#--Steps for the Furthering Of Mankind like yeah man i think that means the same exact thing. what the hell

[beeapocalypse]

pav telling the kaiser that hes stepping on innocent ppl just to further his own goals like ohh my god THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE DOING AS WELL. REFLECT ON THE SELF A LITTLE

[that-banana-headed-bovine]

My main man Michael Knight for character bingo!!!!

AYYY- This one's interesting really, especially because Season 2 Michael is basically,, an entirely different entity? As in, he's reached the end of his character arc and is actually a really, really nice dood. So I had to use two types of bingos, and I'll explain it further below. Here's the original post BTW.

If you can't read the image, don't worry, I'll say all the marked squares below. If you can, let me know if there is anything I can do to make it more legible next time--I mean, obviously, the squares are covered up, but I mostly mean with the colors. I almost used red and green, and then I remembered that, oh yeah, that really sucks for colorblindness. Now the saturation is still about the same, but anything much lighter or darker is less legible??? So yeah, any recommendations on that welcome.

Let's start with the reds, or Definite opinions.

They are soooo cool looking!

I dressed up as Michael Knight for Halloween a few years back, even though I wasn't fully sold on him as a character yet at that point. I was still healing from Season 1 (half kidding) ... but I did it because he is such a Vibe. Seriously, I felt so alive it wasn't even funny AISHDOAS- my final form /j

Michael is, aesthetically at least, literally everything I want to be (other than. y'know. male,,,). Immaculate. MUAH! He really does feel like a California Cowboy of sorts... and leather jackets are a gift to mankind by the way. I especially love how, in his classic leather jacket + red polo outfit at least, he coordinates with Kitt. So cute haodh

Wasted potential

I've been having a bit of a moral dilemma recently when it comes to the way I engage in this fandom, so I want to disclose fully here that, in real life, I don't think a robot can be on the same level of sentience as a human. Perhaps, as tech evolves, there will be AIs that are really, REALLY good at replicating it... but that won't be real. We're just people after all. We can develop really cool technology, and that's all great, but we shouldn't be trying to play God and think we can make actual life. We can't.

That said, within the confines of Knight Rider's fictional universe, Kitt is fully alive. Michael is the only character who has so much as a shot of really getting that. Devon understands theoretically what Kitt is meant to be, and Bonnie even understands mechanically, but Michael sees his personality. And it's strange, really, how the show sometimes treats this as important but sometimes Not. I really love how, in Trust Doesn't Rust, Michael is far more hesitant to go after Karr than anyone else, asking if it really is necessary. I truly wish they'd have taken that further in TDR, and involved it at ALL in Kitt vs. Karr. Season 2 is my favorite because it embraces this (more later), but even then, we didn't get to see the stage in between that brought him there. He went from a caring skeptic in S1 to full-on sap in S2. Honestly, I really believe there's a lesson there about not taking those around you for granted, that just because you don't understand someone doesn't mean they're any less worthy of love, that just because you know you care doesn't mean that they do. I never expected Knight Rider to become an arc-motivated show, but I did at least hope that the subtle throughline would stay more consistent.

They're deeper than they seem

Basically just above 2.0. He has an internal struggle I think, between wanting to trust his new family and having been burned by his old one (the police force I mean, especially Tanya). It takes him a good while to FULLY trust and understand Kitt--yes, the pilot is a big step in that direction and probably what the show writers meant to be the end of it, but I can't help but sense more. Is his best friend even REAL, y'know? Also probably PTSD. And ,,, EVERYTHING about Stevie, it almost feels like an entirely different mini-show in those episodes? Possibly even some imposter syndrome about how this new life isn't even HIS life, he's walking in the shoes of somebody else? I dunno, but there's a lot here.

Also, while I don't know if I'm down fully with the "Michael is ace" headcanon, because he's definitely willingly Done the Deed plenty as implied by certain episodes of the show (man I hate that sentence I'm sorry), I do love the idea that he's really not fulfilled by these relationships in the slightest. That behind the "not thoughts, head empty" smile he just wants something real, but has been dragged into a fake life and a surface-level existence. Feels bad man

They work better as part of a dynamic

Michael and Kitt, mostly. If Michael were by himself, Knight Rider would feel like just another Magnum PI, Hardcastle and McCormick, etc. Not that these shows are bad, Magnum PI has probably aged better than KR after all, but none of them captured my attention quite as much. Kitt,,, MIGHT be able to carry a show by himself entirely, if he were human? Idk, that personality is just so good and unique, but even he benefits from a foil. Michael, though, is probably the best iteration of a very common 80s MC personality, and having Kitt there is what makes it go from a pretty good romp to a wonderful classic.

Also Michael and Karr are my favorite duo to think about, it would be so good. Especially if Kitt is there trying to babysit his two himbo besties. Michael's got no braincells, and Karr has 'em but chooses not to use them.

Onto the blues, or the kinda/conditional opinions.

If they were real, I would marry them.

Depends on the season 100%. Season 1 Michael is likeable enough but just SO frustrating at times, and Season 3 has proven to be frequently outright insufferable. Season 2, though? That man's marriage material probably, and even just aesthetically. Maybe not MARRY marry, I don't really have a crush on him??? Anymore I tend to immediately convert my potential fictional crushes into blorbos, so there's that. But lifelong besties at least.

They're like a blorbo to me

HMM- Honestly? Dunno if this one's true. Then why did I mark it? Because... KINDA???

He's been at the forefront of my mind a lot more recently, admittedly because I already worked out Kitt + Karr's arcs (the TRUE blorbos) and am now trying to figure out what to do with him, but still. And even at times when I hate Michael's guts and wanna bap him in the forehead, I still don't hate him. Like "holy macaroni that was horrific like I actually hate you" "so you don't like him?" "*grinning* nah he's cute". Like, Hoff's characterization of him is too charming ashfo idc if he's an ahole he's MY ahole

So,,, probably more of my Little Skringlo than a Blorbo, but close enough.

Nothing I like about them is technically canon

See,,, Everything above about his character arc. See, I think his arc is SUPPOSED to be canon? But it isn't TEEECHNICALLY canon anymore thanks to Seasons 3 and 4 existing, which means S2 Michael got reverted to S1 Michael and then it was a whole mess. If it had ended in S2, I would have been convinced that it was the intended arc. But now, I don't actually know.

Why do they look like that

I'm interpreting this entirely wrong and I know it, you can't stop me /laughing hard

As I said before, I aesthetically love Michael so much, so I don't mean this as in "ew why does he look like that?" ... I mean it literally, WHY would you do that Wilton?

Why would you find some random guy in the street, go "that's the ticket Shahra", and then PUT YOUR KID'S FACE ON HIM ASDOHSHD WHY FOR WHY

so yeah, not Michael's fault, this is a Wilton callout post now

They got too much screentime

I'm really only saying this about the first half of Season 1. After Trust Doesn't Rust, they seemed to realize that people really REALLY loved the cars, and so balanced the episode more. Before, though, they tried to fit in so many bits for no reason while STILL giving Michael the majority of the screentime? It really went

Devon says Here is Mission (and establishes a Funny Interest)

Michael takes off with Kitt. Michael and Kitt participate in Banter, with Michael getting way more of the words than is reasonable?

Michael tracks down the bad guy and monologues stuff out loud, figures out a gameplan, goes in after Guy

Kitt has A Gag

Michael does 80% of the work

"I need ya buddy" vroom vroom Kitt silently breaks into building.

Michael does Car Stuff

punch punch bad guy even tho we have indestructible car!!! they get apprehended of screen we didn't see any cops show up either so I guess Michael sent 'em to the shadow realm

Devon's interest gets made fun of

Kitt's interest from Gag also gets made fun of

and scene

seriously am I forgetting anything here IASDHOI- The dynamic got fixed pretty quickly tho, which is why it's not a full Yes. I am fine with Michael getting the majority of the screentime so long as Kitt isn't left with like, three lines of dialogue.

Also, I do project SOME imposter syndrome onto him, just not enough to mark off that answer. And also I didn't wanna give y'all bingo so easily >:) try again muahaha

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Bar fight

“When you said you were taking me to a place of your culture, I was expecting someplace more.....refined”  Morgal stepped out of the cab after his human friend and gazed at the establishment in front of him. The outer walls were covered in decaying wood planks that looked like they could catch fire any second. The noise coming past the saloon doorway was overflowing with laughter and music and as Morgal watched a human stumbled out, threw up on the pavement, then proceeded to pass out on the ground. He made sure to step extra carefully around the pile of vile as he followed his friend to the entrance.  “I’m guessing you were expecting an opera theater or art gallery?” Jack asked as he wrapped an arm around Morgal’s shoulder and ushered him to the door. “That’s high society bullshit, the smallest of the small of human culture. You want to find the beating heart of mankind, this is where you come to.”  Morgal looked once more at the shady establishment and then back at his friend before sighing, letting himself be carried along by Jack’s arm. When he moved to this new world Morgal could not help but feel like he was always being watched by the humans and judged. His species carried three extra sets of arms across his body which must have intimidated them. Jack had been his first human friend since migrating to the human homeworld and he had not felt the same gloomy cloud of judgement when they were together. They both worked in office positions side by side and had developed a friendship over the previous months. Jack had gone out of his way to help him understand human customs and had not once asked for anything in return saying “Friends don’t bargain.” Tonight he asked Morgal after work if he’d want to join him for some “human culture” and he felt accompanying him would in some small measure pay him back for his kindness.  Jack pushed open the doors and Morgal finally got a look inside. Unlike the decrepit exterior, the inside of the “saloon”, as Jack had called it, was vibrant with color and life.  Rows of round tables were filled with various humans laughing, drinking, eating, and playing various games. Uniformed human females walked between the tables delivering goods and taking orders.  One side of the saloon had a large stand with countless bottles of strange liquid, each one held in a different glass bottle of color and shape. Morgal noticed with amazement how the humans behind the stand listen to orders made and somehow slide over to the exact bottle and perform a vivid acrobatic display of pouring the drink for them before accepting payment.  Morgal was so transfixed by the skill that he hardly noticed Jack pulling him over to a nearby vacant table. The two swept off a pile of crumbs from the previous occupants and sat down at the table. “So, what do you think so far?” Jack was nearly shouting to be heard over the roar of the gathered crowd. “It is..” Morgal began as his eyes made another pass around the room, “not what I expected.....” As his eyes wandered they laid sight upon a human female walking past him carrying several large beverage containers, more than Morgal thought possible for a species with only two arms.  As she skillfully avoided a patron who suddenly fell in her way her eyes met his. For a moment Morgal realized he had been rude by staring at her and remembered that Jack said some human females don’t like it when they are stared at. Before he could look away he noticed the uniformed female smile and wink at him as she passed by. Morgal felt something he was unsure of for the first time that made him feel lighter than normal and he attempted his practiced human smile back at her before she vanished into the throng of patrons.  Morgal looked back at Jack who was now staring at him with his head cradled in his hands.“I think I am enjoying it much more now.” Morgal admitted as he slacked back into his chair while Jack drew a mischievous grin and raised his arm up. Morgal was curious for the meaning when suddenly the female he had been staring at was beside them.  “What’s your poison?” she said as she pulled out a pad of paper. The smile at seeing her again rapidly left his face at her words. Did I offend her!? I knew I shouldn’t have stared! Why did I stare!??!!?  Morgal’s head was racing with ideas, each worse than the last. “She means what drinks are we ordering Morg, not literal poison.”  As Morgal let out a sigh of relief Jack continued speaking with the uniformed woman. “I’ll have a glass of whisky with three shots of tequila.” The uniformed female nodded and then looked at Morgal. “And for you hun?” Morgal paused to consider his options, he was still unfamiliar with human drinks so figured he should play it safe.  “Do you have anything fruity?” he queried. She nodded, “We have a strawberry daiquiri that’s nice and fruity; though I’d have picked you for something a bit more sweet.” She made a movement with her lips and eyes and Morgal cursed himself for not learning what human facial gestures meant. Thankfully Jack came in to save him before his mind began racing again. “He’s a sweet heart alright, basically a giant teddy bear with all those arms. He’s still getting used to our drinks so we’ll start with those daiquiri’s and see how the night goes.”  She wrote down something and then left the table back to the stand at the far end for the drinks. Morgal was content to watch her go when Jack motioned his attention. “Think she’s into you man.” “But I am not a man Jack, we’ve been over this.” Jack shook his head. “No, I mean I think she’s got you on her radar. Play your cards right and you might get some digits tonight.” “Why would I need more digits? I already have 45.” “I mean her phone number digits.” “Your phones have digits?!”  Jack’s hands covered his face for a moment and dragged down across his face. “I think she likes you and wants to know you.” Morgal felt that light feeling again at that and stared back at her. “Why didn’t you say so?” “Remind me to get you a book on human sayings. You are in desperate need of one.”  Before Morgal could ask further he felt something grab hold of his right shoulder. He turned his head and saw a rather bulky man behind him, his massive hand firmly clenching his shoulder.  “Can I help you?” “Yeah, by leaving.” the man replied. Looking past the man Morgal could see two other men standing behind him, one cracking their finger knuckles while the other drinking from a glass bottle.  “I do not understand.” Morgal was unsure if this was another human custom or not, but he felt the hand on his shoulder tighten further.  “Don’t care what a alien freak like you gets or not, so long as it’s getting your sorry ass out of this place. Now.” The expression on the bulky man’s face was one he had often seen in human motion pictures, “Anger” he thought it was called.  “Who you calling freak?” Morgal turned to see Jack stand up and walk over to them. “You look like the shit I scrape off my shoe when I get home at night.”  “Buzz off limp dick.” one of the men standing behind the bulky man said. “Yeah, this is between us and the alien.” the other chimed in, finally finishing their drink. “His name is Morgal, and he’s my friend.” “Gay friend” the knuckle man chuckled.  The uniformed female returned to the table and set down the tray. “Here’s your drinks fellas.” She began putting them out on the table but then stopped when seeing the situation. “If you’re going to fight take it outside.”  The bulky man let go for Morgal’s shoulder and looked at the female. “Don’t worry hun, they were just leaving.” He glared at Jack with daggers in his eyes to emphasize the point, but Jack just shook his head and reached for his drink. “We’re not going anywhere till we’ve had our drinks.” he said as he brought his whisky up to his mouth.   “Then let me help you finish them.” In an instant the bulky man’s hand lashed out and slapped the glass out of Jack’s hand. The liquid spilled across the table as it flew towards the uniformed female. She started to raise her arms but the glass was too fast and was about to smash into her face when a hand sprung out and caught it.  Morgal calmly set the glass down on the table and stood up to face the Bulky man. “That...was rude.” The words came through clenched teeth as Morgal began feeling angry himself for once. He could handle name calling for himself, but this Bulky human had nearly hurt the female human who had made him feel light, and that upset him.  The Bulky man smirked and brought his fists up. “Yeah? What’re you going to do about it?”  Jack’s fist smashed into the man’s face and sent him sprawling back into the two men behind him. “How about that for starters?” Jack quipped.   One of the men holding the Bulky figure dropped him and lunged at Jack. Morgal grabbed him with his arms and casually tossed him in a different direction. They landed on a nearby table and sent the collection of cards and drinks scattering to the floor, much to the displeasure of the table’s occupants who then stood up and advanced on Jack and Morgal.  “Thanks for that, but could you’ve aimed for someplace else?” Jack said as he slowly began backing up. Morgal shrugged. “It was either that or the other option.” “What other option?” Jack asked as a fist came hammering into his gut.  “That. That was the other option.” One of the new comers grabbed hold of a chair and swung it at Morgal. He brought his arms up just in time and the chair shattered into pieces on impact. A chair leg went flying into the glass of another patron and shattered it, dousing them in cold brew. Letting out a roar of anguish the doused human rushed the chair wielding human and began savagely beating him with his fists.  More and more patrons began getting drawn in as the constant shoving, punching, and flying debris hit bystanders sending them into a drunk filled rage. Morgal quickly found himself having to constantly defend himself from all sides.  Through the chaos he saw the human female he had been speaking to before grabbed by another male human, he could see she was struggling to get free of his grip. He began moving towards her, throwing away battling patrons that blocked his way as if they were twigs.  As he reached her he grabbed the man’s arm with three of his own and squeezed. The man let out a yelp and let go of her as he turned to face Morgal. Still holding the man’s arm he lifted him into the air and began punching him with his remaining five arms in rapid succession before swinging him like a rag doll over his shoulder into a nearby table.  He turned around to the human female and saw her looking at him again. The anger suddenly was sapped from him, replaced with an almost sheepishly demeanor. He did not know what to say, so he just bubbled the first thing that came to mind.  “Sorry about the table.” She shrugged and rubbed her wrist where the man had grabbed her. “Place needed a makeover anyway. Thanks for the help.” Morgal was about to say something else when he saw her reach for a glass bottle beside her and fling it at Morgal. He brought his hands up to block but the bottle instead flung past him and hit the man that had grabbed her straight in the face sending him back sprawling to the floor once more.         He was grateful that she had saved him when he remembered what jack had said earlier. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a business card and held it out to her as she ducked another flying bottle. “Thank you for saving me, here is my phone number. Feel free to call me.”  She took the card out of sheer surprise then ducked back down as Jack came flying back between them. Morgal excitedly knelt down to Jack. “I did it! I gave her my digits!” “That’s great pal.” Jack coughed as Morgal helped him to his feet. “Can tell me all about it later, but kinda need your help for a second.”  They turned to see the Bulky man from before now back on his feet. He picked up an entire round table and flung it at the both of them.  Despite the swirling chaos around them, Morgal was surprisingly happy that he had decided to join his friend tonight. Maybe they would do it again soon. 

[willow-salix]

Day 96 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I did something today that I never thought I would and I’m sure that I will be regretting it for months, OK, maybe years to come.

It all started when I entered the lounge, which is honestly an everyday occurrence, I walk in and those little sods start acting up, but this time it was John that caught my attention.

“What was that?” I demanded to know.

“What was what?” he asked innocently.

“That face you just pulled.”

“What face? This is my normal expression.”

“No it wasn’t! It was the same face you pull when Gordon tells a bad joke or when Alan convinced you to try Marmite on your bagel, that one that is a cross between disgust and what the hell was that. And I want to know why you directed it at me!”

“I did no such thing,” he sniffed, turning back to his book.

I whipped the book away, tossing it onto the coffee table. “Yes, you did. Now, explain.”

“I didn’t do anything, I looked at you the same way I always do, with love, great respect and a little bit of thankfulness."

I raised an eyebrow at that. Space man was lying through his teeth. Considering I’d just gotten dressed after a leisurely bath and actually bothered with makeup I didn’t think I looked too bad. Apparently I was wrong.

“She doesn’t look like she believes you, bro,” Scott grinned, stretching out full length on the couch, arms behind his head, clearly settling in to watch the show.

“Do I look offensive today? Do I smell? Did I snore all night? Give me a hint here, babe, ‘cause I’m getting a wee bit paranoid.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong and you certainly aren’t offensive-” John started.

“Not all of her anyway,” Scott added in his loudest side whisper.

“Not ALL of me? So part of me is?” I crossed my arms defensively, feeling a huff coming on.

“No, not a part of you,” John promised, but I know when he’s deflecting and that was a definite deflection, the same tone he uses on prank callers and people being dramatic while he waits for the local authorities to answer the call.

I turned my glare on Scott. I’ll give him his due, he held out longer than I expected before he cracked, a whole ten seconds at least.

“He hates that top you’re wearing.”

“What?” I glanced down at my top, one of my favourites. It was a vintage number from somewhere in the 1980’s depicting cartoon characters of a band called Queen. It was baggy, saggy, ripped in places, fraying at the collar where I’d hacked it off and at the arm holes where I’d cut off the sleeves. It hung off one shoulder and sagged on the other and it was sooooo cool and comfy. It was just the best shirt ever.

“What's wrong with it?”

John made a face and crossed his legs protectively. I raised an eyebrow at that, don’t tempt me, dude.

“It’s just…” he paused as if trying to pick the least offensive way to describe it.

“He thinks it’s ugly.”

“Scott, stop helping!” John groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh!” I squawked, totally shocked and utterly appalled. “It is not ugly.”

“It is a little. It’s obnoxious, the cartoons are weird and it hurts my eyes to look at it,” John admitted. Scott burst out laughing, earning him a glare from both of us.

"Let me get this straight," I uncrossed my arms and dropped my hands to my hips, as sure sign I was getting annoyed. "You, the one who's favourite shirt makes you look like a rodeo clown. You who owns a dressing gown that looks like it mated with a 1970's couch, you who probably only keep it because you can actually see the damned thing from space, think my shirt is ugly? You are judging ugly?" I was utterly flabbergasted.

There was a thump as Scott rolled off the couch but still didn't stop laughing. We both ignored him.

"Yes, I'm judging ugly and those things on your chest are ugly."

I looked down at the twins in horror.

"You know it didn't mean those!"

Breathless wheezing was all Scott could manage as he gave up trying to haul himself back into the couch and just accepted his fate, laughing so hard that he was now incapable of making any sound at all.

I nudged him with my foot but it did little good so I just stepped over his flailing legs and advanced on John.

"This shirt is an album cover, it is a classic, it is an amazing album and I love it!"

"And I love my rodeo shirt…" he paused, realising what he had just said. "Not that it is a rodeo shirt," he backtracked hurriedly.

"Who are you trying to convince here?" I asked.

"Hey, what are you guys yelling about?" Gordon asked, coming into the room and skidding to a halt as he caught sight of one brother rolling around on the floor and another looking like he wished he was anywhere but there at that moment. His eyes slid to me and widened.

"Gordon!" John seized on his brother's presence gratefully, obviously needing backup. "Can you please tell her that my shirt is not ugly, nor is that dressing gown you gave me for Christmas."

"And please tell him that this shirt is cool and in no way obnoxious or ugly, not like his couch print nightmare!"

Gordon's eyes darted between us and he backed up a few steps.

"What's that Grandma?" he called over his shoulder. "You made fresh cookies? Sure, I'd love to try them!" he was gone before we could blink.

Scott gasped for air, wiping the tears from his eyes as he attempted to pull himself together.

I dived straight back into the fray, I'm a woman, we don't back down when we know we're right.

"Your things are so hideous they deserve to be burnt to put them and us out of our misery!"

"I'll burn my things when you burn that baggy sheet you call a shirt!"

I had a split second to make a decision, do I keep arguing, do I back down or do I make a sacrifice for the good of mankind (and my own eyes)?

No way was I backing down.

"Deal!" I yelled triumphantly.

"Fine!" he yelled back. "But you have to pick one, if you're only burning one thing so am I."

“Fine!” I agreed, nodding as if it were a done deal. “Burn that dressing gown, I can live with the clown shirt.”

“Fine! But now I’m going to wear that shirt every day and buy more to make sure I don’t smell!”

“Dude, how was that a threat?”

He paused. “I don’t know, but it was.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Go and get that ugly thing!”

