#I fear it may be a bit of a futuristic coat but I found it pretty so fuck it

[triple-pupil]

"Where tf did he get a military coat?"

He's going for a walk, don't disturb him.

[myarmsaretoolong]

Into the Unknown

@whumptober2020​ Prompt #15: Into the Unknown - Magical Healing

Word Count: 4534

Warnings: Minor Blood | Death/Dying | Hospital Scenes | Serious Injury

Synopsis: Peter plans to sacrifice his life to save the Avengers, Tony won’t let him go so easily

Read Under the Cut | Read on AO3

The call came in the night, dragging the Avengers from their beds to the blaring sound of Friday’s alarm. The intruder alarm, to be precise. Following that, a mad dash for the armoury to suit up, then a desperate fire-fight in the confines of the Avengers Facility’s hallways to push the intruders back.

They weren’t just intruders, no, they were a militia. Tony recognised their uniforms as a group of enraged civilians who detested the very notion of superheroes, though until now, only expressed their hatred via Twitter or an occasional low-turnout protest. He had no idea so many people supported their cause to such extent they’d be willing to pick up an illegal Chitauri weapon - they failed to see the irony - and storm the compound.

Oh, how wrong he’d been.

Within the halls, the Avengers had been winning, no question about it. But outside, the scales tipped the other way. The pure size of the militia force - at least a hundred strong according to Friday - threatened to overwhelm the team. Sam appeared to be fighting a concussion as well as five armed soldiers, Natasha clutched an arm across her ribs as she limped away from a pile of unconscious bodies.

Tony flew to her side, helmet retracted, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? If you need to take five-”

“I’m okay,” Natasha looked up to Tony and smiled. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She lifted her arm to wipe away a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.

Tony raised a sceptical eyebrow, “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“Look around,” Natasha’s face hardened, “we’re grossly outnumbered here. I can’t afford five-” Her eyes flicked over Tony’s shoulder and grew wide. Tony spun around just in time to see a bright blue ball of electricity hurtling towards the pair. Before he had time to react, it stuck him clean in the chest and sent him barreling backwards, knocking Natasha down with him.

“Shit,” he breathed, struggling to catch his breath as he rolled off of Natasha. Laying on his back, Tony turned his head to face Natasha by his side. “Maybe I’ll take that five,” he chuckled.

Natasha didn’t return the sentiment; her eyes fixed on the centre of his chest. “Tony… Your suit…”

Tony looked down at his bare arms, eyes growing wide. The electricity blast struck the nanoparticle housing unit and knocked it out of commission, causing it to almost fully retract the suit so that only a handful of snaking tendrils spread across his chest. “Oh.”

“We have bigger problems.” Natasha winced as she sat up and watched as a couple of soldiers closed in.

Tony followed her gaze, fear brewing in the bottom of his stomach. “Shit.” He pushed himself to his feet, Natasha following suit, and prepared for the beating of a lifetime.

Peter swung in, his foot connecting with the head of the front-most soldier before landing and quickly dispatching the second. He watched the pair for a moment, ensuring they wouldn’t be troubling anyone for a good few hours, before running over to Tony and Natasha. “Hey, Mister Stark, Agent Romanoff,” Peter looked them up and down, taking in their bedraggled, bloodied appearance, “Are you okay?”

“Suit’s down,” Tony replied quickly. “And Nat’s in more pain then she’s letting on.” Natasha punched his arm. Tony shot her a look and rubbed the sore patch, “Hey! What did I just say about the suit? I’ve got no protection.”

“Exactly,” Natasha smirked. She turned to Peter, nodding to the small, spherical, object in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Well…” Peter rubbed the back of his head and took a step back. “It’s, uh…”

“Come on, kid. We don’t have the time right now.”

Peter met Tony’s eye, then quickly looked away, fixing his gaze on the ground at his feet. “The Chitauri weapons only work if their power source is intact, like the Mothership back in New York.” A chill ran down Tony’s spine as realisation dawned. “I found the source, and made this to destroy it.”

“A bomb?” Tony asked, a little more aggressively then he’d really intended it to be. Peter nodded, still staring at the floor. “Pete, don’t tell me you’re-”

“I have to,” Peter cut in, his voice wavering, “No one else can get there quick enough. It has to be me.”

