn't said anything, too absorbed in her own problems, but the real possibility that she might decide to marry another man would certainly have prompted him to declare himself, and everyone knew that those two were meant for each other, something that she wanted to remind to her friend.

"Mr. Jesper is smart and pleasant, and it’s certainly inviting for a woman to be the only one who can put a man at ease, not to say reassuring, even if he doesn’t seem like that kind of person. On the other hand, I can already see the blame on your face, Mare, and I want you to remember that your friendship is the thing I care about most in the world and even if I know how you feel, remember I too would behave differently if my perspectives were different, but they’re not, so I’m just asking you to be happy for me if I accept.”

"I will be," Mare assured her, though she wasn't sure she would ever be able to rejoice in her brother's unhappiness, "I just ask you to tell Shade before making any decisions. Do you think you can?"

To the affirmative answer of the other, Mare waited a time that she considered reasonable and took leave, followed by Wren, who asked her if she wanted to be accompanied home, which Mare refused, determined to be left alone with her considerations. It took her time before she could reconcile herself with the idea of ​​such an inappropriate union as she never imagined that, once called to decide, her friend would sacrifice all her best feelings. The next day, Mare was sitting with her mother and sister when Colonel Farley appeared and requested an audience with Mr. Barrow. Terrified of what might have happened, Mare remained tense the entire time they spent in the library, but the tones never rose, and when he left, the Colonel looked as calm as when he arrived. Mare waited a while before reaching her father and asking him what had happened, fearing a reproach for her advice to her friend, which could’ve broken the relationship between the two families, if the situation between Diana and Shade had been from her misunderstood, but he replied very calmly, saying he was happy and satisfied that Miss Farley, whom he had always thought fairly intelligent, wasn’t as foolish as his wife or daughter Gisa. Although this didn’t gave an explicit answer to her question, it reassured Mare, who was convinced that she could get more direct answers once her brother, who had gone out with Bree and Tramy, returned, as she didn’t want to be pressing with Diana, who could also have took offense at how things went the last time they met. At first, Shade seemed a little surprised by all that attention, but when he realized that Mare’s wasn’t just a fervent desire to know some new gossip but real concern, he told her not to worry, and that everything would turn out right in due time, a time that however established a reserve between the two friend that became a silence so heavy that convinced Mare their confidence was stained forever. Furthermore, these gloomy feelings certainly didn’t help Wren's mood, who hadn’t heard from Mr. Samos for a week and hadn’t even received an answer to her letter for his sister. Even Mare was beginning to have fears, not so much that Mr. Samos was indifferent, but that his sister could keep him far. Reluctant as she was to admit such a devastating idea to the happiness of the only friend she had left, and so dishonourable about the constancy of her love, she couldn't help but think about it often. The united efforts of two insensitive women and a friend so influential, favoured by the charm and amusement of Archeon, might’ve proved to be too much, so she feared, for strength of his affection. As for Wren, her anxiety about that uncertainty was, of course, more painful than Mare's, but whatever she felt she just wanted to hide it, and therefore between her and her friend there were never any allusions to that subject. The mother, on the other hand, wasn’t held back by such delicacy and hardly an hour passed without speaking of Mr. Samos, expressing the impatience for his return, or even asking her daughter to admit that if he didn't come back she would feel treated very bad. It took all of Wren's mild steadfastness to endure those attacks with acceptable tranquillity, which diminished, however, upon the arrival of Miss Samos' letter of reply, which removed any doubt about their winter accommodation, they would have settled in the General's residence, and, according to Wren, also regarding the feelings of Mr. Samos towards Lady Haven. Mare paid no attention to those speculations, she hadn’t seen, in fact, any warmth between the two in the time they had spent at the Hall of the Sun, but the fact that Evangeline was so evil she could take pleasure in the idea of undermine her own brother’s happiness, and in such a mean way, filled her with indignation and resentment, equal only to the concern she felt for her friend, who had fallen in love with a man of such lightness of character, a slave to intriguing friend, willing to sacrifice his own happiness at the whim of their desires. If, however, it was only his happiness

that was sacrificed, he could play with it as he wanted, but it was also Wren's that was involved and she believed he should be aware of it. In short, it was a topic that could’ve been thought about for a long time, even if, perhaps, to no avail, but she could do nothing else, and whether Mr. Samos's affection had really died down or had been suffocated by the interference of his friends, whether he had been aware of Wren's feelings or they had escaped his observation, in any case, even if the judgment would’ve been concretely influenced in the different hypotheses, the situation remained the same, and the peace of the girl equally wounded. It was a couple of days after, that Wren found the courage to talk about her feelings with Mare, but in the end, left alone by Mrs. Skonos, after a longer than usual rant on the Hall of the Sun and his owner, she said: "Oh! If my dear mother controlled herself more, she has no idea how much pain her constant considerations about him give me. But I don't want to complain, since it won't last long. He will be forgotten, and we will all be as before."

Mare looked at her friend with affectionate disbelief, but said nothing, although the doubt about those words could be read on her face like lines from an open book. Wren blushed: she knew that this man, who had been so lovable to her, would live forever in her memory, but that was all. If she had something to hope, fear, or even blame him for, the situation would’ve been different, and time would’ve done nothing but make the pain greater, but in that case she had the immediate comfort that it was nothing more than an error of her imagination, which had hurt no one but herself. If she had said those words aloud, Mare would’ve told her she was too good, and she would’ve attributed ethereal adjectives to her sweetness and impartiality, but it wasn't praise for her character that she needed to hear at the moment, only how much she was loved, words that not even her mother seemed willing to give. Even her father considered it only a mere disappointment, and indeed, he seemed inclined to joke about it when the Barrows went to visit them, inciting Mare to have her own heartbreak with Mr. Maven, who seemed a very nice and stylish man. Regarding him, it can be said that his company helped to dispel the melancholy into which the last, unfortunate events had thrown the two friends, who saw him often and had been able to add to the long list of his qualities the total absence of reserve, as the whole story already exposed to Mare soon became public, and everyone was satisfied thinking about how much they had always thought the General unpleasant before coming to knowledge of the whole matter. The only one who could imagine that there could be some extenuating circumstance in the matter was Miss Skonos, whose mild and firm candour always put forward justifications, and insisted on the possibility that there were misunderstandings, but by all the others the General had been labelled like the worst of men.

Magnificent Scoundrels- Prepare

Some character insight.  I’ll be doing what everyone thinks about the current situation.  As always, if you have any requests, cool ideas, criticisms, comments, or concerns, feel free to tell me.  Enjoy the story!

“Diplomacy isn’t worth a damn if you know all their secrets.”

Mass Effect Galaxy

The Citadel

Admiral Adam Vir sat quietly upon the balcony of his hotel room, staring out at the beauty of the Citadel.  A glass of something unknown and very fruity was in one hand, and his other was entwined with Sunny’s.  Her beautiful blue carapace was glinting in the light of the nearby sun, and she was perched upon a chair suitably reinforced for the Drev frame.  A ridiculous, but quite cheery, old song wafted through the air.   

“Everybody loves somebody sometime

Everybody falls in love somehow…”

It was rather like a vacation, he thought to himself as he settled back comfortably.  It was, indeed, one of the most vacation-like atmospheres he’d had in a while.  An absolutely gorgeous hotel room, with an equally stunning view, and complementary room service.  Being on the delegation team certainly had its perks.  Of course, a vacation was much more than location.  It was more with who you spent it with.  

“Everybody loves somebody sometime

And although my dream was overdue

Your love made it well worth waiting

For someone like you.”

Quite a fitting song, actually.  He’d never admit to choosing it.  He was cheesy, yes, but not quite that cheesy.  Or, at least, he thought he wasn’t.  He’d been told quite frequently otherwise.  Usually by Sunny.  

Too bad, though, that it wasn’t a vacation.  The imminent threat of massive destruction hung over the Citadel like a thunderhead.  He softly smiled at his own simile.  It was… well, actually quite literal.  From the balcony of his room, he would see the silhouette of the Watch Eternal, its massive bulk ready to rain destruction upon an half-suspecting populace.  

Strangely, he didn’t feel any tension.  He looked to his left with another small smile.  With Sunny around, everything just felt… right.  There were no problems, no tension, nothing he couldn’t handle.  Instead, there was only peace.  Tranquility.  Love.  

All of these thoughts were shattered by the pounding of boots on the hallway floor and a sharp rapping on the door.  Both Sunny and Vir shifted, both getting up with the alacrity of warriors.  Moving slowly towards the door, weapon in hand, covered by Sunny, he slowly opened it.  Never knew what to expect, especially in a high tension situation like this.  

Swinging open the heavy, old fashioned mahogany door revealed the grinning face of Peter Quill.  

“Adam,” he said.  Vir nodded inwardly.  Quill never bothered with titles, something that Vir approved of.  Always having nervous people call him ‘Admiral’ was bothersome.  “I wanted to talk to you.”  Vir nodded.  He gestured at Sunny with a half awkward cough.  

“Quill, this is Sunny, my weapon’s officer.  Sunny, I believe you already know of Quill.”  Sunny gave the Drev equivalent of a smile, though only Vir saw it.  

“Admiral.  Captain Quill.  I’ll take my leave.”  She walked past them and out the door.  

“Uh, yeah.  Sunny was just in here to discuss-”  Quill cut him off.

“I may be unobservant, but I’m not that unobservant,” he said.  Vir opened his mouth to say something (deny it, explain it, embrace it, he still didn’t know), but Quill waved his hand and plunked himself down in an uncomfortable looking chair.  “I’m in the same position, if it makes you feel any better.”  Yes!  Of course!  It was one thing remembering old movies and new briefings, but another entirely when someone was talking to you in person.  

“Yes… I, uh, rather suspected.”  He paused, thinking.  “Wait a minute…”  He recalled the advice given to him by Drake, seemingly a lifetime ago.  He had kept it in mind ever since.

I won’t tell anyone.  You can trust me with that.  In fact… well, I can’t tell you, now can I?  That would be me breaking trust.  Let me give you a bit of advice, though.  Keep it a secret, because there are people who will kill you for it.  

“Did Drake give you the same advice?”  Quill looked up sharply. 

“Yeah.  Yeah, he did.”  He laughed.  “That’s funny.  Matter of fact, I wonder if anyone else  on the team is… in our position.  There are certainly people who could be.”  Vir rubbed his chin, considering.  

“Drake straight up told us he doesn’t care.  He might be, but… you never really know with that guy.”  Quill nodded.

“True.  Very true.  What about Master Chief?” Quill asked. 

 “I don’t think he even understands the concept of romantic love,” snorted Vir in response.  “There aren’t aliens were Cooper’s from, so no for him.  Kirk?” “Maybe.  Still not sure.  He’s kinda a more classic good by-the-books officer.  At least compared to us.  Don’t know much about him,” said Quill.  “Cain?  He’s been on your ship.”

“Ha.  Cain’s job description is to shoot people like us through the head, so, definite no.” 

“Solo?”

“Also no.  But Shepard…” trailed off Vir.  

“Maybe.  Got enough hot aliens on his crew.”  Quill stood up.  “And from what I’ve heard, they don’t care about inter-species relationships here.”  That was true.  The galaxies of Shepard, Kirk, Quill, and Solo didn't seem to care as much about that sort of thing.  

“Weird how that works; some places don’t care, some do, some people care, some don’t,” observed Vir.  He looked back up to the shadow of the Watch Eternal.  It seemed much more menacing now.  

“Yeah.  But that wasn’t the reason I came here in the first place,” replied Quill.  He leaned forward.  “I wanted to know: can I count on your support if shit hits the fan, which it might?”  Vir nodded.

“Yes, you can.  Let’s hope it doesn't come to that.”  

Thomas Drake sat alone in his room, the shut shades throwing light from bedside lamps in strange patterns around the room.  A glass of simple lemon water sat on the broad desk he was occupying, idly making a ring in the synthetic wood.  The hotel air conditioner hummed in the background, its noise enough to drive most into turning it off and complain to the management about its incessant racket.  Not Drake.  He had chosen to turn it on to maximum, the frigid air welcome on the horribly scarred tissue of his arms and chest.  His usual jet black greatcoat, boots, and gloves had been discarded and were now carefully hung in the borrowed closet.  

Drake did not simply wear them as a fashion statement.  Oh, of course, they fit his style, intimidated his enemies, and brought out his most handsome features, but, like him, there was much more than met the eye.  Tailored by a master to perfectly suit him, every item was woven with fibres strong enough to stop bullets, and a small cooling system in each one save the gloves.  Drake looked sardonically at the skin of his upper arm.  Yes.  Cooling systems were necessary.  The sweat glands of his body had been ravaged by wound after wound, by horrifying burns and scars.  The worst was on his chest, the ancient reminder of his old platoon.  Many burn victims, or those with extensive scarring, had trouble regulating their body temperature.  Not him.  No weakness would slow his inexhaustible march.  The outfit covered all the weakness, all the pathetic failings of his flesh.  In it, he was Thomas Drake, mercenary extraordinaire and the most interesting man in the galaxy.  Flawless.  Handsome.  The epitome of personal perfection.  

The scars never reached his face. Many people knew of them, but it was never public knowledge.  His crew had seen him shirtless; for the most part they knew the story.  Various… individuals knew of them, having the chance to gaze on them in intimate moments.  He smiled quietly to himself.  The old adage that scars were attractive was quite true for some.  Of course, his charisma was enough to twist even the most hideous of burned tissue into captivating items of personal valor.  Those… individuals would not share his secret.  

The boots were armored and magnetized; additions that had saved his life in more than one occasion.  The gloves were specially made to be able to grip things better than a normal human hand would, and electric circuits ran through them, allowing Drake to stun or kill with a single punch.  

The coat also had another purpose: concealing weapons.  The results of this purpose were currently spread over the desk in Drake’s room.  There was no way he was going into a situation such as this without a plethora of deadly weapons at his command.  Too much was unknown, too much was riding on his contract and reputation.  So these devices… insurance.  Circuitry was cleaned, bullets loaded, plasma cores were analyzed, and armor double, then triple checked.  

He sighed, then leaned back in his chair.  Perhaps he should go out… maybe for a drink.  Scout out the area.  Eat at the new (to him) restaurants of the citadel.  No.  Not yet.  Those were all distractions.  Duty first.  Business before pleasure.  He went back to loading bullets into the dozens of magazines scattered around his workspace. 

the shapes in the silence (8)

warnings: deceit (morally ambiguous), lying, arguing, negative thinking(lots)

Chapter 8

Apparently, ‘longest nap of his life’ meant three hours, because that was all he got before Patton came knocking gently on his door, snapping him out of a hazy nightmare in a cold sweat.

“Hey, kiddo!” He greeted, eyes suspiciously bright. Ugh, morning people. “We’re having a house meeting!” 

“A what?” Virgil responded automatically. He, of course, knew what a house meeting was, but- “You’ve never invited me to one of these before.” 

Patton had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, we don’t have them very often, and you didn’t… really want to talk to us last time we had one!” 

Oh yeah. He’d been absolutely certain it had only been an excuse for them to all complain about him suddenly ‘moving in’, so to speak. It’d taken actually eavesdropping before he realized it was actually an argument over who kept stealing Logan’s jam. He was fairly sure Roman had only passed up on accusing the new ‘unfriendly neighborhood Dark Side’ because he was the actual culprit. 

“...Sure, okay.”

He followed Patton downstairs, and found the others sitting already in their customary spots on the couch. Out of habit, he stepped towards the spot he normally sat as ‘Puff’, before remembering himself at a slight look of surprise from (still normal-sized) Roman. He propped himself up against the wall closest to Logan’s chair, not in the mood to loom menacingly by anyone who might be perturbed by it.  

As expected, Logan ignored him completely. “Good. Now that we are all here, I believe we should address the situation regarding Roman’s recent shrinking episode.” 

“Did you figure something out, Microsoft Nerd?” Roman asked, leaning forwards slightly. Virgil wondered how the nicknames had such little bite when they were directed at anyone but him.

Logan glanced at Virgil, but upon seeing no question about the situation in his expression, simply continued. “Currently, my hypothesis is that this size reduction happens to us due to the fact that we are incorporeal manifestations of a personality. For example, things like feeling overwhelmed or vulnerable might cause us to involuntarily shapeshift as a mechanism to protect Thomas or ourselves.” 

He flipped a few pages in his notebook. “I believe that is why access to our normal functions is limited whilst in the reduced form, as well, which is highly inconvenient.”

That would really stress Virgil out if he hadn’t already mastered the art of driving himself into the exact mental state needed to trigger his transformation either way. 

“As such,” Logan continued, “we need more information in order to find a solution. I believe Roman can help me test this hypothesis by focusing on aforementioned overwhelming thoughts to see if he can activate this reaction at will.” 

“What? Why me?” Roman protested immediately. “Why don’t you do it, Specs?” 

Logan gave him a condescending look. “Because I have no feelings, obviously. You are the only one we know of showing this symptom, anyhow. Our control group, so to speak.” 

Roman groaned, and for a moment, his gaze flicked to where Virgil was standing, wishing he was in bed as they talked about stuff he already knew. He straightened up a bit, narrowing his eyes back at Roman. What?