“I will.”

“Oh, and can you be amazing and grab me another shirt since I will apparently be needing one?”

“Sure,” he stalked away, then paused at the door and turned back to look at me. “What shirt do you want?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, just pick anything that takes your fancy, surprise me.”

He nodded and left again.

“Oh God, Oh I can’t breathe!” Scott gulped, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly in an attempt to calm himself. “Even when you two are arguing you completely miss the point and end up being nice to each other and it’s hilarious.”

I nudged him with my foot again. “Get up, Chuckles, we need to build a fire.”

***

"What's going on?" Alan asked, wandering over.

"John finally admitted that he hates her shirt," Kayo told him.

"Does everyone know you hated it? Why am I always the last to know?"

John shrugged, obviously not willing to risk speaking and annoying me further.

“Are you two sure you want to do this?” Virgil asked, tossing another log onto the fire that he and Scott (when he finally pulled himself together enough to stand upright) had made in the firepit on the beach. Yes, we have a firepit, they are men, they like to make fire, it makes them feel all cave man and grrrr. Like speeding around the world in rockets wasn’t enough.

By the time we had emerged onto the beach, each gently carrying our precious sacrifices, the entire family had turned out to watch. Obviously lockdown had been so boring that anything was entertainment to them, even us doing a clothes barbecue.

I rubbed the hem of my shirt between my finger and thumb, feeling the soft material. It had been washed so many times and almost worn to death that it was super soft, broken in, more comfortable than anything else I owned. It was comfort clothing. You know what I mean, like when you slip on your favourite pyjamas and cuddle up under a blanket and then suddenly the world doesn’t seem so bad? Yeah, that was this shirt to me. I could wear it with leggings and slouch around the house as I had done today, or I could team it up with a pair of tight jeans, a studded belt and a few accessories, tie it at the corner to make it a little more form fitting and I’d be acing the rock chick look. It was multi purpose! Not like that disgusting dressing gown that seemed to exist just to spite me. That thing served absolutely no purpose at all.

I looked down at my shirt again. Could I really do this? Could I really destroy something I loved because he hated it? I glanced over at him, dressing gown rolled up and tucked under his arm. Yes, yes I could, if it would make him happy.

The offensive gown was just as hideous when you couldn’t see the shape of the thing. How was that even possible? OK, so maybe it did serve a little purpose, if only to annoy me. It’s kinda always been there, you know? I know when he’s having a bad day when he comes home and gets changed into that thing. Because it’s soft and silky and sometimes gravity is just a little too harsh after more than a week in space and all other clothes seem too heavy for him to deal with. I’m used to finding him in the kitchen at random times of the day making a sandwich while wearing it, or first thing in the morning when he’s hunched over a big mug of coffee, or when there’s an emergency call and that’s the first thing he grabs so he's dressed when he answers. Hell, I’ve grabbed it too, I’ve worn it when I’ve felt crampy and sick because it smells like him and that's comforting and I've lost count of the times that it was the closest thing to hand and I had the sudden urge for chocolate at 3am. And when I’ve come home and it’s not hanging up in the bedroom I know he’s home too and that’s just the best thing ever.

I stupidly risked a glance at his face and saw the utter devastation there. Nooo, why did I do that? Why did I look?

No! Be strong! I could buy him another that was just as soft and comfy, maybe even more so, I’d buy an even better one. One that actually has a nice pattern, or better yet, no pattern at all, a nice midnight blue one that would look amazing on him. He’d love it in the end. And I’d make him buy me like twenty cool new shirts to make up for this one.

“How are they going to do this?” Alan asked as we stood side by side beside the flickering fire.

“John should go first because he started this by not being able to lie properly,” Scott decided after John and I stared at each other for a few seconds, completely baffled. What can I say, burning clothes is a new experience for me. I’ve only done it once and that time I’d actually planned it.

“Fine, I can go first,” he set his shoulders and balled up the offensive gown. “A deal is a deal.”

“Is he actually going to do it?” Alan whispered to Gordon.

“If he doesn’t I’m going to tease him forever,” Kayo admitted, joining in the conversation.

I heard John take a deep breath and step forward. He inhaled slowly then threw the gown.

I don’t know why I did it, I don’t even think it was a conscious decision, my arm was moving before I even registered what was happening. I didn’t even know I could move that fast, usually I’d be hard pressed to outpace a sloth. But my hand shot out and I snatched the gown from certain death, dropping my own shirt in the process.

“Why did you do that?”

I looked down at the bundle of poop brown and gold ick that had magically appeared in my hands.

“I don’t know.”

“Then give it back.”

“No!” I tucked it away behind my back. “You love this ugly mess.”

“But you hate it.”

“So? What does that matter? This isn’t about me, it’s not mine.” I pushed it into his hands and snatched my shirt off the ground, balling it up ready to throw.

It was his turn to snatch. “What are you doing?”

“Duh, burning the offensive shirt, I made a promise,” I tried to tug it away from him but he held firm.

“You’d still burn it even though you won’t let me burn mine?”

“Sure.”

“But you love it.”

“Yeah, and you hate it,” I shrugged. Simple enough concept. No one wanted to walk into a room and be hit with the stink eye because they were wearing something that was apparently ugly.

“You’re not burning the shirt, it’s your favourite. We can’t like everything, that makes life boring.”

“So you’re agreeing to disagree?” Alan groaned. “This was the most ridiculous waste of time.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, Virgil and Scott looking sadly at their fire, now unused for the purposes for which it had been built, it would receive no sacrifice today.

WHUMMMP! Flames leapt up as something landed in the middle of the fire and quickly took hold.

“What the-?”

A shirtless Gordon shrugged. “Well, someone had to do it.”

So yes, I may have made a big mistake because I’ll never be able to complain about the thing again now that I’ve saved its life. It's going to haunt me forever more.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #206: Fire in the Streets!

April, 1981

Fire in the streets? But what of the disco? What of the t-t-t-taco bellll?

This time: Human Torch guest stars. Everything is on fire.

Somehow?  It’s not Johnny Storm’s fault!

In fact, there’s another fire man setting on fire so logically we have Johnny Storm here to. Uh. Set things on fire more? Could... could we get a water person here instead? Is Crystal Inhumans doing anything? She’s basically the Avatar.

So who is Pyron the Thermal Man? And why is that name so fun to say? I can only answer one of these questions.

“This man is content. During hard times, he has found a good job at high pay. In the dead of night, he delivers destruction to his employer’s competitors. It is a job not without risks -- such as discovering he has been suddenly deemed expendable.

“This man is an industrial saboteur. In one last brilliant burst of awareness he realizes the peril he must have posed to his employers, and he understands why they chose to betray him. The dead, it is said, tell no tales to arson-investigating district attorneys.”

Man: “The thermite bomb has been preset to 12:10. BUT IT IS 12:10! GLEEARGHH!”

“As the fierce chemical inferno engulfs him, he swears that -- if he survives -- he will have his revenge.”

And then he explodes.

Later, at Avengers Mansion, Beast is getting his late night groove on listening to Chopin when to his absolute disgust, the music is interrupted for late-breaking news that absolutely everything is on fire.

Beast: “They interrupt a Chopin concert simulcast for this?! A news flash about some diddlysquat fire in New Jersey?!!”

But as the Human Torch is involved, Beast realizes that the situation is no ordinary one.

Y’know, I’m forever amazed that network news is a more reliable source of leads for the Avengers then their ties to the government or SHIELD or any crime computers or whatever.

Beast watches the news as Johnny attempts to fight fire with fire despite my mockery of the concept. As Beast muses, its theoretically sound similar to how oil-well fires are fought by using explosions to deprive the fire of oxygen. Johnny could briefly go nova to create a similar blast.

But oddly, the Human Torch’s fire seems to be siphoned away from him into the blaze, leaving him to retreat to collapse in the arms of firefighters.

And even more oddly, there appears to be a face formed of flames, “it’s jaws agape in an infernal laugh.”

Between the face and the fire draining the Torch, Beast decides this looks like a job... for the Avengers!

So the Avengers assemble... for tea, coffee, and donuts.

You try to fight weird fires on an empty stomach and uncaffeinated. You think you’re so cool over there saying you’d skip the donuts.

(I like Iron Man drinking a soda pop through a straw in his mouth slit.)

And then Beast puts the news of the New Jersey chemical fire on the Avengers’ weird four screened cube tv and tells them that he thinks the fire is alive!

Luckily backed up by Johnny Storm giving a timely interview when the Avengers start watching where he says its no natural fire. And also backed up the spooky face which everyone can see.

Cap decides that the Avengers should investigate this weird fire and Jarvis optimistically fetches a fire extinguisher saying he’s ready to do whatever he may to help.

I’m pretty sure they tell him its okay not to come though. I don’t think a fire extinguisher will help all that much.

But the thought definitely counts, Jarvis.

So the Avengers get into the Quinjet and fly across the Hudson into New Jersey, which must be an extremely short trip as the super jet flies.

From their overhead view of the fire, they realize that its heading right towards some storage tanks holding liquid natural gas. And if those ignite “the resultant explosion would surely rival the devastating destructive capacity of mankind’s most powerful nuclear weapons.”

And New Jersey is where Kamala Khan lives! Or will live!

So stakes are high. And possibly well done.

Captain America: “Let me get this straight, Iron Man. Are we talking about losing New Jersey if that fire’s not put out before it reaches those storage tanks?”

Iron Man: “Affirmative, Cap. In fact, the sheer heat of this inferno should have ignited the liquid natural gas already -- but the heat, like the fire itself, seems to be controlled... localized in the flaming factory areas, but not radiating outwards.”

Huh! I wonder if someone looked at the overhead picture of the fire and pointed out that heat goes beyond the bright part and Mantlo went ‘oh shit!’ and wrote in this exchange.

Alternatively, it could just be another weird aspect of these chemical fires and brief foreshadowing because the air around the Quinjet suddenly shoots up above 8500 degrees Fahrenheit.

The spike in heat knocks the Quinjet into a power dive with a dead stick and they’re going to crash for sure unless a guest star happens to save them.

Which is what happens. The Human Torch creates a column of hot air beneath the Quinjet, cushioning the fall. I dunno. Thermals. Lift. Something.

Look, his fire behaves only slightly more reasonably than that of the threat de jour!

The Avengers thank Johnny but Cap is curious. The news said that Johnny couldn’t flame on anymore. And Johnny clarifies that if he gets anywhere close to the inferno and he can’t, like it’s siphoning his flame powers away!

Which we already knew slash suspected.

Anyway, there were three Avengers flying outside the Quinjet. Iron Man, Vision, and Wonder Man.

Wonder Man just catches on fire.

Vision can go intangible and immune to the heat. Iron Man’s armor has cooling circuits that protect him. But Wonder Man, despite increased durability, apparently doesn’t have defense against fire.

So Iron Man tells him to fly up up and away from the fire.

Wonder Man: “No! I’m not turning chicken!”

Iron Man: “No one’s accusing you of cowardice -- but a dead Avenger’s no good to anyone, including himself! I said go, Simon! Now!”

And Iron Man repulsors Wonder Man which has the marvelous dual effect of extinguishing him and repulsing him away from danger.

Although Iron Man should think about stepping back from the blaze himself. Although his cooling circuits are working to compensate for the heat, he says he’s beginning to feel it.

Instead, he flies into the fire, hoping to discover the cause quickly. Vision heads in too. His intangibility means he’s safe to fly around in the fire but also restricts him from doing anything but observing.

Meanwhile, Wonder Man plummets out of the sky around where the other Avengers have parked their butts.

Some firemen try to catch him with a safety net. Beast tries to warn them its a waste of time but. Comedy, of sorts, ensues.

And it IS pretty funny.

After Wonder Man has plummeted through the net and cratered the ground:

Beast: “I told them trying to catch you was a waste of time, Wondy -- but they wouldn’t believe me.”

Wonder Man: “Thanks, Beast. You’re a true friend.”

When Iron Man and Vision don’t emerge from the fire, the Avengers make the decision to don asbestos suits and march into the fire to investigate for themselves.

Except for Wasp.

Wasp isn’t invited.

See, her only powers are shrinking and going pew pew and that’s not going to be helpful within an asbestos suit so she can’t come. I guess she’s considered just useless without her powers. Harsh.

And she’s not too happy about the snub but whatchoo gonna do?

Human Torch is like ‘same tho’ because he can’t go near the fire without having his powers sapped. But that doesn’t improve Wasp’s mood any.

The Avengers have a brief argument over whether being inside a hellish nightmarescape of fire is beautiful or not.

Jocasta and Captain America think it is. Incongruously so. But still.

Wanda disagrees.

Scarlet Witch: “It’s not beautiful -- it’s terribly, horribly, frighteningly unreal! Can my husband still be alive inside this living inferno?!”

And Jocasta answers ‘yeah he’s right over there’ because he’s right over there.

(Beast and Wonder Man do not express an opinion on the beauty or not of being inside a chemical fire)

Vision is perfectly fine because “the flames cannot destroy what they cannot touch.”

I don’t know anything about science. I was a liberal arts major. But. His intangibility works by going super diffuse, right? Just lowering his density to the point where he’s intangible? Why can’t a fire scatter his atoms? At this point they have the consistency of a mist.

Intangibility is weird. I guess its just a comic, I should really just relax.

So, yeah. Vision is fine. What about Iron Man? Vision says Iron Man went further into the fire and then had to take steps to insure his own survival. He offers to lead the others to Iron Man.

Iron Man is frozen in a big block of ice.

In the middle of a fire.

Its just a comic, I should really just relax.

Iron Man apparently managed to find the foe who created this fire but suffered defeat. The temperatures in the proximity of this foe were so severe that Iron Man’s cooling system apparently made the decision to drain his remaining power to freeze the suit.

So he’s stuck here.

And gosh, even if he is frozen in a block of ice, if it melts, he’s fucked. The suit is out of power. His cooling systems won’t be able to protect him after the last ditch effort they made.

Which is possibly why Vision makes the decision to remain as sentry over Iron Man. That and him not being able to do anything but watch in his intangible state and unable to increase his density without being destroyed.

But he does point the Avengers towards the foe Iron Man discovered.

And the Avengers find him, PYRON THE THERMAL MAN right at the liquid natural gas tanks. But still apparently holding the heat at bay to keep them from exploding... yet.

Pyron, the Thermal Man: “When I stopped Iron Man and the Vision in their tracks, I knew that the rest of the Avengers couldn’t be far behind! Come on, fools! I’m not afraid of you! I’m not afraid of nobody! Not anymore! AND PYRON WANTS AN AUDIENCE WHEN HE ACHIEVES HIS REVENGE!”

I guess unnamed arsonist now Pyron has had a long time while burning everything to think of a name but I still find it weird that this guy exploded, became a thermal man, started burning things, and at some point in the process of all that decided ‘y’know what, I need a kickass new name. If any superheroes ask who I am, I’m going to say ‘Pyron, the Thermal Man!’

I guess that’s the kind of thing you do if you’re a comic book character. But it feels weird for some reason.

Cap wonders aloud what Pyron is after by setting all these fires. Because as a comic book character, he has to say what he’s thinking out loud. Thought bubbles cost extra because of the waviness.

And since Cap did muse out loud, Pyron is happy to oblige him by monologuing because if there’s anything that comic book characters love more than saying their thoughts out loud, its doing it for an extended period of time with no interruptions.

That’s why they say ‘i can’t even hear myself think’ because thinking should be done verbally.

Pyron: “I already told you, Captain America -- I want revenge against the men who hired me to torch this chemical complex belonging to their competitors... and who then betrayed me!”

“They hoped I’d die in the thermal blast -- and, in a way, I did! But the chemicals reacted with the fire to give me new life -- as Pyron, the Thermal Man!”

“My erstwhile employers were the Liquigas Company, Captain America... and soon they’re going to see their profits go up in smoke!”

Captain America: “It’s hard to sympathize with a confessed arsonist, Pyron -- especially when his revenge endangers the entire state of New Jersey! TAKE HIM, AVENGERS!”

Captain America: ‘Cool motive, still murder’

But when Captain America throws his mighty shield, Pyron does not, in fact, yield! Doesn’t he know the song?? Instead he catches the shield and starts trying to melt it, just to see if he can.

Which is a bit of an error, maybe.

See, Beast says that Pyron is melting Cap’s shield. And that is what Pyron is explicitly trying to do. 

Beast: “Lieber gott, Wondy! Flameface is melting Cap’s shield!”

Wonder Man: “We can’t allow that, Beast! Captain America without his shield would be like Johnny Carson without Ed McMahon!”

Cap’s shield is supposed to be indestructible at this point. The narration even calls out that the shield is “impervious to the high temperatures within the factory” and Pyron says the shield is supposed to be “nearly indestructible.” And we don’t see the shield actually melt or be melted looking in future panels.

Apparently a lot of people wrote in about this and it had to be handwaved as ‘Beast was wrong.’

In fairness, it’s probably hard to see inside a fire. And he’s been a bit overexcited this whole story.

Melting or not, the idea that Pyron is trying to destroy an iconic thing like Cap’s shield gets Beast and Wonder Man to try to tackle Pyron. And even though the high-density asbestos suit can hold up to the high temperatures within the fire, Pyron is burning a lot hotter and he can burn through their suits.

So to save them, Jocasta OPTIC BLASTs through the face plate of her own suit, striking Pyron and actually hurting him.

But her proven effectiveness against hot guy is moot because she can’t stick around and keep doing it. With her face plate shattered, Jocasta is already starting to melt.

Wonder Man picks up Jocasta despite her protest and carries her away from the battle to save her becoming a puddle.

Wonder Man: “I know how you feel, ‘Casta. Less than an hour ago, Iron Man made me turn tail and run. I didn’t like it -- but now I see he was right. If I hadn’t gotten out then, I wouldn’t be alive to get you to safety now.”

And then the Avengers are down two more Avengers, leaving what Pyron calls the three weakest Avengers.

Pyron is a damn fool.

One of the three remaining is Scarlet Witch.

Aka, the Avenger’s win-button, some of the times.

And when Scarlet Witch casts her mighty hex, it leaves her foes quite perplexed. And also I wish it wasn’t called hex.

So with her mighty mutant-at-this-time-but-retroactively-will-not-be power, Wanda causes geysers of water to shoot up from the ground.

... I guess she made underground water mains burst? I’m hard pressed to think how else probability alteration would cause this.

Anyway, today is not Wanda’s day to be the win-button. And that’s fine. She’s very effective in aggregate.

Pyron sees her geysers of water and raises her SETTING THE WATER ON FIRE SOMEHOW

I’M EVEN MORE PERPLEXED WITH THIS THAN WHERE THE WATER CAME FROM

ALSO THE FLAMESPOUTS MOVE! THEY’VE CORNED THE AVENGERS

Meanwhile, Wonder Man and Jocasta leave the fire.

Wasp, who has been sitting on the sidelines the whole time, presumably tapping her foot impatiently and watching the page count, asks what the hell is going on.

Wonder Man recaps.

Wonder Man: “There’s a negative version of the Human Torch inside the factory complex, Wasp... setting everything on fire and then draining the flames to feed his own power. He plans to ignite those liquid natural gas tanks in his path.”

This is stuff we already know. I’m just enjoying the way that Wonder Man decided to say it. “Negative version of the Human Torch.” And the idea that he’s setting fires and then nomming the fires to get more powerful, I don’t think that’s based on anything. I think Wonder Man just said it. It’s something you COULD assume, based on what happened to Johnny. But she was there for that.

After his explanation though, a guy comes up and demands that the Avengers stop Pyron. Which, duh, don’t have to tell them twice. But also, new character, who dis?

Dis is the president of the Liquigas Company and whoops, you triggered more recapping.

Wonder Man recaps the other stuff, the stuff he heard from Pyron. The stuff that the villain was kind enough to rant about at length.

Wonder Man: “You can demand from now to doomsday, pal -- but all it’s gonna get you is a knuckle sandwich. Listen up, people. Pyron was an arsonist, in this man’s employ, sent out to torch the competition.”

“Only Mr. Clean here decided he didn’t want any embarrassing evidence surfacing after the fire, so he double-crossed his own hireling by presetting the timer on a thermite bomb.”

“What he didn’t count on was the thermite and the chemicals combining to transform his goon into a menace to half the population of New Jersey.”

That’s very thorough, Wonder Man.

Maybe too thorough! How did you know about presetting the timer? You could maybe deduce that from what Pyron said but he didn’t explicitly say it.

When did you become the world’s greatest detective, Simon Williams?!

Possibly this book needed another editing pass. It’s not objectionable but Pyron saying that he was an arsonist working for the Liquigas Company and that they tried to kill him off should be enough without getting into the specific specifics.

Anyway, based on Wonder Man’s accusation, the president is led away, presumably to be questioned.

Johnny decides that dammit, he’s a guest star, he’s gotta go out there and start performing but this isn’t his day in the spotlight either.

Y’see, during this nonsense, Wasp grabbed a foam capsule and an asbestos suit and ran into the fire.

The firefighters didn’t stop her presumably because she’s an Avenger and its just assumed that Avengers know what they’re doing? I don’t know!

Wasp runs through the fire, past Vision who urged her to turn back but couldn’t stop her what with the intangible thing, and keeps running to where the Avengers are pinned down by Pyron.

Cap tells Wasps to go away but Pyron says “the more the merrier!” He’s having a real good time on this vengeance thing, beating up superheroes who aren’t involved in the thing he wants vengeance for. He has perhaps suffered motive decay.

But Wasp says she has a way to defeat Pyron, hidden right in the palm of her hand.

And then she shrinks to wasp size, shreds the glove of the asbestos suit with her Wasp sting, and flies out of it carrying the foam capsule.

Wasp: “I’ve only got fractions of a second before my wings -- and the capsule I’m holding -- incinerate! But I’ve no choice! This was the only way to get them through the flames and close enough to Pyron to be of any use!”

And then she smashes the chemical foam capsule right in his dumb face.

Also, she thinks really fast! 

But to be fair, the fire wasn’t behaving like a normal fire. It was said that the liquid natural gas tanks should have ignited just from the heat of the fire and that’s before the fire engulfed them. Pyron was holding back the heat to prolong his vengeance. And since he was in a playful mood when Wasp shows up and surprised when a tiny woman flies up to him, you can argue that the environment was cool enough for Wasp to do what she needed to do before she caught on fire.

Also, it’s just a comic, I should really just relax.

Anyway, the chemical fire retardant foam apparently seeps into Pyron’s pores, completely extinguishing him and most of the fire in the area.

Even so, Wasp collapses from the unbearable heat. The others rush to her, congratulating her for beating Pyron.

Scarlet Witch: “It is truly ironic. He was felled by the smallest among us.”

What is this, War of the Worlds?

Don’t underestimate Wasp. Last issue and this show that growing small is actually very useful.

And since we’re out of pages, the wrap up happens in the very last two panels. Off-screen, Pyron/unnamed arsonist has said he’s going to testify against Liquigas.