“Kid, no…”

Finally, Peter looked up. His eyes flooded with tears, but his jaw was set. In that moment, Tony knew there was not talking Peter out of this. When Peter spoke again, his voice didn’t wobble. It would have been inspiring if Tony wasn’t about to watch his kid sacrifice his life. “Tell May I love her. Ned and MJ, too. Tell them I was brave.”

Tony bit back rising tears and stepped forward. “Peter…”

“I love you, Mister Stark. Tony.”

Tony’s floodgate crumbled and tears slipped down his face. He reached a hand forward and rubbed his thumb against Peter’s cheek, the kid leaning into his touch and closing his eyes. “I love you too. But-”

As soon as the words left Tony’s mouth, Peter disappeared, charging across the battlefield towards the treeline. Tony didn’t move his hand, though his hand instantly turned cold lacking Peter’s presence.

“Tony,” Natasha moved to stand in front of him, clasping his hand in both of her own.

“I have to go after him,” he tried to pull his hand free, but Natasha held firm.

“You can’t. You don’t even have your suit.”

If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it.

“I have to.” This time, Tony freed his hand and took off after Peter, ignoring Natasha as she shouted after him. His legs were no match for the likes of Peter, but that didn’t stop Tony from pushing himself harder than ever before. He flew across the battlefield, sprinting past Steve who’d been battled to the floor, shield knocked far from his reach. Darting past Vision and Wanda, the duo standing back to back desperately trying to hold back an ever closing circle of soldiers.

A hand shot out, grabbing hold of Tony’s arms and dragging him to a stop. Clint’s face appeared in front of him, a nasty gash on the corner of his eyebrow turning half of his face into a cascade of crimson. The other half coated in dirt. “What are you doing, man? Get somewhere safe!”

Tony shook his head, “I-I can’t. The kid… He’s gonna-” Tony’s voice cracked, Clint turned around just in time to see Peter swing up into the trees, swallowed by the darkness. “My kid’s gonna get himself killed.”

If anyone understood, it would be Clint. Tony looked him in the eye, a battle of wills ensuing between the pair. But of course, it only took Clint a second to imagine if it were one of his kids instead. He stepped to the side, nodding once. “You’d better come back, Stark. Both of you.”

Tony didn’t waste time replying before chasing after Peter. Screams and yells sounded from every direction, some from the soldiers, some sickeningly recognisable as his friend’s. The eerie blue light from the Chitauri weapons flashed across the field, cutting through the darkness like fireworks overhead. Tony tuned it all out, the sounds muffled when they reached his ears, lights blurred into the background as he pumped his legs, wishing them to move faster. To carry him to Peter in time.

Bursting into the tree line, the world around Tony plunged into darkness. Not even the Chitauri weapons managing to penetrate the strangling shadows. Tony leapt over thick tree roots, blindly searching for the kid. “Peter?” He yelled, ripping his throat raw. “Peter!”

A weak glow shined somewhere ahead of him, Tony dashed towards it, crunching leaves and twigs underfoot, almost tripping in his haste. Finally close enough to make out the object, Tony skidded to a halt.

A small pillar, clearly of Chitauri design with the mix of metals and futuristic patterning, the glow came from inside a clear square sitting atop it. Peter stood just to the side, the bomb clutched in one hand, eyes fixed on the pillar. As Tony watched, helpless to stop him, Peter lifted the bomb, took a deep breath, and pressed the button.

Tony lunged forward, reaching out his arm as if he could grab hold of Peter and pull him away. A scream tore from his throat, drawing Peter’s attention just quick enough for his eyes to grow wide before fire engulfed him. Tony flew backwards and hit the ground hard, branches crashing down over his head.

Ringing. An incessant ringing filled Tony’s ears, blocking out every other sound as he tried to push the fallen branches off of himself. After what felt like hours of scrabbling- though likely only a few seconds - moonlight cracked through the debris, and Tony found himself staring up at stars overhead. He sat up, ears still ringing, and saw the devastation surrounding him.

The pillar had gone, replaced by a crater carved deep into the ground. All the trees in a hundred-foot radius lay flat on the ground, the closest uprooted entirely where some further back still managed to cling to the ground. Tony clambered to his feet and stumbled over the pile of branches he stood on towards the crater. He slid down one side, heart in his mouth and fear in his chest. At the bottom, Peter’s body. Small, broken, burned.

