#its depth that sucks and it enraging to see but its like. a really fucking shitty depiction of a real character
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the ironic flip side of this is that male writers actively attempting to be misogynistic and make one dimensional sex object characters often fuck up and something with depth the second they have a female character whos gimmick is she cant date the male character they like
#its depth that sucks and it enraging to see but its like. a really fucking shitty depiction of a real character#vs the women not even being characters at all outside of that#like thats the whole reason i like tifa in the first place bc every character in the original is so fucking shitty#but her weird gimmick of literally being added to the game last second and not being able to date cloud bc they couldnt rewrite the script#gives her way more complexity and quality as a character than anyone else#despite the writers clearly trying to write her the worst of any character and thinking they knocked aerith out of the park
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Modern Inheritance: Collateral (Smoke and Mirrors)
(A/N: A post-Feinster conversation between Brom and Arya. The whole end of Brisingr has so many implications for reawakening trauma for everyone, especially these two.
I want to make it abundantly clear, Brom and Arya never have and never will have any sort of romantic/couples thing between them! They’re more of father/daughter, mentor/student and traumatized war buddies. They’ve known each other so long that there’s a lot of trust and understanding between them concerning their traumas and the ways they cope. Anyway, cheers!)
~~~~~~~~~~
“What the hell! Brom!”
The elder Rider jerked, nearly inhaling the entire half smoked cigarette that he held to his lips. He whipped around to face his accuser as he choked on the ash he had sucked in, his first words of protest lost when he immediately had to double over in an attempt to clear his irritated lungs.
Arya scowled from where she had stopped not a yard behind her mentor, arms crossed as she waited for Brom to finish his coughing fit. The elf hadn’t exactly planned to seek him out after leaving Eragon and Saphira to rest at the house they now occupied as the Varden secured Feinster, instead looking for a place to sleep in the sacked city. But the steady trail of smoke from behind the corner of a half collapsed stone building had drawn her eye.
“The pipe? That’s fine! I could live with that! You sourced your own stock. But this shit?” Arya plucked the smoldering stick from his fingers as Brom began to raise his hands in defense. “For fucks sake, you know what’s in them! Enough’s enough!” She threw the cigarette to the sandy gutter beside the house and ground it out with her heel.
Brom finally managed a handful of words edgewise. “I’m out of pipe weed. The whole city is out.” Grumbling to himself as stepped back to lean against the wall, he began fishing his hands in the pockets of his coat. Arya’s eyes narrowed when his hands reappeared holding a beaten, half empty pack of Talon Filtereds and a squashed box of matches. “Don’t start with me again, girl. I’m not in the mood.”
As usual, his former student ignored him. “You’re chain smoking again?” Her words were sharp, almost accusing, but beneath it all edged a hint of worry.
Brom snorted, pale smoke venting from his nostrils as the cigarette caught and held. He took a deep inhale, let the feeling circulate in his lungs, before releasing a stream of grief and anger with the acrid vapor. “Would you rather I drink?”
Arya growled quietly and fell back against the wall next to him. This wasn’t a battle she could win, and she knew it. That didn’t change the way she felt. “No, I want you to deal with your fucking emotions in a healthy way.”
At that the Rider let out harsh bark of laughter and a cloud of white. “Look who’s talking, girl! Wait, what’s that?” He held up a hand and sniffed the nicotine laden air theatrically. “Do you smell that? Suddenly it reeks of hypocrisy here!”
The elf gave a wry grin, the pain behind her own bottled up grief and night terrors tugging at her lips. “...Touché.”
They stood together in silence for a handful of minutes, haloed by smoke and the dim glow of the lanterns that replaced shattered street lights.
The previous battle was unique for them. It had reopened old wounds that had just started to scab over, gashed a fresh one right across their hearts. She had faced the horrors of her nightmares brought back to life. He had watched helpless as his son and the boy’s partner of heart and mind nearly died. Both had lost the man that practically raised them, the one person they assumed they would never need to expect would die.
Brom broke the thick silence. He took a short pull of his cigarette and tilted his head to regard the woman beside him. “Are you holding up?”
He hid his grimace by lifting the stick back to his face when Arya dropped her gaze and refused to look at him. That was never a good sign. And she had been doing so well before Feinster.
“I’m fine.” The elf flicked her eyes in Brom’s direction when he moved, and scoffed when she saw the pointed, rather familiar expression he now gave her. “Oh, what?” Brom didn’t answer, merely put the cigarette to his lips again and raised his eyebrows even further. “Everything right now is just…. It’s fucked up, Brom. There isn’t time for me to...I don't know, vent?” She scowled and pushed stray hair back from her forehead, trying to gather her thoughts. “Fall apart? Sort through it. You know that.”
The elder Rider let out a grunt of acknowledgement around the dull orange of the tipping paper before gesturing to Arya’s neck. “Not enough time for healing that, then?”
Arya’s hand came up to touch her throat subconsciously, the dark marks under her jaw giving a light twinge at the contact. Eragon had healed the internal damage to her throat and muscles, but battlefield healing and exhaustion had let the surface injuries remain.
“They’re just bruises.” Still, her fingers lingered there, testing the injured flesh. Trying to chase away the feeling of cold hands around her throat and the smell of blood and concrete, the face and triumphant, gleeful snarl of another man-shaped monster.
Brom watched her out of the corner of his eye. When Arya abandoned the bruises to rub the back of her neck, that telltale tic that she had used for well over a year now, he ashed his cigarette and gently tapped her shoulder with the back of his free hand. “It wasn’t him. He’s dead and gone. Eragon saw to that.”
Arya let out a shaky stream of breath and dropped her hand from where she had been smoothing over the scars that slashed above the edge of her tank top. “Yeah, I know.” Sliding to the ground, the elf balanced on the balls of her feet and plucked a pebble from the earth before mumbling, “Doesn’t change how my brain sees it though.”
She looked up at her mentor, doing all she could to hide her desperation for a distraction as the old scenes loomed in her mind. “What about you, old man? Hanging in there?”
Brom’s lip twitched in a sudden snarl, the cigarette bobbing with the motion. “I’m going to kill that demon’s spawn.”
The change in his voice sent a sudden chill down Arya’s spine, chasing away the lingering sparks that raced across her scars. This wasn’t the voice of the man who had lived the last seventeen years. This was the voice of the man Arya had met on the trails of Ellesméra, a walking embodiment of rage, betrayal and anguish that could burn all in his path. “You mean Murtagh?”
With a violent jab of his hand Brom stabbed out remnants of his first smoke on the wall behind him. He ignored the pinpricks of blood that welled up from his fingers as he yanked a fresh stick out of the box and clamped it in his teeth to light as he growled, “He doesn’t get a name anymore. He’s dead when I see him, dragon or no dragon. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.” The first match he struck snapped in half and fizzled out. Brom swore and threw the shattered bits away and broke his cardinal rule to light the soothing cigarette with a spark of magic at his fingers, angrily puffing as it took.
Arya regarded him steadily, hearing the pain that edged the fury like so many razors. It would do no good to remind the Rider that Galbatorix had been in control when he struck the final blow against Oromis and Glaedr, nor would he want to hear that the young man and the red dragon were not Morzan and his twisted mount.
“...You really wanted them to be different, didn’t you?” The moment the words left her mouth Arya felt the folly of letting them loose.
Brom’s brilliant blue eyes turned to her, nostrils flared in rage as they jetted twin streaks of smoke. His hand lifted slightly, hovering near head height where Arya crouched beside him. The elf tensed, ready to take the blow if he struck.
He stopped. His fingers flexed, as though they could not make up their mind. At his lips the cigarette trembled, the trail of smog from its end wavering. For the briefest of moments, Arya saw a blazing flash of...failure...in his eyes. That was failure, failure and agony at the lives lost, though two still walked among the living. And then it was gone, replaced by an intense but controlled anger.
Brom lowered his trembling hand. “...Just let me smoke, dammit.”
“Fair enough.”
Another ten minutes passed, the only sounds being the Varden watch patrols calling out to each other in the sleeping city. Brom let his somewhat crumpled cigarette burn down to the mashed filter before grinding it out. His shaking had calmed, the enraged light in his eyes dimmed.
He cleared his throat as he shook another snout from the dwindling box. “...You had a shift watching Eragon and Saphira earlier?” Arya nodded, rolling the pebble she had picked up in her palm and shifting her balance in accordance with its movements. “And how are they doing with all of this?”
Another wry grin tilted the corner of the elf’s lips, though she did not raise her gaze. “Exceptionally better than we are.” The two shared a short laugh before she spoke again, almost hesitant. “Eragon is...having trouble. With something that happened while he was helping clear out Feinster.”
“What happened?”