The creative side pulled his eyes away without giving him any sort of answer, but Logan hadn’t missed the byplay either. He stared between the two of them for a moment. Patton blinked at all of them mutually, lost in the silent stare off. Slowly, Logan leaned back. 

“If you’d prefer to do this at a later time-” He started, but Roman cut him off. 

“No, it’s fine.” He stared at Virgil like he was trying to convey something meaningful with the words. Virgil stared back, catching exactly none of it.

A moment and a flash later, Roman was sitting on the couch, doll-sized. Patton made the ‘oh no, cute!’ face again, and Virgil couldn’t help but stare. He was so… small. He couldn’t believe Roman had let him pick him up at all, so much could have gone wrong- 

“Oh, it worked!” Roman said, surprised. Logan hummed consideringly, already deep in thoughts he didn’t bother to share with the rest of them. 

“Can you turn back?” Virgil asked, voice sardonic. Roman scowled imperiously at him, but very noticeably did not get any bigger. 

“That part… appears to be more complicated.”

“Maybe try thinking about the opposite of what got you that size!” Patton offered, Logan nodding in agreement. 

Roman didn’t seem as easily convinced, but he did close his eyes and make an expression of thinking very hard for a few moments. Virgil took the opportunity to go make himself a bagel. It went perfectly up until the toasted bagel popped up loudly, and Roman groaned, presumably at his concentration being broken. 

“Anxiety.”

“What?” He responded through a mouthful of crunchy bread. “I’m hungry, I don’t have to watch you focus. You always figure it out eventually.” 

It was definitely meant to be delivered dismissively, but a second later there was a loud clatter from the lounge. Virgil poked his head around the corner. Roman was full-sized again, and had knocked a cup off the table in the process. He squinted at the startled creative side for a second. This was the second time in a row that had happened after he’d spoken.

Was Roman fucking with him? 

… No, Princey was too clueless for that. It was probably just coincidence.

Logan had taken it all in stride, turning to Patton and asking him to replicate Roman’s feat. Virgil took the opportunity to steal some of Logan’s Crofters and smear it over the other half of his bagel. Petty crimes. 

Once he re-emerged, Patton was still the same size, midway through an apology for not being able to manage it. 

“It’s quite alright, I have plenty of new information to look through. Oh, and Anxiety?” Logan called out, making him freeze where he was three steps up the stairs already. Could he seriously smell jam like a hunting dog? 

“Have you experienced anything like this before?” Logan asked, and everyone’s gaze turned to him.

Great, it wasn’t about the jam. It was so much worse. There was no getting out of it this time.

“No.” He answered bluntly, and ignored the way the lie tasted sour in his mouth. “I haven’t.” 

He looked away before he could see the mistrust form in their eyes, and retreated to his room. He hated lying to them, partially because it felt awful, wondering how and when they’d find out his untruths, but also because the more Virgil lied, the better of a grasp he got on the situation.

As such, it was almost unsurprising when he opened his door and found Deceit, standing in the middle of his room and eyeing his messy floor with distaste. He still felt his heart jump, though, looking over his shoulder as though the others would have trailed after him to witness the impromptu meeting. He slammed his door shut after him, already scowling darkly.

“What are you doing in my room.” He asked, flatly. Deceit gave him a deeply patronizing look. 

“Oh, because I can totally just stand around in the plain sight waiting for you to get back from your little get-together. That definitely wouldn’t get me harassed by those naive idiots.” 

Virgil gritted his teeth at the insult, voice coming out sharp. “I’m the one being harassed. I told you to leave me alone. Get. Out.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Like you weren’t practically calling my name with all the lying you’ve been doing. Obviously, you know that even just hiding the truth counts as a lie. You’re clearly doing much better than a liar like me.” 

“Shut up.” Virgil snarled, the shadows in his room curling around his feet. He clenched his fists, ignoring the feel of nails biting into his palms. “You’re just sour that Thomas still hasn’t noticed you, even after I split off and proved that Dark Sides can appear to him.” 

“Oh, you’re so right. It’s not like I want to keep helping him without needing all that attention or anything.” Deceit smiled smugly, as Virgil worked his jaw. “You can’t play the villain forever, Thomas won’t still hate you and get hurt because of it. I’m much worse off, helping keep him safe by keeping him in the dark.”

“I don’t care if he hates me.” Virgil returned, ignoring the way Deceit’s lips thinned knowingly. “Thomas needs his friends, needs people, and if he goes down the road you want him to take, he’ll be alone and hated his whole life, and he won’t even know why.” 

“Virgil, you’re the farthest thing from a hypocrite I’ve ever met.” Deceit offered, saccharine-sweet. “After all, you certainly wouldn’t know anything about being alone and hated, now would you?”   

“Yeah, it’s my job.” He spat, furious. “I’m supposed to keep Thomas from feeling the way I feel preemptively, genius.” 

He took a deep breath, trying to prevent his voice from slipping. “I knew what I was getting into when I revealed myself. Maybe you should focus more on your own role instead of nosing into my business.”

Deceit’s eyes narrowed slightly with irritation. “Yes, I’m definitely the one slinking about where I don’t belong. You’d never take advantage of someone’s trust under false pretenses, after all.”  

Virgil bit into his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Deceit smirked, as though he’d never been irritated at all. After a moment, the look smoothed over into something more contemplative.

“You are so obsessed with Thomas upholding society’s standards, so afraid of him becoming a bad person. But you don’t have anything to worry about. After all, you’re a reflection of him, and you’re so very selfless, aren’t you?”  

Virgil recoiled as though struck, but there was no victory in the other side’s expression. 

“You made the right choice. The others will accept you when you’re exposed. You won’t regret it.”

With that final condemnation, he sunk away, and Virgil was left alone with the silence ringing in his ears. He hated fighting with Deceit, hated that the man wasn’t above tearing at sensitive spots to get his own point across, hated the raw, cut-open feeling that came with it. 

Most of all, he hated that Deceit was right. 

He was just using the others, lying to them to assuage his own pathetic loneliness. He’d made his choice, he’d known he’d be surrounded by people who didn’t want him there. He’d known, he’d known, and it still never got easier.

The transformation was at the edge of his senses, only a grasp from shifting him, and for a moment he entertained the thought of letting it happen. Running back to them, curling up in the presence of Thomas’ best attributes until Deceit’s words were barely even whispers in the back of his mind… 

Something clicked in the subconscious, and he let the errant dream go, sinking onto his bed. Thomas was making another video, and though it didn’t seem like he was going to be summoned this time, he still had work to do. He pulled up a screen of the scene through Thomas’s eyes, attention catching on every possible minor flaw, predicting the audience’s every possible reaction, determined to make the editing process hell so that only the best of Thomas was shown. 

That was his job, after all.

Exposed Perspective (7)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Guilt, fear, panic, being trapped, people being used/treated like test subjects and injury.

THIS IS THE THIRD STORY IN A TRILOGY. READ “A Third Perspective” AND “Switched Perspectives” FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE!

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters and the TWO prequels!)

———————————————————————————————

“Fascinating.” Dee breathed, staring down through the lens as he turned the knobs this way and that. “Oh, simply marvelous!” It was in this tedious fashion he continued, inspecting every inch of Virgil’s hair first. As he moved onto the blood slide, a pounding at the door startled the professor so much that he nearly dropped it entirely.

 Virgil jumped, startled at the sudden sound. Patton, too, jumped awake and both looked at each other as they recognized the sound. They grinned, it had to be their humans!

“Be careful!” Dee yelled to the other side of the door, quite irritated by the interruption that had nearly destroyed his progress. Of course, he was sure it was just those meddling kids again.

“Dr. Dee?” A voice that was most certainly not one of the previous students made the dean pale. “May we come in?”

 The borrowers’ smiles fell. That wasn’t Logan, Roman, or Thomas’ voice. They looked at each other with panic. 

“Oh, ah, not right now!” Dee hurried to explain, already attempting to push the table closer to the door. “I am quite preoccupied at the moment and unable to open the door-” Before he was able to succeed, the door creaked open, revealing four figures on the other side.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have a key myself, then.” Dr. Picani noted, flanked by three friendly faces who looked ready to murder the dean. Dee gulped.

 The borrowers’ panic left as soon as they saw their three friends. “Guys!” They both shouted at the same time, though Patton’s shout came out a little quieter as he was still a bit dizzy. The fourth human with them threw them off but if he was willing to help them out then they couldn’t complain.

“Virgil!” “Patton!” All three students rushed over to the cage, relief flooding their features as they completely ignored Picani’s startled looks. Dee tried to step in front of them briefly, only for Roman to promptly punch him in the nose. The dean groaned, falling to the ground and clutching his face.

“Roman!” Picani gasped, shocked at his behavior. 

“Sorry professor,” Roman said, not at all sounding sorry as he didn’t even look over his shoulder before joining the others.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked worriedly, practiced hands unlocking the cage.

 “We are now,” Virgil said as he grinned up at Logan and helped Patton up, Patton swayed on his feet and Virgil winced. “But Patton might need some help. Dee took a lot of blood from him.” Patton just nodded.

Logan only nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he carefully scooped up Patton. 

Roman stepped forwards next, putting a hand out for Virgil.

 Virgil climbed on readily and happily, settling down in the center of Roman’s palm. “I am so glad you guys are here.” Virgil felt as though he could cry.

 Patton just barely registered he was being held now and looked up at Logan with a tired smile. “Hi, Logan.” Patton greeted, his words slightly slurred.

“Hi Patton,” Logan said softly, holding Patton close to his chest.

“...what happened to your hair?” Roman raised an eyebrow as he pulled Virgil out.

 “Ugh, he happened.” Virgil pointed to Dee, who was still on the floor, with one hand as the other went to where his hair was cut. Virgil grinned though. “Nice punch by the way.”

“Thank you,” Roman said, looking pleased with himself despite the fact his knuckles were bruised.

“How dare you.” Dee snarled, getting to his feet by clutching the edge of the table. “You come in here, defile my work, invade my sacred zone-!”

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Thomas commented, ducking around Dee towards the door. The other two followed, both clutching their borrowers possessively. 

“Hold on a moment.” Picani put out an arm, stopping them all in their tracks. His eyes lingered on the tiny people. “I think you all still have a lot of explaining to do.”

 Virgil flinched, suddenly remembering the fourth human that had come in with all of them. He grit his teeth. He was tired of all these humans stopping him from leaving. He just wanted to go home. “Alright, fine.” Virgil surprised himself by speaking. “He kidnapped us and tried to run experiments on us while completely ignoring the fact that we are sentient beings with feelings. End of story, now let us go home already!”

“How could you do such a thing?” Thomas turned to Dee, looking distraught. He still couldn’t believe a human was capable of such malice.

“Thieves!” Dee protested. “Liars, hooligans, the lot of them.” 

“Ah...perhaps this would be a good time for a more...civil discussion.” Picani took a moment to look sternly at Roman, who didn’t even look sheepish.

“It’s not my fault his face appeared so punchable, professor.” Roman shrugged. As Picani’s gaze grew harsher, Roman had the good sense to duck his head and at least attempt to look repentant.

“Upstairs, my office, all of you.” Picani paused, looking at Logan. “It seems your claims were well-founded after all.”

The students began to follow Picani upstairs, as did a begrudging Dee. Both Logan and Roman kept him at a safe distance, keeping an eye on their respective borrowers.

 As the borrowers were brought along, Patton looked up at Logan. Things were getting a little clearer which was nice. “Who’s that? Patton asked Logan, motioning towards the new human.

 Virgil, hearing Pat’s question, couldn’t help but wonder the same thing.

“Doctor Picani,” Logan explained in a hushed tone. “He’s the true head of the natural sciences department, which makes him Dee’s superior.” 

“Sorry about him.” Roman looked down at Virgil apologetically. “We didn’t want to get any other humans involved, but… we really didn’t have any other options.”

 “It’s...okay. He got you to us and us away from Dee. That’s all that matters.” Though Virgil glared at Picani’s head. “As long as he stays on our side...we should be fine.” Virgil wasn’t too keen to trust another person of science though, not so soon anyway.

The group reached Picani’s office, a large room with a wooden oval desk. On one side Dee sat down, and on the other, the students sat. Picani went into an adjacent room, pulling out an ice pack and offering it to Dee before taking a seat next to his fellow professor.

“Thank you, Picani,” Dee said in an almost sickeningly sweet tone, clearly trying to get on his colleague’s good side. 

“Dee, do you know why you’re here?” Picani asked, looking concerned.

“You took pity on a few students who wanted to sabotage my work.” Dee shrugged, glaring across the table.

“It’s for a far more serious reason, actually,” Picani explained. “Logan here believes you are guilty of illegal experimentation.”

“Oh, is that so?” Dee leaned over the table towards Logan. “I think he’s just mad because I took his pet away.” 

“They’re not. Pets.” Logan growled, his fingers curling protectively around Patton. “How dare you accuse them of such a title when they each possess more humanity than you could ever hope to achieve.”

 “Yeah!” Patton exclaimed.

  “Also, he literally just admitted to kidnapping us, which I believe is illegal, right?” Virgil said, directing his words at Picani.

“Ah, yes that would be correct.” Picani nodded, still looking a bit thrown off. “I’m sorry, who are you, exactly?”

 Virgil sighed. “I’m Virgil and that’s Patton.”

 “Hi!” Patton waved.

 “Like I said before, we’re the sentient beings Dee kidnapped and planned to experiment on.” Virgil crossed his arms.

“I see.” Picani’s eyebrows furrowed.

“This is all just a big misunderstanding!” Dee protested, leaning back to look over at Picani pleadingly. “Surely you can understand a single mistake in my long history of beneficial research to this institution.”

“One mistake, huh?” Roman scoffed.

“I have in my possession files indicating over two decades’ worth of ‘mistakes’,” Logan explained, adjusting his glasses. “Countless violations of the human code of ethics throughout your means of research that you so tactfully hide in your papers yet fail to hide in the video evidence you’ve accumulated of every interaction.”

Dee paled. “How did you…?”

“I have a certain interest in computer hacking,” Logan smirked. “Consider this payback for all your cruel grading these last few weeks. Which, coincidentally, is biased and also illegal.” 

Indeed, ever since Dee had turned on Logan the biology student had set to work digging up dirt on his foul professor in the hopes of having the faculty member removed from the institution. It seemed his hard work was finally paying off.  

“Logan sent me the files and the evidence speaks for itself.” Picani shook his head sadly. “I wanted to give you the chance to share your side of the story before I take this case to the board of trustees.”

Dee looked across the table, eyeing the group with a certain amount of scrutiny. “So it seems I’ve finally met my match…” He chuckled softly.

 “Heck yeah, you did! You won’t be bothering us anymore!” Virgil yelled at Dee and smirked smugly. 

 Patton, who was slowly but surely getting less dizzy, grinned. That was definitely a nice thought. Not having to deal with Dee anymore.

“Dee, this is no laughing matter,” Picani explained sternly. “It’s very possible that you will go to jail for this.”

“Oh, most certainly.” Dee looked almost bored, pulling out his phone with his free hand. 

“...what are you doing?” Thomas asked, confused. The professor didn’t answer.

“Hold this, boy.” Dee tossed the ice pack at Thomas who caught it with a startled yelp. Now free to use both hands, Dee typed twice as quickly. 

“What tricks are you playing, villain?” Roman sneered, leaning over the table to try and view Dee’s phone.

“All scientists are entitled to their secrets.” Dee looked meaningfully at Logan. “Of course, given the fact you’ve ruined me, I have no need for secret-keeping anymore.”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Logan frowned. He didn’t like being unsure. 

“Aaaand send.” Dee hit one final button, repocketing his phone with a smirk. There was a quiet ping, and Picani pulled out his own phone.

 Virgil’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked between Dee and then at Picani’s phone before his head snapped to Dee once more in sudden realization. “...You didn’t.” Virgil said, voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to believe it had actually happened.

 Patton was still confused. “Did what?” Why was Virgil looking so pale?

“One mass email sent out to every faculty member of the college of natural sciences.” Dee held up a single finger, looking pleased with himself.

“Dee, why...why would you send this?” Picani frowned at the email’s contents. “This is just your laboratory recording from earlier today. All it does is prove your guilt.”

“Oh, it does far more than that.” Dee chuckled darkly. 

“...oh no.” Logan paled, catching on as well.

“Oh yes.” Dee grinned, leaning over and addressing the borrowers directly. “Guess who’s not a secret anymore.”

Loose Lips, Sink Ships

Summary: Secrets, secrets, never tell . . . Secrets, secrets, just as well. Sometimes secrets are harmless, like the fact that Roman has a chronic case of losing the remotes and they don’t actually grow wings. But for Virgil and some of the other heroes, they’re a bit more serious. Too bad the Jims have no sense of the words: “keep out”.

A/N: No ships were harmed in the revealing of secrets. Just Virgil’s peace of mind. ALSO! Just wanted to put it out there I’m really glad I didn’t commit to a name for Deceit, might come out with a bonus fic this weekend for Deceit, cause I’ve got Sanders Sides on the brain.

Marvin would always swear up and down that it was an accident.

The magician had always been good at brewing potions. They took time, and Marvin prided himself on the fact that he could succeed where others failed, or even weren’t so good at. So of course he could make about any type of potion that wasn’t necessarily “above board” to make. I.E: love potions and truth serums. Both of which didn’t last nearly as long as fiction liked to say they lasted for.