Tony dropped to his knees beside him, reaching out a shaking hand to pull off the kid’s mask, the burnt strips fell to pieces in his hands. He let the remnants float away on the breeze. “Kid?” The word, barely audible over the ringing, sounded like someone else’s voice to Tony’s ears. “Kid, come on…” Tears fell over Tony’s cheeks as he tapped Peter’s cheek, trying to wake him. “Please, Pete. Please.” He moved his hand to Peter’s wrist, overwhelming relief filling every inch of his body when he felt the weak beat of his pulse.

He scooped Peter into his arms, trying to ignore how frail and weak his body felt in his arms. The explosion tore his suit asunder, holes with charred edges gave way to burnt skin and flaps of material hung down between Tony’s arms. Blood trickled from his nose as Peter’s head lolled limply backwards. Tony lumbered back up the crater, digging his feet into the soil to keep himself from falling.

When he finally reached the top, Rhodey and Steve ran towards them. Both faces showing the same mix of fear and confusion. Steve reached Tony first, “What happened? Barton mentioned something about Peter but-” he finally saw Peter’s body, eyes falling of the kid’s pale, blood-covered face. “Oh- Is he…?“

Tony jerked his chin up. “He’s alive,” his voice wavered, but the ringing faded enough to clearly hear Steve’s words. “But- But he needs Cho.”

“I’ll take him,” Rhodey said as he joined them. Tony shook his head, taking a step back. “I can fly over there and have him with Cho within the minute. You’d have to walk, Tones. It makes sense.” Rhodey didn’t give Tony the time or option to refuse, he marched forward and carefully manoeuvered Peter from Tony’s arms, not that Tony put up much resistance.

The second Peter left Tony’s arms, he crumbled. Steve lunged forward to catch Tony before he hit the ground. “Woah,” he said over the sound of Rhodey’s thrusters carrying him away. “I think you’re in shock. We should get Cho to check you over, too.”

“No,” Tony mumbled. He sat heavily on a tree trunk, he felt as if Rhodey took Tony’s strength as well as his kid. “’M fine. Just-” he breathed hard, holding his left hand with his right and closed his eyes. “Just need a minute to- catch my breath.”

“Tony,” Steve crouched down to his level, one hand on his shoulder. “You need to breathe. Rhodey’s got Peter, he’s in safe hands. Just focus on breathing. Here, breathe with me.” Steve reached out to take Tony’s hand, but he batted it away and shrugged his hand from his shoulder.

“Shut it, would you,” he snapped. Did Steve deserve it? No. But Tony couldn’t take his fearful expression or tone of voice that sounded like he was talking to a child. “Just back off. Just-” Tony huffed out a sharp breath as Steve shuffled back. He closed his eyes again, forced his breaths to remain calm, focused on his senses, what he could hear, the rough feel of the tree trunk under his palms. Just as his therapist suggested.

He drummed his fingers on the log, a nonsense tune, but it kept his mind occupied and away from thoughts of Peter’s feeble pulse under his fingertips. If he listened hard enough, just over the ringing he could make out the sounds of his fellow Avengers shouting orders to each other, a distant bird returning to its nest, and the rustle of leaves in the light breeze.

“Okay. Okay, I’m-” Tony opened his eyes and looked at Steve. “Sorry about that, I just needed-”

Steve waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Don’t mention it.”

“We should go check on Pete. May would kill me if she knew I left him alone.” Plus I need to know...

“Yeah,” Steve stepped forward and offered Tony a hand, helping him to his. “Let’s get going.”

They walked out of the forest and back onto the battlefield, though now it was less of a battlefield and more a graveyard for disabled Chitauri weapons. The Avengers who managed to stay on their feet rounded up the militia by the door to the Facility, Tony heard the mention of calling Ross as he and Steve passed. Each of the Avengers’ eyes followed him inside.

Rhodey stood outside the medical room door, no longer in his suit, waiting for Tony. Steve hung back, knowing this wasn’t his place. Things between them never fully recovered after the civil war, they both knew it, they both knew it wasn’t returning to how it had once been. Tony b-lined for the door, his need to see Peter stronger than anything else, but Rhodey stepped into his path. Tony waited for him to move, he only folded his arms.

“Please.”