Arya rocked back onto her heels and recounted Eragon’s telling of the boy that had startled him inside one of Feinster’s homes. The sheer shock he felt when he saw the youth, his pang of recognition, and, later, the horror he felt when he realized just how close he had come to killing an innocent civilian. “It’s been eating him up inside. Saphira’s told him over and over that he didn’t actually kill the kid, that it all worked out, but he’s still thinking about it.” She sighed, and with a flick of her wrist threw the pebble down like a dart. It gouged a crater into the compacted, sandy soil, the quiet thud and depth of the impact betraying her unearthly strength. “I told him to stop and just forget about it when he asked me how I would handle it.”
Brom paused. “...That’s unlike you.”
The elf rubbed her temples and shifted back to the balls of her feet, agitated and indecisive. “Yeah, well...I shut down a bit when he mentioned it. He wanted to try and get me to open up again, seeing as it’s gone well the last few times.” She shook her head, braid swaying. “I couldn’t. Not to them. Not about that.”
Realization dawned on the older Rider, and he pinched his cigarette between his pointer and thumb as he drew a long, deep pull and gathered his thoughts. He exhaled slowly, a heavy sigh of memories that were only partly repressed by the nicotine’s taste in his mouth, before slipping a hand into his pocket and peering up at the half concealed stars above. “Right. Thornwell.” He flicked the ashes away. “...Now that’s something I’d rather forget.”
“Fuck off. The day we forget Thornwell we better be fuckin’ dead.” Arya’s tone was harsh, laced with the bitterness of failure and a vehement streak of self-hatred that the elf rarely let out into the open. “We’re the only ones left to remember it, and it was our fucking fault. Don’t you dare try to brush it off.”
“I’m not.” With a soft pat, Brom dropped his free hand onto Arya’s head. The touch was sudden, so much so that the elf nearly jerked away until she felt the tension in the man’s muscles, the miniscule tremors that the cigarettes couldn’t suppress.
He knew. The memories still hurt plenty. He couldn’t let them go either.
Arya sighed and ducked her head, breaking the contact. “Good.” Her voice wasn’t as sharp now. Just...tired.
The taste of rich dirt, acrid smoke from a magic fueled fire and burning plastics rushed her senses with the memory of Thornwell’s resurgence. Uncaring if any of Eragon’s guards were in sight, she spat to the side, trying to rid herself of the shame laced flavor. Again she found herself resentful of her mind’s sensory recall, bitterly wishing elves memories could fade to washed out images and sounds as humans did.
“Here.” The combat liaison looked up to see Brom offering his still smoldering cigarette down to her. She stared at it for a long moment before gingerly accepting the roll between two fingers and shot a wary, questioning look to her mentor. “I don’t just smoke them for nicotine. It’s the only thing keeping the tastes out of my mouth.”
A moment later saw Arya coughing and gagging as she thrust the cigarette back. “That’s awful!” She spat again, choking on what felt like burning fumes. “Fuck!”
“But it worked, didn’t it?”
“I’ll tell you when I stop feeling like there’s acid in my throat!”
The old man was right, though. The acrid, vile taste had drowned out the pervading scents and flavors of that one day so many decades ago.
As the elf took a sip from the canteen off her belt, Brom turned his gaze back to the clouded stars. “...That was the day you broke my jaw, wasn’t it?”
Arya snorted into the neck of the canteen before muttering, “I cracked your cheekbone. I was…” She paused, screwing the cap back on and trying to choose the words that would cause the least pain for both of them. “We both were fucked up in that moment. You just wouldn’t realize it. I had to do something.”
“...I was like that a lot back then.”
“Yeah.” Arya clipped the canteen back on her belt. Rubbed her hands together.
She couldn’t bring herself to admit just how scared of him she had been that day, even before the accident. Brom carried within him a level of intensity at times that transcended rage. Thornwell was an incident where that blind fury led them both to ruin, at the cost of innocent lives.
Brom cleared his throat, drawing the elf’s eye back to him. “You know...we should start easing Eragon and Saphira into the notion that...that there’s going to be collateral someday.” The words left his mouth with a grimace and puffs of smoke. “Prepare them for it. Eragon’s so empathetic, I’m worried that–”
“No!” The Rider jerked, startled by the sharp, nearly shouted dismissal. Soft flecks of ashes scattered down, drifting to land cool and harmless onto the fists Arya held clenched at her knees.
Her refusal shocked him. Arya, of all people, knew that the right preparation could help lessen the acute effects of war. Her upbringing, like Eragon’s, had done little to prepare her for taking lives, losing comrades, and the burning senses of shame, self-hatred and anguish that could all accompany a prolonged conflict. As naïve as she had been when she joined the Varden, with only the surface understanding of her eventual role, it all had left a lasting impact on the elf.
Brom frowned. His former student’s body was ridgid, knuckles white. “Arya, you know it’s going to happen sooner or later–”
Arya cut him off again, her voice softer yet edged with a firm, pained conviction. “Brom...we both know it’s already happened.” And she pointed out towards the city around them. “You can’t tell me there weren’t people here.”
Some of the buildings were collapsed inward on themselves. Shopfronts, family businesses with living quarters above, stood half charred or half destroyed. Behind them, towards the towering keep, the building that Saphira had torn apart tooth and claw was abandoned besides smears of gore.
A nagging, grim understanding began creeping into Brom’s mind.
“I know he’s your son, and I know you have more of a say in what you tell him.” Arya continued. “But I can’t let you put the idea in his head. He’s so...he feels so much, Brom. He feels for others as much as he feels for himself. Saphira tries to help him through it but through him, she feels it too.” Tiny tremors shook her fists, nails biting into her palms. “If you start trying to prepare him, they’re going to realize that it’s probably already happened. They’re going to start wondering when. Why they didn’t notice it before. How many.
“That spiral doesn’t stop. It’s so hard to shut out, and….” She stopped, just short of her voice breaking. “I don’t want that to happen to them. Just...let them have this, Brom. Let me worry about it. Okay?”
Brom dragged the last trails of smoke from his cigarette and reached down. Placed his hand on the elf’s head and gently ran his thumb over her hair as he had always done with Eragon when the boy was frightened by his stories years ago. She tensed for a moment, before he felt the pent up stress ease. “Okay.” The older Rider tapped out the end of his smoke on the wall. “I see your point, kid.” With a gentle shift he pushed her to lean a shoulder against his leg in a comforting gesture of support and understanding. “But when it happens, you tell me. They’ll need both of us.”
“I will.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, supporting each other as the night’s words swirled through their minds.
“...I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.” Arya muttered suddenly.
Brom let out a soft scoff. “Join the club.”
It brought another grim smile to the elf’s face. “Walk with me? Patrolling tends to help.”
“Fine.” Brom reached into his coat as Arya stood and stretched. He swore quietly when he found that the box of Talons was empty.
Realizing that Arya was watching him, Brom gave the box one last longing look before crumpling it in his fist and dropping it into his pocket. “Lead the way, kid.”
#Modern Inheritance#inheritance cycle#eragon#modern inheritance stories#the cyclists#Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle#Brom#Arya#arya drottningu#collateral damage#referenced torture#war#war trauma#effects of war#tobacco use#these two dealing with the fucked up end of Brisingr#hurt/comfort#look they both need hugs#the mystery of thornwell#lots of angst#brom's more prone to addictions#everyone in MIC has issues its what its ABOUT#what it was MADE FOR#the leg lean is weird I'll admit but it's something i used to do for comfort#my friends rolled with it#it's a bit of regression ngl#anyway yay NEW MIC CONTENT#post brisingr pre inheritance
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Don’t get sucked in
So I came back, wanted to start rping again, and then promptly began writing obsessively all day every day for about two weeks. Would have been nice if I’d written on the novel I’m actually supposed to be working on, but no. I started madly writing a fanfic for the Merry Gentry universe. Rant with spoilers if you haven’t read A Shiver of Light. You might want to skip it. I wish I had.
Why did I start writing madly (in just about every sense of the word)?
Because I finished reading A Shiver of Light (which I only recently discovered was out and have been patiently waiting for for about EIGHT YEARS at this point). Not only did almost nothing interesting happen for 90% of the book, at the very end she just flat kills off Sholto.
I exaggerate not dear reader. I was so infuriated by this level of plot shock on top of Sholto and Merry repeatedly telling each other both in private and public they are not in love (WHY THE FUCKING HELL NOT?!?!). I was so infuriated, I became physically nauseous and started having palpitations. I sat on the floor in the bathroom for about twenty minutes before I trusted myself not to puke. It really felt like I might. It ended up, I only dry heaved a few times.
I was that angry.
Why was I more enraged than I have ever been over a book? Well, firstly because I’m a book nut who gets really into reading (if the book is good). Secondly, I connected with Sholto on an emotional level more so than with any other character including Merry herself. I won’t go super in depth into why, but suffice it to say I had a lot of body image issues growing up, and Sholto with his nightflyer father’s squiggly nest of tentacles personified that body shaming so many of us have been scarred by.