However, when the Jims walked into a relatively packed common room with a huge grin, everyone knew something was up with them.

Eric, Patton, Virgil, and Randall were all watching a movie, a little bit of downtime before Patton and Virgil stepped back out. King was in the kitchen arguing about the coffee maker with Ethan and Roman. And Jackie, who was just watching the room, took one look at the Jims and thought, “Oh no, what are they up to this time?”.

“Party’s in the house!” RJ screamed and threw the glass potion he’d been hiding behind his back onto the floor. It smashed into pieces and quickly began to fill up the space.

A silvery smoke instantly flooded the room, more smoke than could have possibly fit inside that little glass orb.

Everyone in the lobby area began coughing, the smoke physically forcing them to breath it in. Jackie used his super speed to open the door and force the smoke out into the open air.

“Fook!” Jackie coughed, “what was that?”

“Not a glitter bomb,” RJ shrugged.

“I thought the label said it was a glitter bomb,” CJ agreed.

“Yeh fookers are mad,” Jackie spat. “Where’d you even get it?”

“Marvin’s study,” CJ answered. “He was working on something else.”

“Then why’d you take it?” Anxiety shouted. “What even was that thing?”

Both of the Jim Twins looked at each other, and then shrugged at the same time.

“Helpful,” Virgil glared at them.

“Okay, so we gotta figure out what it does,” Patton added. “Do you think it’s going to hurt anyone outside?”

“Nah, it was starting to dissipate when it hit the air outside,” Jackie said, zipping over to check outside for a second “Yep, coast’s all clear.”

Patton let out a sigh of relief, “Okay, that’s good.

“Maybe we could ask Marvin,” Randall asked.

“Good idea,” the Jim twins began at almost the same time. “We’ll go find him.”

Then they looked at each other with confusion.

“Nah uh,” Ethan walked over. “I don’t trust the two of you with shit. I’m coming with.”

Once the three of them were gone, Roman commented, “What if it only works on twins. Oh no! Will I be forced to share a mind with Remus again.”

“Shoot me,” Virgil groaned.

“No, you don’t really mean that do you?” Patton asked in concern.

“Of course not,” Virgil said. “It just slipped out.”

Patton looked relieved, and then tears started prickling his eyes, “Oh good, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Then Patton raced over and wrapped his arms around Virgil, the more anxious Side stiffening up like a cat that had been suddenly picked up.

“Come on, Pat, let me go,” Virgil struggled.

“Why don’t I ever get a hug from you?” Roman complained.

Jackie had his head in one of his hands, his phone starting to ring for Marvin. He was getting impatient, even more so when Marvin didn’t answer him. “Come on, we need to figure out what we got hit with.”

Marvin walked in with Ethan and the twins, and Jackie immediately stomped over to him.

“Hey Marv, what the hell?” Jackie spat. “What’d they steal?”

“I can’t tell just by the color ‘a smoke,” Marvin defended heatedly. “Has anyone suddenly tried making out.”

“No,” Eric said. “I ha-ve a b-b-oy-friend now, and . . . I don’t want to cheat on him. I’ve . . . I’ve never had a boy-friend before and—”

“Eric,” Marvin called out. “Breathe.”

“Is it Illy?” Roman’s attention hyper focused on Eric. “Did he call back? Tell me.”

“Illinois?” King balked. “Why the hell you are dating that asshole?”

“He’s not an asshole, he’s a sweetheart,” Eric began tearing up.

“He put slugs in my bed,” King dismissed. “He’s a nut job who got crazier the older he got and the closer he got to Dad.”

“Is it the same Illinois that works for Dark?” Virgil spoke up. “King’s right, he’s crazy.”

“He’s not!” Eric began crying.

“Hey, quit making ‘em cry, assholes,” Randall shouted back.

Magic suddenly seized all of them, Marvin taking control of the situation. “Hey,” Marvin called out. “Okay, it’s either a truth potion, or someone aerosolized my supply of Whiskey.”

“What were you doing with a truth potion?” Jackie demanded. “Did you give it to those two fookers?”

“No,” Marvin scoffed. “Those two would steal the clothes off my back if it meant pulling a prank.”

“We totally would,” CJ smiled, fist bumping with his brother; both of them which huge proud smiles.

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t try something,” Jackie reminded.

“I didn’t drug yeh, an’ it’ll wear off anywhere from an hour ta about a day, ‘pends on the dose.”

“A whole day!” Jackie was practically screeching.

“Depends on the dose,” Marvin answered. “But as long as no one’s got some deep dark secret you all should be fine.”

Anxiety let out a nervous scream.

Kay laughed nervously, “Everyone already knows mine.”

Patton began sobbing, whatever he was saying almost indecipherable.

“Well that’s great,” Marvin groaned.

“Why did yah even have that potion?” Jackie asked, still glaring at Marvin. “Probably didn’t mean for us ta get it though.”

“I made it ages ago an’ didn’t want ta risk it by flushing it down the drain,” Marvin spat. “Just get e’eryone comfortable, I’ll see if I can whip an antidote up.”

“Thanks, asshole,” Jackie spat. Then he looked a little surprised. “Dammit, that was supposed to stay in my head.”

“Well ‘til the potion wears off, it’s not. Keep everyone who was affected here,” Marvin sighed. “I’ll make some calls.”

Jackie nodded, thanking Marvin in-between cursing at him.

Keeping themselves in the lobby they tried not to insult each other the best they could. Eric was mostly calmed down, only  snapping at King who snapped back. It was fun for everyone to see the normally timid Eric snapping at someone.

However Patton was lying in the middle of the floor, staring at the ceiling. Virgil and Roman were on either side of him. King and Jackie were on the sofa and both the Jim’s were piled into a bean bag chair. Eric has gone to his room to sleep everything off, Randall taking him there.

“Do you ever think that your life’s a lie?” Patton mumbled out loud. “That no matter how many times you fuse, and how hard you try to be a good person, someone can just scoop out everything that makes you a good person and put in something else.”

Roman stared at him. “Like what?”

“I think I was replaced with another Patton, that your Patton is in my world, and I’m here,” Patton began to ramble. “But I wanna be a good person, I wanna be a good person so bad it hurts.”

“You are a good guy, Pat,” Roman said, cuddling up next to him.

“No, I’m a bad person,” Patton said in-between sobbing, his voice choking up. “I worked with Dark, I’ve watched people die.”

“You never worked with Dark, you’re been with the other Sides the whole time,” Anxiety told him. “I would have recognized you.”

“Then why do I have all these awful memories in my head that won’t go away,” Patton sat up, looking desperately at Virgil. Whether or not he was looking for reassurance or someone to validate his claims was unknown. “They only go away when I fuse. When I was Thomas last time they went away for months.”

Anxiety seemed to be thinking on Patton’s words, “It must be Arthur, he must be doing that to you. He’s forcing you to think that way.”

“Who’s Arthur?” Patton asked.

“Arthur’s dead,” King interrupted. “He bled out on an operating table in front of me. How many times do I keep having to repeat that.”

“What do you mean he’s dead, he can’t be,” Virgil responded. “He’s been keeping Dark from taking over the base.”

“Nah that’s Host and J.J, the two of them keep Dark out,” Roman bragged. “Dark’s always been trying to get into the base but it wasn’t until the Host joined that J.J got some help.”

“I knew he was a liar!” Anxiety shouted.

“Who?” Roman asked. “Dee?”

“Dark!” Anxiety answered. “Oh no.”

“He lies about a lot of stuff,” King agreed. “He once told me we couldn’t get a pet, and then he got himself a cat and named it after himself. I just wanted a puppy.”

“That’s so sad,” Patton told him, rolling over to prop his chin up on his palms. “Least you got a kitty.”

“For a couple days,” King dismissed. Then he paused, “Hey Vee, how’d you even hear about Artie? Everyone in the network uses nicknames.”

Virgil felt the words coming, like an out of control freight train with broken brakes. He grabbed at his throat. “He told me to look for him.”

“Who?” King asked. “Artie?”

“I don’t want to do it, I have talked with him since,” Virgil said, everyone was staring at him.. “You have to believe me, I didn’t believe it, I’m not spying on you, I promise!”

“I believe you,” Patton told him. “You don’t have to talk to him ever again.”

“What kind of spy doesn’t report on the people he’s spying on?” Jack agreed.

“You’re not mad?” Virge asked, daring to hope that somehow he was getting out of this alive. “Even if I was a bad guy?”

King laughed, “You think that’s bad, I’m hiding out from my old man because he would probably kill me if he ever saw me again.”

“Who’s your dad?” Randall asked.

“Dark,” King said, before slapping his hand over his mouth. “Oh no, Host’s gonna kill me.”

“What!?” About half of the heroes in the room shouted. Virgil stared at King.

“You’re not Arthur,” Virgil said out loud, his filter completely destroyed by the truth dust.

“Nah, that’s one of my siblings,” King was staring at his hands. “Host, Bim, Yan, me, Illy, Yancy, and . . .”

Then he stared at his hands, “Huh, weren’t there seven of us?”

“Was that Arthur?” Virgil asked.

“Nah, I already counted him,” King dismissed, waving at Virgil’s direction. “Sides, Artie’s kinda dead, except in the ways that probably matter. You all lucked out, you guys didn’t have to babysit him.”

RJ, who was almost falling asleep with CJ snapped away, almost dragging him and his camera over to have it almost pressed into King’s face. “This sounds like a story.”

King stared at the camera in fear, “Is that live? Please tell me it’s not live.”

“The Jim Twins should make sure it doesn’t see the light of day,” the Host announced himself.

“Host, there’s a truth spray in the air!” King called out desperately as the Host walked closer.

“Even if it was still the air, the Host’s narrations have him dictate his mind anyways,” the seer reminded.

“Oh yeah,” King’s mouth formed a thin line. “You really got the short end didn’t you?”

The Host just stared at him. “The King of the Squirrels should take a nap before he incriminates himself any further.”

“What if I did?” King somehow looked halfway between apologetic and not even a little remorseful. “Like, what if I messed up, bad?”

“The Host noticed,” the seer frowned at him.

“Nah, it was bad,” King frowned. “The one thing you told me not to do, I did it.”

“The Host can see the future, he doesn’t need a replay,” the Host reminded curtly.

“Do you hate me?” King asked sadly. “You probably do, right?”

The Host sat down on the couch next to his adopted brother, his expression softening, “The Host has never hated King.”

“Did Artie?” King was staring at his hands.

“No the Author did not hate King either,” the Host told him “He was angry and dangerous, but he did not hate his adopted family.”

King looked sad, “Oh, that sucks. Cause you were an asshole and I always felt bad about not being nicer.”

“King should save his sympathy,” Host decided. “The Author did not deserve it.”

“You did,” King told him. “You were in there, an’ I should’a been nicer.”

“So you’re Arthur then?” Virgil asked, narrowing his eyes in concentration. “Probably should have called that.”

“King and his friends should sleep,” Host told him, as his words began to curl around the room and people began dropping one by one to sleep. “Everything will be better after you sleep.”

They slept, making it easier for the minds to clear even if each of their dreams were a little more unusual and potion-fueled than usual. Marvin was able to lift the spell by the time they woke up, leaving an uncomfortable atmosphere in the potion’s wake.

3rd April >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on John 10:31-42 for Friday, Fifth Week of Lent: ‘Believe in the work I do’.

Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

John 10:31-42

They wanted to stone Jesus, but he eluded them

The Jews fetched stones to stone him, so Jesus said to them, ‘I have done many good works for you to see, works from my Father; for which of these are you stoning me?’ The Jews answered him, ‘We are not stoning you for doing a good work but for blasphemy: you are only a man and you claim to be God.’ Jesus answered:

‘Is it not written in your Law:

I said, you are gods?

So the Law uses the word gods

of those to whom the word of God was addressed,

and scripture cannot be rejected.

Yet you say to someone the Father has consecrated and sent into the world,

“You are blaspheming,”

because he says, “I am the son of God.”

If I am not doing my Father’s work,

there is no need to believe me;

but if I am doing it,

then even if you refuse to believe in me,

at least believe in the work I do;

then you will know for sure

that the Father is in me and I am in the Father.’

They wanted to arrest him then, but he eluded them.

He went back again to the far side of the Jordan to stay in the district where John had once been baptising. Many people who came to him there said, ‘John gave no signs, but all he said about this man was true’; and many of them believed in him.

Gospel (USA)

John 10:31-42

They wanted to arrest Jesus, but he eluded them.

The Jews picked up rocks to stone Jesus. Jesus answered them, “I have shown you many good works from my Father. For which of these are you trying to stone me?” The Jews answered him, “We are not stoning you for a good work but for blasphemy. You, a man, are making yourself God.” Jesus answered them, “Is it not written in your law, ‘I said, “You are gods”’? If it calls them gods to whom the word of God came, and Scripture cannot be set aside, can you say that the one whom the Father has consecrated and sent into the world blasphemes because I said, ‘I am the Son of God’? If I do not perform my Father’s works, do not believe me; but if I perform them, even if you do not believe me, believe the works, so that you may realize and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father.” Then they tried again to arrest him; but he escaped from their power.

He went back across the Jordan to the place where John first baptized, and there he remained. Many came to him and said, “John performed no sign, but everything John said about this man was true.” And many there began to believe in him.

Reflections (9)

(i) Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

Jeremiah was one of those prophets who really suffered because of his calling from God, and he gave often gave expression to his suffering in very direct language. He laments before God, complaining to God about what is happening to him, and, yet, trusting that God will somehow take care of him. We have a very good example of Jeremiah’s prayer of lament in today’s gospel reading. He complains aloud, ‘all those who used to be my friends watched for my downfall’. In no uncertain terms he demands that God look out for him by taking his side against his enemies, ‘Let me see the vengeance you will take on them’. It is an honest prayer, but a prayer we might be uncomfortable with. Yet, Jeremiah shows us that every human emotion can be brought to prayer, even those emotions that incline us towards wishing our enemy ill. Many of the psalms in the Book of Psalms are psalms of lament and they sometimes display that same vindictive spirit that we find in Jeremiah in today’s first reading. Yet, bringing those dark emotions to the Lord in prayer makes us less likely to act them out. In the gospel reading, Jesus has to deal with the same kind of deadly hostility that Jeremiah complains of. People want to stone him and seek to arrest him. We could never imagine Jesus praying aloud to God as Jeremiah did, ‘let me see the vengeance you will take on them’. Yet, the prayer of Jeremiah is venerated as the word of God. It is an acceptable form of prayer in God’s eyes, provided we leave vengeance to the Lord and not try to take it on ourselves. The crisis we are going through has generated many different emotions within us, some of them, perhaps, very dark. Jeremiah shows that we can always bring such emotions to the Lord in prayer. The Lord is comfortable with us coming to him as we are.

And/Or

(ii) Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

In this morning’s gospel reading, Jesus’ opponents want to stone him because they consider that he has committed the sin of blasphemy, ‘You are only a man and you claim to be God’. Jesus goes on to qualify this accusation, ‘I am the Son of God’. This is the usual way that Jesus speaks of himself in John’s gospel. He never says, ‘I am God’, in that bold way, but he regularly speaks of himself as the Son of God. He frequently refers to himself as the Son whom God, his Father, has sent into the world. Yet, at the end of the gospel of John, we find Thomas declaring before the risen Jesus, ‘My Lord and my God’. John’s gospel as a whole certainly understands Jesus to be God. The opening line of that gospel makes this clear, ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God’. According to the author of this gospel, when the Word became flesh, became human, the Word did not cease to be God. Jesus, the Word made flesh, is God in human form. In that sense what his opponents accuse Jesus of is profoundly true in a way that they do not appreciate, ‘You are only a man and you claim to be God’. Jesus is indeed both human and divine, a man who is also God. God has appeared to us in Jesus in a way that had never happened before and could never happy again. That is why Jesus must be at the centre of our lives as believers and at the centre of the life of the church. Everything else and everyone else, no matter how holy or special, is secondary to him. The whole purpose of our lives as his disciples is to allow him to become more and more central to our lives.

 And/Or

(iii) Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

In last Monday’s gospel reading the religious leaders brought a woman along to Jesus claiming that according to the Jewish Law she ought to be stoned because she had sinned by committing adultery. In this morning’s gospel reading people fetch stones to stone Jesus himself because he had sinned by claiming that he and God the Father were one. Jesus asks his would-be stoners the very probing question, ‘I have done many good works for you to see, works from my Father; for which of these are you stoning me?’ Jesus had done many good works, his Father’s work, and yet, in spite of the good he was doing, some people wanted to stone him. Eventually, he would be put to death for those good works, not by stoning but by crucifixion. Jesus remained faithful to his good work, even though it aroused the hatred and anger of some of his contemporaries. The Lord calls on us all to share in his good work, in the work of his Father. The gospel reading suggests that sharing in whatever small way we can in the Lord’s good works will not always make for an easy or a simple life. Yet, as we try to be faithful to that calling, the Lord will support us. Indeed, he will be working in us and through us.