“Cho doesn’t want you in there. And to be honest, neither do I.”

“Rhodey, that’s my kid.”

“I know,” Rhodey unfolded his arms. “I know you love him, and I can’t imagine what you feel right now. But you being in there isn’t going to help anyone. Sam’s with one of the nurses, he’ll update us in a few minutes.”

Tears flooded Tony’s eyes, he tried to hide them behind his hand. Rhodey stepped forward and wrapped Tony in his arms, a second later, Tony returned the hug, clinging to Rhodey like his life depended on it. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand if he let go. They stayed that way for a minute before Tony pulled away. “I’ve got to go to the lab.”

“Tony,” Rhodey called after him as he hurried down the corridor, “Are you sure that’s best-”

“My suit,” Tony replied, hanging at the corner, “I’m going to fix it. I-I need to fix it.”

I need to fix something.

He left without looking back, falling into his chair in the lab and holding his head in his hands. After taking a few shaky breaths, Tony straightened up and ripped the nano housing unit from his chest, slapping it down on the workbench a little harder than was strictly necessary. He set about tinkering, opening up the front panel to get to the damage inside and working to fix it, cursing whenever his trembling fingers dropped the soldering iron.

An hour passed with no news, though Tony had his suit working like new. He’d just decided to head back and demand entry to the medical bay when Rhodey appeared in the doorway. The look on his face said everything.

“No…” Tony jumped to his feet and strode to the doorway, shoving past Rhodey to get out.

“Wait, Tony!” Rhodey called running to keep up with him. “You can’t go bursting in there-”

Too late. Tony flung the medical bay doors open, letting them swing wildly behind him. Doctor Cho jumped at the sudden intrusion, her expression turning remorseful. She stood at Sam’s bedside, shining a small torchlight into his eyes while a nurse checked the stitches on his temple.

No one stood at Peter’s bedside. He was alone. Small and helpless, abandoned in a room full of people who should’ve saved him. 

Tony’s feet carried him of their own accord, depositing him by Peter’s head. A numb hand reached out to his burn-scarred face, brushing a curl of brown hair from his eyes while his thumb traced the ghost of a gash on his cheekbone. “Pete?” He flopped down into a chair, slipping his hand into Peter’s. “Can you hear me? ‘Cause if you can, I need you to do something for me. I need you to come back, to fight to stay alive.

Doctor Cho walked over, her voice quiet and apologetic. “Mister Stark-” Tony flinched when she said those words, “-Tony. I’m afraid I did everything I could, but the explosion took its toll on Peter’s body. There’s nothing more I can do for him.” She gestured to the wires snaking under Peter’s hospital gown. “These machines are breathing for him, pumping his blood for him. If I removed them, I’m afraid Peter only has minutes before his body shuts down entirely-” Before she could finish, they were interrupted by the doors flying open once again and Tony jumped to his feet.

May’s face streaked with tears and she ran to Tony’s side. It only took one look at their faces, a glance to Peter, for the news to set in. A sob escaped her throat and she clamped her hand over her mouth. Tony caught her as her knees buckled beneath her and lowered her down into the chair. “No,” she muttered between cries, “no, no, no.”

“May, I’m so sorry.” Doctor Cho said, lightly squeezing her shoulder.

“He can’t-” May sobbed, clutching Peter’s hand in both of her’s. “It’s not- This can’t be real. Oh, Peter-”

An awful idea crept its way into the back of Tony’s mind. Awful, but possible. He tapped the nano housing unit to active his suit, gaining confused looks from everyone in the room. Without a word, but to the disapproval of Doctor Cho, Tony removed the wires from Peter and picked him up, striding from the room. Minutes to live, he had to be fast if this was going to work.

“What the-” Rhodey sprang out of the chair outside the medical bay and chased after Tony. “What are you doing?”

“Saving my kid.” Tony kicked open the door of the Facility, taking to the skies the second he stepped outside and flying towards the city. More specifically, towards 177a Bleecker Street.