Thirdly, I was infuriated by the atrocious pacing and lack of general story progress. SO much time was spent on Merry ooing and ahing over her triplets, freaking out over whether they will get hurt or hurt others (cause crazy be in the family hard core), and going on and on and on about how her body changed during and after the pregnancy. These things would have been fine, except they seemed to make up 70% of the book. Merry only physically leaves the house twice in the novel. Once in the beginning for a dr appointment during which her water breaks, and once in the end to see Sholto (when he gets shot and killed).
You could argue she leaves four other times: twice to visit soldiers in need of Goddess’ blessing and twice for dream sequences where Taranis invades her mind. That feels like reaching to me though. The fir dearg (however the hell it’s spelled, I’m not wasting my time to look it up right now) are mentioned, but none actually appear in the book. I was severely disappointed but this persistence in a loose thread of story line that started...three books ago? I think. Again, not going to waste my time checking, cause this is a rant. There are rumblings about a potential shift in power among the Goblins, but NONE of the mentioned goblins (Holly, Ash, King Kurag) makes an appearance. They’re just mentioned.
I think, almost worse than her Killing off Sholto was how slap dash the last two chapters were where Merry briefly interrogates the Seelie refugee whose fingerprints were on the rifle. We don’t get to hear who else exactly was involved, other than Taranis, and I’m not entirely sure anyone else was involved, because basically all Hamilton writes is a summary at this point. A summary that amounts to, “He told us everything. He didn’t try to bargain for his life. Just his wife’s.” And then, we don’t even get to see the bastard executed! No wonderful description of the Sluagh avenging their very beloved King. Not even a hint of if he died horribly or quickly, though I suspect the former cause this is sluagh we’re talking about. And in the very end, Aisling returns to the Seelie court (cause the king has been dethroned and exiles have an option of returning if they wish) and is reported to be recognized as the new King. I say “reported” because for some fucking reason Hamilton can’t be bothered to actually have someone go with him even though Merry is no longer pregnant, has plenty of guards, mutilated Taranis (so her enemies are now quite fearful of her), and could go with him.
I sat through about 300 pages of a new mother worrying about the same damn things over and over for about 70 pages of story. The two chapters where Merry is summoned in spirit to help soldiers were powerful and wonderful things. Powerful! I cried at the first and nearly cried at the second. I loved every moment of those scenes!
The rest was like reading someone’s personal journal where they just worried incessantly about the same handful of issues. And then, she (Hamilton) SHOT SHOLTO! No foreshadowing really. No warning. Just BANG! Oh, he’s dead. No, he’s really really dead. Totally dead. Shot through the heart by a high powered sniper rifle dead. Why? FUCK IF I KNOW! She could have gotten a lot more drama out of him being critically injured through the end of the book, and still done everything else she dead, and instead of deciding not to buy her next book (unless someone posts spoilers that Sholto gets brought back, maybe by sacrificing Taranis and Andais. I’d be cool with that), I would be eagerly awaiting the next novel. Instead, I’m dreading it.
I feel like someone else wrote most of that book, and Hamilton just wrote the scenes with the soldiers. At least the fan part of my brain feels like that...
sigh
The up side of all of this is, I rabidly began writing a fanfiction to correct this utter travesty of an event. In the course of about two weeks I have written over 100 pages and almost 100,000 words. Would have been nice if it could have been on the novel I’m supposed to be finishing, but hey, I’m not under a deadline, so I can take a break. I am very proud of the quantity of words I’ve put out, but as I read back over what I’ve written, I’m also pleasantly surprised by the quality. My scenes are intense. The pacing is almost exhausting (my poor MC scarcely gets a moment to rest). She’s not the perfect candidate to restore Faerie like Merry was, but she’s doing the best she can and making progress as well as mistakes that bite her in the ass.
Eventually, I want to reshape this fanfiction into a novel in its own right and offer it up to the hungry mass of Hamilton’s fan base and former fan base who loved the drama, action, mystery, and just the right sprinkle of sex in the early novels. A delicious combination of elements that is sorely missing in the latest book of the series. I have so many books I want to write though...
If I ever get the hang of finishing a novel, I’m going to be damn near as prolific as Piers Anthony. I think I might have to give up gaming to do it though, at least solo gaming, and possibly rping as well. The latter isn’t much of a loss since I don’t really have anyone to rp with anymore.
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OUAT 3X06 - Ariel
Who’s ready to hear an amazing TAIL that only slightly FISHY?!
Yeah, yeah. They’re not all winners. Hit me up under the cut to read my thoughts!
Press Release
Back in the Fairy Tale Land that was, when Ariel saves Snow White from drowning in the ocean’s depths, Snow returns the favor by helping her new friend get acquainted with Prince Eric, with whom she has fallen madly in love with. Meanwhile, Emma, Mary Margaret, David and Hook attempt to save Neal, who is imprisoned in one of Pan’s encampments, and Regina and Mr. Gold begrudgingly team up to find a way to take down Pan.
Main Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness
Past
Ariel is the main focus of this segment. Her character introduction is the reason for it.
And honestly, that’s pretty great.
I think that’s pretty evident by how much the fandom loves Ariel as a whole. I’ve never met a single person who doesn’t love her and there’s a good reason why. She’s energetic, kind, has a solid introductory story that gives you everything you’ve ever needed to know about her character. Johanna’s performance is so enjoying to watch as she captures the innocence of the character of Ariel as well as the bubbliness that made the Disney version so memorable.
Present
So, we all agree, the main focus of this segment are the secrets. It’s not to say there isn’t more meat there (Ex. Rumple and Regina), but I cover more of it in other segments and my thoughts on the secrets is what you want to hear.
”The deeper the lie, the more truth in its echo.” I guess that means the more you deny the truth to yourself and others, the more true or big it really is.
And to be experimental and do something different (And because I don’t really feel like delving into the revelations that will come to pass in future seasons), I’m going to just focus my review of the present by tackling these secrets as they are and with that mindset in mind:
Killian: Killian reveals that he kissed Emma and that the kiss exposed that he can move on from Milah and love again. I buy this as a secret. To keep this short as to not get too shippy (You can find THAT bit of shippy goodness in it’s home), it makes perfect sense to me that with Killian’s redemption underway and that he’s at least willing to let Rumple live, the idea of him moving on romantically works as both a story concept and a character concept. I also like how he was apparently fighting it at every step of the way, only being fully convinced with last episode’s kiss.
Snow: Snow reveals that for as much as she loves Emma and their life together, she longs for the firsts that were denied to them and thus, wants another baby. I feel like Snow addresses David more with this secret than she does Emma and for the secret of ‘I want another baby/another chance,’ there are too many instances of “our daughter” and not enough “Emma”s for me. Now, with that out of the way, the secret itself is very in-character for Snow. I like it in terms of enjoying it as something very in-character. It’s a believable desire for her to have and Ginny really sells how badly Snow wants it. It’s also heartbreaking for Emma and that de-emphasis on her (Or rather, de-EMMA-sis -- holy shit, that may have been my best pun ever) as she tells it really sticks out because of it. It sucks that this is never brought back up too because this is sort of another case of Emma being told she’s not enough and by her own parents who she saved.
David: David, of course, reveals that he’s trapped on the island. There’s really nothing else to elaborate on here. I like how the focus is on Snow and her anger at the lie is hard and fast. It builds on what she was saying about secrets and honesty in both segments of the episode.
Emma: Finally, Emma reveals that while she’s never stopped loving Neal, the pain of losing him again caused all of the pain from long ago to return with a vengeance, and that rather than being forced to deal with the pain that their past together caused her, she wished that he’d died. Again, I’ll try not to talk about all of the shippy goodness here (Again, there’s more down below), but some will be delved into, so fair warning. Looks like I’m 4/4 because I like this one too. I get that wanting someone to die as their best self seems better than having to come to terms with the complications in their relationship. When Neal “died,” he had just apologized to Emma and made a heroic sacrifice for her and Henry. That was his last impression and believing him to be dead allows for Emma to close the book on the pain that was between them. Him being alive brings those problems to the present and makes them active again and Emma would rather that pain not be the thing that ultimately impacts her memory of Neal the most. I also love Neal’s response and fast forgiveness. For a few episodes now, Neal has been discussing all of his regrets concerning Emma and how he felt about her and that hug really says a lot about just how sorry he is.
Insights - Stream of Consciousness
-”Did you really think you could hide from The Evil Queen?” “Actually, yes.” This line never fails to crack me up! The shrug and surprise in Ginny’s voice really sells it.
-Look at the synchronized swords on those guards! How long do you think they practiced that?
-Damn, the water here is beautiful. The way the lighting is done paints something mystical and yet deadly af!