And Wasp gets the last word, seemingly intentionally angling for an everybody laughing end.

Captain America: “What’s wrong, Wasp? You look troubled.”

Wasp: “It -- it’s the ‘heatburn’ I got attacking Pyron, Cap! How am I going to explain to Hank where I got a tan... in December?!”

That or some sad trombones.

Does... does a bad burn from being in a fire for fractions of a second resemble a tan??

Oh, whatever. She can be vain if she likes, this is her ‘I’m effectual!’ story.

Which I’m basing on a letters column letter, infrequently included in Marvel Unlimited comics but included this time.

There’s a letter from a fan saying “We feel that the Wasp has long been denied the chance to fulfill her true potential, as have Susan Richards, Sif, and Clea. We feel that she has been portrayed as lacking in intelligence and power for too long. We feel that she has been depicted as subordinate to the other Avengers in all respects. Thus we request, nay, demand, that she be given the chance to reach her true potential, that she be allowed to use her wits and strength, that she be put on an equal footing with the other Avengers.”

Which got the reply basically saying ‘okay how’s this?’ and promising that her character would be developing in interesting and unexpected ways in issues to come.

So this is definitely an issue that shows that Wasp is as good as the rest of the Avengers.

And as one? Uh. Its fine. Definitely squished her involvement to the very back half so if this was all she got, that wouldn’t be the best.

Although, the Marvel wiki having the note “For once, the Wasp saves the day and proves she's a competent hero” for the issue is very rude.

Putting aside the intended Wasp yay thing and this is a pretty good story. Or at least a very unique one. I don’t know many stories where the superheroes are put in such a hostile environment that hampers their abilities so much.

They have to spend the entire fight in fire-resistant suits and Jocasta can’t even use her lasers without putting herself in danger.

The Avengers have been to space and they’ve fought under the ocean and neither has felt as hazardous as this one-off issue.

The fire and shadows make for a very striking looking issue.

Weirdly it doesn’t seem like Pyron is ever used again. He gets this one story and an appearance in a Fantastic Four encyclopedia. Pyron would have made a decent Human Torch counter for the Frightful Four or something. But the one-off fillerish nature of this issue probably means that Pyron didn’t make much of an impact.

As a Human Torch guest star thing, its not too great. Its not quite ‘appears in one panel’ bad but I expect more if its going to be advertised on the cover. Geez.

But this issue is significant in one other way. This is the last issue Avengers issue collected in the last Essential Avengers trade. The very namesake of this liveblog.

From here on, I am in comics I haven’t already read. Untrod waters.

Should be fun.

Follow @essential-avengers. Or like or reblog or tell me I’m doing a good job. I think Wasp is neat.

[makiema]

Hello! What makes you ship Levi and Eren? (always curious about how people get into ereri)

Hi there, anon! I wish I could’ve answered this briefly but you’ve asked me something that I could honestly ramble on about forever. I’d try to be precise but I’m afraid it’d still be quite long because I don’t have the time to summarise, so bear withe me please >.

Okay so first of all, I used to be more into Eremika than Ereri in the beginning and the precious Eremika moment from Chapter 50 owned my heart. Back then the 13 y/o me didn’t get shit about Levi and Eren’s platonic canon relationship. But the popularity of Ereri was overwhelming and even though they were far from being my OTP I still shipped them in AU settings mainly because the fanfics were excellent. Also, at that point of time, I was more invested in the Naruto fandom and SS was my only OTP. In fact, I didn’t even know about the Visual Novel until late 2015 or early 2016 (I don’t remember exactly) which made me really get into Ereri. Reading the VN actually changed my whole perspective on Ereri and made me realise the depth of their canon relationship. When I re-read the manga again after that none of their subtle moments were lost on me and that’s how the ship started growing on me. Since then I even began picking up on a lot of parallels, symbolisms, etc. associated with them and all of that collectively went into becoming the reason why Ereri is my OTP.

I probably cannot think up of everything that makes me ship them at one go. Also I have my internals next week and Im losing my mind. Anyway here are some of the reasons that immediately came to mind when I saw your ask:

• Levi equating Eren to “The Tyger” : The VN concluded with the first two stanzas of Blake’s poem “The Tyger”. The poem is taken from The Songs of Innocence and Experience and the entire volume focuses on two things : the transition from childhood into adulthood and the existence of both beneficial and malevolent forces in human beings. So in the novel, Levi’s understanding, acceptance and even admiration of both the humane and the monstrous potential in Eren is commendable : “A monster with perfect, fearsome beauty; that inspires awe” Also, Levi acknowledges Eren’s will that “cannot be made to surrender” and his drive for freedom that “people living like birds in cages won’t get”. This shows us how Levi realizes that Eren’s mental maturity is not that of a normal 15 yo; that his “experiences” have made him into someone much more gritty, resilient and strong-willed for his age. “The Tyger” here is the agent of free-will and the poem further emphasises on free spirit by incorporating references to mythological figures who’re deemed as humanity’s heroes, for instance, “seize the fire” refers to Prometheus who is mankind’s hero because he stole fire from Zeus. It is said that because of him mankind could gain knowledge ; that mankind could step out of the bounds of ignorance ( See the parallel with Eren who said how ignorance is the biggest obstacle to freedom in Chapter 112 ). Another hero alluded to in the poem is Icarus who grew his wings of freedom and attempted to reach the farthest point (dangerously close to the sun) even though he was burned in the attempt (parallels with Eren’s whole attitude of ‘no matter what kind of hell awaits me I’ll keep moving forward’ ). Yeah so, that’s how deep Levi’s understanding of Eren runs.( Can you imagine the entire arc of Eren’s character was foreshadowed in Levi’s thoughts about him?) To me understanding is the most important factor when it comes to a ship so, I think Levi’s pov in the VN is the biggest contributor to their development.

• The way Eren looks at Levi : Idk how cliched this sounds but yes, the way he looks at Levi honestly gives me life. Be it in the Forest of the Giant Trees, or in the Reiss Chapel or in the Marley Arc, his eyes say it all. Add to this his signature shaky way of saing “Captain?”, idk if it’s only me but that just carries so much feeling, so much angst, so many unspoken emotions right there. If Levi’s thoughts on Eren made me fall in love with Ereri in the first place then Eren’s body language when it comes to Levi made me fuckin smitten over them (i kid u not honestly this ship is one of the very few things that actually give me the will to live)

• Hope and Strength : Honestly, I love Levi and Eren’s roles as humanity’s strength and humanity’s hope because this actually speaks volumes about their relationship. If Erwin gave Levi’s strength a dimension then Eren gave his strength meaning. Their roles in canon show their inter-dependence. After all, what is strength without hope? I don’t remember who first pointed this out, but someone said that this is the very concept the Survey Corps logo alludes to. The Wings of Freedom are shown as blue and white because royal blue represents strength and white represents hope. So the Wings are symbolical of what Levi and Eren individually stand for as well as signifies their dependence on each other.

• Levi’s role as Eren’s guardian : I love him both as Eren’s protector and his mentor. (oh also let’s not forget Eren had a little crush on him,,how adorable 🥺)

We’ve seen Levi giving it his all to protect Eren multiple times. And when he couldn’t protect him during the Battle of Trost because of his injury we see him clenching his fists in frustration. Again, in RTS we see Levi quite baffled when Erwin orders him to protect the horses and not protect Eren. Also in the RTS when Eren got flung on top of the wall, Levi was visibly concerned and then when Erwin couldnt come up with a plan that’d guarantee their survival, he quickly suggested that BOTH Erwin and Eren flit from there. This goes on to show how Levi thinks Erwin and Eren are EQUALLY important for ensuring humanity’s survival. It is evident from here that his liege and his mentee both belong on the same pedestal and he’d do anything to save them. Levi similarly comes up with an abrupt suggestion again in Ch 112 to save Eren when the Soldiers informed him that the higher authorities plan on having Eren eaten. Even though he clearly disapproved of Eren’s actions in Liberio, even though Levi himself always adhered to rules and discipline, he still had faith in Eren and he’d never accept such a ridiculous order, even if it came from Pixis. (plus he remembers the first time he met Eren which sort of makes us realize that Levi still sees himself as Eren’s protector🥺)

Next comes Levi’s role as a mentor in Eren’s life. I think his words of advice to Eren is an important factor that made him the man he is today. Levi encouraged him to believe in himself, he acknowledged his willpower, appreciated his relentless drive for freedom and even goaded him on to make important choices by himself. The recent happenings in the manga made a lot of people say that Eren follows the principle of “the end justifies the means” but originally, to quote Levi: “nobody can dictate you on what is the right path or what is the wrong one till you arrive at a certain outcome resulting from your choice”. I think one of the major reasons why Levi kicked Eren in the Marley arc again was because the outcome that Eren caused (at least according to Levi and the SC) was making Paradis the enemy of the whole enemy of the world and also a mountain of civilian deaths. This is just head canon but I think Levi was mainly disappointed because Eren didn’t seek his approval (unlike in the Reiss Chapel incident where he urged Levi to have faith in him before jumping into action of his own volition). Him comparing Eren with the underground thugs also makes me assume that he was genuinely hurt because he thought Eren has become complacent to the point where he doesn’t see Levi as a mentor anymore. But, right after his voice trails with the “you too..”, we see Eren looking up at him with the same beaming eyes. Curious why he’d do that at that instant. Also, during Serum Bowl, Eren used his height as the trump card to tower upon Levi. It was the only time he actually defied Levi and he did manage to look 100 percent domineering. But, post time skip Eren grew in leaps and bounds and he could easily repeat that but HE DID NOT. In fact, he utters his usual “Captain..?” and his eyes also have the same look. So maybe he still sees Levi as his inspiration but he cannot express that because he’s in a bind and has to act distant and cold with everyone. After all in Chapter 121, in the memory panel, we did see him recalling that very moment when Levi first advised him on making independent choices. His role as the mentor in Eren’s life is therefore once again reinforced by Isayama and I think that adds substantially to their wonderful platonic dynamic.                                        ____________xxx___________

I probably couldn’t fit them all and even this is a terrible briefing. It is all so disarrayed and incoherent. I didn’t even get the time to attach pictures. Ugh, I’m so sorry anon ;-; I wish Uni would spare me some time to rant properly about my precious babies >.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Too Easy: First Draft, Working Title

This is what happens when we get the DA trailer and the GO release in the same month. Of course, having thoroughly reread GO, I’m going to be giving this a pretty hefty over haul before I put it up anywhere else - so many references that need making, etc. - but as an initial concept piece it pleases.

Fandom: Downton Abbey/Good Omens

Characters: Crowley, Thomas Barrow

Relationship: N/A

Warnings: Season 2. Characterization is probably not 100% there yet, but close enough for government work.

Crowley never would have imagined England being boring after a war. Really, even for the English ‘war’ was basically the antonym for ‘boring’ and there was always fuss and bother putting things back in order when one ended and yet here it was, the tail end of a war - The War, if the press was to be believed, which it wasn’t - and, while nowhere near a redeux of the fourteenth century, he was fighting to stave off monotony.  It wasn’t that there wasn’t plenty of room for corruption, mind. It was that he didn’t need to do anything to further said corruption. The men who had lost arms and legs to the German bombs sat on the street corners, begging for food, while the people who had sat at home through the whole thing hurried past pretending not to see them. Soldiers who had fought and come home in one piece looked down their noses at the less fortunate and the men who hadn’t fought at all with equal disdain. Girls who had been seduced by men in uniform worked the street corners, trying to feed children whose fathers denied their existence. It had taken him an age to hit upon a scheme to actually help things along.

Of course, if he was honest about it the black market didn’t need his help much either, but he wasn’t exactly trying to help. The real black marketeers already had their suppliers and their clients and had generally built up a tidy sum to live off of, assuming the government hadn’t caught them and shunted them into prison. No, the people who came to Crowley were the desperate and inexperienced lot, looking to get started. They were the men without hands or half of their faces burned off, men who had given the country everything they had to give and been left to starve as payment. Unable to find good, paying work, they turned to dishonest, risky work that had a great pay off, or so they’d heard.

If they’d found a different supplier, it might have done.

A soft knock, two taps in quick succession, followed after a long pause by a third, made Crowley look up from where the tip of his cigarette met the lighter he carried for appearances, adjust his dark glasses, and call, “Come in.”  The door swung inward. One of these times he was dead certain the knocker was going to prove to be Aziraphael, come to scold him for his misdeeds, but not today. Today the angel was off serving at a soup kitchen or acting as an orderly in a hospital or whatever it was he did to pass the time.

The man who slipped through into the dingy pub backroom was still a surprise. Unlike most of the men who came looking for him to supply their fortunes, this one was awfully respectable looking. Young, tall, well groomed, excellent posture, he looked every inch a respectable member of the English working class. Then he caught sight of Crowley, sitting at the table with his carefully judged rakish posture (looking devil may care was part of the look when one was a black market supplier, after all) and he paused, eyes drinking him in slowly.

That was it then, the demon thought with a private smirk. He was one of those. And wasn’t that just another shining example of mankind at it’s most hellish? All of that insistence that the populace be loyal, upstanding, law abiding citizens and they went and made laws assuring that certain members of that populace couldn’t be law abiding if they wanted to? If society had let him, this fellow might be anything from a spokesperson for public reform to a knowledgeable tailor, but Parliament couldn’t have that, could they? Instead he was here, angry, alienated, and more than ready to take some of his own back from the world.

Well, Crowley wished him all the luck in the world, where that was concerned. Just not today.

“Mr. Crowley?” the man asked, not taking more than a half step from the door. His expression was calmly confident, but his eyes gave him away, shifting from the shadows to Crowley and back. He was young, and probably a fool, but he wasn’t stupid.

Crowley stood, extending his hand and grinning broadly around his cigarette. “At your service, Mr….?”

“Barrow,” the man replied, crossing the room to take the offered hand. Despite the fact he’d apparently liked what he saw, there was no flirtation in his manner at all, meaning he either refused to mix business with pleasure, or he’d been bitten once recently and was now being twice shy. Not that Crowley minded. Flirting was easy enough, all told, but he didn’t feel like dredging up the energy and focus to exude anything resembling ‘sexuality’.

“And what can I do for you, Mr. Barrow?” Crowley asked, even though he knew full well what the answer was. He resumed his seat and gestured for his companion to take the one across the table.

Barrow sat, working the glove off of his right hand and fishing a pack of Black Cats out of his pocket. Crowley approved of the brand on general principle. He also noted that the left hand stayed gloved. “I’m looking to go into business,” Barrow replied, working a cigarette out of the pack and placing it between his lips. Since Crowley hadn’t gotten around to putting his own lighter away, he flicked it to life and held it out. His companion looked momentarily startled, then leaned forward and set the end of his fag in the flame. As soon as it was glowing sufficiently, he sat back and blew a ring of smoke into the air. “Dry goods.”

“Whereabouts are you looking to start this business?” Crowley asked, blowing a smoke ring of his own. The man’s accent placed him somewhere north of Cheshire, but south of Bolton, in the general vicinity of Manchester. Crowley considered that another point in his favor. (He was still quite proud of Manchester. He should stop past at some point before he left the country. See if there was anything he could improve while he was here.) Of course, they were in a pub in Leeds, so no telling where Barrow lived now. “Competition can be fierce.”

Barrow gave a light snort. “No competition in Downton, I promise you. There’s clientele, though. If nothing else, the Earl’s family is looking at a wedding soon. Can’t have a wedding without a proper cake, can you? Other toffs wouldn’t let you live it down.”

“And you’re certain you can get in to pitch your sale?”

“Used to be a footman for the family, back before the war.” The reply held a note of defiance, daring Crowley to look down on him for his service. There was also a spark of ambition, which fanned with his next words. “Not looking to go back to the job. And of course I served in the trenches with the heir, Mr. Crawley. He’s the one getting married. So yeah, pretty sure they’ll buy from me.”

The name caught Crowley off guard and nearly made him choke on a lungful of ash, but he caught himself. He always managed to forget that the name had somehow (he had no idea how) caught on as a human surname. Instead he concentrated on the implications of a wedding. Along with a cake, weddings meant feasts and any feast could benefit from sugar and flour. And when all of that went sour? Even the most lenient of aristocrat would have his nose out of joint at his son’s wedding being spoiled. He’d undoubtedly yell at the cook, possibly at the butler and housekeeper, and if his temper was bad enough, possibly the entire staff. Cooks were even less known for mild tempers than their employers were. All of this, of course, would eventually make its way down to Barrow, as the one who supplied the goods, making him a villain right when he’d be expecting to be everyone’s savior. By that time Crowley would be long gone. He’d already decided to take a trip to America after he’d sold off this lot. There were some interesting rumors coming from that direction in regards to alcohol. “Well then, sounds like the basis for a solid business,” he grinned. “How much do you think you’ll need to get started?”

“Sugar and flour for a start,” Barrow ticked the ingredients off on his fingers. “Sugar in particular. Butter if you can get it. Anything connected to baking, really. Even if it’s not rationed, I know Mrs. Patmore. She’ll be worried that this is going to continue and spread, even if she won’t let on, and if she’s not now, I can make sure she starts.”

“I have that,” Crowley promised. “Give me a time and a place and I can have it delivered.”

“I’ll give you a time and a place when you give me a price,” Barrow countered. So far he hadn’t shown much shrewd business sense, outside of being able to spot an opportunity and knowing what was needed for a cake, more or less. Crowley had no reason to believe he had much more beyond that, but even if his innate business sense began and ended at ‘toffs like cake’, someone had taught him a modicum of caution.

“Getting all of that past the police isn’t an easy job,” Crowley hedged, pretending to think it over. Instead he tallied what he knew of Barrow, adding it up to a crippling sum, but not too outrageous. As a footman he should have made a modest sum, given his height. As a soldier he’d have made spit, same as the rest of them. If he was trying to start a business, he must have squirreled some away for a rainy day. Either that or Crowley had sorely misjudged and he was the biggest idiot in England, but that didn’t seem likely. A fool, yes, or he wouldn’t be here, but a shrewd fool. “A good supply will cost ninety pounds.”

Barrow’s eyes narrowed. “What can you give me for sixty?”

He didn’t as much as say that was all he had, but Crowley could tell it was. “Less than I could give you for eighty,” he countered. “And that’s the least I’d recommend for starting a business like yours.”

For a moment the young man simply watched him through the haze of smoke. “Seventy’s worth, then,” he finally offered. “Sixty now and I’ll pay you the rest from my profits.”

Crowley debated. On the one hand, if he really had risked his neck for these goods, he’d want to get as much from them as possible. On the other hand, he hadn’t risked a thing. The goods were only a few years younger than the earth itself, give or take a century, and there would be no profit. He knew that, but he didn’t need Barrow to figure it out. Finally he smiled and held out his hand, “Deal.”

Barrow shook the offered hand and gave him the address of a vacant shed in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside. He then pulled out his wallet and, without a hint of hesitation, handed over a generous fistful of pound notes. Sixty, as promised. Crowley grinned. The boy had lots of promise, but in the end he was nothing but the shrewdest fool in the land, and now, whether he knew it or not, a penniless fool. “A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Crowley,” Barrow stood, working his right glove back on his hand and tipping his hat in parting.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

[paladin-andric]

Jotober, Day 2: Mindless

For today, we get a rather interesting tale. Set at the dawn of Geralthin as a kingdom, while dragons still fought for control and Godfrey still reigned, humanity runs into its first case of a feral dragon! Extremely rare to be born, they’re not something mankind has ever seen before, and not something they’ll see very often afterwards...

“You called, Vendric?”

A man in fine clothes, carrying sheets of parchment stepped through a pair of oaken doors, eyes darting over to the man by the other exit.

A bearded man in a suit of armor stood with his arms crossed. “Yeah, about time you showed up. You’re gonna want to see this. Follow me.”

The commander turned and left the room, the finely-dressed man following after him.

“Tell me something Joseph,” Vendric spoke while walking, “How extensive are your dealing with dragons?”

“Very,” the other man answered. His tone was one of noticeable resentment. That drew a laugh from the commander.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I don’t envy your position, but I hear you really like getting to examine em’ when there’s no danger involved.”

“Spare corpses, there’s ALWAYS danger involved,” the researcher said dryly. The other man turned and gave him a big grin.

“Not this time.”

Joseph felt a pit in his stomach at that remark.

“Vendric...what did you do?”

“You’ve seen captive dragons before, haven’t ya?”

The researcher stopped in his tracks, voice loud. “No, nuh-uh! You are NOT telling me I’ve gotta deal with some lunatic in chains!”

“Joseph-”

“No, I’m not doing this again! I nearly died last time!”

“I know you’ve dealt with captives before, you fool!” Vendric shouted, “I wouldn’t have called you here if that was the case!”

The pale man sighed and put a hand on his head. “Then why did you ask that question? It only leads to one conclusion.”

“This is a very special case. I told you it was something you had to see for yourself.”

The researcher frowned. “I’ve dealt with liars too, Vendric. It ISN’T your friend, and it DOESN’T want to meet me.”

“It’s not a liar,” the officer said confidently, “It’s, well...I don’t even know WHAT it is.” The confidence had all but faded in a moment. “I was hoping you could work out what it was.”

Now Joseph was curious. Never before had he heard someone speak of a dragon in such a way. Sure, they were a mystery, but everyone knew what they were; giant, magical beasts of legend that destroyed an empire and nearly annihilated the human race, driven by greed and arrogance...except for Gira, of course. That much was common knowledge.

“...you have my attention.”

“Very good. It’s just this way. And don’t worry, like I said, I know this situation is...unique.”

The pair walked through a winding hall of wood and stone, sparse with decoration. This fortress was a strange place for Vendric to call the magical researcher to, but with the knowledge that something involving dragons was being held here, it was starting to make sense.

Soldiers occasionally passed by the pair, patrolling the area and keeping watch. A few threw them some frown and puzzled looks. Something was going on around here.

At last they reached a heavy stone door at a dead end, guarded by two soldiers. The two men silently pulled the heavy doors open outwards, allowing the pair to enter.

Joseph followed the commander inside, eyeing the two soldiers as they watched him go. With only a line of torches to light the way, the researcher groaned as he caught a gleaming reflection of scales in the distance.

“Vendric, I thought you said-”

“Shh...look.”

As Vendric stepped forward, the darkness gave way to a most unusual sight.

Within a cage of metal bars sat...a dragon. Just what Joseph was hoping wouldn’t be there.

The chief factor throwing him for a loop however, was the way it reacted to him.

The creature was quite small, only a little larger than either of the humans. Likely a child. The beast had red scales and golden eyes that seemed...empty. Not in the literal sense, it could see just fine. It was just that it seemed...glassy. Unfocused. It could see the men, but it didn’t seem to understand who they were.

The dragon growled and bared its teeth menacingly.

“What, no threats?” Joseph asked, “No boasting?”