Tony landed outside the New York Sanctum with a metallic thunk a little over a minute later. He strode up to the door and knocked once with his foot, hoping to wake Stephen, before letting himself in. All too aware of Peter’s life fading away in his arms. “Stephen!” he yelled, striding up the stairs as his suit dematerialised. Pausing for just a second, Tony watched the faltering rise and fall of Peter’s chest before marching into the relic filled room. “Strange, get your ass out of bed right now and do your job or so help me-”

“Do my job?” Stephen drawled, walking into the room wearing grey sweats and a plain T-shirt he’d clearly picked up off the floor going by the creases. “I don’t recall working for you, Stark.” Tony turned, and Stephen’s eyes fell on Peter. “Oh, shit.” Stephen ran forward and pressed his fingers to Peter’s neck before gesturing for Tony to follow him out of the room.

“That anti-super group attacked us at the compound, armed with Chitauri tech. Pete found the weapons core and destroyed it, but it backfired and exploded. They must have tampered with it, set a trap…”

Stephen led them into a small, rectangular room. The same dark green wallpaper lined the walls as the rest of the Sanctum and intricately carved wooden pillars ran from floor to ceiling. In the centre stood a table, taking up most of the room’s length and covered in papers. Stephen brushed them aside so Tony could lay Peter down, not caring as they floated to the floor and crunched under their feet.

Tony continued, “We got him to Cho as quickly as possible, but she said there’s nothing she can do. He’s not got long-” Tony stopped when he realised Stephen had stepped back and eyed him curiously. “Strange, what are you doing? Did you not hear me? I said he doesn’t have long.”

“You took him to Cho?”

“Of course, she was closer. This isn’t the time for jealously.”

“And she said there’s nothing she can do?”

“Yes. Why are you stalling? Time’s ticking.”

Stephen shook his head. “Then there’s nothing I can do, either. You should take him to his Aunt, she’d want to say goodbye.”

“What are you saying, Strange. Of course there’s something you can do.” Tony balled his hands into fists, anger rising in his cheeks. “You’re a Sorcerer.”

“I’m a Doctor.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“Listen, from what you’ve said to heal Peter I’d need to draw on Dark Magic. I can’t do that.”

Tony let out a dangerous chuckle. “Can’t, or won’t.”

“Won’t,” Stephen spat, his brow creasing in anger. “Dark Magic corrupts, Stark. Only one Sorcerer has drawn its power without falling to its lure, and she was far stronger than me.”

“Stephen, you don’t understand.” Tony crossed to the other side of the table, tear-filled eyes meeting Stephen’s. “That’s my kid, and I can’t lose him.”

“And I can’t expose myself to Dark Magic. If it takes hold, I won’t be able to fight it off. As a doctor, I swore to do no harm. I can’t risk it.”

“If you turn to the Dark Side, I’ll fight you myself. But I swear, Strange,” Tony gripped the front of Stephen’s T-shirt in his fist. “if you don’t save my kid, I’ll kill you anyway. He went to goddamn space to save your ass, Strange. You could at least pretend to care.”

Stephen bowed his head. “Take your hand off of me, Stark.” Tony did so and strode a couple of steps away, turning his back to Stephen. “A few seconds, that’s all I can offer. The less time I’m channelling Dark Magic, the less likely it is to take over.”

Tony lifted his head, slowly turning. “You mean that?”

Stephen nodded. “Stand at the head of the table. Keep an eye on the kid but don’t touch him, the second he shows signs of waking up - if he shows signs of waking up - tell me. His healing factor can take it from there.”

As Stephen talked, Tony moved where he was directed, standing by Peter’s head. He bent down and whispered, “Come on, kid. Come back to me.”

“Ready?”

Tony nodded sharply, lips pressed into a thin line. He watched as Stephen held his shaking hands in front of him, moving one up and the other down, a fiery, orange line appearing between them. He moved them in a circle, before bringing both arms level - one resting atop the other - and jerking them apart to hold them vertically to his sides. As Stephen moved, the orange line - Tony couldn’t pretend to understand what it was actually made of - formed an intricately detailed circle surrounded by two squares, one angled over the other so the corner pointed towards the ceiling.

“Watch him,” Stephen reminded. “I’ll only hold this for a few seconds.”

Tony flicked his gaze back to Peter, silently praying for this to work. Stephen opened his palms and pushed them forward, as he did so a breeze picked up, quickly turning into a wind strong enough to threaten Tony’s balance. He gripped the table corners to keep upright as orange sparks flew over Peter’s body, seeming to absorb into his skin. Warmth filled the room despite the wind, seeping into Tony’s core and filling him a foreign feeling. With hope.