-”No. There has to be a way without going dark.” No, Emma. Anger does not necessitate going dark. Anger is an emotion that everyone’s entitled to feeling and it’s one that can be a force for good. The way Regina’s teaching you at the moment doesn’t go against that. Coming right after the stellar subplot in “Good Form,” this really is a disappointment to hear from Emma. Emma knows righteous fury better than anyone. That said, I completely agree with this scene for framing Regina as in the right because it’s completely warranted.
-YASSSS! Thank you, Killian for telling the truth about Neal!
-I’m fully with David and Killian here. Emotionally and strategically, it made the most sense to keep Emma in the dark about Neal being alive until they could confirm it.
-”Can you keep a secret?” Fuck no, she can’t!
-”Sorry. She deserved to know.” THEY WERE GOING TO TELL HER THE TRUTH, SNOW! PATIENCE. IT’S A REAL THING.
-Rumple, while trying to look into the future, looks like he’s either trying to summon a Final Flash from DBZ or the Doctor Strange magic hands.
-I spend a lot of time thinking about Rumple and his future telling abilities and why they never came up after this season. Like, I honestly don’t care that much about plot holes, but they can matter when they’re character-based. When a character has a power like that (One that’s been established since the pilot), there needs to be a reason for them not to use it, and Rumple, who has an over-reliance on magic as a major character trait, would use that as often as he could. In Neverland, Pan made it clear why he couldn't. But why not afterwards? Is the power just that vague that we can infer that he was using it? My personal HC is that they just went away after his first death.
-Okay, Pan is the one hell of a villain, but he’s also one hell of a chef, too! No wonder Fiona loved him!
-”You’ve lost your son Neal. Again.” You’re such an asshole, Pan, but it is like the greatest thing to watch.
-Okay, so real talk: I have misophonia and loud chewing and talking with one’s mouthful often enrages me. And Pan didn’t! I was ready to cringe when he picked up that egg in a basket, but he was fine. Pan, you may be the villain of this arc, but you’re the Savior to my ears! Thank you, Robbie Kay for enunciating properly as you eat!
-”That by killing you, all our troubles end?” Rumple: Sass Master Extraordinaire.
-Okay, so it looks like Rumple specifically has to die to kill Pan. Da fuq?
-”Have you forgiven YOUR father?” Wow, the writers of this show were just milking that twist with everything they had, didn’t they?
-”She looks fertile.” I repeat: Da fuq?
-I feel like I’d hate Snow a lot more in this episode if it weren’t for her tracking abilities finally being put to good use.
-I like Regina’s decision to leave the group from a character perspective. While the group should definitely try to save Neal, Regina, who doesn’t care about him would have no interest and after the second stop in their journey AND after talking to Henry, I can understand how all that frustration would just explode at the thought of another deviation.
-”It [the fork] is really not that valuable.” I don’t know. That is a really well made fork. XD
-”I may be heartbroken, but I’ll understand.” People, I give you Prince Eric: The only true unproblematic fave.
-Ooh! That mirror transition effect from the party to Regina’s castle was amazing!
-”Come home to Storybrooke.” Rumple, that’s as big of a red flag as there can be that that’s not Belle!
-”Are you really going to fall for this?” My sentiments exactly, Regina!
-You know, this is some great acting on Emilie’s part! She has to pull off a suffocation scene as the victim with no physical help from another actor. She really sells fake Belle’s desperation and panic!
-Speaking of good acting, look at Robert’s face when he discovers that Pan’s shadow was fake Belle. For the first time, we see a full display of the true fear Rumple has for his father!
-For as much as I’m apprehensive about Snow in the present segments, I’m LOVING her in the past. She’s so kind and supportive.
-”Thanks. For nothin’.” A little ungrateful there, aren’t you, Ariel?
-I giggled for a good twenty seconds at Regina saying “Ah-riel!”
-”You’re not gonna die at anyone’s hands but my own.” Honestly, Rumple dies at EVERYONE’S hands but your own!
-”Because I came here to kill him and die in the process!” Rumple, you are so fucking extra! Still bring the freakin’ weapon! You are so gloriously extra!
-Lana is having such a fun time playing Regina playing Ursula and I’m loving it! XD
-I took another five second giggle at “Dil-EMMA.”
-”I lost half my crew inside those rock walls.” Wow. This has gotta hurt.
-”He believes once we do [Reveal our secrets], we’ll destroy each other.” I love how this just doesn’t happen. It threatens to happen, but the strength of the group is strong enough to overcome them.
-Okay, so Snow’s a total boss during this Regina confrontation! Not only is she once again completely supportive of Ariel, BUT she decides to egg on Regina as much as she can before dying at her hands by saying that she’ll never be happy. For this point in Regina’s life, it’s an incredibly satisfying sight to see.
-SAME GOES FOR ARIEL! She fucking stabs Regina in the neck! WITH A FORK! Not even Snow or Charming could do that with a sword!
-”I don’t know the particulars. Only what I’ve been told.” So Killian didn’t go in?
-I love the video game that is the Echo Caves!
-”You know that’s not how this works.” Emma’s reaction to this line is just the best, her body screaming “can’t blame me for trying.”
-Anyone feel like if they were trapped in the Echo Cave that they wouldn’t know their own deepest secrets?
-REGINA! FUCK YOU! It’s an amazing evil plan and as a viewer, I’m loving this, but for breaking Ariel’s spirit, FUCK YOU!
-Real Ursula. Both powerful and kinky as all hell. <3
-”Storybrooke.” Regina’s so proud of the name, and to be fair, quite rightly!
Arcs - How Are These Storylines Progressing?
The Mission to Save Henry - We have a way of defeating Pan! XD Once again, the main plot focuses on something else than this mission, but I don’t think it was a bad idea. The subplot keeps the momentum going quite nicely.
Killian’s Redemption - GREAT on Killian for telling the truth about Neal! That’s really the biggest point here, but it’s an important one nonetheless that speaks to how seriously he’s taking his redemption. He doesn’t hesitate telling her family and only keeps Emma in the dark temporarily as to spare her further pain.
Regina’s Redemption - Regina gets some great moments here! First, how she teaches Emma is fantastic! Like, I’m so glad that she showed the value of anger and how it and darkness are not necessarily one and the same! Second, she saves Rumple’s ass! Third, “maybe we can find another way.” The third way has been the heroes philosophy for a while and to see Regina trying that outlook rather than sacrificing Rumple is a nice bit of foreshadowing to her eventual fates and abilities! I actually think Regina may be in her best form this season! She’s still snippy and hates everyone, but she’s focused on doing right by her son. Because of that, she’ll use the darkness for the noble cause of saving him, and rather than waste time (As she puts it), she’ll look for faster means when working with those that are good isn’t making what she deems as acceptable progress.
Rumple’s Redemption - Despite Neal’s betrayal and his doubts from “Nasty Habits,” Rumple is still sincerely all in for his redemption, as much as he can be, at least. His self preservation habit is still eating at him, making him trust more in Shadow Belle, and it really works!
Favorite Dynamic
Regina and Rumple. Regina came to Rumple at just the right time. She dragged him fighting and screaming away from danger and self loathing and back to reality and the point of this mission. It’s actually a great relief to see Rumple again with someone who won’t take any of his shit. Characters like that challenge Rumple and with Regina, it allows for us to see just what happens when they combine their dark magic and few fucks together for a good cause. It’s as Regina says: “We’re the two most powerful practitioners of magic who have ever lived. The Evil Queen and The Dark One joining forces? I’d say we can find another way of handling some smug teenager.” And together, they’re effective at coming up with a real strategy to defeat that smug teenager!
Writer
Adam and Eddy are “Ariel’s” writers and I really like what they did here. All three stories are balanced well, everyones motivations are really understandable in the present and that fits the framing of everyone being sympathetic, and the material in the past is just engaging.
Rating
10/10. It’s a great episode! Ariel is a compelling character and watching her learn the value of honesty is a nice story that cleanly fits Snow and Regina into it. The present really delves into the further conflicts of the main characters and shows how honesty can be both an aid and a curse. The episode itself is given nuance because of that and the sets of interactions chose for the most part do a lot of good for expanding on the character’s mindsets. Also, as you’ll see below, this episode is FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH SHIPPY GOODNESS!
Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”
Captain Swan - I think it says so much about how Killian cares for Emma that he’s willing to tell her family immediately that Neal’s alive, only holding out on telling Emma herself so that they can confirm it and save her from more pain. Pan said it himself: There is a good chance Emma won’t return his affections after its revealed that Neal’s alive. But he does it anyway because he knows how devastated she was from his loss. Whether you believe he’s completely in love with her or not, that is what caring for another person truly is. Also, look at how Emma looks to Killian to confirm whether or not that’s true when the beans are spilled (Thanks, Snow). She really does trust him now! And on Emma’s side, she actually tells her mom she kissed Hook! “I was feeling good.” And she says it in such a gossipy practically bursting way! It’s not-at-all giddy, but still a little giddy at the same time! And when Snow asks her if it meant anything, she says “i-it was just a kiss,” but everything from her tone to the fact that she actually told someone about this kiss means that it definitely was more! Now let’s talk about the Echo Cave. Killian reveals his secret and Emma’s first response is “It’s just a kiss.” But just look at the vulnerability in her eyes! And the first panel comes roaring out once he reveals what it fully meant to him! Truth! And as Emma goes towards Neal, there’s this dark acceptance in him, but it’s a respectful possible resignation.