 And/Or

(iv) Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus is accused of blasphemy by the Jewish leaders, ‘you are only a man and you claim to be God’. That indeed would have been considered blasphemy. Yet, that statement expresses the full mystery of Jesus, the mystery of the incarnation. Yes, he is only a man, but he also claims to be God, and not only claims to be so but is so. Jesus is God in human form. We believe that he reveals God to us in a way that no other human being has ever done or will ever do. In the gospel reading Jesus declares, ‘believe in the work I do, then you will know for sure that the Father is in me and I am in the Father’. Jesus was saying, ‘Look at the good works I do and then you will recognize that I am God in human form’. Jesus revealed God by what he said, but above all by what he did, by his works. In John’s gospel from which we are reading this week, the greatest of Jesus’ works was his passion and death. It was above all in and through his passion and death that Jesus revealed God most fully, the God who so loved the world that he gave his only Son. As we reflect on the passion and death of Jesus this coming Holy Week we will be looking upon not just a broken human being but upon the revelation of God.

And/Or

(v) Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

You are familiar with the story in John’s gospel where Jesus protects a woman from the religious leaders who wanted to stone her because they claimed she had committed adultery. In this morning’s gospel reading from John’s gospel the religious leaders fetch stones to stone Jesus. In response Jesus asks the very probing question, ‘I have done many good works for you to see, works from my Father; for which of these are you stoning me?’ Jesus had done nothing but good; he had done many good works and yet some people wanted to stone him. Taking an initiative to do what we consider to be the good thing, the right thing, will not always make us popular. The gospel reading suggests that it might even give rise to hostility from others. To avoid trouble, the temptation might be to do nothing. Yet, it is a temptation we need to resist. The Lord calls us to share in his work, what he calls in today’s gospel reading, ‘my Father’s work’. Sharing in whatever small way we can in the Lord’s good work, or good works, will not always make for an easy or a simple life. Yet, it is our calling and in trying to be faithful to that calling the Lord will support us; in fact, he will be working in us and through us.

 And/Or

(vi) Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

In this morning’s gospel reading, Jesus is strongly opposed by the Jews because of the claims he makes about himself. ‘You are only a man and you claim to be God’, they said. Jesus goes on to say of himself, ‘I am the Son of God… the Father is in me and I am in the Father’. Jesus claims to have a unique relationship with God, such that whoever sees him sees God, the Father. The author of the fourth gospel puts it very simply when he writes, the Word who was God became flesh, became enfleshed Word. Jesus, in other words, is God in human form. That conviction is at the core of our Christian faith. Jesus is the revelation of God, and because of that, in the words of the gospel reading, the good works that he does are the work of the Father. God is doing God’s work through Jesus. God will always be something of a mystery to us, but Jesus has unveiled that mystery to a great extent. Jesus has revealed that the mystery of God is, ultimately, the mystery of Love. In the words of the first letter of Saint  John, ‘God is Love’. In the words of the gospel, ‘God so loved the world that he gave his only Son’. That is the wonderful mystery that we will be remembering and celebrating this coming Holy Week.

 And/Or

(vii) Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

In this morning’s gospel reading, Jesus declares that he has been doing his Father’s work. He states, ‘I have done many good works for you to see, works from my Father’. It is the works he does that show he has a special relationship with God, that he is one with God, Son of God. The work that Jesus is doing reveals who Jesus is. Jesus brings that work of God to completion on the cross; in John’s gospel he dies with the words, ‘it is completed/it is finished’. If Jesus’ works reveal his identity as God’s Son, it is while on the cross that Jesus reveals his identity as God’s Son most fully. That is why we venerate the cross, because on the cross we see Jesus giving his all in the doing of God’s work. On the cross we see Jesus’ absolute fidelity to God and to God’s work; we see his total fidelity to us, and in Jesus we see God’s fidelity to us. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son. In looking on the one whom they have pierced, we see the truth of God, which is infinite and total love. Our gazing upon the cross this coming week can help to keep us steady and grounded in these difficult times.

 And/Or

(viii) Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus is accused of blasphemy. ‘You are only a man and you claim to be God’. From a Jewish perspective, for any man to claim to be God was blasphemy. The accusation of blasphemy seems to have been levelled against Jesus on more than one occasion. At the very beginning of his public ministry, Mark’s gospel informs us that Jesus was accused of blasphemy because he declared to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven’.  The response of the experts in the Jewish Law was to say, ‘It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins but God alone?’ Jesus was judged to be speaking in ways that were associated exclusively with God. In response to the accusation of blasphemy in this morning’s gospel reading, Jesus speaks of himself as the one whom the Father consecrated and sent into the world and as the one who is doing the work of God his Father. That expresses what we believe about Jesus. He is the one whom God has sent into the world to do the work of God. He has a unique relationship with God; he is Son of God. He is not only a man who claims to be God; he is a man in whom God is to be found in a unique way. In the centuries after the gospels were written the church would say that Jesus was fully human and fully divine. In the coming week we will be contemplating the humanity of Jesus in all its pain and brokenness, his passion and death. This morning’s gospel reading reminds us that in looking upon the broken humanity of Jesus we are also looking upon the face of God, the God who so loved the world that he gave his only Son.

And/Or

(ix) Friday, Fifth Week of Lent

As we draw near to Holy Week, which is next week, the gospel readings highlight the growing hostility to Jesus. At the beginning of today’s gospel reading, Jesus’ opponents fetch stones to stone him. At the end of the reading, they want to arrest him. Jesus seems perplexed at their hostility, ‘I have done many good works for you to see… for which of these are you stoning me?’ Violence can often be mindless and irrational, as we know only too well. On this occasion, Jesus was able to allude those who would do him harm. However, the time would come when he would be unable to allude them. They would have him arrested and put to death. In spite of the many good works Jesus did, he was put to death. In the first reading, Jeremiah speaks out of a similar experience to Jesus. He did God’s work, he proclaimed God’s word, and, for that, he was denounced by people who wanted to bring about his downfall. Jeremiah’s reaction to this undeserved hostility from his opponents was a very human one. He prays to God in that reading, ‘Let me see the vengeance you will take on them’. We could never imagine such a prayer on the lips of Jesus. Rather, Jesus revealed God’s love even to his enemies. He washed the feet of his betrayer, Judas. He prayed for his executioners, asking God to forgive them. Jesus’ passion and death, even more than his life, revealed a love that was constant even in the face of hostility and rejection. Jesus’ passion and death reveals God’s love for all humanity, a quality of love which is very different to any human love. That is why the Friday on which Jesus’ passion and death is remembered is called Good Friday, and why the story of Jesus’ passion and death is part of the larger gospel story. It is gospel, good news, for us all.

Fr. Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, D03 AO62, Ireland.

Email: [email protected] or  [email protected]

Parish Website: www.stjohnsclontarf.ie  Please join us via our webcam.

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Lore Episode 31: Lost and Found (Transcript) - 4th April 2016

tw: murder, gore, blood, human remains, cannibalism

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

Teenagers have a tendency to get up to mischief when they’re bored, that’s as true today as it ever has been. So, when four teenage boys found themselves with a spring afternoon on their hands, they did what any English lad might have done in 1943 – they went poaching. They were only hunting birds’ nests, really. It was April and spring meant nests full of eggs, so they went exploring in their area of Stourbridge, there in the midlands of England. Over the course of that afternoon, their search brought them to a private park known as Hegley Woods, and that’s where they saw the tree. It was a massive elm with an overgrown trunk that looked more like a hedgehog than a plant, with thin, whispy branches that stuck out toward the sky. Locals called it the “Wych Elm”. It was strong, it was climbable, and most importantly it was perfect for nesting, so one of the boys scaled up the side. When he reached the top and began to look for nests, he found something entirely different – a skull was staring up at him from the hollow centre of the tree. The boy assumed it was from an animal and plucked it free from the branches. That’s when he noticed how large it was, and the patches of hair that were still attached to it – human hair. The grisly discovery kicked off one of the biggest unsolved mysteries in modern England. Beneath the skull, lodged in the hollow centre of the tree, was a complete skeleton. It belonged to a young woman of unknown origin and unknown identity. No one stepped forward to claim the body, no killer was ever found, but the public fell in love, and named her, and to this day people still wonder: who put Bella in the wych tree? Humans, you see, are fascinated by dead bodies. They’re the centrepiece of countless mystery stories and a vivid reminder of our own mortality. We can see that fascination in both the innocent wonder of films like Stand by Me and the gruesome realism of CSI. Real life, though, is more complex, it’s more dark than we’d care to admit, and while the odds are good that most people won’t ever stumble upon a dead body, it’s a lot more common than you’d expect. Corpses should be hard to come by, but unfortunately that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m Aaron Mahnke and this is Lore.

In February of 2013, a number of guests at the Cecil Hotel in Los Angeles called down to the front desk to complain about the water in their rooms. Some described how their shower would run black before clearing up, others complained of the odd taste and odour, and that age-old compaint that we all know and love, poor water pressure, popped up time and time again. So, the maintenance crew was sent up to the roof where the hotel kept water tanks used to supply the rooms, and it’s one of the tanks that they discovered a body. A human body, no less, and it had been there for weeks. It turned out to be a missing woman named Elisa Lam. Her parents had reported her missing in early February, but she had been seen last there in the hotel on the 31st of January, and it had been her decomposing body that had been altering the hotel’s water supply. Finding bodies in unusual places isn’t a new thing, though, and it’s not uncommon, either. In January of 1984, three students from Columbia University were walking home to their dorm when they passed an old carpet, rolled up and discarded on the side of the street. Now, like a lot of you, I’ve been to college, so I think we can all agree that curbside discoveries are frequently wonderful. A random desk, or that ugly couch that’s way too comfortable to be ignored. So, it’s hard to blame these three students for bringing the rug home. When they unrolled it, though, they found a body inside. The man, roughly 20 years old, had been shot to death, as was evident from the bullet holes in his forehead. Needless to say, they didn’t keep the rug and the police were brought in to do a full investigation. In December of 1982, staff were called to a room in a hotel in New Burgen, New Jersey. Occupants complained of a powerful odour in the room, and they weren’t the first. For a number of days leading up to the call, each guest had complained of the same thing, and it seemed to be getting worse. The motel staff finally discovered why: it was the body of Gary Smith, who had been killed by his autotheft partners and stuffed beneath the bed in the room. They had poisoned his hamburger then strangled him when waiting got too hard, and finally hid the evidence beneath the mattress.

In 2011, Abbeville National Bank in Louisiana began renovations to their second floor, an area they had used for storage for decades. Running between the storage area and the active bank facilities was a chimney, and it was just inside the first floor fireplace where workers discovered a few small bones. Climbing inside the fireplace and looking up, they found the source. A body, now little more than a skeleton, had been lodged in the flue. Dental records connected the skeleton to a man reported missing 27 years earlier, in 1984. The man had a criminal record and had been in trouble with the law shortly before his disappearance. Police can’t prove why he was in the chimney, but given the proximity to the bank I feel its safe to guess that he’d been trying to rob it, Santa Claus style. In November of 2011, Russian police raided the home of a historian named Anatoly Moskvin. Inside, they found 29 life-sized dolls, all women, all dressed in fancy clothing. But they weren’t dolls at all. Moskvin, it turns out, was a graverobber with a fetish. For years, the historian had been visiting cemeteries all over western Russia, as many as 750 by some counts, and occasionally brought home corpses that “interested” him. All were females between the ages of 15 and 30, and all had been dead for a very long time. It seems, if we’re to believe the newspapers and media outlets, that stumbling upon a corpse isn’t as rare a thing as we might expect. Maybe it’s a product of the times – with more and more people on the planet, I suppose the odds keep going up that we’ll eventually open a wall or dig a garden bed and find a body. But some bodies are intentionally harder to find. Some killers go to great lengths to hide the evidence of their dirty deeds, and that’s really the core of these stories, isn’t it? Because hiding a body is about more than just making an object disappear. It’s about concealing a crime and escaping the consequences. The trouble is, when those hidden bodies are found, their stories often reveal the greatest horrors of all.

She wasn’t always known as Kate Webster. Sure, when she gave birth to her son in 1874, that was the surname she passed on to him. She claimed to have married a sailor named Webster, but he had died. A decade earlier, though, she had been someone else entirely. Kate Webster had been born Katherine Lawler to a poor family in a small, Irish village in 1849. While most children might have helped out at home or perhaps played with toys, Katherine grew up fast. She spent her childhood learning to pickpocket, and judging by the way the rest of her life played out, it’s a skill she’d been born with. At the age of 15 she was caught and imprisoned for a short time, but by 17, she managed to steal enough money to secure herself passage on a boat to England. But she didn’t use her journey as a chance to make a fresh start. No, Katherine Lawler just kept upping her game. Within a year of arriving in Liverpool, she was caught stealing and sentenced to four years in prison. Once released, she found work cleaning houses in London, as well as working as a prostitute – and then she became pregnant. The father, according to Kate, was a man she called “Mr. Strong”. He’d been her friend, her lover, and her partner in crime for many months, but when he learnt of the pregnancy he abandoned her. Her son, John Webster, was born in April of 1874, and those who knew her couldn’t help but wonder: would this help Kate change her ways? The answer, it turns out, was a clear and obvious no.

Rather than seek reform, Kate simply evolved. She would rent a room in a boarding house and once there, she would begin to sell off the furnishings in her room. When everything was gone, she’d move on and repeat the crime elsewhere. Another thing she repeated, sadly, was prison time. In 1875, while her son John was only a year old, Kate began serving an 18 month term in Wandsworth Prison there in London. It was one of the many stints in police custody, even though she moved around a lot and used various aliases to disguise herself. And all the while, her friend, Sarah Crease, helped by watching and caring for young John. Some think Sarah was an enabler, that she gave Kate the freedom to live her life of crime without the burden of parenthood, but others view Sarah as a hopeful friend. She saw a young boy who needed looking after and she did her best to help out. She also tried to get Kate a real, honest job, something that had the potential to turn the woman’s life around.

In 1879, Sarah’s employer asked if there was someone who could do some house cleaning for a friend of hers, a woman named Julia Martha Thomas. Mrs. Thomas lived in the Richmond area of London, she was a widow in her mid-50s, and had a reputation for being a little strict and prone to anger. But it was a job, and Sarah immidiately suggested Kate Webster. The relationship between Webster and Mrs. Thomas began cordially enough, but quickly devolved into daily arguments. Webster claimed that Mrs. Thomas would follow her around and criticise her work, while Mrs. Thomas claimed Webster came to work drunk most of the time. Needless to say, it wasn’t a match made in heaven, but the two women tried hard to make it work. After a little over a month, Julia Thomas decided it was time to cut Webster loose. Kate, to her credit, tried to change. She begged for just a few more days of employment and, for some unknown reason, Thomas agreed to the terms, but the relationship was eating at her like an ulser, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She thought that Kate was stealing from her, but she didn’t have proof yet, and she feared for her life. On March 2nd of 1879, Mrs. Thomas showed up at church clearly upset. She’d just had another argument with Webster, and it had shaken her deeply. Her friends claimed that Thomas seemed distracted and agitated, and she left early to go attend to matters at home. But Kate was waiting for her there, and this time, they would trade more than angry words.

Julia Thomas thought the house was empty, but went searching for Kate Webster anyway. They had unfinished business, and it was time Kate found some place else to work. It was settled – as far as she was concerned, at least. While Thomas was upstairs in the hallway, Webster stepped out of a dark room and attacked her employer. The two women struggled for a moment, and then Kate gave the older woman a shove. Thomas stumbled down the staircase where she slammed into the floor below. Her skull now fractured and bloody, she began to scream where she lay. Kate was immidiately concerned that the neighbours might hear. There was a busy pub right next door, and if someone happened to hear the shouting, Kate was sure to be discovered and arrested. Launching herself down the stairs, she sat upon the injured woman’s chest and began to squeeze her throat with both hands. She wanted the screaming to stop. She needed it to stop, and after a few tense moments, it did. Julia Thomas lay dead on the floor of her own home, and Kate Webster had graduated from theft to murder in the course of just a few heartbeats. But Kate was stronger than her fears, and she knew she had to act fast. She grabbed a razor, a meat saw and a carving knife and set about cutting Thomas’ body into pieces. Later  Webster would admit that, while she believed she had always had a strong stomach, this work in particular tested her limits. There had just been so much blood, she later told the police. Webster put the pieces into a large copper kettle and then boiled them in an attempt to reduce them to a more managable state. It was essentially rendering, a process where meat is cooked until the fat and protein separate. Witnesses would later come forward and talk of the stench coming from the home, but no one complained at the time. This was London in the late 19th century, perhaps people were just a little more forgiving of odd odours back then.