He watched Peter intently, but other than his hair billowing, no sign of life made itself evident. “Stark?” Stephen shouted, “Anything?”

“Just- Just a moment longer,” Tony yelled back. Stephen gritted his teeth but didn’t let up the spell. Tony scanned Peter’s body, looking for a flutter from his eyelids, longed for his fingers to twitch, anything. Anything.

The wind died down, the orange glow disappeared, and the warmth gave way to biting cold. Not from the room, but from the death of his kid. “No,” Tony breathed, turning towards Stephen. “No, bring it back! Try again.”

“Tony,” Stephen said softly, reaching a hand towards him.

“Get off!” Tony flinched back. “You can’t give up, just try again. Please, please Stephen. Try again.”

“I’m so sorry…”

Tony gulped, desperately trying to maintain his composure, and horribly failing. He looked at Peter, his bright, smiling kid reduced to a bloodied and bruised mess. “No. No, kid,” he sobbed, “You can’t- This isn’t- Peter…”

“Do you want me to get you anything? Give you a minute alone?”

“I- Can you bring May? She’s at the Facility.”

Stephen nodded solemnly and opened a portal. Through it, May could be seen still sitting by Peter’s bedside, her head in her hands. Rhodey stood by her side, one hand resting on her shoulder. He noticed the portal almost instantly. “Uh, I think it’s for you.”

May stood, startled by the sudden appearance, and cautiously stepped through. “Tony?”

“May, I’m so sorry. I thought I could- That Stephen- I just-” Tony couldn’t find the right words to say. He’d just dragged Peter from her and stripped both of them of a peaceful moment to say goodbye, to mourn their loss. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Tears streaked May’s face, she ran forward and tangled her arms behind Tony’s back. “Is he…?”

Tony nodded against her shoulder, not trusting his voice anymore.

“Oh, Peter,” May sobbed, clinging tighter. Tony felt his heart rip to pieces inside his chest, pain like he’d never felt before. When Peter dusted on Titan, there’d been a level of surrealism, like nothing was real. This series of events playing out in front of his eyes, nothing had ever felt more real.

Someone in the room sucked in a great breath of air, sharp and sudden enough for May and Tony to jerk apart in surprise. Peter bolted upright on the table, shoulders heaving with heavy breaths as he looked around frantically at the unfamiliar surroundings. May and Tony ran around the table into Peter’s eye line.

“Kid?”

“Mister Stark? What’s- Where are we?”

“Safe. We’re all safe.” He helped Peter down from the table and pulled him into a hug, May joining in. Over her shoulder, Tony met Stephen’s eye, grinning uncontrollably. “Thank you.”

[utterimmolation]

AC: Syndicate/Captain America Drabble

He's a scrawny thing as they grow up. A heart full of courage and lungs barely strong enough to keep him going. Full of righteous fury and desperation, born of a premature birth and his father's distance.

"Fool," his sister murmurs, dabbing at his bloody lip and swollen eyes, souvenirs from yet another fight in another alley, goaded by another taunt. The light is dim, the stove barely works enough to heat the warm, medicinal milk she presses into his bruised, skinny hands, hand so like her own, yet far weaker.

On his worst days, he resents her healthy body. They were born at the same time, but she'd come first, perfectly healthy.

He came next, nearly dead and stealing his mother's life in a twisted exchange.

she is his twin though and no matter how much shakes her head clucks tongue at him full of that same righteous fury all who have been cast aside have. a woman in man world.> Look down at her at your peril, because her stringent refusal to exchange her pants for skirts mean she has a greater range of movement to kick you in the gnads and clock you in the face.

-----

Their father dies in the first war. Sort of.

He came home yes, but his mind, his soul had died, trampled in the trenches.

He doesn't drink, doesn't rage and rave like some other veterans do in the streets. He becomes quieter and quieter, and every tightening coil of rage and pain until he pops.

Jacob wonders if he was worse before they came to live with him in his small flat.

(Years, decades later, he discovers that yes, he was worse, and for all his faults, he was still just a man. A man who sent his children away, knowing he was a ticking bomb, knowing how volatile he could become, living in a neverending nightmare. A man, who tried to protect his children by sending them to his late wife's elderly parents, who sent money and medicine to try to prolong his in-laws lives.