Swan Fire - I genuinely adore how soft Neal is with Emma. The entire time he’s in his cage, he gives Emma gentle nudges in the right direction and oodles of comfort. And Emma’s confession to never stop loving Neal was beautiful. Jen’s performance here is just beautiful, soft and tender features all around as she admits that. And even as she’s admitting that she wished Neal was dead, she’s crying, clearly wishing to herself that it wasn’t true because of the love she has for him. And what’s Neal’s response to this when he gets out? An IMMEDIATE hug. It’s a tender, desperate, emotional hug. I actually found myself choked up here. He completely understands what she means. Emma gives this genuine apology for how she feels and Neal just gets it. And he’s still going to fight for her.
Ariel/Eric - Damn, Eric is romantic af! He cares about no one’s thoughts but Ariel’s and it’s really charming. “If I want to dance, I can.” <3 I almost find it a touch too forward for him to ask her to explore the world with her after one date, but given that they’re going full in on the Love at First Sight trope and Ariel says twice that she wanted to see the world, it works! He’s also a full on gentleman, stepping back (Literally) the second he feels she might decline for her comfort and even says” “I’m pressuring you: That’s unfair!” The dude’s an honest-to-goodness heartthrob! And Ariel really cares about him too! She doesn’t want him to be forced to choose between her and his dreams. And together, they’re just a cute, optimistic, lovey-dovey pair!
Millian - Short blurb, but I think it really says something about the depth of Killian’s feelings for Milah that he could NOT move on from her for over a century and when he finally found someone, he had to kiss her to finally push the denial out of his system. Like, that’s some powerful love.
Snowing - “At least not with me.” Okay, so David definitely lied and that sucks, but holy shit. In this one line, David gave his blessing for Snow not only to move on, but to have another child with someone else. And that’s gotta hurt! Like, LOVE! That’s love!
-----
This review was admittedly much shorter than I usually make them, and I’m sorry, but not too sorry because ONCE CON!!!! If you want to keep up with my con adventures, I’ll try posting some pics to my Instagram, protochan44, and hell, maybe I’ll do a live video at some point! And yeah, I’ll probably post some shenanigans on my blog too! But yeah, I am so excited and also pretty relieved that I was able to get through all of these!
Thanks for reading and thank you to the beautiful folks at @watchingfairytales, at least two of whom I’ll be meeting either tonight or tomorrow! Next time, we hit up “Dark Hollow!”
Season 3 Total (59/220)
Writer’s Scores:
Adam and Eddy (19/60)
Kalinda Vazquez (10/40)
Andrew Chambliss (10/50)
Jane Espenson (10/30)
David Goodman (10/40)
Robert Hull (10/40)
Christine Boylan (10/20)
Daniel Thomsen (10/30)
Operation Rewatch Archives
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Prompt #1: Submerged
“C’mon, Aza, stop being a baby and get in already.”
Aza eyed the river warily, still sitting on the rocky shore with his toes only just barely curling over the edge. There was less than three feet separating him and the waist deep water, and the current was slow and gentle. The sun glittered off its surface, and occasionally he could see the silvery flash of fish darting between rocks and past Bluebird’s shins. It looked, to put it bluntly, lovely and perfect to go frolicking about during the muggy summer of Yanxia.
Except looking at it filled Aza with nothing but dread. Anything deeper than his knees always got his pulse fluttering and stomach knotting, and that was fine. The Steppes rarely had anything too deep to wade through, and you normally forded it on horseback anyways – anything deeper the Xaela tribes avoided or found bridges, natural or man-made, to cross. When they visited Onokoro, they did it on the boat and he was comfortable enough on those. So, Aza never had to confront his wariness of deep water, and that was fine.
Not anymore. Doma was lousy with rivers, and the resistance fighters the boss contracted them too practically lived in the fucking things to slip past Imperial patrols and the like. Boss humoured his wariness for exactly one week before ordering he’d get over it or find a different group to work with. Considering they were ass-deep in Imperial territory with no other mercenary groups as survivable as this one… yeah, no, Aza had to get over this.
“Aza,” Bluebird sighed, “C’mon.”
“I’m building up to it,” he said, wriggling his butt against the mossy rock he was uncomfortably perched on, flexing his toes on the edge, “I’ll do it.”
“Yeah, when I die of old age,” Bluebird said scornfully, but she waded closer. She had stripped down to nothing but her underwear, her armour and weapon neatly bundled next to Aza, and she was starting to freckle where the sun kissed her pale skin, “Budge over, baby. Lemme sit down.”
He obligingly scooted over, and Bluebird climbed out of the river to sit next to him, her thick tail thwacking him in the hip accidentally-on-purpose.
“You’re not a kid anymore,” Bluebird said, “You gotta stop being scared about shit.”
“Yeah, sure,” Aza drawled, “I’ll just stop being scared. Thanks for the advice, Bluebird.”
She punched him in the shoulder hard enough that he almost toppled over, “Letting yourself get stuck because you’re scared,” she clarified, “Only babies stop and cry when they’re frightened. Adults suck it up and try anyway.”
Aza rubbed his shoulder, understanding what Bluebird was getting at – it didn’t help his frustration any, because logically he knew this situation was safe. The river current was gentle, it wasn’t that deep, and Bluebird wouldn’t let him drown. But still, he remembered the burn in his lungs, the helplessness as dark depths pulled him down after the sinking ship, the way his vision greyed out until he lost consciousness. To this day he still didn’t know how he got to shore…
“I’m not going to get over this within minutes,” Aza grumbled sourly, envious of Bluebird’s natural fearlessness. His sister just plunged headfirst into shit without a care, and he had only ever seen her legitimately scared three times in his life. Mom said it was because she lacked sense, which was probably true, but Aza still envied her for it. Must be nice, living life without being terrified of almost everything in it.
“No, you just gotta tolerate it enough that you can wade through this without freaking out,” Bluebird said, and she planted a hand on his shoulder, digging her heel right in, “Look, I’ll help you out… like this!”
And then she shoved him.
Into the river.
“Blu-!” he yelped, only to get a mouthful of water the second he hit it face first. He flailed wildly as he went under, his palms scraping against the rough riverbed before he wrangled his instinctive panic enough for him to fucking stand up. He clawed upwards, gasping wetly when he broke the surface and coughed up the water he inhaled, nose and throat burning and eyes stinging.
He almost fell flat into the water again when a strong hand slapped him between the shoulder blades rhythmically, helping him cough up the water until he was wheezing pathetically.
“There, see?” Bluebird said cheerfully, gripping him by the scruff of his neck when he was done, so he couldn’t turn around and fucking deck her, “You’re fine.”
“H-Hate you…” Aza coughed, rubbing at his aching chest as he squinted at the water lapping about his waist. He was shivering with adrenaline, and extreme distress, but Bluebird’s grip was strong and anchoring, and the longer he stood there, half-panting, the more his nerves eased up fraction by tiny fraction.
“You’re fine,” Bluebird repeated, more soothingly this time, “Got a big lungful there and you’re not keeling over dead – not that I’d let you anyways. Do you know what Mom’d do to me if I let you drown in fucking Doma?”
Aza grunted, “No one would ever find your body.”
“Exactly,” Bluebird let go of him and playfully shoved his shoulder, “You look like a drowned rat, by the way, with your hair plastered down like that.”
Aza slanted a look her way, seeing the way his sister leaned on her heels and smirked at him. He loved her, but Gods, there were times where he wanted to punch her nose in. He wouldn’t win a wrestling match here, though, she wouldn’t hesitate to shove his head underwater until he was literally crying for mercy, so…
He muffled another cough into his hand, half-turning from Bluebird as if to wade back to shore, “You’re such a bitch- hah!”
Bluebird squawked when he lunged into action, successfully catching her off guard as he body-checked her just as he hooked his foot around her ankle and pulled. With an enraged screech, his sister toppled underwater, and Aza ran for his fucking life- or, as fast as he could run in waist-deep water anyways.
“AZA!” Bluebird howled as he frantically clambered out of the river, his sister resurfacing like a vengeful kelpie behind him – fuck, even a fish was flung into the air from the force of her lunging out of the water! “GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!”
“What’re you mad about!? You’re fine!” he yelled over his shoulder, snatching up his clothes and sword and making his escape, “Just a lungful of water, Bluebird!”
“ARGH!”
---
So, that day didn’t really help with his fear of deep water. If anything it compounded it, considering how determinedly his sister tried to drown him once she caught up to him!