When the boiling was complete, Webster fished out each part from the remaining lard and placed them all into a box she found in the home – most of it, that is. She couldn’t seem to fit the head and one of the feet, so she had to get creative. She tossed the foot into a local trash heap, but the head was more problematic. In the end, she found a Gladstone bag, something like an old physician’s handbag, and stashed the head inside there. And then she cleaned the house, removing as much of the evidence as she could that something horrible had taken place there. It took her two full days to do it, but when she was finished, she put on a dress from her employer’s wardrobe and went to the pub next door to meet a friend for drinks. This friend, a Mrs. Porter, later told police that Webster arrived at the pub carrying a large, black bag. She kept it with her almost the entire evening, as if it contained something very valuable to her. Oddly, though, Webster excused herself from the table at one point, and when she returned a short while later, the bag was gone. Webster’s next order of business was to get rid of the box that contained what remained of Mrs. Thomas, so she enlisted the help of Mrs. Porter’s son to carry it out of the house and to nearby Barns Bridge. He carried the heavy box all the way to the bridge, and then she sent him home, claiming that a friend was on the way to meet her there. This boy would later tell police that, as he was walking away, he heard a large splash. It was as if something heavy had been tossed into the river. Webster had disposed of the body, and I can’t help but wonder if she perhaps sighed with relief when the box finally dipped beneath the surface of the Thames and vanished from sight. The following day, though, things got more complicated. Unware that the box containing Mrs. Thomas had actually floated to the surface and drifted to shore over night, Kate Webster dug in deeper. She took on the identity of her former employer while beginning to sell off all the items in the house. Old habits die hard, apparently. And it was about this time, according to a later witness, that Webster stepped outside and spoke to a pair of neighbourhood boys. She had two bowls in her hand, and they were steaming hot. She told them it was lard – from a pig, she added – and they were welcome to have it for free, if they wanted it. The boys ate two bowls each.

While the police were investigating the discovery of the box full of body parts, they had no clues that might point them to the killer responsible. It even took them a bit of time to figure out that the parts were actually human rather than butcher cast-offs, but even then, all they could be sure of was that the victim had been a middle-aged woman. Kate Webster, meanwhile, was making money hand over fist. She sold off the smaller items first – the jewellery, the knick-knacks, even her victim’s gold teeth – and then began to spread word that the furniture was for sale as well. And that lead to an agreement with a local man, who arrived on March 9th with a small group of men to help him carry the items out of the house. A neighbour woman saw the activity and approached one of the remaining men. “Who ordered the removal of these items?” she asked him. The man simply turned and pointed to Kate Webster, who stood on the front steps of the house. “She did,” he replied, “Mrs. Thomas.” When the police finally arrived, they entered the house and immidiately found signs of something tragic: a charred finger bone in the fireplace, bloodstains on the floor, splatters of grease – or lard – around the copper kettle. But the one thing they wanted to find, a killer, was nowhere to be seen. Kate Webster had skipped town. In the end, the authorities tracked her down in Ireland. She’d taken her son and made her way back to her hometown as fast as she could. When she arrived, she did so while still wearing clothing and jewellery taken from Mrs. Thomas. But her stay there was short-lived – the local police chief, the man who 15 years earlier had put her in jail for the first time, recognised her in the bulletin from Scotland Yard and quickly took her into custody. Everything after that moved quickly. Webster was transported back to England, and at every train stop between Liverpool and London, crowds gathered to jeer and shout at her. By March 30th, she had been formally charged with murder.

Of course, she tried to lie her way out of it. This was the woman who had changed her name dozens of times to outsmart the police, who had moved into room after room and sold off the possessions inside. She was a thief and a liar, so it was only natural for her to try and talk her away out of this too. First, she blamed the murder on Henry Porter, the husband of her friend from the pub, but when his alibi held up she shifted the blame to the man who had come to buy the furniture from the Thomas house. He too was easily dismissed. When it appeared that she wouldn’t be able to squirm out from under the charge of murder, she took credit for the crime, but claimed that she only did it because others told her to. In the end, none of it worked. The formal trial began on July 2nd of 1879, and just six days later, the jury declared her guilty. The judge, a man named Justice Denman, sentenced her to be executed. Yes, Judge Justice – I can’t make these things up. When asked if there was any reason why she should not be executed, Webster told the judge yes, insisting that she was in fact pregnant. A new jury of women were gathered together along with a physician, and after examining Webster they declared that the pregnancy, like everything else the woman had said, was also a lie. She returned to Wandsworth Prison, where she had served time before working for Mrs. Thomas, and it was there that she wrote her formal confession. She described all of the details of the murder, right down to how she burned the internal organs to get rid of them, how she chose her tools, and even how she removed the head. On July 29th, Kate Webster stepped onto the platform inside the prison’s execution chamber, a building that was ironically nicknamed “The Cold Meatshed”. A governer announced the time, a priest administered last rights, and then she was guided onto the trapdoors with a sack over her head. Afterward, she was buried in an unmarked grave, right there at the prison. The records of Wandsworth Prison contain the names of 134 people who were executed over the span of 110 years. Kate Webster was the only woman on that list.

It’s hard to nail down the real reason behind our fascination with death, but it’s safe to at least make a guess. Death puts our mortality on display. No matter how hard we try to avoid it as a topic, to ignore its slow, steady approach from the distance, we can’t seem to get away from it. Whether we want it or not, death will come for us all one day, and the dead body stands as that singular, visceral reminder of our death. In the horror movies, it’s the clue that’s dropped into our laps early on in the film. It highlights the danger our heroes find themselves in, it represents what’s at stake, what could happen if they fail and the true power of the killer. When the London police pulled the box containing the remains of a women from the cold waters of the Thames, they didn’t know a lot, but they did know one thing. There was a killer in London, and whoever it was needed to be stopped. Thankfully, they managed to do just that, but in a wild twist of irony, the body of Julia Thomas has been lost. It might have been a result of the way evidence was handled in the late 19th century, or the state of decay when the remains were found. Whatever the reason, there’s no grave for Julia Thomas, no tombstone with her name etched into the surface. Her body was lost, and then found, and then finally lost again. Well, most of it. As luck would have it, the neighbourhood where her house once stood has gone through some renevation. In October of 2010, a wealthy London homeowner was having an addition built in his backyard, when the work crew unearthed something small and white. It was a skull. The teeth were missing, but there was a fracture at the back of the head, and after doing a bit more research, investigators determined that the structure that once stood in the homeowner’s backyard was a stable – a stable behind the pub that stood next door to Julia Thomas. Her body might be lost forever into the pages of history, but the head that Kate Webster had tried so hard to get rid of has finally been recovered. Oh, and the wealthy homeowner who stumbled upon the skull? None other than English naturalist, Sir David Attenborough.

[Closing statements]

26th August >> Sunday Homilies and Reflections for Roman Catholics on the Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B.

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time  

Gospel reading: John 6:60-69

vs.60  After hearing his doctrine many of the followers of Jesus said, “This is intolerable language. How could anyone accept it?” vs.61  Jesus was aware that his followers were complaining about it and said, “Does this upset you? vs.62  What if you should see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before? vs.63  It is the spirit that gives life, the flesh has nothing to offer. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and they are life. vs.64  But there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the outset those who did not believe, and who it was that would betray him.

Following Christ always involves a calling.

vs.65  He went on, “This is why I told you that no one could come to me unless the Father allows him.” vs.66  After this, many of his disciples left him and stopped going with him. vs.67  Then Jesus said to the Twelve, “What about you, do you want to go away too?” vs.68  Simon Peter answered, “Lord, who shall we go to? You have the message of eternal life, vs.69  and we believe; we know that you are the Holy One of God.”

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We have four commentators available from whom you may wish to choose .

Michel DeVerteuil :A Trinidadian Holy Ghost Priest, director of the Centre of Biblical renewal . Thomas O’Loughlin:Prof,MRIA, FRHistS, FSA President of the Catholic Theological Association of Great Britain,Director Studia Traditionis Theologiae, Professor of Historical Theology University of Nottingham NG7 2RD Sean Goan:Studied scripture in Rome, Jerusalem and Chicago and teaches at Blackrock College and works with Le Chéile Donal Neary SJ:  Editor of The Sacred Heart Messenger and National Director of The Apostlship of Prayer.

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Michel DeVerteuil Lectio Divina with the Sunday Gospels www.columba.ie

Textual Comments

This is the final extract from chapter 6 of John’s gospel that the Church invites us to meditate on at this time. We have had three rather abstract passages and, no doubt, you will be relieved to find that we have a story again, just as we had at the opening of the chapter.

The story has several characters. In your meditation, listen carefully to yourself and you will find that you are reading the passage from the perspective of one of them; stay with that perspective so that you enter the story personally.

There is, first of all, Jesus, and you might like to focus on him as he relates with the other characters. Watch his inner freedom. Already in the account of the feeding we saw him sitting on the hillside allowing the people to come to him out of their own freedom. So, too, here he gives each group their space, those who reject him as well as the twelve – including the betrayer. He also tells us the secret of his inner freedom: he knows he is in his Father’s hands and no one can come to him unless the Father allows it. This inner freedom gives him space to see others clearly, so that he is not deceived by people.

Let your memories of great people who have touched your life confirm the truth of St John’s account of Jesus, and of course, let him reveal to you how God wishes to relate with us. Jesus’ words in verse 62 are difficult, but you might want to remain with them. “The Son of Man ascending to where he was before” probably refers to the painful journey through the passion which would test his followers to the utmost. Jesus, then, is the great leader who gives his followers a first test and judges whether they will survive the greater ones that lie ahead.

Every word of the great confession of Peter is important: the four statements are different aspects of the one deep commitment. What memories does this stir up in you?  Make sure not to be self-righteous as you read of those who rejected Jesus. They symbolize us when we find some demand of God difficult to accept. The use of the word “language” is significant. When our values go astray, we find the language of true believers alien to us.

The mention of the traitor might touch you. Judas is the symbol of the betrayal of Christian values that remains within every community and within each one of us.

Finally, there are the two sayings in verse 63 that are the kind of difficult sayings that occur several times in the chapter. As I have already urged you to do, be creative in your interpretation, asking yourself when you have experienced the truth of the sayings. “Flesh” here is whatever in our lives or in our Church lacks the true spirit of Jesus and therefore is not life-giving in the deepest sense. The second saying invites us to remember “words” that gave us life and to see how they could be considered “spirit”.

Prayer reflection

Lord, it sometimes happens that when we stand up for our values our companions stop going with us • because we will not discriminate against people of a different race; • because we refuse to give expressions of love that are not appropriate to a relationship; • because we criticize those in authority. Help us, Lord, when this happens, not to become bitter, not to give up our values, but to understand, as Jesus did, that we cannot force people to come to us and that a relationship will only develop if you allow it to.

Lord, we thank you for all the times in recent years when your Church has spoken out against injustice in different parts of the world, even when many of its members found this language intolerable and could not accept it.

Lord, we remember the time when we were upset because, for the first time, Jesus asked something hard of us. Now, looking back on it, we smile. What if we had known then how much is entailed in following him on his way to you?

Lord, we live at the surface of ourselves, and so we lack energy and creativity. Give us the grace to withdraw, from time to time, to the depths of ourselves. Only if we go to the level of the spirit can we really live.

Lord, many preachers are content to repeat what they have heard from others. We thank you for those whose words have been life to us because they speak from the depths of their experience.

Lord, forgive your Church that we take pride in our great achievements • the big numbers that attend our services • our influence with the rich and the powerful • our imposing buildings and prestigious institutions, forgetting that the flesh has nothing to offer. What will give life to the world is simplicity, truth, compassion, reverence for little people – all that we know to be the spirit of Jesus.

Lord, we thank you for the great moment when we knew we had made a life commitment • we met the person we should spend the rest of our life with • we gave our whole selves to a movement • we read the life of a great person and were never the same afterwards. We knew then that there was nowhere else for us to go; this was, for us, the way to eternal life. We believed and we knew that this was the Holy One of God. It was like that when people met Jesus.

Lord, to achieve anything worthwhile in life we have to take risks. We must go ahead and choose twelve, even though one of them eventually betrays us.

Lord, there was a time when we made a deep act of faith and became complacent. We thank you that you sent Jesus to us • a friend pointed out how self-righteous we had become • we fell into a sin we thought we had finished with. This was Jesus reminding us that the capacity to betray him is always part of us too.

Lord, send us leaders like Jesus who will proclaim their message, even if many of their followers find the language intolerable and impossible to accept; who will be free enough to turn even to their closest companions and say, “What about you, do you want to go away too?”.

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Thomas O’Loughlin Liturgical Resources for the Year of Matthew www.columba.ie

Introduction to the Celebration

Rather than give an introduction, say something like this: We are gathered here as sisters and brothers, members of the Body of Christ, so let us introduce ourselves to each other.

Gospel:

When the community hears this passage, be that the community listening to John thousands of years ago or the community who hear it read at the liturgy today, it is the intention that they identify themselves with the confession of Peter. They, the listeners, are those who have decided that they should go to Jesus — and there is no one else to go to; and they are those who believe that Jesus is the one with the message of eternal life; and that Jesus is the Holy One of God.

This text appears to be a challenge to those who are hearing the message of Jesus (just as Joshua appears as a challenge to the Israelites) and appears to be a situation: now you must choose: Jesus or not! However, in fact it is not a challenge as the assumption of John is that if you are listening to this, then you have already chosen. So, in reality, it is a statement of identity.

This fact about the narrative structure of both this first reading and this gospel has important consequences for preaching. It is all too easy to imagine that the preacher must now hold a challenge to the congregation: are you for Jesus? This is neither useful nor appropriate.It is not appropriate in that the community is there in Christ as baptised brothers and sisters, not some loose assemblage of people vaguely interested in what Jesus has to say. It is not useful in that it misses the point John wanted to make: know who you are, you are those who belong to the covenant, those who know that Jesus is the Bread of Life, the Holy One of God. Lastly, the natural unit of text extends to v 71 but the last two verses have been omitted, correctly, because (1) this heightens the dramatic effect of Peter’s confession, and (2) the last verses do not make sense when this passage is read as a lection in Mark’s Year.

Homily notes

1. Avoid making challenges! 2. Ask this question: Who are we as a people, what unites us, what draws us here, what makes us live the lives we do? 3. We are the community who assert with Peter that there is no one else, but Jesus, who has the message of eternal life. 4. We are the community who assert with Peter that Jesus is the Holy One of God. 5. Now let us stand up and state that formally in our profession of faith.

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Sean Goan Let the reader understand www.columba.ie

Gospel

We come now to the last extract from John’s gospel and the end of the discourse on the Bread of Life. It highlights a theme that began in chapter 5 of John and that is a growing opposition to and refusal to believe in Jesus. While earlier in the discourse it was the crowds who were having difficulty with Jesus’ presentation of himself as the bread of life, now it is his own disciples who are complaining that it is too much to expect them to accept what Jesus has said about himself. Jesus replies that what he is speaking about can only be understood through the work of the spirit, i.e. through the eyes of faith. Some find the challenge too much and cease to follow him and in response Jesus asks the twelve do they also wish to go away. Peter replies with a confession of faith that demonstrates that he (and they!) are beginning to grasp something of the revelation that Jesus brings. Because they believe then they know that he is indeed the Holy One of God.

Reflection

‘What about you, do you also want to go away? No-one can be press-ganged into discipleship and Jesus yet again puts the choice before us as we gather for our Sunday Eucharist. Why is there a crisis here? Is it because they cannot believe that Jesus can truly give of himself in the way he has described? Is faith in the Eucharist too much to ask for?Perhaps it is not so much an intellectual difficulty about how this can happen but rather an intuition about the far reaching implications of what he is saying. For in giving us himself he is asking us to forget about ourselves and maybe that is just too much. Yet Peter speaks for us all when he says: ‘Lord to whom shall we go? Nothing in the world with all its possibilities and attractions can nourish our hunger to love and be loved as completely as Jesus, our Bread of Life.

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Donal Neary SJ

Gospel Reflections

www.messenger.ie/bookshop/

Our Choices

 We remember big and small choices in life. Ones that effected life totally like a job, marriage, retirement, redundancy; having an operation or many more. Or Choices about the children that effected their lives – school, moving house, health issues.

Life is made up of many choices, big and small. Human, spiritual and religious choices.

Peter had this sort of choice today.  Would he go after Jesus or leave like others did.  He stayed and he would have many more attempts at that choice.  Why did he stay? Our choices come from something within us.   We need Christ within us if we are to follow him.

Peter had enough of love for Jesus inside him to make this choice,it might not always be easy and he would give in later but come back.  His choice eventually would be to answer Jesus’ question – do you love me?

The choice for Jesus is the choice for love.  In all sorts of ways. For those near at hand.  If you choose Jesus then the hunger of the world as well as the tears of a baby affects you.  What we do in love for others comes from the deepest part of life. We need to fill our lives with Christ to be able to share this love in big and small ways.

We need the company of other choosers.  The community of faith and of the church.  Peter says – to whom shall we go? We follow Christ together.

Let those words, ‘to whom shall I go, Lord’, echo in your prayer and talk to the Lord about how you feel. Lord we pray for support and strength in our following of you.

THE SOCIETY

based on @kittykitpanda headcanon My friends @elanev91 @beks21 and @levins18 and @petalstofish  are BULLIES. THEY BULLY ME

I was gonna post as a “HAPPY 45 DAYS UNTIL CHRIMA” tomorrow but know you nerds love Taylor more than me

ON FFN 

Living life without regrets was generally easy for James Potter. Mistakes, he would make and try to fix- but regrets were generally avoided and not something he would allow himself to have.

That was until Sixth Year Potions. James Potter believed he would regret being late to the first day of Advanced Potions for the rest of his life.