“That’s just the thing, professor,” Vendric said, striding up to the cage and leaning against it, being sure to knock a fist against it for effect. “This thing doesn’t talk. At all.”

As the cage rattled from the hard knock, the dragon turned and hissed at the commander, jumping forward and biting down onto the iron bars. The beast let out further growls as it feebly bit and nibbled on the iron in an attempt to break it. Mature dragons could do so with little effort, but this child had a lot of growing to do…

“What the hell’s wrong with it?” Joseph asked, “It’s acting like...a dog, or a cat, or something!”

“I was hoping to ask you the same question,” the commander retorted, “Everyone knows these things are smart, a little TOO smart for everyone’s good, I’d say. We found this bugger snooping around in the forest, seemed completely aimless wanderin’ through the trees. It was shocking enough that was caught it, cause we sure as hell knew this wasn’t something anyone had seen before. Called you up right away.”

Joseph crouched down and got a better look at the dragon. The eyes...they were all wrong. Like the wild and erratic gaze of a newt or other lowly lizard. Not something with the intelligence he knew they were supposed to have behind them.

It thrashed against the cage, growling and snarling as it tried to break free but to no avail. It seemed unable to learn that its attempts weren’t working, and never tried anything new.

It was like an alligator with wings.

Vendric gave the other man a puzzled look. “Well?”

“Thing’s… completely mindless!” Joseph concluded. The creature didn’t seem to react to or understand his words at all, either, still scratching and biting the iron bars.

“Right?! That’s what I said! I don’t understand it, not at all. You think this is a new breed or something?” Joseph’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the wild beast. “Mmm...its physiology is a perfect match. I don’t know, I think...there’s still so much we don’t understand about them. Perhaps if I could run some tests, I might be able to discern...something.”

“Be my guest. I’m eager to find out myself. Now, you’ll be good for Mr. Joseph here, won’t you, ya little runt?!”

A punch to the cage seemed too much for the creature. It roared out in fury and spat out molten flames, barely missing the officer.

“Mother of-”

Vendric tripped and stumbled backwards as he retreated from the ravenous dragon, falling to the ground.

Joseph sprung into action. His hands began to glow as his stance shifted. When the dragon turned to breathe flames his way, it was instead buffeted with a fierce, biting blast of frost. From his hands to the dragon’s face, a ray of pure cold stopped the rampaging thing in its tracks.

What the dragon did next was unexpected.

It reeled and backed away with a sharp yelp, eyes widening in fear. It huddled into the corner furthest from the researcher, whining and cowering as it shook violently.

The reaction made Joseph stop and stare in disbelief. This dragon, a wise and mighty creature of legend...it was acting like a dog that had just been struck by its trainer.

Vendric rose to his feet, dusting off his armor and grumbling angrily. “Stupid, stupid…”

“My God,” Joseph uttered quietly, “It...it IS acting like an animal.”

“Told you,” Vendric returned, “Damn thing...so, what does this mean?”

Joseph inched closer to the cage, which caused the dragon to press itself harder against the corner. The man slowly reached his hand through the bars and toward the dragon it looked frightened, so he spoke with a soft voice, like he did with animals.

“Easy,” he whispered, “Easy. It’s okay.”

The dragon looked at the hand with some apprehension, not moving for the moment.

“It’s okay,” Joseph continued, “Take it easy. You’re safe.”

The dragon paused for a moment before craning its neck forward, and, to everyone’s surprise...it sniffed at him cautiously.

“See? Everything’s okay. Just take it easy, alright?”

He pulled his hand back, and the dragon slowly moved off of the wall and into the center of the cramped cell. It was no longer terrified, but still looked scared and unsure of what to do.

Joseph sighed and shook his head. “Well, commander...it means I have a long week ahead of me, that’s for sure.”

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadchronicles, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @fierywords, @shewrites-sometimes, @nerds-and-nebulae, @purpleshadows1989

[p-artsypants]

Arcadia or Bust (13)- Heartstone

FF.net | Ao3

It’s…been a minute huh?

I finally saw 3 Below! Hence, this new chapter! I’m not going to do too much with Aja and Krel, because I don’t know if they’re canonically in Arcadia at the same time. So if you haven’t seen it yet, no worries.

And I’ve been watching Trollhunters from the beginning, and I realize that with the children out of the Darklands, it is very true that the changelings shouldn’t be able to shift into human forms. But for the purpose of this fic, I’m saying that it’s just a lot riskier for them to co-exist, since they’d be identical. Please forgive my grievous error.

And…I don’t know how I feel about this chapter, but I came up with an actual plot for this story, and I have to set it up. And, I’m trying to get back in the groove of writing Jim and Claire. (Toby is so easy to write, lol)

—

“So technically,” Steve stated, “I’m still the strongest human in school.”

“Yeah, sure dude. Whatever.”

Jim stood on unsteady legs. Steve was still a few feet away, flexing in a show of dominance.

The sun was low, at golden hour, and as the wind blew, his hood jostled.

Jim let out a sharp yelp of pain, covering his skin and shuffling into the shade.

Everyone who had been watching him noticed the reaction.

“You okay?” Claire asked.

“The mask had been protecting my face from the sun. I just...wasn’t prepared.”

“Whoa,” Steve stated, coming closer. “You’re just like them, huh? Can’t be in sunlight?”

Now that he was in the shade, he removed his hood completely. His pointy ears felt warm as students continued to stare and whisper.

Jim self-consciously patted down his hair and scruff as he backed further into the shade.

“Hey,” Claire tried to pacify. “It’s okay…it’s okay…”

Toby noticed Jim’s chest rising and falling rapidly, and stepped in. “Hey come on, Jimbo! Who wants to spend more time at school than they have to, huh?”

“…yeah…”

Darci walked quickly to join them. “Is it still okay for me to tag along?”

“And me!” Cried Eli. “I wanna know more about Troll Jim!”

“If anyone gets to know more about this, it’s me!” Steve demanded, strutting up to them. “I deserve it.”

Claire chuckled, and then pulled out a little umbrella from her backpack. “How about it?”

Jim swallowed shakily, and nodded.

—

And that’s how six teens crammed into Jim’s truck and scooted off on their way to Trollmarket. The girls and Jim were in the front, while the other boys were in the back.

“Do you really think it’s okay for them to see Trollmarket?” Claire asked, in a whisper.

“I guess? Look, the sooner we give them a tour, the better. It’s in ruins now, and there’s no one there. Best to indulge the curiosity now, right?”

“Uh, Jim?” Eli piped up in the back. “We’ve already been to Trollmarket.”

The wheels screeched to a halt as Jim swiveled around to glare at Toby. “You took them to Trollmarket?!”

“Technically...Arrrgh and I both did.”

“You took them to Trollmarket!”

“Toby!” Claire joined in the accusations.

“What! The place was empty! Everyone wanted to know what happened! I didn’t know it was going to inhabited again!”

A car honked from behind them, and Jim begrudgingly continued the drive.

Down under the bridge, he parked, and urged everyone out. But he stood right in front of Toby, arms crossed. “Explain.”

“Dude, chill, it’s not that big of a deal. You were about to take us all in right now anyways, right?”

“That’s different!” He snarled, baring his fangs.

“Jim!” Claire reprimanded. “Let him explain. You know he had a good reason.”

Jim took a massive sigh, collecting himself. “Okay Tobes, I’m listening.”

“Okay, so...not too long after you guys left, people were asking me all sorts of questions about the invasion. Especially Claire’s mom. You guys gave her a good synopsis, but she just had some final details she wanted to nail down, before giving a press conference.”

“And that was...about a Tornado, right?”

“That’s what they published in the papers and on the news, anyway.” Darci added, helpfully. “She urged anyone that had questions to talk to the police or...resident supernatural and mysterious phenomena expert, Toby Domzalski.” She gestured at him with jazz hands.

“Really?” Jim said flatly.

“I mean, you and Blinky are the experts, but I’m something of a wiz. And you were all gone. So neh.”

“Okay. I’m following so far,” Jim said, his composure still intact. “Go on.”

“So, first, I only thought it was fair that Darcy be let in on the secret, so I talked to Arrrgh, and he said it would be okay if I took her in.”

Darci continued, “and when I asked my dad if I could go, he asked if he could come too, being a ranking police officer.”

Jim nodded along, his brows furrowing.

“So, along with Arrrgh, we all went down to Trollmarket...to find the Gruesome.”

“There was another gruesome?” Asked Claire, eyes wide.

“Yep, and he was a BIG BOY.” Toby emphasized with his hands. “Lot of...debris to clean up, if you know what I mean.”

“And I do.” Agreed Jim.

“So, Darci and I were talking about what we were going to do about it, and Steve and Eli happened to overhear us.”

“You were talking about this in public?!”

“What! It’s not like Trolls are a secret anymore. Besides, we were on an ice cream date.”

Jim groaned. “No, Trolls aren’t a secret anymore, but the phrase ‘Gruesome on the lose’ would scare a lot of people. Especially if they didn’t know what a gruesome was.”

“...I see your point now.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Okay, so they overheard you talking.”

Steve stepped in. “And I totally remembered that slug-slime thing from the museum, and how we totally busted it’s ass—“

“Wait wait wait—you saw the gruesome at the museum?”

“And totally busted its ass.”

“My mom didn’t actually throw our baby away. Flip gave his life for mankind.” Eli croaked.

“So, we all armed ourselves with flour sacks, and went back to Trollmarket. But by then, he was gone.”

“Did you check everywhere?”

“In Trollmarket.”

“And then?”

“When we didn’t find him, we asked Dictatious. He suggested we check the sewers and the dump, where any other Troll remains would be.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “What about the forge? He didn’t eat any other the Trollhunter’s remains, did he?” He couldn’t recall seeing any missing, but he hadn’t really looked.

“Nope. I think the forge was either sealed, or he couldn’t reach them. Either way, Draal made sure they were all accounted for.”

Jim was quiet a moment, lost in thought. He didn’t know what the proper protocol was for Troll burials. Should they have stayed after the final battle to bury them properly? Or was this the best for them?

“So...we checked the sewers,” Toby continued, bringing Jim out of his thoughts. “And sure enough, we found it, bloated and napping. But before we threw flour on it, Arrrgh stopped us and just talked to it.”

This was puzzling. “He just talked to it?”

“Yeah, in Troll speak. After, he had us all push it.”

“Push it? Where?”

“Well, remember when you were punished for going in the dark lands? And dropped in that pit?”

“Uh...yeah? The one that was supposed to be impossible to get out of?”

“Yep. The Gruesome wanted a dark, quiet place to hibernate, so we pushed him down there.”

“That’s...interesting.”

“We took care of him, just as Trollhunters do.”

Jim smiled, “alright, I’m sorry for yelling. You did good Tobes, just like I asked. I knew you could handle it.”

Eli spoke up. “Are you going to tell him about the paid tours too?”

“Eli!”

“THE WHAT?!”

It took another fifteen minutes to get Jim to calm down again, and when he finally did, he headed toward the truck.

“Wait, where are you going, Jimbo?” Asked Toby.

“Well, if everyone has gone through Trollmarket before, no reason to go back, hmm?”

The teens all started talking over each other.

“I didn’t really get to see it—!”

“It’s so cool—!”

“Just one more time—!”

Claire laughed, seeing exactly how he had played them all.

Jim feigned innocent though. “Alright, I suppose I can show you around again.”

—

Jim didn’t know why he even bothered. It seemed like Steve, Eli, and Darcy had been to Trollmarket a few more times than he had been led to believe. In fact, every time he began to point out a place, one of them would finish it.

“And this is Bagdwella’s store—“

“And that’s the tunnel where Jimmy fought Gnome Chompski!” Eli finished.

Jim rolled his eyes and continued on the tour. Though ‘tour’ was a loose term. It was more like herding cats.

It wasn’t long before they came across another living being. The best one, in fact.

“Arrrgh!” The teens cried with joy.

“Steve! Eli! Darci!” He grabbed the three of them up in a hug. “Back again!”

“Where’s Blinky?” Asked Jim, once the reunion came to a close.

“In Heartstone. Reading books. Boring.”

“Blinky?” Asked Steve, snickering.

“My mentor, and the leader of our tribe. I should probably let him know you guys are here. Who know’s how he’ll take it…”

“Humans! In Trollmarket!” Blinky’s voice echoed over the cavern.

“Probably like that…”

“Master Jim,” Blinky reprimanded, storming over. “Just because no other Trolls are here yet, does not give you the right to invite ragamuffins in off the street!”

Toby threw himself at his feet. “It was me! It was all my fault! I did it! Blame me!”

The act startled Blinky for a moment, before he glanced up to Jim again. “Care to explain?”

“Sure, this is Darci, Toby’s girlfriend.” He gestured.

“Hi…” She waved shyly. “And this is Steve and Eli. They have been working very hard to protect Arcadia, even without my knowledge. And they helped everyone evacuate from the market when Gunmar took control. And according to Toby, they helped take care of the Gruesome that popped up here while we were gone.”

Blinky was thoughtful for a moment, but didn’t respond.

“I felt like I owed it to them to let them in on the secret. I just figured it would be best to do it now, when there would be less panic.”

Toby sent him a grateful look, not wanting to be reprimanded again.

“I suppose you are correct, Master Jim. It would be unfair to try to cover this all up again. Can I count on you three to continue to protect man and troll kind in Arcadia?”

“Are you kidding? Do you know who you’re talking to?” Steve asked.

“We’re the Creep Slayerz, with a ‘Z’.” Eli announced, throwing up their little hand-sign.

“I don’t follow.”

“They’re fine, Blink.” Jim laughed.

Eli’s eyes brightened. “Did you say you were at the Heartstone?”

“Um, why yes, I was.” Blinky answered. “Just looking through Vendel’s, the elder before me, his works that survived. Why?”

“Can we please see it?” Eli begged, his hands folding in front of his face.

“The written works of Vendel? Why, they’re all in Trollish! Ancient Trollish at that—“

“Not the ding dang dumb papers!” Steve interrupted, only to be promptly elbowed by Jim.

“I think they want to see the Heartstone.”

“Ah, well, Jim that really is your area, so…go on, I suppose. But don’t touch anything in Heartstone Hall!” And off he went, mumbling about something all the while.

“What did he mean that this is your area?” Darci asked.

“Well…” he paused, not really wanting to give away their plans for the future. “Claire and I have some magic in us that will help the Heartstone grow to what it once was.” He beckoned them along, passing through the deserted town that was slowly coming back to life. “I’m turning the old heartstone into a home.”

Darci gasped. “Like! A little love nest!?”

The boys sang, “Oooh!!”

Jim blushed, “Well…sorta…don’t make it weird.”

“I think it’s cute, Jim.” Darci stated proudly. “A man building a home with his two hands, that’s romance.”

Toby narrowed his eyes in thought, but said nothing.

“I don’t see why you’re putting so much work into building a house. You have a truck, just put an air mattress in the bed.”

Jim blushed harder. “I think you have the wrong idea, Steve…”

Eli whisper-shouted, “Jim’s making a home for them to live in when they get married!”

“Oh, you should have just said that. You made it sound like you were fancying up the place for some private tango lessons, y’knowwhaddamean?”

Claire spoke between snickers. “Steve, shut up.”

Still purple, Jim led his friends down the ramp to the Heartstone. At the base, Jim pressed the release for the door. Inside was Heartstone Hall, where Vendel had spend most of his time, and where Trolls came to heal. The room was a mess, which made sense given that Gunmar and Morgana had both ransacked it. The debris of fallen trolls and crumbled Heartstone had been cleared, and now the mess just consisted of tools and books. The stone table in the middle of the room was stacked high with books and sheets of paper.

“So this is Heartstone Hall, where Blinky’s been working since we came back.” He beckoned them on, through a curtain in the corner. “You used to not be able to go inside the Crystal, but…Morgana blasted the whole thing open.”

Within the first room, the wall, ceiling and floor were gray crystal. The ceiling and walls were organically shaped, and tilted in odd directions, but the floor was flat and level. The walls were lined with dark wood cabinets and granite countertops. There was even a sink, and a place for a fridge and a stove. On the left was a little nook in the crystal, where a table and chairs sat.

“So this is the kitchen. Draal and I refinished the cabinets and I cut the granite myself.” He patted the counter fondly.

“Dang son,” said Steve, “you’ve been back for, what, a week? And you have this all done? Do you ever sleep?”

Jim shrugged. “Not really, no. I don’t need to.”

“Must be convenient…”

He led them down a set of crystal steps that went around a curve. The inner side of the steps was open, and showed a well that went all the way up to the top of the cavern, and several floors down.

“Whoa…” commented Claire, looking over the edge.

“This is going to be a chimney, I think.” Jim explained, following her gaze. “It leads down to the chamber where Morgana was held, and burst through. There’s a perfect cylinder all the way up.”

The next floor wasn’t as finished as the kitchen had been, but the room was clean, and the floor itself almost looked polished, though most of it was obscured by an antique ornate rug. Some of the Crystals that stuck out had been converted to shelves and tables. “So this is the living room. I talked to the guys at Thrifty Furnishings, and they’re going to let me work off a sectional and a really nice recliner by doing some 3rd shift stocking. Plus some other stuff as I go.”

Toby noticed a standing lamp in the corner. “Wait, do you have electricity down here?”

“Oh yeah!” Jim flicked it on, the light shimmering over the crystal walls and sending sparkles everywhere. “I mean, all of Trollmarket has electricity, though they don’t really use enough to be noticeable by the electric company. There’s an underground power line that someone connected us into.” He stepped over to a curtain, pulling it back to reveal a small closet, but also a fusebox. “I got electrocuted a few times, but since I’m a troll, it only hurt a lot instead of killing me.”

Claire warily looked at the box. “Um…shouldn’t we have a professional look at that before we try to use it?”

Jim considered it with a nod, “yeah…probably…” Then he clapped his hands with excitement. “Oh!” He walked across the room, over to a door, and opened it to reveal a small room with a hole in the floor. “This is going to be the bathroom, though I’ll need a lot of work to get the running water up. I have to set up all faucets and pipes before I try to run any water, since it all comes from the same source. But we have a clean well down here, so I won’t be stealing city water.” He grinned.

“And you can do that all by yourself?”

“Yep! It’s amazing how much stuff you can learn on Youtube.” He grinned. “Except I haven’t bought the hot water heater yet, so even if I wanted to hook the water up, it’d only be cold.”

“You’ve really got this figured out, don’t you?” Toby stated, impressed.

“Kinda.” He shrugged, “I just kinda got in the habit of being a homemaker. And since my dad…” he trailed off. “It’s a distraction, I guess?” There was a lot of uncertainty in his voice, but only Toby and Claire picked up on it. They looked at each other, sharing a look of concern. “I basically lived on my own, since mom was always at work. So I learned how to be resourceful and fix things…” He shrugged again, feeling self-conscious. A sixteen year old shouldn’t know how to build a house on his own. He certainly shouldn’t know how to hook up one to plumbing and electricity.

Though, they shouldn’t have horns either.

Claire rescued him. “So, where did you put the new Heartstone?”

He sighed slightly in relief and beckoned them all down one more floor. Like the living room, the floor was polished, and another rug went down. However, the floor was made of dark hexagonal rock, and not crystal.

A big cardboard box laid in the middle of the floor. “Oh hey, my new mattress is here!” He noted, pushing the box into the corner. “Draal must have brought it from my mom’s house.”

The new heartstone sat in the opposite corner, next to the stairs. The Crystals touching it were beginning to glow a warm orange.

As Claire glanced around the cavern, she noticed a spattering of little glowing spots on the walls and ceiling.

“So this is technically the master bedroom.” Jim said with a flourish.

Darci noticed a blanket and pillow against the wall by the stone. “Are you sleeping here now?”

“Uh, yeah. I have since I got back.”

“On the stone floor?”

“It’s really not as bad as it sounds. I…I got hurt in the final battle, and sleeping by the stone helps me heal.” He absently touched his side, where it still hurt. “Vendel once told me that humans cut gems to unlock their beauty, while trolls unlock gems to unlock their power. And then, he trained me to do so. These heartstones are like trees. The old one, diseased and devoid of its fruit. And this little one is a branch grafted onto it. Finding the right matching facets, the energy in this gem will slowly melt into the old one.

It appeared the Steve had zoned out a while ago, as he just stared blankly at the ceiling, but the others looked interested enough.

“I didn’t realize crystals could be grafted onto each other.” Claire noted.

“You…can’t. Not exactly. Not naturally. But the energy within has to follow the atomic structure of the crystal to move over, so…imagine creating a channel for water to travel. You have to make sure they connect properly, or the water won’t go on.”

“So, it’s working?” Asked Toby, lost in Jim’s explanation.

“Slowly, but surely.” Jim pointed out a vein of orange within the stone. “It’s only been a week though, so who knows how long it’ll take.”

“And we’ll have to give up the energy we took, too.” Claire said.

“Yeah…I’m not sure about that part yet. This is all just based on what Blinky told me.”

Steve spoke up. “This is cool and all, but can we go to the Forge now? I want to see some action!”

Jim rolled his eyes. He didn’t blame Steve for getting bored. This was the kind of stuff that bored him when he first started as a Trollhunter. But, responsibilities change a person.

—

Later that night, after he had taken everyone home, he went back home. Despite all the work he was putting into the Heartstone, his home was still with his mother.

And there was a war on.

Jim stood in front of the door, about to walk in, when he heard James’ voice yelling. It seemed like Merlin’s spell had worn off.

“How the hell do you expect me to make any money if you won’t let me sell?!”

“Oh I don’t know, get a job! Like a normal human being!”

“I can’t Babs! I have to lay low!”

“And I’m sure selling that shit is exactly how you’re going to do that! Honestly, James! I can’t believe you have that with you!”

“What were you expecting!? You want me to throw it in the river?!”

“I would love for you to do that! And you can jump in after it, if you’d be so kind!!”

Jim didn’t want to get involved, but he heard the sound of a slap, and the door banged open on its own.

Barbara gasped. “Oh! Jim…you’re home.” She offered a smile to him, but held her cheek.

Jim’s eyes were wide with rage as he tensed like a spring.

A little dribble of blood came from Barbara’s nose, and the spring was released.

Jim ran at full speed at James, head butting him with his horns and sending him into the wall. Barbara shrieked. Grabbing him by the collar, Jim yanked him up to look in his eyes. “If you ever, ever lay a hand on my mother again, those goons who are out for your blood will be the least of your concerns!”  

Barbara touched his shoulder, “Jim, put him down.”

He did so, but with force.

Trembling, James hobbled into the kitchen without a word.

“Honey, you can’t do that to him.”

“He hit you!”

“Yes, he did. But you don’t need to do anything about it. You don’t need to protect me.”

“Obviously I do!”

“Babs…?” James called from the kitchen. “I’m really sorry…but I think I need to go to the hospital.”