(It was only once he got the Kojin’s Blessing years later that he truly started getting over his fears. After all, difficult to be afraid of something you’re literally immune against)
#ffxivwrite2018#ffxiv#fanfic#warrior of light#aza lynel#30 day writing challenge#let's see if i can keep this up
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Live Until Love - Prologue
Contains coarse language, blood, and scenes of abuse
The midnight moon floated above the highrises of downtown Sacramento, California. Clouds obscured its light, casting long shadows across the city. Down below many were sound asleep in their beds, deep in slumber, and not to be disturbed until morning’s arrival a few hours away. In one house sitting besides others like it in a cul de sac, a young family lay like others still, soundly at rest. They were a mother and a father on the upper level, and a young boy no more than the age of four on the ground floor with the name of Victor.
Though for many others, tonight would be a night not unlike others they would see during their lives, for this family tonight was soon to become the night that defined them for the rest of their lives. For young Victor, nothing was going to be the same ever again.
The sound of glass shattering somewhere in the house shook the boy from his slumber. Slowly, Victor’s eyes fluttered open, still a bit heavy from the sleep only moments ago. With a yawn he turned around to return to dreamland, figuring that he must have dreamt the sound. However, fate would not allow him any more sleep that night; there came another sound from upstairs. Victor could hear footsteps shuffling across the ceiling, no doubt one of his parents investigating what just went bump in the night. Suddenly something heavy fell to the floor, making Victor jump. The footsteps above became frantic, wild. A series of crashes made Victor jump pull the covers over himself as a cacophonous symphony erupted from the upstairs; if this really was a nightmare, Victor wanted to wake up now.
Then, as quickly as it began, the noisec eased, and the whole house became eerily silent. It felt like an eternity to Victor before he lowered the covers to peek out around his room. It seemed so dark now, as if the blackness would swallow Victor whole if he wasn’t careful. Slowly but surely, Victor found the courage to step out of his bed, slipped on his slippers, and walked across his room. Opening the door to the hallway, everything down looked perfectly normal to Victor. Maybe it was a dream, and there was nothing to worry about. But Victor knew, despite being no more than the age of four, that what he’d heard was no dream.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Victor made his way up the stairs, clutching the railing tightly with each step. As he arrived at the top, a crunch beneath his feet drew his attention downwards; he’d stepped on a picture frame, and in it was a photo of himself in a suit, his parents at his sides. Victor looked around, and he saw what a chaotic mess the second story was in; more shattered picture frames lay on the ground, likely knocked off the walls in the scuffle he’d heard earlier. Tables were knocked over too, and there was even a jagged hole in the drywall.
Victor tired turning on the lights, but then he saw that the bulbs had been shattered somehow. He could feel himself beginning to tremble, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened here.
“Momma?” Victor meekly called out “Daddy?”
Silence.
Victor’s hair stood on end as a door down the hallway creaked open. Moonlight spilled in from the window, cutting through the darkness like the light of heaven, and a slight breeze blew through the house through the room.
Though his feet felt as if they were made of iron, Victor made his way towards the room. Stepping inside, the sudden moonlight blinded him a moment, and he covered his eyes before they readjusted. Once they had, he saw that the large window across the room had been shattered. The room itself was in an even greater state of disarray than the hallway; some kind of struggle had clearly taken place there.
“Victor…”
A weak voice, barely above a whisper, called out to Victor from the darkness. He spun round back in fright, scanning the room for the source of the voice, but the darkness of night was all consuming in the rays of moonlight. He spotted another lightswitch, but this one lit up the room once it was flicked on. “Victor…” The voice came again, sounding fainter this time. It came from Victor’s left, and when he turned, he beheld a most horrible sight. His mother lay slumped against the wall, breathing raggedly. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and a stream of blood trickled down a corner of her mouth.
“Victor…”
“M-MOMMA!” Victor ran over to his mother, tripping over himself and falling before her. He crawled over to her, and saw her hand resting on her stomach. It was covered in blood. “M-M-Momma, wh-what happened to yo-you?! Wh-why are you bleeding?!”
“Victor...I’m so sorry...Momma is so sorry…”
“Wh-what do you mean?! Wh-where’s Daddy?!”
“”Gone...Daddy...is gone…”
Victor could not stop the tears from running down his face as he beheld his mother. With every word she spoke, she seemed to lose strength. Blood continued to trickle out of her mouth, and her hand was slowly slipping away from her stomach.
And that was when Victor saw it. The knife, stuck tip-first in the floor only a short ways away from where his mother sat. There was red on the blade.
“Victor...Momma loves you...so much...be good…...be…….good…”
As the light faded from her eyes, her breathing came to a stop, and her hand fell to the ground in a silent, awful thud. Victor sat unmoving, too shocked to move, before grief overcame him and he latched onto his mother in a tight embrace. He exploded into tears, unable to stop the emotions erupting from him.
It was only when he could cry no more that Victor became aware of a new sound within the room.
The sound of heavy breathing.
Victor tore himself away from his mother, hoping, praying she’d come back. But no, her eyes remained lifeless, and her body cold. But then...where was the breathing coming from..? Realization dawned on Victor. Dreadful realization.
Behind him.
As he turned to look behind him, Victor saw him; the man. He was impossibly huge, his eyes wide. Bulging. Evil. He was dressed head to toe in black, heaving audibly as he sucked in air. He paralyzed Victor on the spot as his icy gaze bore through him and into the depths of his soul.
For a second he tore his sight off the boy and onto the knife, and in that instant, he lurched for the weapon. But impossibly as it may seem, Victor was faster, and he shoved the man to the ground. Victor took the opportunity to bolt from the room. He lept down the stairs and, thinking quickly, dove under the living room couch. No sooner had he done so, the man came storming down the stairs, though the knife was not in his hand. Victor cowered back as far as he could, holding his hands over his mouth.
“Come out, kid!” His voice was low and guttural, more of a beastly growl than the voice of a man. “I won’t hurt you!”
The man noticed the door to Victor’s room ajar, and stomped over. Throwing the door open he began tearing the room apart when he froze. Something caught his attention, something Victor couldn’t be sure of, but it was something that sent the man into a panic. He rushed into the living room and peered out the window before cursing and making a mad dash for the front door, trying desperately to get it open. That was when Victor heard police sirens in the distance, and they were getting closer.
With an enraged roar the man abandoned the front door and disappeared into the back room. Victor heard nothing more, and so remained hidden under the couch in case the man was still inside somewhere. It was then that he noticed his lips feeling strangely...sticky.
The sirens, now almost deafening, came to a stop as red and blue lights flashed around the room. Tires squealed outside the house, and a second later a banging came from outside the door.
“Sacramento police! Open the door now!”
When the order went unanswered, a kick flung the door open. A large yellow dot appeared inside the hallway as the officer in the doorway, a redheaded young man, shone his flashlight around the premises. He made his way inside, weapon drawn, while his partner followed close behind.
“Check the upper level.”
“On it.” The second officer took out his flashlight and made his way upstairs. The redheaded officer made his way around the ground level, searching for any signs of trouble. He reached for his radio, and with a crackle of static it came to life. “Dispatch, this is officer Davies, responding to a distress call. Possible need for back-up, do you copy?”
“That’s a 10-4, officer. What’s your situation?”
“Residents called in about loud noises coming from their neighbor’s house. Residents did not respond and premises were entered. Officer Tanner is currently investigating the upper level-”
“Davies, I got two bodies and a knife up here! Male, female, multiple stab wounds!”
“Fuck…” Officer Davies sighed before continuing. “Scratch that, dispatch. This just became a crime scene. Murder weapon possibly on site. I’m gonna need CSI, stat.” Officer Davies walked into the back room, and saw that the sliding door open. “Suspect possibly on foot.”
“Copy that. Officers enroute now.”
With that took his hands away from the radio and continued prowling through the house when he noticed the open door at the end of the hallway. Officer Davies made his way over, and investigated the ransacked bedroom.
“Del, you’ve only got two bodies up there?”
“Yeah, why?”
“There’s another around here somewhere. A kid’s.”
“A kid’s?! How do you know?!”
“Just found their room.” Officer Davies swallowed. “It looks just like the ones my daughters have…”
“Christ alive...all right, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
No sooner had Officer Delroy said so, a blood curdling scream rang out through the house, drawing Officer Davies’s attention back to the living room, gun at the ready. Tanner appeared at the bottom of the stairs - weapon also drawn - looking bewildered. “Jesus in heaven, what in the unholy fuck is that?!”
“I dunno! I’m gonna check it out. Cover me!” Delroy nodded, and Officer Davies made his way back to the living room, peeking around every corner as he did. He realized the screaming was coming from under the couch, so he dropped to a knee and shined his flashlight underneath. It was then he saw Victor, face and torso covered in blood. The light in his eyes snapped the small boy out of his screaming fit, and he stared at the officer, seemingly about to burst into tears again, but by this point, he had none left to shed.