When he arrived only two minutes before class started, he was surprised to see Sirius Black sitting with Lily Evans. When he took the seat next to Remus he didn’t even have to ask for an explanation, “Sirius has decided that NEW MATE LILY EVANS should not be subjected to partner with ‘that foul racist greasy headed git’ so he has taken it upon himself to be Lily’s potions partner, and don’t even ask- I lost rock paper scissors for it as me. And then since you weren’t here and he knew you’d be pissed I had to do another round,” here Remus did his Sirius impression- which was basically just him yelling, “as James- he always does rock first Remus so I’m Evans’ partner”

Before James could protest or approach Sirius and demand a rock paper scissors redo, Professor Slughorn entered the room and started class.

Sixth Year was apparently going to be the worst, they were brewing some complicated ass potion that even Remus didn’t understand. They spent the entire class muttering “what the fuck is a dingle berry?” or  “wait- we were supposed to stir it how many times?” and “shit- I didn’t even see that ingredient back there.”

While James and Remus were dying a slow and painful death, Lily and Sirius seemed to be having the time of their lives. They were fucking laughing and leisurely working on the potion as if it were the easiest thing in the world and that brewing this fucking potion was actually enjoyable.

At the end of class when Slughorn was gathering their vials, he remarked “Ahh...Ms. Evans, Mr. Black- you’ve brewed a perfect potion and earned yourself a break from homework.”

When he and Remus were assigned an extra foot of parchment, James found himself cursing the extra piece of bacon he ate at breakfast that made him late.

As they headed back to their common room for a free period, Lily caught up with him.

“Tough luck, Potter,” Lily sympathized as she linked arms with him. Despite his scowl, his heart sped up a little bit.

“That's alright Evans, I’ll be sure to be on time and then we can be partners,” he smiled back to her.

“NOPE,” Sirius exclaimed, as he came between them and dropped his arms over their shoulders, “The early Marauder gets the worm and in the case of potions Evans is the best worm there is and I intend to keep her.”

“First of all,” Lily started, “I am not a worm- but I am stuck with Sirius because Slughorn said we’d be partners with whoever we matched with today for the rest of this term. Secondly, I’ve told you calling yourself The Marauders is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. It won’t ever catch on and you just seem like a bunch of weirdos who named your friend group for no discernible reason.”

“IT IS NOT STUPID!!!” all of the boys responded loudly and angrily.

“Well, it’s bloody confusing. My mother thought I was involved in gang activity or something when you lot came round to apologize about the O.W.L. incident and told her ‘We are the Marauders and we have important business with your daughter.’”

Lily relented, “I had to explain to her that you were basically 8 year old boys who somehow found your way home from Neverland. But then you all charmed your way into my house and now my mother is planning your Christmas jumpers. ”

“Well, we Marauders are incredibly charming and fit, don’t you know,” Sirius explained.

“Idiots, the lot of you, I don’t know why I waste my time,” Lily exhaled, but her smile was very telling.

Lily and Sirius becoming potions partners began to cause a multitude of problems for James Potter. He had to watch as his best mate became better mates with the girl of his dreams. He had to watch as Sirius kept that ‘that foul racist greasy headed git’ from speaking to Lily. And worst of all he had to watch as Lily and Sirius began to have inside jokes- most of which were at his expense.

One night in mid-October, James returned from quidditch practice to find Lily and Sirius inexplicably sitting in the common room wearing matching Christmas pajamas. If this wasn’t bizarre enough, Sirius had his head in Lily’s lap and he was instructing her on how to “do a proper French braid.”

James sat down across from them and was completely ignored until Lily said “ok- now switch.”

As they switched places and Sirius began to braid Lily’s hair, James was greeted with Lily’s smile and a “How was Quidditch, Potter?”

James ranted about his team and Lily gave some advice on “people management” and “leadership.” They chatted happily for the better part of an hour. Sirius was focused on braiding Lily’s hair into a series of complicated overlapping and intertwined knots.

As Sirius finished his masterpiece he cleared his throat and declared “You know Evans, I believe that your hair is as Beautiful as Life Itself, and as a man who also has hair that is as Beautiful as Life Itself- we should start a society.”

James knew that this wasn’t going to end well when Lily turned around to Sirius, grinning, and responded, “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Naturally we need to create requirements. Like length, quality of shine and of course-” she turned to James and grinned, “-neatness. Can’t have messy hair in our society.”

James started, “Oh for fucks sake-”

But Sirius stopped him “She’s right, James. I’m calling our first meeting to order and since you do not meet the requirements for membership, you have to leave”

“Right, right. Anyway Lily, back to what I was-” James started again but was once again interrupted, this time by Lily,  “Sorry Potter, Sirius is right. We have to work out these details. I’m sure you’re tired from Quidditch and you still stink. I’ll talk to you at breakfast- yeah?”

Grumbling to himself, James retreated to his dorm.

Lily Evans did not speak to James Potter at breakfast. In fact she and Sirius were missing all morning.

When James arrived at the potions classroom (10 minutes early thankyouverymuch) he discovered where his alleged mates Sirius and Lily had gotten to. He stood out of sight and eavesdropped.

“Thank you so much for sponsoring this society professor,” Lily cooed in a disgustingly sweet voice, “we think it will really help boost student confidence and inter-House unity”

“Yes,” Sirius added in his lawyer voice, “and shouldn’t the beautiful people of this school get the recognition they deserve?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Slughorn pontificated loudly, “I am very honored that you invited me to sponsor it. It is a shame you never got to see my hair that was so beautiful when I was younger but I am honored with the honorary membership. Your bylaws and membership all seem to be in order so I am happy to sign and forward to the headmaster. Now I’ll just take this paperwork and this pineapple and will be right back to start class.”

As soon as Slughorn’s retreated into his office, James witnessed Lily and Sirius do the most ridiculous victory dance.

Entering the room James stated, “I can’t believe you’ve made an official club.”

“SOCIETY!” was yelled back at him

“Alright alright society,” James acknowledged, “and because I know you need five members to make if official- I’ll join”

He was met with laughter.

“Sorry to break your heart James, but Lily here already found three other members,” Sirius announced proudly, “and mate, we told you last night you don’t meet the qualifications.”

Scoffing, James asked, “Who?”

“Membership is confidential,” Lily explained and patted James sympathetically on the shoulder.

Potions that day was the absofuckinglutelyworst shit James had ever endured.

Again, they had to use dingle berries and he swore the instructions kept changing.

“Seriously Remus, what the fuck are those?” James wailed as their potion turned blue and not ‘a pleasing shade of yellow’ that they were going for.

But Professor Slughorn was besotted with Lily and Sirius the entire class. Lily and Sirius’ potion was one shade of yellow lighter than James and was pronounced “More Beautiful Than Life Itself”

James was seriously considering just how terrible Azkaban might be for a double murder by lunch.

Her wrote to his mum for advice a week later when he discovered that REMUS FUCKING LUPIN was one of the Fabulous Original Five. James had only discovered this piece of information while looking for the fucking map in Sirius’ damn nest of a bed that was covered in parchment, scraps of bacon, dirty socks and jumpers James had never seen.

While James was sifting through the garbage to find the map he stumbled upon an folder written  in Lily’s hand labeled:

Official Hogwarts Society for Witches and Wizards with Hair as Beautiful as Life Itself Official TOP SECRET Business

Naturally, he opened the folder and began to peruse the documents.

He passed by the 23 page long bylaws and found the membership page.

On it was written

We the members of the Hogwarts Society for Witches and Wizards with Hair as Beautiful as Life Itself Hereby Solemnly Swear to never reveal our membership to anyone (especially James Fleamont Potter) 1.Sirius Black 2.Lily Evans 3. Thomas Gunn 4.Katie George 5. Remus Lupin

REMUS LUPIN.

REMUS LUPIN.

His mate. His best mate who had laughed about the stupid hair society was a member and a dirty dity liar. James hated all of his friends. So he did what any only child would do. He wrote to his mother to complain about his fucking traitor mates.

His mum, however was no help.

James,

It sounds like Sirius and Lily are just trying to irritate you. Just ignore them.

You do have fabulous hair, dear. It's just not as fabulous as Sirius’. I’ve never seen Lily’s but if it is half as fabulous as you’ve made it sound- I don’t blame them for excluding you.

Focus on something else.

Love,

Mum

Ignoring THE SOCIETY was easier said than done. The five members had grown to 25 by January and the anonymity thing apparently had gone out the window. James had bit his tongue about every single member, but when he overheard Nigel Fucking Babbington asking Thomas Gunn about the next SOCIETY MEETING, he lost it.

He ran into the boys dormitory and raged, “NIGEL CLIVE BABBINGTON, SIRIUS?!?! His hair is decent at best”

“It's the beard, mate,” Sirius lazily responded.

Somehow, James made it to April without killing Lily or Sirius or any other members of THE SOCIETY.

The only upside to Lily and Sirius starting THE SOCIETY was that it meant Lily was around a lot more. Whenever she and Sirius weren’t whispering on corners and giggling- she was having actual meaningful conversations with James.

Lily had even started accompanying James to quidditch practice and keeping stats for him. James learned she was absolutely mad about sports and he was intrigued by football, which Lily described in great detail and told him “I’ll take you to a match over the summer”.

The prospect of spending time alone with Lily over the summer kept him in a good mood for a week.

That was until on April 15th, he was awoken by Lily Evans bursting into their dorm and announcing, “SIRIUS GET UP YOU’RE LATE!”

There was much commotion and grumbling as Sirius quickly jumped out of bed and pulled on his shoes “Sorry Lily! I forgot to set my alarm”

“Forgot? This is official and important society business!” Lily was saying and holding up a massive wig

“Fuck Evans, The Sun Isn’t Even Up!” James complained

“I KNOW JAMES. That is the point. Sirius. If I get pulled into the fucking Great Lake again trying to induct Goofy-” Lily was raging

“Goofy?” James asked

“THE SQUID,” was the chorus reply

“You’re inducting the squid?” James asked and sat up

“YES- PAY ATTENTION. We had to name him so we could write his name on the roster. Sirius thought SUNSET was the most docile time for squids but it is SUNRISE and he needs to get his ass out of the door so we can get this done.

“WHAT A FUCKINMINUTE” James yelled, “I have been trying to ignore this fuckery and these shenanigans attached to THE SOCIETY since it began but this is the final straw. THE SQUID?!? FIRST OF ALL- IT IS BALD! IT IS NOT A MAMMAL! IT DOESN’T HAVE A BELLYBUTTON OR HAIR?!? HOW CAN YOU PUT THE FUCKIN SQUID IN THE CLUB-”

“SOCIETY” Lily and Sirius roared

“FUCK! I don't understand how you can induct a squid but not your best mate?” Jame finished totally exasperated

Offended, Lily explained, “We are giving Goofy a wig. And honestly, he’s been looking a little down in the dumps lately so we thought giving him hair and including him would boost his spirits. Now come on Sirius we are late!”

James watched, horrified and totally depressed as Lily and Sirius excited the dorm and Sirius said simply “Later mate.”

As James tried to go back to sleep he heard Remus say quietly “I fucking hate you all” and Peter’s response “I’m moving out tomorrow.”

As was his custom when he was upset, James ignored Sirius and Lily for two weeks. They didn’t seem to fucking notice though because they were too busy plotting something else that had to do with THE SOCIETY. He was sure he had seen them hiding invitations from him and all manner of decorations and trinkets.

When their probation period was over, James sat next to Lily at breakfast. “Ah, speaking to me again are we?” she implored as she handed him the bacon.

“Yes,” James responded, “your two weeks is up.”

“You are the most dramatic person in my life James Potter. And I say this as someone who is currently co president of a society with Sirius Black,” Lily started

“Please don’t bring up your rubbish cl-society with me, alright?” James pleaded

Rolling her eyes Lily changed subjects “Fine. I really want to yell at you about how Palmer needs to get his act together on the Quidditch Pitch anyway”

For the rest of the term, Lily and Sirius carefully avoided bringing up THE SOCIETY around James.

That was until after the final presummer postseason quidditch practice. As Lily was helping James put away the equipment she casually asked him, “So I know I’m not supposed to bring up THE SOCIETY around you but, well Sirius has planned this mad end of year gala with Slughorn’s help and it’s invitation only. I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go? With me? If not I mean I know you think its stupid but I thought-” she trailed off.

James’ mind was reeling. Holy fucking shit this was it. This was finally it. Lily Evans was finally fucking asking him. He’d been waiting so long and had been so patient.

He was finally getting invited into THE SOCIETY and he was going to be inducted at the end of the year gala!

“YES!” James said, a little too excitedly and then amended, “I mean sounds fun, what should I wear?”

Grinning, Lily started to explain the finer points of the semi formal gala and how she was excited because Slughorn had even managed to get permission to serve wine at the event.

They chatted happily on the walk back to the tower and James made a mental note to write to his dad to ask for some of that new potion so he’d look nice for his induction.

The night of THE GALA, James carefully styled his hair into a pompadour and finished I️t off with 4 sprays of THE NEW SLEEKEAZY’S LUCIOUS LOCKS SPRAY. He felt that his hair, did in fact look more fabulous than life itself. Until he entered the dorm room and was accosted by Sirius demanding, “What the fuck have you done to your hair?”

“I wanted to look nice for my induction tonight Sirius fuck off,” James explained

“Excuse me your WHAT?” Sirius asked as he narrowed his eyes

“Lily invited me to the gala tonight to join THE SOCIETY” James said, barely containing his excitement

“THE FUCK SHE DID. EXCUSE ME I HAVE TO YELL AT MY CO-PRESIDENT!” Sirius exclaimed as he walked out of the door

20 minutes later, James was finishing getting ready and making sure his robes looked neat and pressed when Sirius entered again looking a little stunned.

“Mate, you need to sit down for this” Sirius said grimly

“Oh shuttup Sirius you can’t veto it or some shit like that Evans asked me,” James responded irritably.

“Yes,” Sirius pronounced, “Lily Evans did ask you to go to the gala tonight. But not to be inducted. NAY-” and this he emphasized by putting his hand on his heart, “LILY EVANS ASKED YOU TO THE GALA AS HER DATE BECAUSE SHE FANCIES YOU.”

James sat down.

His heart was racing.

He couldn’t breathe

Trying to process James stated, “She….Lily….Lily Evans asked me on a date? And I said yes? And I didn’t even know it was a date...I….I…..”

“You’re really fucking thick sometimes James. I mean she’s been after you all spring. Following you around, going to quidditch. She told me she figured you were scared or something so she asked you.” Sirius explained to him slowly like a child

James was still panicking “She…..she…...she….I…..a date? But…..and the hair…..and”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Sirius said and vanished

Two minutes later James was still trying to process this when Lily Evans herself entered the dorm she stopped short and exclaimed,  “What the fuck did you do to your hair James?”

“I ….thought….induction...loook…..nice….not….date” James tried to explain and failed

Pinching the bridge of her nose Lily exhaled “God Bless……”

She suddenly stood up straight,, crossed over to him and kissed him.

Stunend, James didn't react but simply stared at her when she pulled away.

“Look James Potter. I fancy you. You’re going to get your hair out of that ridiculous pompadour. Get your shit together and then come down stairs and charm the shit out of me with some idiotic compliment. Then, we will go to the party. If you’re lucky, we’ll sneak a bottle of wine out and go snog behind some tapestry. You’ve got 15 minutes so please try to be on time,” her final orders given Lily swept from the room.

James had never been as prompt as he was that evening. 14 minutes later, he met Lily in the common and did in fact “charm the shit out of her”.  They went to THE GALA and Lily acted as if the pep talk in the dormitory hadn’t ever happened.

Later, behind the tapestry while she was running a hand through his hair Lily told him “You know, your hair is as beautiful as life itself. We were wrong”

I'm still salty about what they did to Billy's character in season 4... "he betrayed his brothers because ANGER" GAH WHY

2nd message:

vincisomething ha dicho:  I mean how can you take the ship's mother and then be like "he's angry now and doesn't care about anyone anymore" ?? ??? He still sided with Flint for the sake of his brothers, but I guess nvm??        

Hi there!

I know how you feel. It’s been almost a year since the show ended and I still can’t get over Billy Bones’ fate in season 4 nor understand the hate he gets in the fandom.

This morning I was talking with my bf about this message you sent me and how I haven’t been very active in the BS fandom lately. Every post of BS  in my dash is about Silverflint or Flinthamilton (which is great for the people who like their relationships or who are in love with those characters, but it’s not my case) and I got bored of having them in my dash. When I see a post about Billy I am skeptical, I mean, I am like Billy (as honorable as they come) so if I see that someone has said something bad about him, or are rude to him, I simply avoid them, I don’t like to have verbal fights (after all everyone has their right to give their opinions) so I just act like a ghost and let them be. It wasn’t until I saw the post  “how to fight a BS character”, or something like that, where they  suggest to push Billy again to the sea, when I had enough. I had enough of people joking about him, enough of people being rude to him and enough of people not understanding him, that’s why I made the comic post. I needed to show my support for  Billy, and I needed to let people know that he’s not the villain of the story. My bf has told me that if it wasn’t for all the character interpretation or explanations I gave to him about Billy during the 4th season, he would had seen him as the villain of the story too and not as the victim he is. He also understands his motivations and everything that he’s been through the show, and he doesn’t get why people can’t see it too. We both believe that Billy deserved better.