Jim scoffed and stormed out of the house. He had only been back for five minutes, but that was long enough. “Fine, I guess I’ve done enough damage.” He stormed out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

Back to Trollmarket it was, then. Though, when he got down to the canal, he parked his truck, and scaled the bridge to sit on the railing. He groaned, grabbing his horns in agitation.

The day had been exhausting, and he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

He was just so angry.

He must have sat there for at least an hour, just trying to catch his breath. But the sound of a bike approaching brought him back into the moment.

“There you are!” Claire breathed. “Your mom said you had a fight, and asked me to find you.”  

“I’m fine.” He said, harshly.

“Barbara doesn’t think so.”

“Well she thinks it’s okay for him to hit her, so what does she know!?” He shouted at her, an animalistic growl in the back of his throat.

Claire stared at him with wide eyes.

He withdrew into himself, crossing his arms. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not!” He shouted again. Then in frustration, he banged his fists on the railing, denting it. “Goddamnit!”

“Jim…?”

He didn’t respond, gripping his horns again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“…do you want me to leave?”

“…no…”

Gently, ever so gently, Claire rested a hand on his back, right between his shoulder blades. Her voice was soft, and soothing. “You’ve been so angry…”

“Not at you…never at you…” he insisted, almost pleading.

“I know Strickler taught you to use your anger…but you don’t have to anymore.”

He moaned. “I know…I just…”

“Is the part of the transformation?”

Still, he didn’t respond, but his brows creased deeply as a painful frown pulled at his lips, making his teeth poke his cheeks. He looked about to cry. “I’m so overwhelmed…”

“With what? You know you don’t have to put that much work into the house, we have time…”

“No, I like working on the house…I mean…” He shook his head, angry again. “This isn’t my body!”

“Jim…”

“I feel like I’m wearing a suit! I…I can see so much more, smell things, my sense of taste is shot, and…my natural instinct is to just…roar at everything I don’t like! And more often than not, I’m roaring at myself! Even my voice is different!”

Claire smiled in understanding, “Mi amor…no one expecting you to be completely adjusted to this. And I understand that you’re angry...anything I can do to help?”

He glanced at her. “You sure you still love me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I haven’t been myself in a while. It must be awful to have to deal with me…”

“I don’t know if I’ve really been myself for a while either.” She stated, her hand running over his arm. “That final battle changed both of us...but that’s why I can’t see myself with anyone else but you. My Romeo.”

He chuckled once. “Then...how about we revisit those old days? Just for tonight?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Come with me.”

He led her down to his truck, and put her bike in the back. Then they drove off.

As he drove, he kept glancing at her, a little grin on his face.

“What are you up to, Jim Lake Jr.?”

He never answered, but in due time, they arrived at their destination. The peak that looked over the town.

The sky was clear of clouds, and sparkled with stars, just as the city lights spread over the valley.

Claire smiled as a familiar guitar strum filled the air, shortly accompanied by soft Spanish vocals.

Today I woke up wanting to kiss you

I have a thirst to caress you

Entangle myself with you and not let you go

You're so intoxicating

It's you

Jim approached her, a stroll in his step to the beat of the music. A look in his eyes of true adoration. She matched his steps, just as slowly. He circled her, resting a hand on her back, and then…took her hand.  

I want to gaze at you without counting the minutes

Draw you with just my memories

In my mind accentuate your lips, your kisses

You're here once again

It's you

He sang along with the chorus, being that his Spanish was still a little weak. But his arms encircled her, just for a moment, before taking her hand to twirl her. While her back was to him, he slipped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her gently as they danced. He twirled her again, talking her into his arms to waltz with her properly. Though, it wasn’t really a waltz, more like…a dance with no rules, only right. Only them.

I love seeing you, having you, embracing you

When I'm at your side

All the goodness in me

Blossoms, it's you

“What’s this then?” She laughed.

He pouted. “You don’t remember our dance after Spring Fling?”

Her smile reflected in her voice. “Of course I remember. I was just teasing you.”

“Rude,” he giggled back, spinning her around.

That magnet of beautiful energy

It's your soul that sends

Signals to my body

Because it keeps on asking for that smell of you

That invites me lying in wait

It's you

“I’m still a bad dancer,” he admitted.

“I think you’re a wonderful dancer.” She looked into his eyes, falling in love with him over and over again. He was so tall now. This time was different, but the look was the same. The comfort, and wonder. He bent to meet her sultry gaze.

We have different plans

But you're always on my mind

Since my veins so subtly

Enjoy loving you so much

It's you, it's you

The kiss was powerful. Under the scent of her shampoo and detergent, he inhaled her real fragrance, her pheromones, the very emotion she had at that very moment.

Bliss.

It's you

—

The song is 'Eres Tú' by Carla Morrison, the same song used in the Episode 'A Night to Remember' I wrote the English Lyrics because I thought it was more powerful to know what was being said.

[whimsymuse]

Storytelling (chapter 9)

➺ “You’re so used to following the path set for you by others, that is until a certain someone comes along and teaches you to write your own story.”

A story in which a famous idol falls for an average college student and they both try to follow their dreams, while struggling to stay together.

A/N This is actually my first fic for this fandom, so hopefully you all enjoy it!

Masterlist

pairing: Namjoon x Reader

genre: Fluff, humor and knowing me probably some angst

warnings: strong language

words: 2,993

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, ...

Namjoon didn’t have a driver’s license, ‘For the good mankind’, he told you when you asked him why not. So, the two of you took the bus. You didn’t mind, you enjoyed taking the bus.

“It’s like taking a break from the stresses of life for awhile.” You said, “I’m not expected to be doing anything on the bus, so in between work and school, it gives me an opportunity to just breathe.”

Namjoon nodded, “I feel that way too. The bus takes you from one place to another and while you have stuff to do at both places, the bus is that in between space where you don’t have to do anything. Even on my most stressful days, taking the bus forces me to take a break and just focus on me, so maybe it is a blessing I can’t drive.”

“Yeah, for more reasons than one.” You teased, then turned to face the window where you found your reflection fondly smiling at Namjoon’s profile. It wasn’t often you found someone who shared the same opinion as you. Around other people, you mostly kept quiet about your wandering thoughts. Even Alyson would tease you about how overly contemplative you were at times, but with Namjoon you felt understood and free to be yourself.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as the bus drove further down the street. You watched the bus pass by a few restaurants and some shops along the way, a handful of which Namjoon had taken you to and you smiled at the fond memories. A part of you was upset with yourself for not having explored the city more so that you could’ve been to these places sooner, but another part of you was happy Namjoon was the one to show them to you. Things just seemed better whenever you were with him. He managed to make even the simplest of things appear wonderous, just in the way he looked at them and you knew that from the minute he looked at you.

But maybe that’s because he’s not used to a simple life, your mind voiced when a particular poster caught your eye, followed by several others after that. In hindsight you should’ve expected this in this part of town and also considering his band’s fame, but the sheer amount of it all was overwhelming. On every shop window and on every vendor’s cart that passed by the bus were with the faces of BTS. Everywhere you looked, you saw them and each time your eyes instantly settled on the 2D printed eyes of the man sitting beside you.

His face was everywhere. On posters, t-shirts, tv screens and even lotion bottles! With every store that passed, the gap in success between the two of you became more and more apparent and made you sink further and further into your seat. How could you ever compare to him? He was the leader of one of the most popular kpop groups in Korea, he fought for his dream and crushed all of the naysayers under his success while you didn’t even have a dream and your chances of having one were being crushed by the expectations of your parents. What did you even have to offer him? A shoulder to lean on when he’s tired? An ear to listen to him when he was stressed? What could you give him that he couldn’t easily get from someone else who’d be far more successful and far more beautiful? Your heart sank just as a voice in your head gave you the answer you never wanted to hear- Nothing. You had nothing to offer him and if anything you were just wasting his time.

Throughout you inner turmoil, Namjoon remained oblivious. You assumed he didn’t even realize this part of town was on the way to the restaurant. He also had a habit of spacing out on your way to places and while most of the time it didn’t bother you, this time you wished he’d been more attentive. Maybe then you could’ve remained oblivious too, and just for a little longer you could’ve kept exploring the city with Namjoon as if nothing else mattered. But you couldn’t, not after seeing this. This was a part of his life he didn’t want you to know about, a part he never intended for you to see yet here it was right in front of you and you had no idea how you were supposed to react. Initially you wanted to just ask him about it at restaurant, but it was right here in the open completely surrounding and you couldn’t just ignore it.

“Namjoon…” You began to say, but he cut you off by placing a hand over your own.

“We’re almost there.” He said with a smile as he intertwined your fingers and instantly your racing thoughts faded into white noise. His eyes sparkled as they looked down at you, making you feel as if you two were the only two people left in the world and for a second you believed that this could work, that you could really be something. And that feeling kept you going for the rest of the ride, but no more than that.

The minute you stepped foot into the restaurant, you felt underdressed. You, nor your thirty dollar sweater and fake gold necklace did not belong in a restaurant with crystallized champagne bottles and satin tablecloths.

Just as Namjoon started to approach one of the hostesses, you grabbed his arm.

“Namjoon,” You said in a hushed voice, “You can’t be serious right now. We’re going to eat here? This is a five star restaurant and the champagne alone is probably worth my one week’s paycheck.”

“Don’t worry about it. Tonight is my treat.” He responded as he gently covered your hand with his own before dragging you towards the hostess, ignoring all of your protests.

“Table for Kim Namjoon.” He said to the hostess and from behind his shoulder you noticed that she didn’t even check the list before she promptly guided you to your seats towards the back of the restaurant. She handed you both a menu and when you noticed that each food lacked a price you knew you were screwed.

You looked over at Namjoon with wide eyes and he responded with a questioning stare. “Joon please.” You whispered while hiding the side of your face from the other patrons with your menu, “We could eat somewhere else? There’s a great ramen place in front of my house that would cost a 16th of this meal tops for both of us, plus dessert!”

“Y/n, I said don’t worry about it. This dinner is my treat and I’ve saved up specifically for this, so just pick what you want to eat and enjoy.” He said with an easy smile as his eyes scanned the menu.

“I’m not even properly dressed for this place.” You insisted, trying to convince him to leave again, but he wasn’t having it.

“Neither am I.” He said, nodding towards his T-shirt and scarf. You visible deflated, knowing that there was no way you were going to get yourself out of this meal and your frown deepened when you heard him chuckle.

“Look, Y/n. I promise you that I can afford this dinner. Also I didn’t choose this place just to impress you. I haven’t gotten to eat much more than take-out recently, so I’m spoiling both you and myself tonight.” Namjoon smirked as he leaned forward and used his own menu to shield his face, “And for the record, you look better than everyone in this room right now, so don’t worry.”

If Namjoon’s aim was to embarrass you into submission, he achieved it. His words made your face flush a bright red, forcing you to hide behind your menu again, butthis time you actually looked at the options. Your head hurt as you tried to figure out what each dish was with the limited french you knew, but in the end, you just ordered what Namjoon ordered.

The rest of the dinner passed as relatively normal as it could, once you got over the glitz and glamour of the venue, of course. At that point the dinner really was just you and Namjoon enjoying each other’s company while eating overly priced, though painfully delicious chicken. Though eventually, it reached the point in the night you’d been dreading since the night began.

“So why did you want to talk to me?” Namjoon asked.

You paused with your fork halfway to your mouth, then slowly lowered it back to your plate. For a second you considered not telling him that you knew about his idol life, if only to enjoy the normalcy for a little bit longer. But that was just it - none of this was normal. You, a struggling college student, were eating dinner at a five star restaurant with the leader of a world famous kpop group. Who were you fooling, acting as if you and your fake gold necklace belonged here - belonged with him.

Your eyes lifted from your plate ever so slightly, only to freeze upon seeing Namjoon’s concerned expression. His eyes were focused on your every movement, as if he was analyzing every action to try and understand your silence, and knowing him he could be. You shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare until you could no longer stand the silence.

“Why did you invite me here?” the exasperated words leaving your mouth before you even processed you were thinking them.

Namjoon’s eyes widened at your sudden outburst, “I told you, to thank you for helping me finish my album.”

“No,” You said, “I mean, why me, why are you spending time with me and not someone else like…” You paused, making Namjoon tilt his head in confusion.

“Like?” He prompted.

“Like you!” You huffed out, then leaned over the table and pressed your fingers into your temples. A headache was coming on, you could feel it, but if you could just keep your raging thoughts in check for a few minutes, you could get through this conversation.

“What are you talking about?” He asked cautiously.

You sighed, “Namjoon I know who you are; I know about your band, your idol life, all of it… It’s not exactly something you can hide.” You mumbled that last part, thinking back to the entire street filled with stalls of nothing but BTS merchandise. How could he possibly think you weren’t going to find out?

Namjoon stayed silent, neither of you touching your food as you continued.

“You could have your pick of beautiful and lavish company.” You gestured to the restaurant around you, “Hell anyone in this room is bound to have more to offer you?”

Namjoon leaned back and rested a finger against his lips thoughtfully, “And you’re basing that assumption on what? The fact that they’re eating at a five star restaurant?” His eyebrow raised and you noticed that he was wearing a slight smirk which irked you beyond belief.

“Don’t play dumb, Joon. I’m saying that because they can afford this restaurant. They’re rich and they’re successful; they belong here and me… People glared at me the second I stepped foot in here and I couldn’t even pronounce half of the things on the menu.”

“You can probably still pronounce more than me, whenever I come here I order the same thing.” He chucked and you shot him a glare.

“Namjoon be serious!” You pleaded

He shook his head, “How can I be when you’re saying such ridiculous things?”

“What?” You asked, taken aback by his words.

Namjoon let out a breathy laugh, “You know what this reminds me of?” You stayed silent, not knowing how to respond, but Namjoon continued anyway, “Our first meeting, you know in the cafe.”

“I don’t-” You started to say, but Namjoon cut you off.

“Why do you keep telling me to spend time with other people when all I want to do is be with you?”

His words caught you completely off guard, making the the air whip right out of your lungs and your heart stutter. You stared up at him with wide eyes and could only manage to blink in response. Did you hear him correctly?

He let out a heavy sigh, “After all the time we’ve spent together I hoped that by now you’d understand…”

“What are you saying?” You said cautiously, barely above a whisper and for a second

you worried that Namjoon wouldn’t hear, but the determined expression he directed towards you told you otherwise.

He leaned forward onto the table and reached out to hold your hand. Your eyes flicked down to where your hand rested in his and a warm shiver ran up your spine as he started to gently trace the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I don’t care that you’re not rich or famous. I don’t care that you’re still a college student trying to find her way. You’re who I want to spend my time with.”

“I’m not good enough for you.” You said with a shake of your head.

“Don’t say that.” Namjoon responded as his grip on your hand tightened, “You’re smart, witty, and beautiful inside and out, you have so much to offer. You’re the reason I finished the album so early. You’ve inspired me in ways that no one else ever has and beyond that, you make me so, so happy. I just…” He took in a deep breath and lowers his gaze to your joined hands. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m even worthy of you…” He trailed off.

You almost had to remind yourself to breathe as your heart stuttered in your chest. This couldn’t be real. Was he really saying what you thought he was? “Namjoon…” You started to say, mostly to say something, but you had no idea what else you were going to say. To honest, you didn’t trust yourself to say anything because you had no idea what was going on. Luckily, Namjoon spoke before you had to continue.

“But that doesn’t matter.” Histone shocked you, forcing you to meet his eyes which burned with the determination that threw you off earlier. You almost felt intimidated by the force behind his expression, especially since it was directed towards you, but for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“I want to be worthy of you and I’ll try my best every single day to show you, if you’d just give me the chance.”

“But we’re so different.” You said.

His earnest expression broke into a small smile, “Are we though? We like the same books, we both like going on walks, but can also enjoy the comfort of the indoors, we both love writing - Hell, you even made me develop this weird love for peppermint tea!”

Some of the tension in your shoulders lifted as you let out a short laugh, “It’s not weird!” You protested.

“Yeah it is! It’s boiling leaf juice that makes my mouth feel cold?! It’s your fault that I like this stuff now.” He pouted and you shook your head at his ridiculousness.

“You’re not going to give up are you?” You stated more than asked as a faint smile graced your lips.

“Not if the only reason you’re against this is because I’m a little more famous than you.”

Your eyes narrowed, “A little?”

“Okay, a lot, but forget that for a second. If that’s the only reason you’re fighting this, then I won’t stop trying to win you over.”

Your eyes fell way from his gaze as they trailed over the scene around you. Everyone from the restaurant patrons to the waiters was dressed prim and proper. They breathed an air of rich hubris that you’d only ever seen when you went to family reunions. These people reminded you of your rich family and maybe that’s why you felt so uncomfortable. They oozed vanity and conceit and their voices rang with a tune of condescension. Your stomach churned as your eyes continued to sweep over the room, that is until they fell once more on the man sitting before you.

He’s not like them. Your mind whispered. He’s only ever treated you like an equal. The only time you’ve ever felt uncomfortable around him was when you found out he was famous and you convinced yourself that that changed things. He was always sweet to you.

You smiled fondly at him. Alyson was right, he was still the same kind and dorky guy from the cafe you fell head over heels for, so why were you fighting this?

You ran a nervous hand through your hair, feeling Namjoon’s eyes carefully watch your every movement, then let out a heavy sigh, “Okay.” you finally said.

He looked at your slightly confused, “Okay?” He asked.

Feeling your cheeks begin to heat up, “I want to give this a try.” You clarified.

Namjoon blinked at you shocked, “R-really?”

You nodded and bit your lip to suppress a grin as Namjoon let out an almost comical sigh of relief.

“Wow.” He breathed out as he leaned back in his chair, still managing to keep his hand on yours.

“Wow what?” You asked just as breathlessly as he sounded.

He shook his head, “I just never thought I could feel this happy.” The smile he flashed you was by far the brightest smile you’ve ever seen and it made you blush bright red, knowing you were the cause of it.

“God” You groaned as you pressed your burning face into your one free hand, “You’re so cheesy, I can’t stand it.”

“You love it.” Namjoon singsonged then chuckled when you groaned even louder and pressed your face face further into your hand.

You smiled into your palm despite yourself. You’d never admit it out loud, but he was right - you really did love it.

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, ...

A/N Yikes! I’m sorry this is so late guys, but I’ve just been so caught up in the chaos that is the start of school that I completely forgot to post this. But here it is now! I hope you all enjoy!!

please do NOT edit, copy or repost

[skylar-river-blog]

Living With Wings

Growing up in an Illyrian camp isn’t easy. Constant training, flying lessons, not to mention the terrible beds. But being a woman in an Illyrian camp is a different story. After running away at a young age, River has had to survive in ways her mother and father could never imagine, even with all of the struggles her mother had to face when she first came to the camp. With the impending war with Hybern, the Illyrian forces need all of the help they can get. There’s just one problem: women aren’t allowed wings, and they sure as hell aren’t allowed on the battle field, the one place River knows she belongs.

Chapter 1

The forest is quiet. This sort of quiet is not one that is wanted. Ever. It suggests the presence of the naga or the Bogge. They haven’t been seen in these areas for a few months, this being the only reason I set up camp here. My senses are on high-alert, waiting for the smallest shift in the atmosphere, waiting for the perfect time to strike. My body is stone. Frail and thin, but stable, strong. The weapons around my waist are nothing that I would pick from a lineup, but they are the best I have: a knife I carved from a stone and a spear head taken from an arrow. Living on your own is nothing to brag about, especially when you might be devoured if you make one wrong step.

A twig snapped from a few hundred feet away, and I made my move. I ran northeast, a bit to the left from where I heard the sound. Hopefully this would give me the upper hand and a fair shot at killing it, whatever it was. Running through the trees I heard only my feet crunching leaves, reassuring my suspicion. With this I turn and run north. There is nothing within me that I fear enough for the Bogge to kill me. I have nothing to love or care for. The closer I got, the quieter it became. Almost 30 feet away, I stop, only to become aware of my surroundings, of all of my escape routes. It’s definitely quieter here. I turned in place and saw nothing. Throwing a rock at a nearby tree, I grabbed my knife and waited. For what, I didn’t know. The longer I waited the more the silence began to devour me, the more I began to lose myself.

I slowly dropped to a crouch and turned, until I came face to face with my father. I stumbled back on my knees and quickly got to my feet.

“It’s time you come home.” His voice was strong and rough.

“Why are you here? And how did you find me?”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s time you stopped playing these games of survival and came back to your mother.” Figures. He’s only here because my mother sent him.

“You couldn’t care less about me. Yet you let mother convince you to hunt me.” My father never did anything he didn’t want to. Only something valued by my father would be accepted for him to go out of his way like this. Dear Gods, what did she promise him?! “I’ll ask you again. Why are you here.”

“Your mother.” There was a kind of fear and worry as he said it. “Come home.”

“What’s wrong with mother.” A command, not a question.

“See for yourself.” Behind my father, I then realized, stood three Illyrian soldiers in their fighting leathers. My father was going to take me back, with or without a fight. I contemplated running, straight toward them, hoping to catch them off guard. Then I remembered my mother. Something must be horribly wrong if he hunted me, even after my rough departure.

I began walking east. Even after not seeing a sign of my birth camp, the location has never left. For months after I left I made the first few steps back, thinking of how much it would hurt my mother, how much easier it would be to return home and live in constant protection, even if I would be disregarded and treated as less than the ground they walked on.

Then I thought of them. I thought of all of the other women in the camp., all of the others that tried to escape and never made it. This wasn’t just for me. This was for them, too. This was for my mother. She left her camp in hopes of a new life until the my father’s captain found her. She still had hers at the time,. Until they were publicly ripped from her in the center of the camp as a lesson for anyone else who tried to run. Had my father not secretly sent that healer to her tent that night, she would have died.

I would not let this go to waste.

This is for her.

Then why am I leading my father back to the camp? Why am I reminding him that I never forgot where they were, even if he didn’t care? My mother is much stronger that that. She may have lost them, but they never left. She would have sent word herself. She would have alerted me. Somehow. This was too easy. Too simple.

He gave no details of her condition. No hint or suggestion at her well-being. This is what made me feel the unease that gripped my chest with its sharp talons.