“My God.”
“What is it?” Delroy called out from the hallway.
“It’s the kid…” Officer Davies turned his flashlight off, lying down on his stomach and reaching a hand out to Victor. “C’mon, buddy, take my hand. You’re safe now. Delroy, get me some water and towels!”
Tanner wordless hurried out to their cruiser to fulfil the request. Officer Davies turned his attention back to the boy under the couch, trembling in fear and shock over the events of the night. “It’s okay, kid, you can come out. The good guys are here to help you now.” He smiled at Victor, but the boy would not move. “My name is Nathan. What’s yours?”
Victor hesitated a moment, struggling to find his voice again. “V-V-Victor…”
“Hi Victor.” Nathan tried to make his voice as warm and comforting as he could. “Everything is going to be okay now. I promise.” He held out his hand again. “Will you take my hand, so I can help you?”
Tentatively, Victor took Nathan’s hand, and was gently pulled out from under the couch. “Atta boy.” Nathan said as he pulled Victor into his arms. The little boy was shaking so much Nathan might have thought he had hypothermia. Delroy returned with the water and towels, and Nathan used it to wash the drying blood off Victor’s face.
Nathan had never seen anyone look so afraid before. In fact this was the first time he’d ever stumbled across a murder. He knew it was an inevitability, being a cop in a major city, but something like this...he knew he’d never forget tonight. Still, he had a duty to make sure that the kid was okay. “Is there anything I can get you, Victor? Something to drink, maybe a blanket?”
Victor continued to shake violently, “S-S-Scarf… Momma’s s-s-scarf…” He stammered out.
Nathan nodded and stood up, “Delroy, keep an eye on him. I’m gonna grab what he asked for.”
“You sure?”, Delroy asked, “This is a crime scene, you can’t just take things.”
“You saw how much blood there was. What’re we going to learn from a scarf that’s any different from everything else in here?” Nathan asked. “Just let me do this for him.”
Delroy sighed and gave a reluctant nod, turning his attention back to Victor. Nathan went upstairs, the coppery smell in the air burning the insides of his nose. It wasn’t long before he caught sight of the mother’s body. He did his best to keep his eyes off her as he looked around for the scarf. It was in the bedroom that he saw the body of the father.
Nate’s eyes began to well up with tears at the whole situation when he noticed what it was the young boy had asked for laying on a nearby table; a bright red scarf, lovingly folded with a golden pendent on top of it. Strange, Victor didn’t mention anything about that. But anything that nice was bound to be important to the young boy, so he picked them both up and made his way back down to the living room, pocketing the pendant.
Delroy had finished cleaning the blood off Victor, but the damage was done. Nathan could see it in the boy’s eyes. He knelt down and handed Victor the scarf “This is what you wanted, right?” Victor immediately grabbed the scarf, wrapping it tightly around his neck. The scent of his mother’s perfume permeated it, but it did little to comfort him.
By daybreak, the house had been taped off and CSI got to work, searching for anything that would help them catch the intruder. Victor, meanwhile, was sitting on a stretcher outside an ambulance, having his vitals checked by a paramedic. Nathan stood closeby - Delroy had been picked up and brought to the station to get a start on filing their report - and he was keeping a close eye on the boy; he hadn’t said or made so much as a sound since Nathan brought him the scarf.
The paramedic finished what she was doing and turned her attention to Nathan. He stood at attention. “I’ve checked everything on him. He’s stable, just in shock. I think he’ll need some rest before he’s okay.”
“Okay?” Nathan repeated with disbelief. “What the hell is ‘okay’? He just-” He dropped his voice to a whisper so Victor couldn’t hear. “He just saw his parents get killed but some nutjob, and you think a bit of sleep is gonna make that okay for him?”
“Nate, you know what I meant-”
“Do I? Because I’m not so sure I do.” Nathan’s voice was beginning to escalate in volume. “He is never going to be the same again. No one would be after that! So now why don’t you explain to me-”
“That’s enough, Davies.” Nathan and the paramedic turned to find the police chief had arrived at the scene. “Ms. Boltan was speaking in as professional a manner as she could on the subject.” Nate sighed, the beginnings of a headache fast approaching. “Sorry, Chief. Long night.”
“I know. You should go home, get some sleep. I can wait for your report until tomorrow.” Nate turned back to Victor, still sitting quietly on the stretcher with his gaze cast downwards, not moving, not speaking. “What about the kid?” The chief pursed his lips. “It’s out of your hands. Best not to worry about it.”
“But-”
“Nate…” The chief put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “I know how you must feel about this, but believe me when I say that you need to let it go. This boy, his entire world’s just been turned on its head. We have people who will take care of him.” He gave Nathan a gentle shake to draw his attention from Victor and back to him. “And you need to take care of yourself, understand? There are people that need you.”
Nathan sighed dejectedly. “I understand, sir.”
“Good.” The chief clapped Nathan on the shoulder approvingly. “Now, go home and be with your girls. That’s an order. Tomorrow we’ll worry about the paperwork.”
Nathan nodded his head without a word. Once the chief had left Nate spotted his cruiser and made his way over. Hoping inside, he chanced one last look at Victor. He felt his heart ache for the boy, but it was like the chief said; he couldn’t let it become his problem. So he put the keys in the ignition, turned the engine over, pulled out, and drove off home.
Nathan had pulled out onto the highway and was well on his way home when he felt something in his pocket pressing up against his leg. All of a sudden he was aware of the gold pendant still on his person.
He ripped the trinket from the pocket, cursing himself; the next exit was a few miles away, and the morning traffic was starting to pick up. But Nathan wouldn’t be deterred. Tossing the pendant into the passenger seat and pressing down onto the gas, the cruiser sharply accelerated, weaving through the other cars on the road. He was going to get the pendant back to that kid, no matter what.
Back in the ambulance, the paramedic was storing the medical equipment from, while Victor remained on the stretcher.
“I-I-Is O-Officer Davies coming back?”, Victor asked the paramedic as she closed the ambulance door. She spared him an apologetic, if slightly impersonal smile, “No, he won’t be. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“O-Oh…”, Victor said, deflated, “I-I… I wanted t-to-”
“I understand. I’ll tell him the next time I see him. Now sit back, and try not to move around much.” She rapped her knuckles against the driver’s side wall, and It wasn’t long before the ambulance began to move.
“Wh-What’s gonna happen to me…?” Victor asked, but the paramedic kept her attention on the instruments measuring the boy’s vitals. “M-m-miss doctor lady?”
But no matter what he said, she wouldn’t turn her attention back to him, so for the rest of the trip Victor said nothing, pulling the red scarf tighter around himself. The simple answer was that the paramedic didn’t have any clue of what could be next for the little boy.
A few short minutes later, Nathan’s cruiser came to a squealing stop at the house. He flew out of the driver’s seat, pendant in hand, and whipped around in search of the ambulance, or some sign of Victor, but it was too late. With a heavy heart, he got back into the car. “Dammit!” Nathan punched the steering wheel in anguish. Now he would never get the pendant back to the kid. With his outburst sapping the last of his energy, Nathan made his way home, and into bed, dreaming of the scared little boy he found under a couch.
The next few days were a blur for Victor; he stayed at the hospital, where adults he’d never met before came to see him. They asked him all sorts of questions, some he answered and others he didn’t. They never stayed long, though, leaving as soon as they got what they came for. The only thing he would remember from that time was the persistent feeling of cold. For the first few days Victor hoped that Officer Davies would come to visit him, but he never appeared once in Victor’s time there.
On what would be his last day in the hospital, only the police chief came to see him. He took a seat beside Victor’s bed, taking his hat off to reveal a slightly balding head of greying hair, and leaned in to speak with the boy. “How’re you feeling, son?” His voice was kind, grandfatherly. “Are the doctors here treating you well?” Victor said nothing, keeping his face buried in the red scarf to stay warm in the frigid room. “I see.” The chief sat back with a knowing look. “I won’t keep you long, I just wanted to stop by with some good news. Would you like to hear it?” Victor looked over, nodding a second later silently.
“We caught him. The man that...broke into your house. He’s going to go away for a very long time. You don’t have to worry about him bothering you ever again.”
Victor made not a single sound, nor made any indication he’d heard the chief.
“Son?”
“C-can I...g-g-go home then?”
The chief looked down solemnly. “I’m afraid not. There’s no one there to look after you, and the officers still have work to do.”
“Wh-what’s gonna h-happen to m-m-me then?” Victor trembled, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. The chief swallowed, struggling to maintain his composure at the sight of the young boy. “There are people that take care of little boys and girls like you. We’re going to find some that will take care of you. They’ll be like a new mommy and daddy. That sounds nice, right?”