During the last season, and even though I was (and still I am) a  Billy and Flint shipper, I only wanted one thing: Flint and Billy to have a proper conversation about their situation and truest intentions. I didn’t care about Blint or Flint anymore, I just wanted someone to thank Billy for everything he had achived and I wished there was someone who could listen and respect Billy the way he deserved. But then again none did, not in the show and even less in the fandom (well there were some people who were defending Billy too, but then again we were very few).

In my opinion, as I told in the comments of my last post, I think the writers screw Billy up for the sake of Silver and Flint’s relationship. I don’t know if it’s bad wrtiting or not, I am not going that way. But I think that the writers wanted to make Silver the hero and free Flint and they needed  a close or familiar villain to do so, and there enters Billy.

On the contrary to Silver’s character, Billy is always in the wrong place at the wrong time, he's unlucky. He gets to know things too early or too late, or never at all. His thoughts and actions are misunderstood by his context. Even though he’s pure at heart and believes in the good side of people and cares for his crew, his dark side, his traumas, had made him very paranoid and straightfoward when there's something that he doesn't see as right or that is going on without his consent. I am the first to say that Billy is a cinammon roll and that he's just a puppy, but the truth is that Billy is a man who has gone through so much trauma and physichal pain that he can act too bitter and cold hearted when the tension explodes. The fact that we've never seen him that way before season 4 doesn't mean he's not a dark character. The reason why he hadn't explode earlier in the show is because he hadn't had the time to happen. I mean, he has been left for dead in season 1-2 after he discovered Miranda's letter. Then he disappears and we never get to know if Flint pushed him or not from the ship, he doesn't even care about it. He comes back changed.

He always does. @kelofthesea explains it very well in this post (please take a look at it and then continue):

Then again, when he comes back from his second time being tortured by the English Navy, he still sides by Flint, by his crew. He wants to protect all of them, even the Captain. What he wants in season 3, and Silver also does, is to get Flint aside of the power, they don't like what James "suicidal mode" Flint is making to the crew after Miranda's death. He believes that Silver, for the sake of the crew, wants the same as he, that's why he creates the legend of Long John Silver. He stays in Nassau for the sake of the resistence. Vane dies, but it wasn't Billy's fault. Vane wanted to die and he tells Billy not to rescue him. Vane valued and respected Billy as a pirate like no one did, and he knew Billy would understand his will. So we can't blame Billy for Vane's death, that's for sure.

When season 4 starts,  Flint and Silver are already friends, and Billy doesn't have a clue about it. Flint has told his story with Thomas to Silver (and Billy is still clueless, and it's funny becauise Thomas is the reason why Flint fights for) and, as we end up seeing at the end of the show, he has shared some fighting strategies with Silver too (while Billy was maintaining the plan in Nassau). In those scenes Flint asks Silver about his past. Silver tells him that it's not important, maybe because the trauma doesn't allow him to speak about it. But Flint realises about one important thing when Silver tells him that he was born in Whitechapel: "I remember when you first told me, it sounded like an invention. About one story that bled into others I’d heard told elsewhere to the crew. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I suppose I assumed that if you ever became somebody worth knowing, I’d learn the truth of it eventually. Only in this moment, I’m realizing that never happened. And what is of some concern to me is that despite how invested we each are in the future of the other you just told me that story again". Flint wants to know the truth about Silver, his truest backstory, he has entrusted his. He knows that one story was just a ticket for Silver to survive in the crew, Flint might thought that after the traumas Silver has gone through in the Walrus (loosing his leg, witnessing Muldon's death...) and most importantly his frienship with him, Silver would have told him a more intimate and truer backstory. But he doesn't. Why? because he's a liar. He's always been. I am not sayig that Silver's relationship with Flint is fake. Just saying that I've never trusted Silver cause he uses the stories (his or anyones) for his own benefits, and even if the trauma of his past doesn't let him talk, we never ever get to know were he comes from (or any kind of anger caused by that trauma).

Billy case is similiar but different. He never gets to talk about his past, we learn about his childhood when Flint tells Abigail about it. Flint knows the truth, knows how the life of Billy changed when he was just a kid. He witnessed how Billy changed again when he killed his first man and he realised he couldn't go back home to his parents because he became a murder. Trauma changes people, and Billy has change from trauma to trauma. We have witness it. He doesn't talk about what they did to him, or complains about it, he acts as if nothing had changed in him. But the truth is everything has change, and then he gives that powerfull speech to Dufresne about the tortures effetcs. He's showing his backstory without showing us what really he went through.

In season 4 Billy goes from one misunderstanding to another. First one when Flint's ship is attacked and Silver falls to the sea. Flint inmidietly blames Billy. But then again it wasn't Billy's fault. He gave the alarm and sent Featherstone to tell them. Then we learn that Max was behind it all the time, was she ever condemned by it? No. When they are at Miranda's house, Billy is having enough of mainsplaining from Flint and he faces him telling him that Flint is not the one in command in Nassau. Billy is the responsible of the resistance and he has fight and bleed along the men, not him. And he's right. He's also fucked up because of the disappearance of Silver, cause he was his friend too, so he continues to act according to the plan, get Flint out of the war. But he doesn't count with Madi, so now he has Madi as Flint's ally so there's not much he can do to continue with his plan other disobeying Flint's commands.

What happened in Underhill was Billy's fault, ok. But he was done with the situation of having everyone against him, having Flint telling him what to do. As I understand it wasn't a racist attack to the slaves. Billy knows what it feels like to be treaten like a slave. He was kidnapped when he was a teen, so he knows how this people must feel, being parted from their family, just like him. In my opinion he wanted in one hand to continue with the plan, not hearing Flint's advice (though this time Flint was right) and in the other hand he wanted to rebeal to Flint, just to show him that he wasn't under his control anymore. I understand his acts and I support him, why not?

When he gets the crew killed (I can't remember very well the plot cause I'm still unable to rewatch season 4, so tell me if I am wrong please) in the first episodes of the season, everyone started to hate him, cancelling him and stuff like that. And I was like, why are they condemning Billy now and not other charaters who did similar things before? Didn't Flint killed Gates because he was revealing againts him after Billy's death? Didn't Flint killed two crew members when they all were going through a rough time in the ship when they were adrift? Didn't Silver planned to steal and played Flint with the Urca's gold (and someone who was working in his plan got killed in the way)? Didn't Anne Bony killed Longan and then Charlott (a pure and inocent gilr who created Jack's flag image) in the burdel? Why is it so difficult to forgive Billy? He was the leader of the resistence and did what he had to do, they were collateral damage, and he is responsible of that, yeah, but he is not the only one who has taken bad decisions in the show, but it seems like he's the only one who people can't forgive, and that's something that I can't understand.

Then, when Flint is in the fort and they are about to "give" Eleanor the treasure, Billy stands and tries to get Flint alive and the treasure back, but what he doesn't know is that Silver is playing him, bringing him to a rat trap. And it's funny cause that's what at the end Silver ends up doing: setting Flint free (letting him become James McGraw again). At least that's my opinion. Billy didn't want to kill Flint, he wanted to restrain him, cancel him. But then again, I guess Billy's next moves made him untrusted again when he goes to Rogers and claims to be Long John Silver himself.

But what did people expect Billy to do when he has been tortured for the third time in his life by his crew and his friend? How would you feel if you had a plan with your best friend (or co-worker friend) and you both wanted to get your crazy boss out of your way, but then you realized that during the time you were bussy creating and maintaining the plan they both become close friends and then they blame you for everything, never revealing you the truth? How do you think Billy would feel in that situation, being tortured for the third time (I repeat)? That moment was what made him change compleatly and made him go to Rogers. I was glad when he went to him and told him the whole truth. He is Long John Silver, he has being fighting and scaring Nassau with the resistance. He was the one behind that legend, and nobody thanked him anything the whole time. He screwed up creating that persona, yes, but it was necesary for the resistance. So yeah! I was glad about it, and at one point I thought that maybe Billy was planning to play Rogers for the sake of a plot twist, where we could find that Billy was good all along... but it didn't happend. What we got was, once again, an ally who was going to use and abuse Billy and who was not going to listen or respect him. So yeah, it's sad, very sad.

At the end, when he fights with Flint, I truly don't know what to say... it's painful for me to remember it, and even harder to get a conclusion. The only thing I know is that Billy is one of the greates characters I've seen. Too dark, and to too pure. When he gets up in the beach and realises that he's left alone in the island we can clearly see all the shit he has gone through.

For me it feels like both Billy and Silver are like the most hard working kid in class and the cheater one. When the hard working (who's backstory seems kind of dark) gets good marks and compleats every homework or task the teacher asks it's always fine. Everybody kind of envies and admires him cause he's never ever gave any problem before and they know what to expect from him. The cheater copies, tells jokes, is charismatic but everything he does is always wrong (we don't know for sure his backstory but we know it must be kind of bad). He sometimes blames others or makes up stories to get away with punishmients, he's unexpected. But what happens when the hardworking starts to rebeal and the cheater makes one right thing (hen the hardworker has had enough of dealing with his traumas, and the cheater who has suffered too, redeems himself or another)? That they all punish the hardworker for his behaviour, not expecting it from him, and prize the cheater for the only good thing he has done, that was also unexpected! That's not fair. They both need to be treated in a more equal way. Yeah, the good guy made a mistake, but pay close attention to that mistake and find the truth behind it, help him to get it from his chest. And yeah the cheater is great too, we can encourage him to be that way, but not forgeting all the things he has done before.

I don't know what kind of metaphore I came up with, but what I want to say is that I understad Billy and his actions, in fact I understand every BS characters decisions and acts too and I also support them. I think that what I really mean is that Billy has gone from being the mom of the Walrus to the reek of the Walrus because they wanted to prize Silver. I mean, I think that Silver is a very complicated and interesting character and I love his arch, but I still believe that he's a liar and I still can't believe the ending of the show, cause it's a story told by himself, and we all know that stories could be true or not, so I mantain my instincts. And about Billy, who knows, maybe he didn't end up that way... and season 4 never happend! ;)

Thank you so much for the ask. It's been a long while since I wrote something about Billy and his character arch in season 4! As I told before I haven't rewatched the 4th season, so maybe I am wrong in somethings, forgive me for that in advance an let me know if so. I don't know if I answered your question, but it all came to me as I was writing it (I spent the whole afternoon in this). Thank you again!

Queen Margaret and Henry VI were joined by sex coach in bed, book claims - Daily Mail

New Post has been published on https://harryandmeghan.xyz/queen-margaret-and-henry-vi-were-joined-by-sex-coach-in-bed-book-claims-daily-mail/

Queen Margaret and Henry VI were joined by sex coach in bed, book claims - Daily Mail

Few royals appear to have suffered from lack of privacy more than the current generation. When the Duchess of Sussex complained about the indignity of her private correspondence (with her father) being revealed to the world, it was hard not to be sympathetic.

Unpleasant though the intrusion was, the Duchess should be grateful she wasn’t born in the 15th century.

Then, every aspect of the Royal Family’s lives was monitored — including their most intimate moments, where they were surrounded by attendants, courtiers, priests and ministers.

The BBC’s The Hollow Crown – War of the Roses showed King Henry VI’s wedding to Margaret of Anjou. In the 15th century, royal marriages were traditionally blessed with ‘bedding ceremonies’

Even the most reticent kings and queens had to conduct their sexual lives in front of onlookers. What they did, with whom, and how often was known to the entire court by the following morning.

The detailed retelling of every act of love-making was regarded not so much as salacious gossip, but constitutional business.

On a royal wedding night, the ritual of the bedroom was observed to ensure that the marriage had been consummated and was thus legally binding. As a monarch’s first duty was to provide an heir, any sexual failure had political consequences.

It was partly, of course, because royal marriages were largely dynastic and the begetting of a legitimate heir could save a country from bloody struggles of succession.

Never was this more perilous than during the reign of Henry VI, who succeeded to the throne in 1422 at the age of nine months, and was the only English monarch to have also been crowned king of France.

A virgin until he married at 24, he was also mentally unstable. Unlike his father who crushed the French at Agincourt, Henry loathed warfare and was timid and shy.

Yet his lack of passion for conquest and military success were unimportant when offset against his eight-year struggle to produce an heir. Without a successor, the kingdom’s future was in jeopardy. And it was for his endeavours — or lack of them — in the royal bedchamber that he was judged.

Every moment of the Royals’ lives was monitored as they were constantly surrounded by attendants, courtiers, priests and ministers

Ben Miles starred as the Earl of Somerset alongside Sophie Okonedo as Queen Margaret in The Hollow Crown

Historian Lauren Johnson has suggested that the court took matters into its own hands.

She has uncovered evidence in the National Archives and Royal Household accounts showing that when his wife, Margaret of Anjou, visited the king’s bedroom, they were sometimes joined by trusted attendants. ‘Was it because the famously chaste Henry didn’t know what he was doing?’ Johnson asks.

‘I think it’s entirely possible that it had reached a certain point where it perhaps became necessary to make clear to him what he should be doing.’

Royal marriages were traditionally blessed with ‘bedding ceremonies’ in which the newlyweds would be put to bed — the bride undressed by her ladies and the groom escorted to the bedchamber by musicians and priests.

Sometimes they demanded to see the couple’s naked legs entwined — an accepted sign of consummation. On other occasions the attendants did not withdraw until they heard the sound of passion.

The morning after, their bed-linen might be displayed as proof of the act, which in turn led the phrase ‘to air one’s dirty linen in public’.

But what Henry and Margaret experienced was different.

‘This was not just their wedding night, it was an ongoing thing,’ says Johnson, who suggests that Henry had a coach in his bed to teach him how to have sex.

She quotes the Ryalle Bok of court protocol that records how once the king was in bed, he would send for the queen.

Another witness described that when the king and queen lay together, his chamberlain lay ‘in the same chamber’. Johnson says it is not clear when the attendants left, ‘leaving open the intriguing suggestion that they remained to make sure the marriage bed was properly used.

Sophie Okonedo plays Queen Margaret in the Hollow Crown which is set during the War of the Roses. Some historians believe that when Margaret went into her husband’s bedroom they were joined by trusted attendants 

‘The evidence that there are people staying in the king’s bedroom potentially some years after he is married . . . is very odd.’

Her book, Shadow King: The Life And Death Of Henry VI, says the young sovereign’s inability to sire an heir undermined his masculinity and authority.

But eventually Henry did produce a son, Edward of Lancaster, who was killed during the Wars of the Roses — the only heir to the throne to die in battle.

Henry was not the only boy-king to need lessons in lovemaking.

Two centuries later, Louis XIV of France also was a student, albeit a more attentive one. The Sun King was a great royal philanderer, despite the size of his manhood, which, according to one spurned lover, was on the small side.

It all began at the age of 15 when his mother sought a woman to teach her beloved Louis that beds were not just for sleeping in.

The woman had to be discreet, experienced but not too experienced. Looks scarcely mattered — which was just as well for the Baroness de Beauvais, a lady-in- waiting of almost 40, who had one eye and was no beauty.

But ‘one-eyed Kate’ was an experienced courtesan and credited with the ‘picking of the royal cherry’, as the taking of his virginity was later described.

It was considered a service to the nation and she was rewarded with two houses in Paris, a hotel and a pension. Louis remained a willing student and frequently visited her over the years.

In 18th-century Europe, the sex lives of the royals continued to be a topic of discussion.

After seven years of marriage and no pregnancies, Joseph II, the Holy Roman Emperor, sought the advice of his worldly brother-in-law Louis XVI — soon to lose his head to the guillotine in the French Revolution.

Joseph told Louis of his sexual activities and the reason for his lack of offspring became apparent. ‘He has strong erections, he puts his member in, stays there without stirring for two minutes perhaps then withdraws without ejaculating, still with an erection and wishes her good night,’ Louis later reported.

The situation was no less different for queens. In Britain, the menstrual cycle of the virgin Elizabeth I was the subject of fierce debate.

Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou with their courtiers while John Talbot, the Earl of Shrewsbury kneels before the Queen to present her with a book 

Determined to know if she was fertile, Philip II of Spain was said to have bribed her laundress to supply intimate details.

Her priapic father, Henry VIII, also had a very public sex life. When he married Anne of Cleves, the Royal Household purchased an erotic bed-head.

It was carved with two small cherubs of unmistakeable gender — on the king’s side, one clutching his outsize codpiece. On the queen’s side, a female cherub in vulgar centrefold style.

Unfortunately, the aphrodisiac furniture had little effect. Henry found Anne so hideous that, as he told Thomas Cromwell, his chief minister, he was unable to make love to her and the marriage was swiftly annulled.

So WHATEVER anxieties the Duchess of Sussex is experiencing as the birth of her first baby draws near, she can console herself with the knowledge that they cannot compare with those of her royal predecessors.

Had she been carrying a king’s child 500 years ago, up to 70 people would be present in the birthing chamber, in part to ensure there was no sleight of hand with an infant imposter being installed.

This tradition of having senior dignitaries present continued well into the 20th century.

When the Queen was born in Mayfair on April 21, 1926, Home Secretary Sir William-Joynson Hicks was present, while his successor John Clynes was detained in Scotland for two weeks in 1930 awaiting the overdue arrival of Princess Margaret at Glamis Castle.