Nevertheless I continued on.

~~~~~~

We were at the camp by sundown. I hadn’t realized how far I had traveled from the camp. It still looked the same. Even after all of these years, nothing has changed except for the youth running around with copper swords and wooden shields. We were given wooden swords.

I walked through the crowd with my head high. Everyone knew who I was and, what I’d done. I could smell their rage as I walked to my tent.

Nothing.

My mother was nowhere to be seen. I went through every room and found nothing. I couldn’t even smell her there. It felt as though she had never lived at all.

Turning around I smelled there were more soldiers in the tent.

“Where is my mother?” Their expressions hinted at nothing. I scanned the soldiers, looking each of them in the eye as I did.

And I was gone.

In a blink I was behind the line of soldiers, running towards the woods. And in a heartbeat they were in the air. Flying above me they flapped their broad, muscular wings downwards, making it harder for me to breathe. I kept running, forcing air in and out of my lungs, ignoring the burning as it entered ice cold into my fiery chest.

The soldiers began to descend, further restricting my breathing. They are taught this strategy as soon as they to learn to fly. The camp started swarming with soldiers, at least five from every angle. The ground was clear and I had one clear shot, one last chance.

I summoned them. Within seconds I was off the ground, soaring into the sky. I flapped my wings in smooth and quick repetitions, hoping to gain as much altitude as possible. The wind burned my eyes and the cold air burned my lungs. My body screamed at me to look back, to see if we were in the clear.

I didn’t dare.

The tears began to stream down my face as the rage I had bottled up escaped. How dare my father use my mother. How dare he abuse my love for her. How dare I believe him. How dare I think that he would come to me if my mother truly was in danger.

How dare I.

The tears began falling faster as I let out a scream. My wing. I tried flapping them, tried to gain altitude as my body began hurtling toward the forest below me. I looked to my left; there was an ash arrow through my wing. I looked to my right, only to find the same thing in the other. Snapping the body of the arrow, I pulled the other half from my wing, letting out a faint scream. After releasing the other arrow I tucked them in close. The last thing I would do is give them another target.

With my feet grazing the treetops, I opened my wings and glided to the ground, grunting with the pain it brought on. They had missed one of the vital veins, but it would still take time to heal. I sprinted between the trees, using their canopies as cover. When they had all flown past and there was no sign or smell of their company within a ten mile radius I walked to a stream nearby and began washing my wings in hopes of washing away any splinters from the arrows.

“And where do you think you’re goin’?” The voice was deep, commanding, but gentle. I tucked my wings in tight, turning to the man.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to stare?” I spat, not caring about the sting it may have carried.

“And didn’t anyone tell you to keep those hidden?” He motioned to my wings that were peaking out on my sides. I noticed his were dark, strong and defined. Mine were stark white, with streaks of blood running down and staining my feathers.

“Apparently I have been doing just that if I still have them.”

“And you might just as easily lose them if you aren’t careful.” The smirk that crossed his face made me want to slap it right off.

“And you might as well lose yours if you don’t watch how you talk to me.”

He chuckled before saying, “And who are you to speak to me in this way? I would think again before I opened my mouth if I were you.”

“Who are you, then? You clearly don’t look like you live in the forest.” His arms were toned, legs defined, and chest broad and muscular. Everything about him screamed High Fae. Everything about him screamed at me to run.

“I’m not High Fae, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Emissary?” He shook his head. “Commander of an army?” Shook his head again. “If you’re not High Fae, or emissary, or a commander, then who are you?”

He stood up straight, and it wasn’t until then that I had realized he was slouching. His wings must have been pure muscle if they caused him to slouch like that. “I am your greatest ally you have, at the moment. Call me Alekos, Defender of Mankind. Or faekind, in this case.” His tone of voice as he said his name was comedic, almost as though he named himself.

“Okay, Alekos, wher--”

“Alekos, Defender of Faekind.” He corrected with a smirk. He had the mannerisms of someone I knew growing up. Someone pompous, flirtatious, snarky.

“Yeah, whatever. Where are you from then?”

“I can definitely show you to my tent, if that’s what you mean,” he said with a grin. Definitely familiar.

“No, I’m fine, thank you. I’ll go back to my camp then, if that’s all the help you’re going to be,” I said with a bite, whether intentional or not, I wasn’t sure.

“You won’t get anywhere with those wings in that condition. Maybe a mile or two, but not more, and it’s my best guess to say that your camp isn’t two miles away. I have something at my camp that can help with those wounds. But that would mean following me to my tent, and I’m not sure we’re quite ready for that yet.” He finished his last sentence with a smirk, with which I replied with a mocking smile. I spread my wings, taking another look at the holes that weren’t healing.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve lived through worse.” I made to take flight before he could stop me, but the pain shooting through them and down my spine stopped me before he even had the chance. I winced, taking a step back to regain my balance.

“You won’t last a hundred yards. Let me give you something for the ashwood. Then I’ll take you back to your camp.” This time there was no smirk, no grin. A straight, serious face looked down at me. His prominent cheekbones and deep blue eyes complimented each other, while still allowing his strong, cut jawline to show his assertion.

“How far off?” I would take the help, only because I couldn’t do this alone without a salve, or anything to initiate the healing.

He gestured farther south. “Maybe three miles out. We can make it within the hour if we run, but we’ll make it within the half hour if I carry you.”

“I don’t need to be carried, I’m not lame.” My attitude was obvious. He looked me up and down. Alec assessed my body, taking the most time with my wings. I tucked them back in closer, wincing at the pain again shooting through my spine. “I can walk.”

“Then we’d better get going. Those soldiers will come looking for you soon enough.” He was right. They would look by the water, knowing I was injured and would attempt to clean my wounds. Knowing going back to my camp would be a death wish for me, I motioned him to lead the way, keeping a few paces back.

[dylawa]

Having Lived and Loved: The Playlist (Part 2)

Here is Part 2 to my HLAL Playlist description series! The purpose of this post is to put all the important songs in one place, as well as add descriptions for where they fit in, and my reasoning as such. I’ll put it all under a Read More of course.

Again, this is Part 2 since I can only share five videos per post, so expect more to come, and know you’re entering in media-res if you haven’t read the first post! I will also mention, there will be more songs in the playlist than there are directly mentioned in this series of posts. That is because the playlist will include all songs related to the chapters’ titles, not just the ones that have significance character/story-line wise. Links to all parts and the full playlist are at the bottom of the post!

Onwards!

“Oh man, Dylawa, Rush again?” Yes, my friend, Rush again. Specifically, “The Anarchist”. We have a very different mood to set here from our last Rush selection, though! Take a look at these lyric excerpts and, based on the chapter it’s from (yes, the chapter is titled “The Anarchist”), see if you can guess who this is for:

A voice so silent for so long For all those years I had to get along, they told me I was wrong I never wanted to belong - I was so strong

In all your science of the mind, seeking blind through flesh and bone Find the blood inside this stone What I know, I've never shown, what I feel, I've always known I plan my vengeance on my own - and I was always alone

The lenses inside of me that paint the world black The pools of poison, the scarlet mist, that spill over into rage The things I've always been denied An early promise that somehow died A missing part of me that grows around me like a cage A missing part of me that grows around me like a cage

Have an idea yet? We’ve moved on from focusing on Comet and All Might here: This is about Ironwill.

I purposefully wrote Ironwill to be a reflection of Comet-- or, at least, my rendition of Comet. Remember, Comet is meant to be a character you can project onto and change and warp to your heart’s content! The main reason I write her with specific details about her past is because, well, it’d be difficult to write a compelling protagonist without some baggage and the like. Feel free to discard anything in your own Comet interpretations, or add your own details! Anyways, that point aside, as I was saying, Ironwill is meant to be a reflection of Comet; both had distance or abusive parents, and both were told their powers were not suited for the dreams they had. Both lived isolated childhoods due to their oppression and personal beliefs differing from those around them, and both ultimately decided to go against everything they were told to the best of their ability anyways. However, their more personal choices on that last bit of similarity lead them down ultimately different paths.

Ironwill justified his actions by saying they were for the betterment of mankind; he wanted to save people, but believed the only way to do as such was to do exactly as he was told as a child; to fit everyone into neat, safe little qualifying boxes that, should anyone attempt to step out of, would face dire consequences. It’s for their own good, after all! What’s a little government tyranny if it means saving your life?

I understand the title of this piece means the very opposite of what Ironwill is striving for, but his actions certainly go against the government in many ways. Think of it as temporary anarchy to bring about a new rule.

Wow, that was a lot! Moving on to the next song: “Prime Mover” by... Rush. I know, I’m sorry, this is the last Rush song for now, and we won’t spend as long on it!

Basic elemental instinct to survive Stirs the higher passions Thrill to be alive Alternating currents in a tidewater surge Rational resistance to an unwise urge Anything can happen...

So this is it. The evil is defeated, the hero returns to the familiar, but they have been forever changed by the hardships they have endured, and the treasure they have gained along their journey. Comet has started on a path of finding herself, thanks to the help of All Might, alongside coming to her own difficult conclusions about herself. At this point, she’s riding high on the wings of victory, but not every bird can fly forever. For now, though, she’s found her strength, and the world is at her fingertips. Further growth will come later; after all, such an ordeal is never linear. It comes and goes in waves, and for now, Comet has won the right to be proud of herself, and have high hopes for the future. Not to mention, with All Might as her newfound friend...

Anything can happen...

... And while that concludes “if i could be half of what you think of me,” we’ve still got “wondering when i’m coming back” to cover! Let’s get started on diving into that right now, because why not?

I love “In Love With A Ghost”! Great music! Wish they would actually make some!

Ahem, sorry, salty moment there. This song is called “i know it’s not easy but you’re not alone anymore.”

This skips pretty far into the WWICB storyline, as this is the title for the sixth chapter, where Comet and All Might enjoy the Tanabata festival after a not-so-pleasant run-in with Endeavor. At this point, it has become apparent that something is still wrong with Comet’s power; while she has the aid of her eye drops, her power continues to diminish dramatically. I didn’t make this as clear in the story as I wanted to, but the reason for this is her emotions-- anyone who isn’t at their mental best would suffer in performing their duties in, well, any aspect of life. So, essentially, she pulls an Elsa and decides to conceal, don’t feel. That will end well!

But, I digress. What I like about the selection of this song for this chapter is, it’s not really clear who this is meant to be directed at. Is this Comet thinking about Yagi, or vice-versa? It also doesn’t help that, ahem, feelings are beginning to become apparent for both parties (well, apparent to the reader, at least; Comet is clueless!)

Ah, man... To The Moon. Brilliant game. Old, a little outdated, not the best representation of Autism, but still brilliant, and is a huge inspiration for how I try to write as a whole, both in direct dialogue, and in emotion. If any of you have played this game and read the Having Lived and Loved series, now that I’ve pointed it out, I hope you can see some connection!

Anyways, Kan R. Gao is the creator of the game and its soundtrack, and this piece, “Once Upon A Memory,” doesn’t quite fit the overall theme of Chapter 12 of WWICB. However, a moment alone between our two darling heroes is deserving of a track that feels intimate and close, even if the upbeat nature isn’t quite the same as the circumstances our heroes currently find themselves in. Plus, the characters in To The Moon are stargazing when this piece plays, and at this point of time, so are All Might and Comet. So there’s... some connection, I suppose?

That being said, the songs don’t always necessarily fit the chapters they’re assigned to. Sometimes, just the name itself is fitting enough and gets a spot that way, but that being said, most songs at least fit the aesthetic of the All Might/Comet relationship. This one is no different, even if not placed in the most opportune spot.

I really want to go into “The Body Electric” as my next song, but that is, unfortunately, another Rush song, and I promised you guys no more Rush! So I’ll just abbreviate really quickly before moving on to the next piece; it’s 45T3R01D’s song. It will be present in the playlist, of course! So with that, we’ll end this post on...

“You Can Be A Hero,” from the My Hero Academia Soundtrack.

“Now, wait a minute: This is the title of the last chapter, and you only covered three songs from WWICB, and Comet already knows she can be a hero! What gives?!”

There is a really easy answer to that: The other songs aren’t super worth going into detail for (but feel free to ask about any other titles you may be curious about!), and more importantly, this is the song I had in mind for when All Might and Comet share their first kiss.

That little pause at the 1:30 mark is absolutely the perfect moment for a breath, and for All Might to sweep in for that kiss I spent a week writing and perfecting.

For a second, his hands dance in the air, before one settles on your lower back, while the other brushes your hair back from your forehead. The touch is… different, from everything you’ve shared before.

It’s intimate.

You open your mouth to speak, to comment, to question. But all you have time to do is take a breath.

For Yagi makes it impossible to breathe, when his lips connect with yours.

It’s quick, but it’s not a crash. It’s eager, but not desperate. It’s not gentle, but it’s not bruising either. Whatever you can think of to describe it, it isn’t quite that; no matter what, it remains something in between, something indescribable, something… something that must be for you.

... Yeah, I made myself breathless a couple times writing that part.

So, for this song, it’s not so much about the title and the song’s meaning, and more about the feeling it evokes. Once again, Comet has overcome overwhelming odds to emerge the victor, only this time, the tables on the surprise kiss trope are turned! At least, I think it is: usually I see girls initiating the surprise kisses in most forms of media. I like to think this is a welcome breath of fresh air in that regard!

Well, that’s five videos again! Next post, we’ll be going over individual character songs!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Full Playlist]

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #20: Choices and Possibilities

This probably wasn’t safe to do. The shell of the building in a long condemned area of Cleveland’s industrial district was missing a good seventy-five percent of its ceiling, the rubble of the caved in roof scattered all over bits of rusting machinery. Plants and wildflowers, brown and frozen by the icy hand of winter, pushed their way through cracks in the concrete floor- Mother Nature’s defiance of the progress of mankind. The sky was blue with the occasional wispy cloud, but the wind still howled from time to time through the open roof and broken windows. In all of this, three folding chairs were situated on more stable slabs of fallen roof and in them sat three people bundled against the Northeast Ohio cold. A small, slightly-built woman with fiery hair under a Mets cap, swathed in a leather biker jacket and a sunset orange scarf. A blonde man with an imposing build but gentle eyes, tucked in a lambskin bomber jacket with a warm shearling collar and an emerald green scarf. These two are sat side by side, facing the third- a somewhat heavyset fellow in a black puff jacket, his own scarf black and white striped and complemented with black earmuffs. He had a microphone clipped to his coat collar, as did the other two. They also each held large championship belts of gold plate and black leather. The odd man out spoke first. “This is a strange place for an interview, isn’t it?” The redhead laughed. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But nah, it ain’t strange at all when you think about it. I mean, look at this old place. What was it? An industrial bakery? A freakin’ button factory? A post office distribution outfit? There’s so many possibilities, Spade.” Mike McGuire looked up through the open ceiling, tapping a finger against her chin. “Possibility’s a funny thing. You have endless doors open before you, with any number of paths you can take all depending on shit like your ability, potential, privilege, that sort of thing. But the further you go, the more choices you make, the more that path narrows until you’ve made your ultimate choice on how your life or career is gonna go. Sometimes you can go back, but sometimes you’re too far down the path to turn around. Like…” The Bronx Brawler sat back up, leaning forward. “...say you show up at a place of business and grab a tiger by the tail. You’re full of piss and vinegar and you got blood shooting out your eyes and you say you’re gonna destroy everyone. You take out the biggest obstacle in your way and everyone’s wondering what kind of havoc you’re gonna wreak. But what they don’t know is that you’ve already made choices. Choices dictating where you’re going, and it sure’s fuck ain’t where people thinkyou’re going- it’s somewhere a fuckton less.” Spade raised an eyebrow at Mike inquisitively. “You’re not one for waxing hypothetical, McGuire. What are you getting at here?” John had listened to his partner weave this tale. It was a familiar one. Maybe because they had lived it. Sensing Mike’s slight annoyance at the question, he cut in. “This isn’t hypothetical at all.” “Nope. See, in case people out there have lost count, this’ll be our fourth go-round with The Limit. So we should know these guys like the back of our hands, but see, something’s not the same here. The Limit’s changed, Spade, and not for the better.” “Can I be frank with you guys?” “But your name is Bryan.” Bryan looks at John - and then to Mike as if expecting an explanation of sorts. He didn’t get one. “Yeah yeah, what is it?” “These two guys? They’ve put a hurting on you. I’m not talking minor stuff. Injury reports’ clear as day. Mike, right off the bat, a concussion. John, a laceration on your abdomen that required dozens of stitches. Both of you, multiple hospital visits. Mike, your hand. They broke your hand on last year’s season finale of Monday Night Brawl.” “Yes. Yes they did, and that’s just fuckin’ it, Spade. These guys came in like a couple’a brazen bulls, and though we got the W every time, they still came out lookin’ like beasts. Sent us to the hospital twice. Nearly gutted my partner. Busted this hand right here. Like you said.” Mike wiggled her fingers for emphasis. “But remember what I said about choices. The choice the Limit made was to be Dominic Saunders’ hired stooges. Nobody knew that. We sure’s fuck didn’t. Saunders caughteverybody flat footed. And at first it didn’t matter. Sometimes the consequences of your choices ain’t so evident right away. But I tell ya, one moment you’re sending the future champs out in an ambulance, and the next?” She snapped her fingers. “You’re cleaning some Cope-spittin’ motherfucker’s pool.” “Let’s rewind, Bryan.” “Okay.” “Monday Night.” “Right.” “Another display of cruelty from our champion. Rob Garcia wound up in the right state this time. Draco Lazarus makes his glorious return.” Displaying his growing penchant towards sarcasm, John gave the shocking surprise a light golf clap. “Saying the same things he’s always said. Part of another group of like minded individuals making sweeping proclamations for world domination.” And he leveled his gaze at Bryan. “Who cares?” He paused. “Noticed something strange. Mike, how about you? Something out of place.” “Aside from a hideous fucking construct of hair bleach, pus, unidentified fungus, and mutant STD cultures gaining sentience as well as delusions of grandeur?” “There was no Limit.” Mike’s face lit up in realization. “Well what the fuck do ya know. There wasn’t, was there? Seems to be kind of a big omission. Seeing as they’re equal parts of the group and all.” “There is most likely a explanation for that.” “Oh, I agree, and I’m pretty sure what it was, too. They had to go start the car, pack up the gear. They’re relegated to porter and chauffeur duty. This is what’s become of two guys that the EWC Faithful nominated as our most worthy rivals of last year. The vicious pit bulls that bust in outta nowhere and tore us apart are nothin’ more than subservient fuckin’ lap dogs now. The bottom of the barrel in a group that in and of itself is the bottom of the barrel.” “Collateral Damage Part Deux.” “The sequel nobody asked for. And sequels usually fuckin’ suck. I mean, I guess they’re not a sequel to the sequel, that’d be gettin’ in goddamn Criterion territory.” John chuckled wrly. “Original wasn’t much better.” “It’s like when they made all those fuckin’ Sharknado movies one after another.” “What’s a sharknado?” “...when a waterspout sucks up a buncha sharks and then makes landfall so you get a shark tornado.” Church looked to Bryan to see what his reaction was. “Alright, we’re diverging from the point.” “No, we aren’t. Bryan, there is no point to this. Alexander? Frank? There isn’t a point to them. These two haven’t competed since December 1st of last year. A few days prior, Mike and I defeat them for a third time. Are we supposed to be impressed that they torched the Eternal Circle, The Clifton Sisters of yesteryear?” For a brief second, easily missable if one blinked, a look passed over Mike’s face that seemed nothing short of besotted. But it was gone as soon as it came, replaced with a more subdued expression of appreciation. “Well spoken, bud. We’re not impressed. Nobody should be impressed, unless they find their grandma’s Bischon Frise particularly impressive. Cuz like I said- that’s what we’re dealing with now. The bulls have their horns ground down and their brass balls neutered, the beasts have their teeth and claws ripped out. There’s nothin’ to fear, or even to really look forward to. This is rote. This is less than fuckin’ rote. And it’s really fuckin’ sad, because anyone who knows us knows we thrive off good quality competition. If we’re gonna face The Limit, we wanna face The Limit, not Diet Limit.” Bryan adjusted the microphone clip on the collar of his coat. He looked down at a notecard in the palm of his hand before continuing. “Mike, John, you two always have something interesting to say. But, come on, you two are really that indifferent about your opponents?” “You want us to be angry at them? Why would we be?” “Kind of going in a circle here, John. Look at your history with them. It bears repeating.” “No he isn’t. Haven’t you been paying attention? Shit, I never thought I’d miss Heart so much. Here, let me fuckin’ explain.” Mike leaned forward again, eyes hard green stones. “The Limit we fought wouldn’t step aside for anybody. Much’s they said they don’t care about titles, I never really believed that. But it don’t look like they have much of a choice now, do they? Not since their Fearless Leader called in the Gilded Shit. Nuh-uh. Seems like those two want these.” The redhead gave a pat to her belt’s front plate. “And if they want these, where does that leave The Limit? I’ll tell you where. Grunt work and hired help shit.” “Must pay well. After all, Dominic is a generous man.” He shrugged. “But think about it. This could have been the opportunity for The Limit that they would never received through achievement alone. Dominic could have bowed out. Could have said, ‘Rob’s out, The Limit’s in.’ But he didn’t. Instead, your kind and compassionate leader disparaged them as losers. Opting for the untested Maurice Yensman instead. In between their clerical duties for Dominic Sanders, they must have seen a lost opportunity as we systematically picked apart the greatest faction this company has ever known.” “See, and here’s where all that bullshit about blah blah blah, we don’t care about wins or titles we just wanna hurt people, really rings fuckin’ hollow. Cuz them stiffs ain’t even getting the opportunity to do that. Listen, as once-worthy opponents, they should take our advice and get themselves outta that shit show before it’s too late and their horns, balls, fangs, and claws won’t ever grow back. Unless they really want to be lackeys for the rest of their lives.” “Mike. John. I’ll be honest, kind of expected something else.” “What do you mean?” “Last week, you were kidnapped by the Collector.” John shook his head. “That was a rough day.” “Those poor, poor Cliftons.” “And the week before?” “I wonder if Duggan ever got home.” “I hope Candice had GPS for the middle of the goddamn desert.” “Look, no offense to the fine citizens of Cleveland but this place isn’t exactly kosher. I was expecting something more.” NSFW look at each other - and then back at Spade. “More? Like more left of a building?” “Or more left of people who’re supposed to be our equals, but aren’t anymore because of their own boneheaded fucking choices?” “Let’s not be facetious. Even before that, there was the viking funeral. And the grand Melon conspiracy. But here we are - inside some dilapidated ruins.” John looked around and he nodded as if to agree with the interviewer. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” “But you want something with a little more production, don’cha? Well, worry not, Spade. See, we did get a short bit of film in before we came up here. Not only that, it has the Limit themselves in it.” “Not to be confused with last time with The Collector.” John looked puzzled, but Bryan was right, they were both being facetious in this endeavor. “Wait, was that The Collector? Or not?” “The Japanese guy? … Whose house in Boca Raton were we even at?” Her partner shrugged in response as if to say, ‘beats me’. “But my partner is right. The Limit unequivocally agreed to appear, even with being our opponents, in a short film meant to make fun of them.” The viewer at home would catch a glimpse of something flashing in the corner of the screen, almost as if to act as a disclaimer. “Can’t say they ain’t at least good sports.” Mike raised a hand to her mouth, snickering behind it, and whipped out her cell phone, showing it to Spade.The picture faded out, and the viewer was treated to the same video that Spade saw.