A father who, when he could no longer deny the truth, fought his demons for the chance, for the right, to raise his children, and when he was on the brink of becoming them, fled, knowing they would chase him and leave those he loved safer.

Jacob Frye reads his father's letters and diaries, and finally, finally begins to forgive. He has too much regret already.)

Usually this rage will be released in an abrupt hurling of a book or a mug at a wall. Other times, is the sudden tightness of his voice as he excuses himself from the table, strides into his room, closes the door and punches the brick wall by his bed for hours. Occasionally it's him staying in bed for days on end, further stressing his poor daughter, who does what respectable jobs she can from sympathetic neighbors in order to try to keep both men in her life alive.

The final time Jacob ever sees it happen is the final time he sees his father.

He's taking out his temper, his inextinguishable rage from constantly being bedridden on his father. He's yelling himself hoarse, his beleaguered lungs straining more and more to provide his thin blood with oxygen and his father is winding up, tighter and tighter and he's ignoring the signs and--

Suddenly, Evie is on the floor, a large bruise already appearing on her face.

The room is silent. Ethan Frye's blank eyes begin to clear and slowly fill with horror as he looks from his hand to his daughter slowly getting up (never staying down, never), keeping herself between her other half and her sire.

Their father doesn't say a word. He slowly turns, shakily gathers his coat, his wallet and a bag, that he fills with a few clothes. He picks up his hat and slowly lurches out the door.

It closes with a quiet, definitive click.

-----

The twins are twenty years old and war has broken out once again.

The country is still raw from the last war. Buildings are still settling into their rebuilt frames and new brickwork to replace the ones that had lasted centuries, only to be blown to bits by falling bombs.

"I've been drafted," Evie breathed in his ear as they lay on next to each other on his ratty bed, listening to their neighbor's radio playing the latest patriotic tune hailing King and Country.

"...what?"

"Of a sort," she murmurs. "There was a woman at the library, a regular. It turns out she's been watching me for weeks. Said I make a good fit for British Intelligence." She smiles wryly. "Apparently the noble folk call it the 'Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare', so it's perfect for a woman."

Jacob laughs so hard he causes himself a coughing fit.

-----

Her being a woman is not the reason he stands in line at the draft office, clutching his papers. Evie can protect herself. But he can't stay in bed whilst there's the chance they send his other half (his better half, Evie would snark) somewhere that he can't follow.

They were meant to be side by side, forever. Poverty and sickness had never stopped them. The Frye Twins were indomitable together, be that scrapping up money or fighting whatever group of dog-kicking fools had earned Jacob's ire.

They deny him, of course. Even in a country seemingly determined to grab every warm body, they won't take his.

So he tries again. And again.

Evie knows of course. She doesn't approve. But she knows him like she knows herself and knows he needs this--she won't stop him.

-----

"Why do you try so hard to fight?" An old man with a German accent asks him after he's been scolded and threatened by yet another draft officer and been kicked out to the mocking chuckles and pitying looks of other, stronger men.

How can he explain the crushing fear of loneliness looming in the distance, the horror of a life of possible solitude when he's never been alone since conception? The fear that his twin may not come back, or worse, come back the same way their father did? The anger at his helplessness, the pride he feels for his sister, the longing for a destiny that he knows is greater than the one he forsees?

"Someone has to," is what he goes with instead.

The old man smiles.

-----

What Erkstine describes is fantastical, impossible, ridiculous and possibly deadly.

Jacob is immediately on board.

"This will hurt," Erkstine warns as they strap him into the coffin-like machine and eject him with pale blue chemicals.

-----

It really, really, really bloody hurts.

-----

He emerges a head taller than his twin and rippling with muscle. Men feel his chiseled chest and bulging biceps, murmuring to each other in awe.

She pushes her way to the front, ignoring caustic glares at her audacity. She clasps his arm and smirks mischievously. "Looks like you hit a growth spurt, brother."

His straightened and dazzling new teeth gleam in the spotlights of the lab. "Jealous, sister?"

"Hardly," she scoffs, trying to cover the glimmer of tears welling in her eyes at the sight of her healthy, happy alive sibling. "Muscles wither, dear brother, but I was still first."

"By four minutes! That doesn't even--"

Gunshots ring out.

-----

Erskine is dead, the formula to creating a thousand great knights is lost with him.