Victor fell silent once more, and he wouldn’t speak again for the rest of the day. The chief left, and the next day, Victor was taken to a building, where he met a man and woman with a little boy of their own that took Victor back to their home. There Victor lived, growing into a shy, quiet boy that never spoke unless spoken to. Wherever he went he was never seen without his red scarf wrapped around his neck. Though his memory slowly began to blur as time went on, he would never forget the wild, awful face of the man, and the kindness that Officer Davies had showed him that night four years ago.
But it was only the beginning of his many misfortunes.
“Now Victor, stay here and don’t run off.” His foster mother, Olivia, readjusted her purse. “I’m going to get a few things, and you’d better be right here when I get out, understand?” Victor nod his head, keeping his gaze downward. He felt a hand under his chin pull him upwards so he looking Olivia in the eyes “Look at me when I’m talking to you. I’m your mother, and you’re going to respect me, understand?”
“Y-yes.” Victor mumbled meekly.
“Yes what?”
“Ye-yes, m-m-ma’am.”
Olivia let go of Victor and went into the store, satisfied with that answer. Once she was gone Victor took a seat on the curb. It was a hot Sunday afternoon in August, and the sun was shining right in his face, but still Victor kept the scarf on, which earned him a few odd looks from store goers coming and going. A black haired woman with an ink-scrawled arm walked past, and trailing behind her were two children about his age; one was a boy with muddy brown eyes and a head of curly brown hair. The other was a girl wearing thick glasses, with hair a bright, fiery orange that seemed to be going in every which way it chose. Though they were roughly the same height, Victor felt much shorter when he looked at both children.
The boy leaned in to whisper something in the girl’s ear. She nod her head and hurried to catch up with the woman. “Mom, can we stay out here while you shop? It’s so boring in the store.” The bespectacled girl whined while her mother pulled a grocery cart free from a row.
The woman gave a little grin and rolled her eyes before saying, “Hmmm. I dunno, honey. I could use a hand in there. Besides, how else am I gonna keep my eye on you two?”
The boy stepped up behind the bespectacled girl. “What if we promised to stay out here, in front of the store? That way you could see us through these big windows and make sure nothing bad happens!” He flashed her a confident smile as he finished.
The woman hummed a moment before shrugging. “Aren’t you Mr. Persuasive. All right, I guess there’s nothing wrong with that, but just make sure you stay where I can see you. I might need your help. Deal?” The pair nodded enthusiastically in agreement, and with that the woman went inside.
“All right, it worked!” The bespectacled girl pumped her arm triumphantly. “Good thinking.”
“Thanks. So, what do you wanna do while we wait for your mom to get out?”
The girl put her knuckles to her chin in thought. “Oh! How about hide and seek!” The boy gave his friend a quizzical look in response. “Er- expert edition!” She elaborated once she noticed the distinct lack of hiding places. “Y’know, for a challenge.”
The boy’s eyes lit up, liking the sound of that. “Ooooh, yeah okay. Just one thing. C’mere.” The girl leaned in, but as soon as she did the boy took off. “Not it!”
The bespecalled girl’s cheeks indignantly puffed out, but she covered her eyes under her glasses and started counting back from ten nonetheless. Once she was done she scanned around for Kyle, but with a sigh found no trace of him. It was then she noticed Victor, sitting on his own. She made her way over to him.
“Hi!” Victor flinched, completely oblivious to the girl’s approach. “Oh, I’m sorry if I scared you, I didn’t mean to!”
Victor said nothing, hiding his face under his scarf.
“How come you’re not saying anything?” The girl’s head tilt in confusion. “Oh, wait I know! You’re not supposed to talk to strangers, right?” She didn’t wait long for an answer before continuing. “Yeah, that must be it. My mom and dad always tell me that you should never talk to strangers. But if we introduce ourselves, then we won’t be strangers and it’ll be fine, right?” She grabbed Victor’s hand without hesitation, shaking it with gusto. “Well I’m Kat, and it’s nice to meet you! What’s your name?”
“V-Vi-Victor!” The boy stammered out once she had let go of his hand.
“That’s a cool name!” She beamed. “So Victor, do you wanna play hide and seek with me and my friend?”
Victor shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “W-well...mom t-told me to wait f-f-for her here...I d-don’t wanna make her a-a-angry.”
“Aw, she can’t have meant for you to be right here, could she?” Kat asked rhetorically, though Victor knew better. “Besides, if she is angry, I’ll just tell her it was my idea. Promise!” Kat held a hand out to Victor, still smiling. “So c’mon, let’s play!”
Victor seemed to hesitate a moment, before slowly taking Kat’s hand with his own. With a grunt she hoist him off his behind, and the two started walking across the storefront. “I-I um, don’t know h-h-how to play actually.” Victor admitted, rubbing his head in embarrassment.
Kat gasped. “You don’t know how to play hide and seek?! But don’t you ever play with your mom and dad?”
Victor just shook his head. “Th-they don’t r-really like games.” He said quietly.
“Huh. Okay, well I’ll explain it to you, but first! I wanna know why you’re wearing that scarf.” Kat pointed directly at the scarf around Victor’s neck “It’s crazy hot out!”
“M-my scarf?” Kat nod her head vigorously. “I-it’s my m-momma’s.”
“Your mom’s? I don’t get it. She makes you wear it during summer?” Kat shrugged before Victor could respond. “Oh well. So, here’s how you play hide and seek. First, someone starts counting-”
“Kat!”
Kat and Victor looked over to see her friend walking over to the two of them, looking a bit annoyed. “I was hiding forever! Why didn’t you come find me?” He then noticed Victor behind Kat. “Who’s that?”
Kat immediately pulled Victor’s hand out, slapping it into the other boy’s. “Kyle, this is Victor, and Victor, this is Kyle, my best friend! I was just explaining to Victor how to play hide and seek. Can you believe he doesn’t know how to play? Isn’t that crazy?”
Victor said nothing as Kyle stared at him with hard eyes. He could feel resentful fire burning behind them, and he shrunk under the other boy’s gaze. Just as soon as they had been brought together Kyle wrenched his hand out of Victor’s, placing it around Kat’s shoulder and leading her away from Victor.
“C’mon, Kat! We should stay away from him!”
“Huh? Why should we do that?” Kat looked back at Victor in confusion.
“I heard someone telling my mom and dad that they saw him push a girl off the playground at his school last week.” Kyle kept his eyes forward. “He’s a bad guy, so we shouldn’t play with him.”
“Really?”, Kat asked with a gasp. Kyle nod his head, continuing to lead Kat away from Victor. The shy boy was about to say something in defence, when he was jerked back around by a tug at his sleeve. It was Olivia, and she was red in the face.
“I told you to stay where you were! I’ve just spent the last five minutes, running around this parking lot trying to find you!” Victor knew that couldn’t be true, he’d only gotten up just a moment ago. “B-b-but-”
Victor suddenly cried out in pain as Olivia slapped him across the face. “Don’t you give me attitude! When we get home you’re going straight to your room, and you’re going to stay there until your father gets home. Understand me?” Victor fell silent, trembling as he rubbed his cheek, fighting back tears. The thought of what might await him once his foster father came home that night made his stomach ball up, and so he said nothing else for the day for fear of making the situation worse.
Now a young man tossed and turned in his bed, sweating an icy sweat as he was beset by his nightmares of that night, that man, and the terrible thing he did. He awoke with a start, screaming momentarily as he gained his bearings. Victor sat there, panting in his room. He was nearly a man now, one you could call handsome. The sun outside had began to rise, and it’s light inched onto the foot of the bed ever so slightly. Victor had nearly calmed himself when a pounding at his door sent him tumbling out and onto the floor.
“Keep it down in there, boy! It’s five in the morning!”
“S-s-sorry dad.” He stammered out, hoping he hadn’t caught his foster father, Conrad, in too foul a mood in the early morning.
“Get breakfast started. School’s gonna be starting soon.”, he heard Conrad say on the other side flatly before his footsteps began to shuffle away
Victor heaved a sigh of relief. “Y-yes, sir.” And with that, Victor heard his foster father’s footsteps retreat down the hallway.
The rest of the morning progressed without incident as Victor went about his usual routine; eggs and bacon for breakfast, while he made himself some toast with strawberry jam. Afterwards he took a shower, the last in the house to do so which meant that it ran out of hot water about halfway through. After brushing his teeth he dressed himself, saving his scarf for last, as bright red as it had ever been. He put on his backpack, and made his way for the door.
Before he left, he checked the calendar. If one thing was for sure, this year seemed to go by pretty fast. It was only 9 short months ago when Conrad was certain that the world was going to end, and he had stocked up on various survival kits emblazoned with the letters “Y2K”, which were now gathering dust in a corner of the living room. The whole craze meant nothing to Victor as it happened. Really, this year was no different than any other, and he really wasn’t seeing that changing anytime soon.
How wrong he was.
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