The last time a Home Secretary bore witness at a royal birth was for that of the Queen’s cousin Princess Alexandra in 1936. By the time the Prince of Wales was born in 1948. the practice had died out.

Mind you, the presence of fathers at births was even then still much too modern. When Charles arrived, Prince Philip was playing squash.

Source: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-6718941/Queen-Margaret-Henry-VI-joined-sex-coach-bed-book-claims.html

It feels like 1991 all over again.

That year, Clarence Thomas was nominated by President George H.W. Bush to the Supreme Court, and Anita Hill testified that he had sexually harassed her when they worked together several years prior. Sen. Joe Biden, then the chair of the Senate Judiciary Committee, failed to call additional witnesses whose testimony could have supported Hill’s account. Thomas has now served on the Supreme Court for nearly 30 years.

Today, the details are different but the basic outline is eerily similar. In July, Christine Blasey Ford reported to Democrats in Congress that Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh tried to sexually assault her when they were both in high school. He has denied the allegation. On September 16, Ford came forward under her name in an interview with the Washington Post.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-CA), the ranking Democrat on the Judiciary Committee, knew about the allegation but declined to share it with the other Democrats on the committee, according to Ronan Farrow and Jane Mayer at the New Yorker. So it didn’t come up during Kavanaugh’s confirmation hearings.

Hill addressed the allegations against Kavanaugh on September 14, saying through a spokesperson that “the reluctance of someone to come forward demonstrates that even in the #MeToo era, it remains incredibly difficult to report harassment, abuse or assault by people in power.” She added that “the Senate Judiciary Committee should put in place a process that enables anyone with a complaint of this nature to be heard.”

Now the news is out, and the question is whether 2018 will be a replay of 1991. The past year, of course, has seen the rise of the #MeToo movement, as more and more Americans come forward to report sexual harassment and assault. Some of those accused — though not all — have faced significant consequences, including the loss of their jobs or, in a few cases, criminal prosecution.

But the outcome of the allegations against Kavanaugh will be a profound test of the power of #MeToo. Before the movement began, a Supreme Court nominee could be publicly accused of sexual misconduct and — due in part to the inaction of Democrats in Congress — be confirmed anyway. So far, Kavanaugh’s confirmation process has unfolded in much the same way Thomas’s did. We’re about to find out if the result will be the same.

Ford told the Post that she wrote a letter in July to her Congress member, Rep. Anna Eshoo (D-CA), alleging that when she and Kavanaugh were in high school in the early 1980s, he attempted to sexually assault her at a party. Kavanaugh attended Georgetown Preparatory School in Bethesda, Maryland, and graduated in 1983, while Ford went to a neighboring school.

At the party, Ford said Kavanaugh held her down and covered her mouth with his hand. She said she feared for her life, and that the experience affected her for years, contributing to symptoms of anxiety and PTSD.

“I categorically and unequivocally deny this allegation,” Kavanaugh said in a statement to the New Yorker. “I did not do this back in high school or at any time.”

Feinstein also received the letter, Farrow and Mayer report, but declined to share it with her fellow Democrats on the Judiciary Committee. “A source familiar with the committee’s activities said that Feinstein’s staff initially conveyed to other Democratic members’ offices that the incident was too distant in the past to merit public discussion, and that Feinstein had ‘taken care of it,’” Farrow and Mayer write.

After contacting Eshoo and Feinstein, the woman apparently stopped trying to speak out. “She had repeatedly reported the allegation to members of Congress and, watching Kavanaugh move toward what looked like an increasingly assured confirmation, she decided to end her effort to come forward,” Farrow and Mayer write.

Her report might never have seen the light of day, had Ryan Grim of the Intercept not reported on the existence of the letter on September 12. After more details came to light in the New Yorker, some progressive groups are calling for Kavanaugh to withdraw his nomination. Meanwhile, Sen. Chuck Grassley (R-IA), the chair of the Judiciary Committee, released a letter from 65 women who knew Kavanaugh in high school saying that he “behaved honorably and treated women with respect.”

After hearings in early September, during which Kavanaugh offered evasive answers to questions about abortion rights, affirmative action, and other subjects, his confirmation seemed all but assured. It remains to be seen whether the newly revealed allegations will meaningfully change things.

Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas in 2007. Aude Guerrucci (Pool)/Getty Images

What is clear is that the parallels between Kavanaugh’s case and that of Clarence Thomas are striking. In 1991, after Thomas was nominated, Hill told friends that he had harassed her when she worked for him at the Department of Education and the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, as Amanda Terkel notes at HuffPost. Specifically, Hill said that Thomas had repeatedly subjected her to unwanted sexual comments, telling her about porn he watched and his sexual behavior, and making a joke about a pubic hair on a Coke can.

Biden had heard about the allegations but did not delay the Judiciary Committee’s vote on Thomas. It was only after the vote, Terkel writes, that Hill was identified in the press, and, under pressure from women in Congress, Biden reopened hearings to allow Hill to testify.

But Biden reportedly caved to Senate Republicans on a number of aspects of the hearing process. He let Thomas testify before and after Hill, including at 9 pm on a Friday when many Americans would be watching, Terkel writes. And as Farrow and Mayer note (Mayer co-authored a 1994 book with Jill Abramson on the Thomas confirmation hearings), three women were willing to testify in support of Hill’s account, but Biden failed to call them.

Last year, former Rep. Pat Schroeder (D-CO) recalled what happened when she complained to Biden that Thomas’s hearings were being rushed. “He literally kind of pointed his finger and said, you don’t understand how important one’s word was in the Senate, that he had given his word to [Sen. John Danforth (R-MO), Thomas’s chief sponsor] in the men’s gym that this would be a very quick hearing, and he had to get it out before Columbus Day,” she told the Washington Post.

Hill had to face testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee that she was an “erotomaniac” and lies about her in the press. The American Spectator called her “a little bit nutty and a little bit slutty.”

Race also became a factor in the hearings, with Thomas calling them “a high-tech lynching for uppity blacks,” as Victoria M. Massie noted for Vox in 2016. Meanwhile, Hill has asked, “how do you think certain people would have reacted if I had come forward and been white, blond-haired and blue-eyed?” Thomas was confirmed and sits on the Court to this day.

Calls have been coming for months to revisit Hill’s reports in the context of #MeToo. In a cover story for New York magazine earlier this year, Jill Abramson suggested that perhaps Thomas should be impeached for lying under oath about his conduct toward Hill. In an interview on Last Week Tonight this summer, Hill said “I’m feeling more optimistic than I was 27 years ago” and that harassers “should be terrified” of facing a reckoning.

But now the country faces a test of how much has really changed. Like Biden, Feinstein was apparently unwilling to investigate allegations against a nominee aggressively, though her reasons appear somewhat different.

“Sources familiar with Feinstein’s decision suggested that she was acting out of concern for the privacy of the accuser, knowing that the woman would be subject to fierce partisan attacks if she came forward,” Farrow and Mayer write. “Feinstein also acted out of a sense that Democrats would be better off focussing on legal, rather than personal, issues in their questioning of Kavanaugh.”

On September 14, a Feinstein spokesperson issued a statement to media telling a somewhat different version of events. “The Senator took these allegations seriously and believed they should be public,” the statement said. “However, the woman in question made it clear she did not want this information to be public. It is critical in matters of sexual misconduct to protect the identity of the victim when they wish to remain anonymous, and the senator did so in this case.”

Feinstein later said that she had tried to find ways of investigating the matter without revealing Ford’s identity. And Ford’s lawyer, Debra Katz, told the Post that she believed Feinstein had respected Ford’s desire for confidentiality, but that “regrettably others did not.”

Whatever the case, as Vox’s Zack Beauchamp notes, if confirmed, Kavanaugh could cast the deciding vote to overturn Roe v. Wade and would surely be an influential voice in a number of decisions affecting women’s rights. If he tried to assault a woman, even years ago, and if he is lying about that now, that information is highly pertinent to his ability to respect women’s equality and autonomy in his decisions.

If Farrow and Mayer’s reporting is correct, Feinstein apparently acted in a way that, even given her reported concern for the accuser, feels very 1991. She seems to have been banking on the idea that drawing attention to the allegations against Kavanaugh would be a losing move for Democrats. Essentially, she appears to have been betting against #MeToo, figuring that the power of public outcry against sexual misconduct would be too weak a weapon against the nominee. We’re about to find out if she was right.

So far, it has been hard to measure the impact of #MeToo. We can point to the firings of high-profile men, but it’s more difficult to tell how values and attitudes in the country are changing. But now, senators are hurtling toward a chance either to send a man accused of attempted sexual assault to the Supreme Court or to decide that such allegations disqualify him from one of the highest offices in the country, one that would give him the power to make decisions with life-or-death consequences for Americans.

In the coming days, Republicans and Democrats will surely weigh how their constituents will view their action — or inaction — on Kavanaugh’s confirmation. Where they come down will say a lot about what’s changed, and what hasn’t, since 1991.

Original Source -> The striking parallels between Brett Kavanaugh and Clarence Thomas

via The Conservative Brief

Expert: The ‘anti-Semitism’ rumpus engulfing Jeremy Corbyn and tearing the Labour Party apart comes at the very moment when the country needs an alert and dynamic Opposition to Theresa May’s shambolic administration.  The campaign, so obviously orchestrated by powerful pro-Israel interest groups to bring down Corbyn, threatens to derail all prospect of worthwhile change at the next election, which could be called anytime given the chaos over Brexit. This would be a calamity not just for Labour but the whole country. The distraction is such a blot on the political landscape and so disruptive that Corbyn must neutralise it without giving ground. The question is how. Clarity please – who are the Semites? What is the argument about? It’s the S-word, ‘Semitism’. At least, that’s the cover-story. The real issue, as many realise, is something deeper. But let’s stick with ‘anti-Semitism’, which is the weapon. It is stupid to go to war without asking questions. So who exactly are the Semites? They may not be who they seem, or who we’re told they are. So let us first deal with the cover story, anti-Semitism, by setting up a learned panel to review the research by Shlomo Sand, Arthur Koestler, Johns Hopkins University and others, turn the S-word inside out, shake it all about, and establish (if that’s possible) who is, and who is not Semitic enough to be offended by certain remarks. For example, DNA research by Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine and published by the Oxford University Press in 2012 on behalf of the Society of Molecular Biology and Evolution, found that the Khazarian Hypothesis is scientifically correct, meaning that most Jews are Khazars. The Khazarians were never in ancient Israel. They converted to Talmudic Judaism in the 8th Century. Even if you believe the myth that God gave the land to the Israelites, He certainly didn’t give it to the Khazarians. Russian and East European Jews like the thug Lieberman, Israel’s defence minister, and countless others who flooded into the Holy Land intending to kick the Palestinians out, have no biblical or ancestral claim to the land. Probably no more than 2% of Jews in Israel are actually Israelites, according to the findings. So most of those living today who claim to be Jews are not descended from the ancient Israelites at all. Palestinians, who are indigenous to the Holy Land, are the real Semites. Of course, there’s no rush by Israelis or their admirers to acknowledge this. Has the Johns Hopkins study been refuted? If they and others who came to the same conclusion have got it right, the whole anti-Semitism thing becomes an upside-down nonsense – a hoax – in which the anti-Semites are actually the racist Israeli regime and its Zionist stooges who stalk the corridors of power and have been oppressing the Palestinians for decades with impunity. Until the topic is thoroughly aired and we have clarity, all anti-Semitism allegations ought to be withdrawn. And no organisation, let alone the Labour Party, should import any definition of anti-Semitism onto its rulebook without looking into the basics. In the meantime, yes, Jeremy Corbyn needs to dislodge the anti-Jew morons and racist crackpots, of which there are many in all parties. He should also disband Labour Friends of Israel, an aggressive mouthpiece for a foreign terror regime that has no place in British politics. Job done – Israel’s stooges now in control and doing the dirty work Meanwhile the concerted fear-mongering by the Zionist Inquisition and browbeating by Jewish community leaders seems to have worked. As I write, Jeremy Corbyn is touring Scotland talking about important things like his ‘Build it in Britain’ plan to regenerate Scottish industry.  But the media are gloating over a story involving a former Scottish Labour MP being suspended by his local constituency party and publicly shamed for alleged anti-Semitic remarks – on the strength of just one complaint apparently. Furthermore the local party executive, in a statement, have already found him guilty. iNews and other media outlets report Renfrewshire North and West Constituency Labour Party Executive Committee as saying: We fully condemn the anti-Semitic comments expressed by Jim Sheridan, and it is right that he is subject to a full investigation by the Labour Party…. The views expressed by Jim Sheridan in no way reflect the views of the members of the Labour Party in the Renfrewshire North and West constituency…. [His] comments are in direct conflict with the Labour Party’s values of anti-racism, equality and solidarity. That’s before he’s had a chance to defend himself. Bearing in mind that the Jewish Leadership Council and the Board of Deputies claim to represent the Jewish community in the UK and have been instrumental in the damaging anti-Semitism campaign against Labour and Corbyn, it is difficult to see anything objectionable in Cllr Sheridan’s remarks in the screenshot above. Cllr Sheridan said he was restricted from making comment at this stage but told me, as a matter of fact: I haven’t had a hearing yet or a date for that to happen. You may wish to know that I visited Auschwitz along with a group of schoolchildren and fellow MPs and saw at first hand the horrors and felt the pain and anguish the Jewish prisoners must have felt. Also, in all the years as an MP I signed the annual Holocaust remembrance book in the House of Commons. Does that sound like an ‘anti-Semite’ speaking? In Renfrewshire they seem hell-bent on destroying the Labour Party’s credibility without any further help from the Israel lobby. It is a vivid example of self-harm by brainwashed twits from within. If the press story is to be believed, somebody makes an allegation, the accused is immediately suspended, publicly shamed and possibly has his reputation damaged irreparably without being heard and before the allegation is substantiated. The accused is gagged from making public comment while the local party executive committee feels free to pass judgment and prejudice the whole matter by declaring to the world that the accused is guilty and stating that nobody else in the local party shares his views. ‘Due process’ is conspicuously absent from the proceedings and party officials in Renfrewshire seem to think it’s OK to issue a statement condemning the accused when he hasn’t been told when his side of the story will be heard and by whom. It’s medieval. And last month another Scottish Labour councillor, Mary Bain Lockhart of West Fife, was suspended voicing suspicion that Israeli spies might be plotting to get rid of Jeremy Corbyn as Labour leader after three Jewish newspapers published a joint front page warning that a Corbyn-led government would pose an “existential threat to Jewish life in this country”. She wrote on social media: If the purpose is to generate opposition to anti-semitism, it has backfired spectacularly. If it is to get rid of Jeremy Corbyn as Labour Leader, it is unlikely to succeed, and is a shameless piece of cynical opportunism. And if it is a Mossad assisted campaign to prevent the election of a Labour Government pledged to recognise Palestine as a State, it is unacceptable interference in the democracy of Britain. She added: “Israel is a racist State. And since the Palestinians are also Semites, it is an anti-Semitic State.” Those paying attention will remember, back in January 2017, revelations that a senior political officer at the Israeli embassy in London, Shai Masot, had been plotting with stooges among British MPs and others in the political woodwork to “take down” senior government figures including Boris Johnson’s deputy at the Foreign Office, Sir Alan Duncan. It should have resulted in the ambassador himself, Mark Regev, a vile propagandist, a master of disinformation and a former personal spokesman for the Zionist regime’s prime minister Netanyahu, also being kicked out. But he was let off the hook. Regev is still here exercising his shifty talents and oiling his links to Mossad. Masot’s hostile scheming was captured and revealed by an Al Jazeera undercover investigation and not, as one would have wished, by Britain’s own security services and press. “The UK has a strong relationship with Israel and we consider the matter closed,” said the British government. The Speaker of the House of Commons John Bercow, who is Jewish, also declined to investigate. So Cllr Lockhart is entitled to be suspicious. Nevertheless a complaint about her remarks was lodged by former Labour MP Thomas Docherty. It was Docherty who wrote to the Culture Secretary in 2015 urging a debate to ban Hitler’s Mein Kampf, a best seller on Amazon, arguing that it was “too offensive to be made available”. And Paul Masterton, the Tory MP for East Renfrewshire, complained that, given how “offensive” Cllr Lockhart’s comments were, the Scottish Labour leader Richard Leonard had been too slow to act and should have spoken out against her behaviour immediately. Instead we have continued silence from him and a failure to prove to the Jewish community that he and his party are taking this issue seriously. It’s clear to the vast majority of people that Mary Lockhart is no longer fit to hold office, and Scottish Labour must understand that a suspension doesn’t go far enough. What the media didn’t tell us is that Mr Masterton is chairman of the All-Party Parliamentary Group on British Jews which is funded, supported and administered by The Board of Deputies of British Jews which, along with the Jewish Leadership Council and others is heavily implicated in picking a fight with Corbyn and trying to ram the IHRA definition of anti-Semitism, unedited, down Labour’s throat. The IHRA definition, which has been allowed to consume Labour when the Party has better things to do, seems to be having its intended effect. It is obvious that many members still haven’t read the two caveats proposed by the Home Office Select Committee and the legal criticism by Hugh Tomlinson QC and Sir Stephen Sedley. Had they done so, more would insist on it being drastically modified or rejected altogether. http://clubof.info/