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Chapter 77 - The Last Fairy Tale

Chapter Synopsis: As Yang and Emerald arrive at the Tower of Alexandria to find Professor Oobleck, they stumble upon more than what they expected. The true intentions of the Witch and Wizard are revealed, as well as the origins of myth and Remnant.

Series Synopsis: Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy(ENMY).

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

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The Last Fairy Tale

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Legends.

Stories scattered through time.

Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains

Forgetting so easily that we are Remnants,

Byproducts of a forgotten past.

.

.

Before the Tower of Alexandria, Yang and Emerald stood. To their right, a passive Giza laid with its paws crossed in front of it. Though it still showed a keen awareness of the two, the Grimm appeared to permit them safe passage into the structure.

As soon as Yang touched the doors and pushed them open to the interior, an energy signature left its impression on her hand. A familiar sensation that brought with it a small tinge of surprise, but also awe.

The cool, dark-green lobby greeted the two. Their footsteps fell with an echoing clack against the marble stone floor. The Tower’s keeper waited patiently with hands clasped to greet them.

“Greetings. My name is Papyrus, the Keeper of Knowledge.

And I welcome you to the Tower of Alexandria.”

She stared at the two with her silver, glistening eyes.

“Your arrival was expected.”

Without another moment, she turned, causing her leopard spotted dress to trail behind her. She led the guests to the elevator and waved her palm leafed staff to activate it.

As they entered and ascended to the higher levels, Yang couldn’t help but watch their guide suspiciously.

“So, you… work here?”

“Yes,” Papyrus responded.

“What kind of books are here, exactly?”

“Everything.”

“And everything includes…”

“Everything.”

“Kay. Do you know about Salem and the Wizard?”

“Yes.”

“Can they get to us here?”

“Possibility exists.”

“Any other defenses besides Giza out front?”

“No.”

“Huh. Doesn’t sound very safe.”

“The two previously mentioned parties are not allowed to enter these premises.”

“Oh, yeah? By who?”

“Not accessible. Agreement is held by an accord,” Papyrus answered without further explanation.

Emerald nudged Yang’s side.

“She kinda gives a Masa vibe, don’t ya think?”

“Not surprised. Masa built this place. Has her fingerprints all over it. Only natural she’d hire someone like her to run it.”

Papyrus whipped around with an uncanny glimmer of emotion.

“You know the Architect?”

“Uh… ‘Architect’?” Yang puzzled.

As if automatically rebalancing her emotions, Papyrus’s excitement petered out into a flat disposition.

“Apologies for the outburst. A long time has passed since I last heard word of my Master.”

“Oh. Well, maybe we can bring her around next time.”

The elevator stopped its ascent.

“Such event is unlikely to occur.”

The doors opened and Papyrus guided them through.

Where they arrived, was a messy office with countless books stacked in mounds, almost like a canyon’s trench run. What little of the glass floor they could make out, they could see whole levels filled with more tomes below. It was like exploring a dimension of knowledge that verged on being too much for the plane to contain.

In the lower levels, they caught glimpses of a figure. A light moving through the clutter.

Papyrus led Yang and Emerald down to the additional reading rooms. They tripped over old scriptures and torn parchment. Charts and notes were pinned to the walls and ceilings.

When the group arrived at their final destination, they came upon a man disheveled and tattered. His clothes and moss-colored hair were unkempt. A thermos rocked back and forth in his hand. Its liquid came close to tipping, before the man brought it thirstily to his lips.

“Whoa…” Yang couldn’t help but utter. “Professor Oobleck—that you?”

The man sitting on the ground with his back against the study desk looked up for a fraction.

“Yang Xiao Long… I didn’t quite expect Temujin to send you…”

“Oh, man…”

“And Miss Emerald Sustrai… a surprise…”

“Oh! Yeah, she’s not an enemy or anything—”

“It doesn’t matter… Nothing matters…”

Oobleck bottomed out his thermos and laid it on the floor. Papyrus automatically came forward to refill it.

“Ooookay,” Yang said apprehensively. “I’ve never seen him talk this slow before.”

“Yup. Dude’s out of it!” Emerald snatched the thermos out of the Professor’s grasp and easily evaded any sluggish attempts to take it back. She didn’t have to smell it to know what was inside.

“It’s not coffee,” she shook her head at Yang.

“Professor,” Yang kneeled down. “What happened? Dad said you discovered something big, and that it was a shock, but what in the world could have done this to you?”

“Oh, Yang… I should never have looked. I should never have learned.”

“What? What is it Professor?”

“Everything. It’s all going to end. It doesn’t matter what we do. There is no future.”

“Professor! Snap out of it!”

Yang slapped him across the face.

“It’s…It’s no use…” he continued to mumble slovenly.

Oobleck took off his glasses and started to drift into a sad sleep.

“No use… no use at all…”

…

“This… is the last Fairy Tale…”

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X  X X  X  X

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Back in Atlas, in one of the training rooms of Cerberus Tower, a most unusual sparring session was taking place.

“Ruby! Even if it’s a shallow cut, if you see an opening, take it!” Qrow shouted.

“Mind your form, Weiss! A stable charge relies on a stable foothold!” Winter advised her sister.

Ruby and Weiss reset their positions before reengaging their opponents. At the same time, their counterparts adjusted accordingly.

Pyrrha took up defensive position with her shield, while firing off a couple rounds with her rifle. Meanwhile, Cinder sent several obsidian javelins whistling past her shoulder.

The pairs squared off a few choice encounters before a winning team was decided.

“You need to be more aggressive in your attacks, kiddo,” Qrow lectured. “You can’t always play the nice girl. Hit ‘em where it hurts and don’t let up.”

“Okay. Got it…!” Ruby replied, panting out of breath.

“You’ve got the advantage in reach. Dominate the midrange and abuse them.”

While Qrow gave out more pointers, Winter did the same with Weiss.

“You can’t always rely on your partner to deal the finishing blow or to create an opening. I know you currently lean on a more support-type style, but you must push the offense when it is required. An opening to strike will not always present itself. Sometimes, you must force the issue.”

“I know. I’m trying. It’s just difficult grasping the new attack timing.”

“Ruby Rose may be your team leader, but by no means must she always be the initiator. You have a tactical mind, seize the reigns of battle as you deem fit. Trust your partner to lead, but also to follow.”

While their sparring partners were being coached, Cinder and Pyrrha took their own break near a spectating Masa Moon.

The Black Queen tossed her teammate a water bottle and began sipping her own.

“How do the measurements read, Masa?”

“Impressive, this one evaluates. Reaction scale, attack sequencing, lag reduction, all nominal. As to be expected of top-level fighters, despite having so little interaction time.”

“I must admit, this has been a very interesting learning experience,” Pyrrha commented. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I’ve never had anyone read my rhythm so quickly or I, theirs.”

“I have my gifts,” Cinder grinned. “Hopefully your partner isn’t too jealous?”

The two glanced at Jaune, who wore an expression of obvious envy.

“I’m sure Jaune’s learning a lot too…” Pyrrha said a little uneasily.

…

“Hey, I was wondering…” Ruby thought. “I think we could learn a lot if we saw an example.”

“An example? What are you getting at?” Qrow asked.

“Well… You and Winter have been coaching me and Weiss on our techniques and how we should work together. Why don’t you just show us how it’s done?”

“You don’t really expect me to—”

“Actually, I think that would be a fine idea.” Cinder set down her bottle and made her way back to the center of the room. “I believe Pyrrha and I require a more difficult challenge. Facing the famed Qrow Branwen and the specialist Winter Schnee should prove very educational. If you would oblige, of course.”

“No freakin’—”

“We accept.” Winter stepped forward to meet Cinder.

“Hey! Don’t go making decisions on your own!”

“Are you afraid we will lose? Do not worry. I will make sure to cover for your mistakes.”

“And don’t get ahead of yourself either. You’re still just a brat if you think you can keep up with me.”

“Then, what is there to hesitate over?”

Qrow and Winter locked stares with a burning intensity.

“Fine!” the wizened Huntsman gave in. “Only to show Ruby how it’s done.”

“Do you think I personally would choose to pair up with you? Don’t be ridiculous.”

As the four combatants readied for the next round of mock battles, Ruby and Weiss took spectator seats next to Masa. While Weiss seemed worried about the match up, her partner was positively excited.

Pyrrha and Winter matched forms with increasing speed and complexity. Qrow and Cinder executed lethal blows on each other like they were trading light jabs. The pairs separated and conjoined with a fluidity. Their seamless attack combos gave the impression they fought together for years, instead of just minutes. Less than a fight, the sparring session mimicked something of a vicious dance.

Masa made sure to record the battle to upload to Penny’s drives later. The Aura readings on the screen fluctuated for each fighter. She found herself paying particular attention to the somewhat erratic levels of Qrow.

Whether it was by chance, or strange stroke of luck, she thought how fortunate it was Qrow had not synchronized completely with the Old One. He did not know it, but a terrible fate was avoided thanks to his niece’s interference. But for how long that would last, Masa could not know. Even without using the Tower’s facilities, she saw their Auras bond more closely with each passing day.

It is only a matter of time…

And then the person known as Qrow Branwen might disappear too.

Just like Ozpin all those years ago.

“Masa?”

The engineer’s attention drew to her left, where Ruby looked like she was peering deep into her immortal soul.

“What is it, Miss Rose?”

“I’m worried about Qrow. I think… I need to know more about the Wizard.”

Ruby turned briefly to watch her biological father and Winter match techniques with the pair of prodigies. There was no trace of the Old One at the moment. It was Qrow as she always knew him. And there was also a sense of chemistry with the one he partnered with. In fact, from what Ruby saw, she could say Qrow was fairly enjoying the practice.

“I have to know, Masa,” she repeated herself. “I have to know the truth, so I can save him. I don’t know what the immortal inside him is trying to do, but I think I have to stop him. Am I wrong?”

“…” Masa took a moment to think. “No. You are not incorrect. This one does not believe Qrow Branwen would have agreed to his contract if he knew the extent of the Old One’s true objectives. But whether he will retain his individuality and resist carrying out the immortal’s will is another subject.”

Ruby pursed her lips.

“What… does he want to do? And while we’re on the subject, what does Salem want? Do you have your own plans too?”

“I did not,” Masa sighed. “I was at most, an observer of the events to transpire—at least, until this recent lifetime. Summer, Raven, and your sister refuse to let this one settle into the simple role of bystander.”

“Hehe! Can I throw my name in there too?”

A slight wrinkle in the engineer’s cheek twitched for a second.

“It would very much adhere to the pattern your predecessors set, this one laments with conflicted feeling.”

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I have to do to stop what’s coming, Masa.” Ruby’s silver irises shined with some faraway connection.

“Tell me how to stop the Last Fairy Tale.”

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X  X X  X  X

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“You can’t stop the end of a story, Blake. All stories, for better or worse, must come to a close.”

Though, they were on separate continents, Blake heard Salem’s voice as clear as she would right beside.

“The curtains must be drawn. One last bow from the actors who played their part with such diligence.”

Deep in the hollow crag of Vacuo’s Grimm territories, Blake sat cross-legged on a slightly raised platform. A dark Grimoire opened its covers, turning its pages by its own volition. Its letters and pictures projected clear for the eyes of its reader.

“The time of twilight is upon us, my dear child. Will this world see a new day, or will it be forfeited entirely to the darkness? It is to us to make sure life breathes anew.”

Blake read the story for what might have been the hundredth time.

“It is the only way for your wishes to be granted.”

The Tale of Two Brothers.

A version she’d never known until Salem introduced it.

The true historia of Remnant.

.

X  X X  X  X

While asleep, Professor Oobleck found himself strangely conscious amidst a lucid dream.

His surroundings were similar to the Tower of Alexandria, in that there were tomes covering almost every square millimeter of the study. The ceiling reached higher than the light from the fireplace could reach. A warm mug of his favorite roast coffee had its handle wrapped by his fingers.

Oobleck felt at peace. Far away from the outside world and the burdensome truth weighing down on him. Sitting in his impossibly comfortable armchair, he noticed two visitors watching from the couch opposite.

Before he could ask, Emerald answered his question for him.

“It’s a hallucinated dream, Professor. You passed out drunker than Yang’s Uncle on a bender. Seeing as you wouldn’t really be coherent if we woke you up, this seemed like the better choice.”

“What happened, Professor?” Yang asked worriedly. “I didn’t believe it when dad told me, that something you discovered actually broke you. I mean, you were the one who taught our team being a Huntsman and Huntress was more than just fighting. It was about learning and seeking the truth. Using brains as good as brawn.”

Oobleck let out a sorrowed sigh.

“Some truths I wish I never sought, Yang. You don’t know what Ozpin is trying to do. More accurately, what the individual known as Titan is trying to accomplish.”

“’Titan’?” Yang asked quizzically.

“Yes. The original name of the immortal inhabiting Ozpin’s soul, Titan—and he fooled us all.” Oobleck gazed bitterly into the fire place. “He fooled us all! A lie about saving the world of Remnant, and we believed it without question.”

“You’re saying… he doesn’t want to save Remnant?”

“…”

“I know that look,” Emerald commented. “It’s the look of someone who’s found out they’ve been fighting for the wrong side.”

“So, wait, what?” Yang cocked her brow. “Does that mean Salem’s actually doing the right thing by fighting Ozpin, or Titan, or whatever?”

“It is not so simple…” Oobleck muttered. “Though, in a certain light, you could say the Witch is the lesser of two evils.”

“What?!”

“Ultimately, it does not matter. Remnant is drawing to its inevitable conclusion.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Yang growled. “We first came here to bring you back to Vacuo and learn about where my mom is, but it looks like we need to hear this first. So, start from the beginning, Professor.”

Yang looked to Emerald for support.

“Yeah,” the other girl agreed. “Something tells me this isn’t just some boring history lecture—”

“This is the endgame.”

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X  X X  X  X

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“Hi.”

In the Never Realm version of Beacon Academy before its ruin, Raven watched the fluttering white cape of someone she held so dear.

“Hi,” she answered back. “This is a dream, right?”

Summer turned up her hood with a big smile.

“Yup! Which means you won’t remember a thing when you wake up! I just really wanted to see you. Sorry,” she stuck out her tongue playfully.

Raven rested a hand against her hip and shrugged.

“Pretty selfish of you. I wonder how many times you’ve done this and I just don’t remember.”

“Sorry… Not that many times, though.”

“You know, it’s funny. Everyone hero-worships you as the finest Huntress to ever live. Qrow and Tai still idolize you as our clumsy but faithful leader. Even Yang and Ruby still hope their supermom image of you stays intact. Though, they are getting a bit wise to that, I guess.”

“I know. It’s pretty bad.”

“Why is it only me that sees this side of you?”

“Hehe~♪” Summer hopped up to Raven and booped her on the nose. “Why do you think~♪?”

The taller woman lifted the smaller in her arms, like she weighed nothing. Summer smoothed out Raven’s ruffled, feathery hair intimately, as they closed for a tight embrace.

“You’re alive…!” Raven cried. “I missed you so much…!”

Summer’s scent, the subtle sounds of her breathing, the shape of her curves; they were everything she knew. Exactly the way she remembered.

“Of course, I’m alive, silly. I wouldn’t go off and die without saying goodbye.”

“How much time do we have?” she asked as she set Summer down.

“Not much,” Summer shook her head regrettably. “I just wanted to see you like this before you came and found me.”

“Why?”

“…Everything I’ve put in place is about to move. When it starts, there won’t be any stopping it—no second chances. You don’t remember, but I told you what I discovered at the Tower of Alexandria once. About the true history of Remnant—and what I learned of the Wizard and the Witch.”

“Summer, why?”

The white-hooded girl put a finger to the other’s lips.

“I don’t have much time. And you might forget completely, but maybe because of our connection, you might remember some parts. So, just hear me out, okay?”

“…Alright, Summ. I’m listening.”

“First of all, you need to go to Vacuo immediately. It’s very important you do.”

“…”

“There’s a way to counter the curse that forces you to attack Yang. And it can make all the difference when the right moment comes.”

“Tell me.”

…

…

“Also, with just a little luck, you might be able to save one more life,” Summer added to the end of her explanation. “On the night of the full moon, everyone will remember where I am. Not all of your memories will come back at once, but it’ll be enough to go on.”

“I understand,” Raven nodded.

“Also.”

“Yes?”

Summer threw her arms around Raven’s neck and pulled her down to head-level. She pressed her lips against hers. A half-contented, half-longing sigh escaped her when they parted.

“I love you.”

Raven’s expression broke into a smile she hadn’t made in years.

“And, I love you.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“Your mother is trying to stop the Last Fairy Tale at this very moment,” Oobleck distressed. “A hope against all hope with no true path to salvation.”

“…!” Yang leapt angrily from her seat and grabbed the Professor by the collar. “I… really respected you, you know that?!” The young girl’s rage slowed into a pitying sadness. “Maybe, even more than Professor Goodwitch and definitely more than Ozpin, I respected you the most! Maybe, it was because of that mission with Breach, but I thought the hell out of you. I thought you were the kind of Hunter I wanted to be.”

Oobleck stared back in shock.

“Probably not as bookish, but not just someone who could only hold their own in a fight. I wanted to have the same curiosity you had. To travel the world and delve into its mysteries. I wanted to explore and learn and use that knowledge to help others.” Yang let go of him. “But I guess I was wrong.”

She stepped back and took her seat once more.

“If you’re going to stop being a Huntsman and a Professor, then teach me one last thing before you quit. Follow through to the end, Professor Oobleck. Then, you can do whatever you want…”

The man met Yang’s painful stare and straightened his coat with a small sense of composure. His drowning in self-pity could wait until later. He was still a teacher in a sense and it was his duty to pass on knowledge, regardless of his condition.

The Professor held out his hand and his dream sculpted his words into form…

…

In the beginning, there was nothing but emptiness.

Then, a Flame lit a way through the darkness.

From the Flame, came Life.

It borne Two Worlds to Two Brothers.

Oberon and Titan.

The two sought to create the best of the worlds they were given, as they envisioned.

Oberon, the older sibling, was open-minded, idealistic, and creative. He embraced the highs and lows of random happenstance, and delighted in the ever-elusive nature of fate. This creator, molded his world into a body of chaos, but also—infinite possibility.

Titan, was the divergent opposite of his brother. His foundations were strong, solid, and secure. He based his ideals on experience and through the observations of his older sibling’s mistakes. This creator molded his world into a body of order, and also—perfect balance.

For eons, these two worlds lived in harmony. Each existing on opposite spectrums of causality.

As time passed, life on their worlds prospered.

Titan’s inhabitants grew strong and obeyed the laws of nature. His magnificent creatures held to a food chain hierarchy; where predator consumed prey, and predator became nourishment for the land, where the prey grazed upon. An enclosed cycle of life and death, enforced by the world’s core system.

This system, constructed on the principles of Titan’s ultimate values was dubbed, the [Tree of Balance].

Even without the creator’s observance or personal hand, the Tree of Balance would correct anything that upset its Order. The tales weaved on Titan’s world exemplified justice, honor, morality, and peace.

…

In Titan’s opposite orbit, Oberon raised a people known as “Fairies”. These creatures possessed an extraordinary ability called Magic. It allowed them to create an infinite number of different matter from another object using what we know today as Dust.

With this power in hand, the fairies brought all manner of existence into the world; some good, some bad, and everything that lay in-between. The tales they weaved were grand, both tragic and uplifting.

But true to Oberon’s nature, the creator wanted to test the limits of the imagination. To surpass them and bring newer possibility and growth to his people.

To increase the Fairies’ Magic, which relied on its original source and Dust, he gave them access to his mind. Oberon’s very life force became a conduit of Magic to ignore the laws of time and space. This artifact would later be named, the [Never Never Realm].

With the creation of these two forces: the Tree of Balance and the Never Never Realm, the first true conflict was born.

And with it would come…

The Tale of the First Sin.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“It is every craftsman’s fear to find a dark purpose awaiting what they create,” Masa told Ruby in a distant tone.

“A sword can be forged for the purpose of protecting life, as well as taking it. Likewise, a device made to maintain order can be too cruel in its decision to correct. An invention to expand imagination can result in reckless destruction.”

The engineer’s voice was not her usual. It was weary and pain-stricken. Each syllable carried with it a timeless expanse of guilt and remorse.

“And in too many cases, the things we create end up becoming our masters.”

…

In the journey to create more prosperity for Oberon’s people, Magic ran rampant. Not only objects, but events not to exist, were fabricated and erased on a whim. The usage of the Never Realm grew to such influence, it triggered the defense mechanisms of the Tree of Balance.

Titan went to confront his older brother of an accord that may not have been entirely his own. He asked Oberon to close the Never Realm, to cease his careless ambitions.

During his visit, Oberon’s closest advisor and consort was also in attendance. Because of her standing, she was referred to as the Godmother to the Fairies, and she defended her beloved, saying it was Titan’s Tree posing the threat in the first place.

The three quarreled at length. Tides of emotion shifted and brewed. The Fairy Godmother’s wrath reached its peak. She started to call on the Magics of the Never Realm as Titan drew strength from the Tree.

Oberon intervened in response. He stood between the two, knowing neither would harm him. But that was where tragedy struck.

Titan aimed his might at the Godmother, but the Tree willed his strike elsewhere.

As a result, Titan slew his own brother.

And the First Sin was committed.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“We mourned his loss. Everyone did,” Salem spoke with a tortured soul. “His death made both worlds grieve. Rains fell for who remembers how long, while the rains never ceased over his grave…”

Blake could feel the Witch’s broken heart like it was her own. And then, from the sensation of coldest watery depths, came a fury unimaginable.

“The death of someone so pure demanded blood as recompense.”

“And that’s how it began,” Blake said. “That is how the battle between you and the Wizard began.”

“That is how the War began.”

…

I led the Fairies against those foolish monsters the Old One created for his world. Beasts who knew little more than to obey the holder of their leash.

Little did they know their master was held by a leash of his own.

Titan did not have control over the Tree of Balance, as it continued to act of its own will. Knowing that, an idea came to mind.

I would not simply destroy the Old One and everything he held dear. I would pollute it. I’d twist the little garden he took such effort into cultivating for my own. That would be my revenge.

Hahaha!

They called me mad. They labeled me Betrayer! A Witch!

How quickly they forgot Oberon after shedding such little blood…

The shallowness of their conviction still galls me to this day.

Fortunately, they had no say in the matter.

Blake felt her head tilt up, like Salem was lifting her chin. The girl gazed through the crack in the wall. The fractured moon in the night sky appeared bigger than she had ever seen it.

I destroyed the Old One’s precious balance, and at the same time, dispelled my world of its weakness.

A new garden was created from the collision of our worlds.

A Remnant.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Oobleck twisted his hand.

Images of legendary beasts formed into gruesome creatures, as a result of a world colliding full of the Witch’s malicious will.

The Tree of Balance went into complete flux. The violent reaction caused by crashing Oberon’s world into this one, set off a chain of events.

First, the Cataclysm transformed the inhabitants into what we now know as the Grimm.

Second, the destruction of the Fairies’ homeland imparted many of its attributes. Most importantly, it introduced Oberon’s source magical element.

Dust.

To counterbalance the foreign material, the Tree produced Bane. A substance that possessed the same inherent nature as the Grimm.

Even so, as history will prove, in its attempts to correct its world, it would ironically find the means to its end.

…

For a time, what few Fairies survived the Cataclysm fought the creatures of Grimm. They declared both Titan and the Witch their sworn enemies, and ultimately, were hunted down by the Godmother who once watched over them.

With the Witch’s victory complete, and Titan still guilt-ridden from the murder of his own brother, the Old One retreated into isolation.

Oobleck showed an old man building a small hovel for himself in a part of what would later be called Vale.

And there, the Wizard stayed.

His world in complete darkness and turmoil.

…

Until there was a spark—

A spark that changed everything.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“This one thought it was a miracle. A word not used lightly,” Masa reflected.

At this point, everyone in the training room, save for Qrow and Winter, gathered to listen intently to the engineer’s tale.

…

Human and Faunus kind rose from the ashes of the Cataclysm.

Beings born from of both words. Though, with obvious differences.

Humans inherited most of their features from the Fairies, while the Faunus were more closely related to Titan’s Beasts. Each species were able to utilize Dust and Bane to a certain extent.

While the Fairies used Dust to perform Magic, the Faunus and Humans primarily used it to enhance their soul’s Aura. Still, there were exceptions.

Those who underwent special training could display some of the proficiencies Fairies could. Alternatively, a number of Bloodline Semblances mimic Magic closely, such as the Schnee and Fall families’ Glyphs and Runes.

One more special group of people, and the most accomplished users of the ancient ability were a small population, who bred with the last surviving Fairies.

A people whose descendants are marked with Silver Eyes.

…

At that moment, all attentions fell on Ruby.

“Ahaha…” she chuckled nervously. “C’mon, guys. Don’t look at me like that. I’m just a normal girl.”

A silence filled the air for a moment.

“—With normal knees,” Weiss smiled. “We know.”

“…Yeah.” Ruby returned the expression. Hearing her say that meant more than her partner knew. “Yeah. Thanks, Weiss.”

Everyone else took a step back from themselves. Knowing a new truth about the girl made them curious, but one sentence from the White Queen banished any strange thoughts they might have had. Ruby was still Ruby. Whether she was descended from Fairies or not, did nothing to change their minds.

Masa watched the scene play out with a warm heart.

Ruby could not have known the engineer bore witness to the same exact scene with Summer. Although, the difference in treatment was night and day.

All those around Summer Rose chose to place the woman on a pedestal when they learned her true heritage. A savior and a weapon against the Grimm of unlimited potential. Or maybe even something of a deity walking among them.

Well, maybe all except one.

If there was ever a person who saw Summer with complete clarity, it was Raven. The swordswoman had her flaws and her share of failures, but she never failed to see the Human in Summer Rose. And because of that, she was the anchor and solace for her lover. A constant.

Masa watched the way Ruby and Weiss held each other in their gazes.

Your daughter is in good hands, Summer.

She won’t face the same isolation you experienced. Not only a lover, but Ruby has many of those around to accept who she is.

I only wish I could have done more for you.

More than just Raven and I.

…

Although,

I suppose, there is one other who looks upon your memory with less than starry eyes…

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“Yang?”

“Hm?”

Emerald called out to her, but was met with a reaction contrary to her expectations.

“You good?” she checked.

“Yeah,” Yang shrugged with a laidback attitude. “So my sister and stepmom are part Fairy, can use Magic, and have weird glowy eyes. I always knew they were oddballs.”

“True.”

“So, Professor,” Yang turned to Oobleck. “Papyrus and the Rakis siblings.”

“As you have indubitably deducted,” he pushed up his glasses. “They are also likely of Fairy descent.”

Yang and Emerald took a minute to digest the new knowledge introduced to them.

Titan, the Witch, Oberon, Fairies, the Tree of Balance, and the Never Realm. It was a lot of material to take in, but they made sure to commit it to memory. Such knowledge would probably prove key to defeating Salem in the eventual future.

Oobleck observed the two submerged in their thoughts with an energy he thought he lost.

You must remember, a voice resonated from his memories.

“To travel a new path to the future, we must know how to avoid the one of the past,” he finished aloud. “My apologies. It seems I’d forgotten something so simple.”

Yang looked up and saw a new Life flow through Oobleck. Perhaps, it was the simple act of teaching someone, but there was now an electricity in his expression. He looked freshly spirited, like he had been pulled out of a slump.

It gave clear sign to what came next, and it cheered Yang beyond compare.

“Right, then! Where was I? Ah, yes! The introduction of Faunus and Humankind!” the Professor recited rapidly.

…

From this point forward, history very much adheres to what is recorded in most textbooks.

The two races met daunting adversity from the Grimm at the outset of their conception! By the implementation of Dust, they were able to survive against overwhelming odds!

Our ancestors strived, they fought, they persevered, and in the end, they established civilizations! Civilizations that would one day evolve into the Four Kingdoms!

But this era of hard-earned prosper was cut to a halt as new challenges presented themselves. We are not perfect beings. We are petty—and stupid. SO STUPID! We began to quarrel amongst ourselves! It reached a point where our kind stood on the brink of self-imposed extinction!

It was then, seeing the clear plight their people faced…

Four remarkable individuals sought a solution to cease the downward spiral towards inevitable destruction. During the course of their pilgrimage, they found the Old One, who had thrust himself into seclusion.

…

In my heart, I’d like to believe he saw in those Four Maidens a chance at redemption. For there can be no other reason he would split his power and offer it to them willingly. I believe he desired to do something good, something noble.

Unfortunately, those who came after the original Four Maidens were less than ideal at upholding the responsibilities that came with their Inheritance. Their corruption forced the Old One into the world once more, which in turn, incurred the Witch’s wrath.

An old feud was born new again, fiercer and more devious than it once was! Each side vied for the upper hand in the secret war…

And our people were used as pawns by both.

“You couldn’t have known!” Yang interrupted Oobleck.

The Professor paused with uncertainty.

“You couldn’t have known!” she exclaimed again. “It wasn’t your fault, Professor Oobleck. They’re thousands of years old. They know more about tricking people than anyone who’s ever lived. But you know what?”

“…”

“They’re cowards. They aren’t even half as brave as you are.”

“I fail to see that in light of the state you found me in.”

“But you’re better now. I can see it. There’s no recovery, no changing for them. But you and I still can, and so can Remnant.”

“…Yes, I suppose you’re right. Maybe, there is still hope. It would be shameful to stop my search for an answer with all of you working so hard. No! I cannot fall behind my students! I refuse! Especially, Summer! Her valiant efforts cannot go in vain!”

“My mom, huh?” Yang said with a trace of skepticism. “We’ll put that on hold for now. You said everything was going to end, something about the Last Fairy Tale?”

“Ah, yes. As Miss Sustrai accurately assessed it, the ‘endgame’. Quite an accurate term, indeed!”

“Great,” Emerald muttered unenthusiastically. “I loooove being right about stuff like that.”

“As do I! Matter of fact, the subject happens to coincide with the next sequence of events perfectly!”

“Yay…” she said with somehow decreasing enthusiasm.

“As it is, Remnant now stands at a crossroads. A crucial turning point, if you would, for our world’s existence hangs on the precipice! Human and Faunus will be discarded into eternal oblivion or forced reincarnation and submission, if we fail to derive a proper solution.”

“Is that so bad? Sometimes, I wake up and just wish the world would just en—”

Yang covered Emerald’s mouth to prevent any more snark from coming through.

“Go on, Professor.”

“Yes! Right so! The Last Fairy Tale is dependent on Titan’s old construct, the very artifact that could be held accountable for the Cataclysm and all the conflicts borne in the first place. It is also the core of Remnant.”

“The Tree of Balance?”

“Precisely,” Oobleck nodded. “As you know, the world is in complete conflict. Good and evil, light and dark, Grimm and those who possess Souls, are creating a constant imbalance. The Tree, by design, was made to counteract this issue.”

“…This doesn’t sound good. How does it plan to go correcting an entirely messed up planet?”

“According to the logs of a certain Architect, there is a mechanism built into the Tree known to Salem and Ozpin. If the balance is upset beyond repair, the Tree will activate a fail-safe. It is, I must say, incredulously simple, absurd, and efficient.”

Yang blinked a few times. She remembered Masa saying something similar when she reset Penny.

…

Hm….

Wait.

“Reset”?

Yang gasped so abruptly she almost choked.

“You can’t be serious!” she coughed.

“Always.”

“What?” Emerald asked without a clue. “What’s going to happen?”

Yang turned to her with a wild, baffled, expression.

“The Tree’s gonna reset Remnant!”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“…Is this true?”

“Unfortunately, this one can personally vouch for its validity.”

Everyone around Masa cocked their brows in disbelief, while Cinder shook her head.

“I must make sure I heard this correctly,” she worded slowly. “For lack of a better metaphor, the Tree possesses a self-initiating mechanism to turn the world off and on again?”

“That is correct,” Masa answered.

“Like, say, one would do with a malfunctioning appliance, or computer, or scroll.”

“…That is correct.”

“But on a global scale.”

“………It was not one of my finest works.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Oobleck gave an intentional cough, like he would in class when the lecture swerved off-topic.

“As ridiculous as the mechanism is, it in no way diminishes the graveness of the situation, or what the Witch and the Wizard have in store.”

“But, why would they want to reset Remnant?” Yang pressed. “What would they gain? And if that’s what they both want, why fight each other?”

“You are correct to ask these questions. The answer is, both view this world as a flawed vision of its original design. Think about it, Miss Yang. If a fundamental error was made in a drawing or the writing of an essay, how tempted would you be to simply scrap the project and start over again?”

“…”

“The differences between Salem and Ozpin lie in what happens after. Salem wishes to make a new world as she sees fit. A reincarnation of sorts, but to her preferences. One void of any previous existences of Fairies and Grimm. I believe she also sees this as an opportunity to revive Oberon.”

“I don’t think I ever heard something so egotistical in my life.”

“Ozpin’s intentions may be worse. He does not plan to restart the world at all. He wishes for the dead to remain dead.”

Yang and Emerald had to think for a moment about what that meant.

“He wants to end all the pain and misery,” Emerald said, with a hint of empathy. “He thinks it’s too much and that it’ll fail no matter how many times he tries or how hard… So, he just wants it to end.”

“The suicide option, huh?” Yang echoed the thought in a dark tone. “Now, I get it. That’s why they both act the way they do. They’ve already given up on this world. That’s so….!”

“Irresponsible? Idiotic? Childish? You know, for assholes who’ve lived forever, they can be real…assholes!”

“So, the plan’s simple, then, right? I mean, to stop the Last Fairy Tale, we just need to defeat Titan and Salem.”

“If it were so simple, I would not have fallen into such a depression,” Oobleck said.

He waved his hand and conjured the fractured world of Remnant. The Tree’s trunk could be seen extending from the partial sphere with its branches interlaced through the crust.

The planet looked almost like a half-blown dandelion. One breath was all it would take, and Remnant would dissolve into naught but ash and dust. It drove the direness of their situation ever-deeper.

“The inherent problem lies with the Tree itself. Once the imbalance of light and dark pass a certain threshold, the reset occurs automatically. The Witch and Wizard only wish to control its function at the last moment.”

Yang and Emerald observed the projection, while walking around it.

“So, the answer is, we balance it, then?” Yang suggested. “Then, it won’t activate, right?”

“Obviously, the first answer to pop into anyone’s head, but how do you balance a whole world, Yang? It’s impossible. Not only the world, but you’d have to even out the emotions of practically everybody on this hunk of rock.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. And we can’t just remove the Tree?”

“Look at this thing,” Emerald gestured to the image. “Remnant practically is the Tree.”

Yang was now racking her brain to the point of anguishing frustration.

“Maybe, if we can buy more time? Can we stall the world from crossing the threshold somehow?”

The two turned to Oobleck, who only wore a look of sympathy.

“The truth is, Remnant has already crossed the threshold to trigger the Tree’s reset function.”

…

The answer alone stunned Emerald and Yang into complete silence. Despair sunk in with a hungering quality.

Yang continued to shake her head. She momentarily looked to the professor and the projection of Remnant for answers but was met with none.

“So, you’re saying… We already lost?”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Their loss is already predetermined, Blake thought. By my hand or this world’s.

She stood atop a cliff, looking down on the ranks upon ranks of Grimm. An army of darkness the world had never bore witness to.

Black claws and fangs bore viciously in the direction of Vacuo. The cracks in their bone-encrusted bodies flared with malice. Countless burning red eyes focused on the structure waiting in the distance.

The world will start over.

Bean and Inna stood beside Blake. The young general kept in contact with the leaders of the Grimm Clans.

And in the world to come, everyone’s wishes will be granted.

Adam appeared from behind.

But for that to happen, the old world must die.

Vulcan and Jupiter Black took their places as well.

And the Last Fairy Tale must come to its rightful end.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“Then, if the world’s going to reset, why hasn’t it already?” Yang asked.

“Summer Rose,” Oobleck answered. “By using her Semblance, your mother has stopped the process midway. But it will not last.”

“…Where is she? Where’s my mom?”

“On an island that is forgotten, purged from all traces of memory and recording until the event of a full moon. Knowledge of its existence and location are nonexistent, except in this place alone, where all information is recorded for eternity.”

Oobleck handed Yang a worn-out book and opened it to its last page.

It was Summer Rose’s final diary entry.

Yang read the name of her mother’s last known location and ultimately, where the Last Fairy Tale would take place.

“The Island Prison of Menagerie.”

[gaperezmakes]

Rebirth - Paladin Part III

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Jason’s back hit the wall, and he ducked quickly to avoid the next punch coming in for his face. He retaliated by hitting his sparring partner in the chest, knocking them back and getting some necessary breathing room. Jason knew he only had a few seconds to capitalize on this moment. He stepped closer and swept his leg, knocking his partner to the ground. Hearing the loud thud of a body hitting the hard floor, Jason placed a heavy foot on his partner’s chest and held his palm open facing their head.

“That is enough.” They heard their instructor speak and Jason stepped back and helped his partner up. They congratulated each other on the good match and then stood side-by-side as they awaited further instruction. “You’ve improved a lot over these past two weeks, Jason, but don’t get overconfident. Remember, it’s a different world out there than it is in here. The rules they play by out there aren’t anything like what we have in here. One mistake could be your last.”

“I understand,” Jason bowed.

“I hope you do.” Their instructor went on to lecture his partner for a moment, then they were released.  They only had a few short minutes to rush over to the lecture hall. It had been an interesting two weeks of trying to learn this new art that the Pietoré had hand-picked all of them to learn. Granted, there were only ten of them right now, but he had told them they were the first of what was supposed to be a very long, very honorable line of holy knights. Now they met three times a week: eight hours of learning and study on Saturday and Sunday, and three hours of testing Wednesday. They were being prepared to be paragons and protectors of the Church.

They would become paladins.

The two of them ran into the lecture hall almost breathlessly. They took a moment to catch their breath before taking their assigned seats. Fortunately, they weren’t the last people to walk into the room; another four paladins ran in about a minute or two after them. The Pietoré stood at the front of the room, looking at the room with his hands behind his back. It was unusual to see him in more “casual” clothing, and not in the formal robes he wore around the Church. After the tenth paladin walked in, he walked over, closed the door, and locked it, as he always did. he returned to the front of the room and gathered his thoughts.

“I know this is where I told you that we would learn how to use the Light as a weapon of justice--where you would finally realize your place as Paladins of the Iblan Church. I know it hasn’t been that long since we started. Understand that I am not disappointed, for I know that the Light works in its own ways on its on time. But I also know none of you have manifested your powers as paladins yet. I know that it’s within you, all of you. I have seen that spark flickering when you were chosen to join us here. While I can foster and feed that flame, I need you to catch fire first. Even the smallest candle is enough for me to transform it into a raging fire. But you must manifest this power first; I cannot grant it to you.

“Regardless, we can still learn about the Light even if you cannot yet use it. I will still teach you what we can do with it, when you can use it, and why you use it.” He turned and started writing on a whiteboard behind him. “Now, as we all know, the Light is the power of our Lord, Iblis. It is not a derivative of or similar to, it is his power. When you call upon the Light, you borrow his strength and make it your own.

“Now, like with anything else you borrow, there is an unsaid expectation that you will give it back. The power you use is a power you will one day return, even if that is not your intention. With that understanding: Do not abuse this power. It is not yours. You do not own it. Do not hold this power above your fellow brothers’ and sisters’ heads as if it somehow makes you better than them. Without them, you have no power. Your duty is to serve them, not the other way around. Do not let your power become a tool of the agents who would destroy you. They do not understand the weight of the responsibilities you carry. They do not have the foresight to think of the consequences of their action. Do not forget that you are warriors of justice. You do not break the law. You do not make the law. You uphold it.” One of the paladins raised her hand, “Yes, my sister?”

“What if the law itself is unjust? How can we be expected to be instruments of justice if we aren’t supposed to break the law?”

The Pietoré nodded his head sagely, “A very good question. If there is some conflict between the Law of Man and the Law of our Lord, then I expect you to uphold our Lord. His law is established by divine providence. It is not your job to uphold the Laws of Mankind--that’s what the police are for--but it is also not your place to ignore them and make your own. The system is not perfect, but it is not ruined either. Injustice must not be tolerated, but it also must be abided when it masquerades as justice.”

“How will we know to tell the difference?” Another paladin asked.

“We are all equals in the eyes of our Lord, Iblis. If there exists a law that makes one of your brothers greater than the others, it is unjust. If there is a rule that makes your sister lesser than your brother, it is unjust. It is your duty to rout out the darkness of injustice with the Light. It will be difficult at first to tell, but you will know as you grow wiser and more aware of the world. I urge you to always keep an open mind and be aware of the world, but do not become overzealous in your mission.”

“But why not, Honored Brother? If our duty is to get rid of injustice, why shouldn’t do what it takes to get rid of it?”

“The idea of a world where there is no injustice is a fantasy. It is impossible to remove the evil that lies in the heart of all men. If that is your goal, then it will backfire on you one day. It does not matter what good you have done or what good you will do--your reputation will forever be stained by your one failure. Yes, we must not tolerate injustice, but we cannot force ourselves to be the solution every time. There are times where we must empower others to save themselves. Are there any other questions?” His question was met with silence from the paladins, “Alright then. Moving on...” They had a short lesson on how to utilize the Light as a means of defense before being dismissed for the day. As he unlocked the door and let them out, the Pietoré reminded all of them to study for their next test coming up this week and to get ready for the martial training in two weeks.

Jason walked out of the building chatting with some of the other paladins. They, of course, all asked each other how they were feeling about this new program. Although their spirits were generally high, everyone seemed discouraged that none of them had managed to manifest the powers of the Light. But, like they had been told, it was still early in the program. There was still time for them to grow.

Jason said his good-byes and looked around for Alex. His boyfriend normally waited nearby for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Jason asked around, and someone told him that Alex had left a few minutes ago. Apparently, his parents wanted him home early. Jason shrugged and started running down the way they normally walked. There was still a chance he could catch up if he moved fast enough.

Suddenly he heard something. He stopped and listened, hearing someone crying out in pain down an alley nearby. Trouble? He had to investigate. It was his sacred duty to intervene if someone needed help. Jason started walking down an alley, trying to find out where the commotion was. Soon he started to hear voices.

“C’mon, fairy! Get up! Use your little fairy magic to make yourself all better so I can kick the crap out of you again!”

“Yeah, let’s go, fairy! I haven’t finished having my fun yet!”

“What’s wrong, fairy? Do you need me to clap for you? Will that help you get your wings?”

The taunting continued as Jason walked up and saw three gang members kicking someone on the ground. They were laughing maliciously. Jason squinted to see if he could make out who or what they were kicking. It looked like--Alex?! What? How? Why? It didn’t matter. He had to intervene!

Jason charged in, shoulder-checking the nearest of the gang members. He punched the other two in their faces and put himself between them and Alex. He glared at all of them, holding his fists up. But the adrenaline rush didn’t last very long, and it quickly dawned upon Jason that he stood no chance against these three on his own.

“Oh, would you look at that, boys? The fairy’s got a white knight protecting him!” It also suddenly dawned on Jason that he hadn’t taken off his uniform. This was not good.

“Hey, do you really think we should be messing with this guy?” One of the gang members asked, “He’s got that there bird thing on his chest. I’m pretty sure it’s the same one that’s on that weird church that nobody can get into.”

“Nah, man. We’re gonna show them not to mess with us. Send a nice little message to their church to get off of our turf.” One of them pulled out a rather large knife. A lump formed in Jason’s throat. He tried tightening his fists, but his nerves were starting to get the better of him. He looked back at Alex, who was bruised and bleeding. He needed medical attention--and soon. But if Jason couldn’t get both Alex and himself out of there--and it looked like he wouldn’t be able to--then they would both desperately need medical attention. But what could he do? He was just one boy. There was no one who could help him now. The gang members started closing in.

“No. Stop.” His voice trembled. Jason held up his hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Or what, fairy-knight? What are you going to do?” They all continued closing in.

“I said stop.” There was still fear in his voice, but it became more steady. “Don’t do it.”

“Make. Me.”

“I. said. STOP!” Suddenly a translucent golden barrier surrounded both of the boys. Bands of white light circled around the barrier, surprising an awestruck Jason. The gang members were all taken aback and confused. What exactly were they messing with? Mages? Nobody had time to be messing with mages. They all shrugged it off and walked away. It wasn’t worth it to be dealing with mages.

Jason didn’t waste any time. He turned around and looked at Alex. They wouldn’t make it anywhere in time. He had to do something. He looked at his hands. Was that the power of the Light he had just called upon? Could he actually use it?

My Lord, Iblis, he thought, Lend me your strength. He knelt down and put his hands on Alex’s body, Help me save him. Jason could feel the magic coursing through his body. It was a warm sensation that started in his chest and spread through his arms. He could almost see its warm glow radiate from his fingers and travel into Alex. Jason watched as Alex’s wounds faded and his skin returned to its normal complexion. After a few moments, the spell ended. Alex opened his eyes and realized he was fine. He sat up and started patting himself down, feeling no pain from the attack.

“I’m alive. You saved me.” Their eyes met, and Alex’s lit up. He hugged the amazed Jason, who hadn’t realized what he had done. “You saved me! But how?” Alex let go and looked at Jason, who was focused on his hands. “How did you do it?”

“I think,” Jason closed his fists and looked up, “I think I used the Light.”

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{So, now that I have a main character for this miniseries, I think Paladin will end up being anywhere from 7 to 10 parts. I have a feeling I know where I want this to end, but I might change my mind between now and then. Who knows?

Anyway, here’s the obligatory Rebirth plug, so you can see the things that led up to this moment. And, a friendly reminder, Paladin takes place between Rebirth and the next book in the Iblan Light series. Anyway, feel free to come back for tomorrow’s video!}