The higher-ups are furious. They debate his fate in front of him, acting as if he isn't even there. To him, he is a low-blood expensive pet project that they can never recreate. He has little to no formal training, comes from Whitechapel, of all places...he is socially worthless.

-----

On one hand, they give him a knighthood for his service to the Empire--Good job they seem to say. You didn't die the ethically dubious dangerous experiment in service to the country.

On the other hand, they dress him up in a cheap costume designed to look like a modern day knight, color it red, white and blue, and use him as a propaganda symbol. Sir Britain they call him, putting his cowled face on posters encouraging people to buy war bonds and sign up for service. He stars in commercials, gives pre-written speeches on the radio.

He hates it. He hates it even more when they fly him out near the front and have him pose with real troops, like his very presence will help fill empty stomachs and block bullets.

It's on one of these trips near occupied Poland that he hears more about the about the mysterious Hydra group, who murdered Erkstine, who controls the Nazis. He hears about whispers of another group that controls even them, one centuries old. He hears about how an entire regiment is captured by Nazis wielding futuristic, Asimov weapons.

He hears about the three ESO agents were with the regiment and how while one was found dead, the other two, a Polish man and an English woman, are missing, presumably captured.

He demands to know the woman's name, feeling the twisting in his gut that already knows. They hem and haw before they finally admit her identity.

Evie Frye.

-----

He doesn't know how to fly a plane.

Luckily, the angry Scottish mechanic, fired for having dared point out the head engineer was letting shoddy work go through, for speaking up despite being a woman, does.

"Names Agnes Macbean," she yells over the racket of the old two-seater's engine. "Ain't this a way to go out, eh? Sticking it to the Nazis!"

-----

It is embarrassingly easy to sneak into the Hydra base. He's so much faster and stronger than the average man now, and the brass knuckles certainly help.

Most of the men he finds imprisoned but Evie isn't with them.

Instead, he finds her in a lab straight out of a pulp novel, full of blinking lights and needles with strange chemicals.

(Nazis and military officers would say they decided to experiment with a version of the serum on her because it worked so well on Jacob, and genetically speaking, there was no one on earth as similar to him than his twin.

Jacob and the men who were imprisoned would say they used her first because it was she who rallied them into rousing chants of defiance, who, when backhanded by a sneering soldier, proceeded to blind him with her own spit blood, knee him in the groin, and headbutt him unconscious.)

She's only half-conscious when he pulls her from the chair, but she's still a crack shot and able to hold her own beside him as they fight through soldiers, elites, and a strange, powerful Hydra officer known only as Roth.

-----

Afterwards, the higher-ups give him training and his own elite squad. It's as much a punishment as it is a reward: he's no expert fighter, and his what he's allowed to pick isn't what's considered the cream of the crop.

To him, it's perfect.

He gets three ESO agents: Evie and two men: one, a Ned Wynert, is rumored to have run a corner of England's black market prior to the war breaking out. The other, Robert Topping is a fast-talking former bookie and carnie, with a penchant for ridiculous hats and getting through nearly any lock.

Agnes is brought on as the team's engineer and mother hen and she quickly gains some assistants in the form of former street urchins: a clumsy lad named Nigel and a sly, cunning young code-cracker named Clara.

They get a discharged soldier named Abberline, who is as honorable as he is resilient. A couple of brothers, Billy and Dennis Strum, children of Jamaican immigrants and expert riflemen. Durand Boucher, a beast of a Frenchman with delicate fingers and talent for explosions.

They're the diamonds in the rough, the unappreciated and overlooked. Some, jokingly, mockingly, call them the Knights of the Crooked Table.

Jacob Frye, Sir Britain himself, calls them his Rooks, to his sister's audible dismay.

Mission after mission, fight after fight, the Rooks succeed. Bases are raised, no-man lands taken. Sir Britain is a whirlwind on the battlegrounds, wielding pistols and knuckles, his arms covered in gauntlets made with a rare, unbreakable metal and painted with the flag of the Motherland. Evie is at his back, sometimes with her own pistol and throwing knives, other times crouched in a tree for days on end, guiding and clearing the way with her sniper rifle. Robert wears such bright clothing that he's practically invisible when he forgives them to sneak into enemy territory, Ned is able to self-talk and turn many a soldier with the promise of money for intelligence. Agnes can turn even military rations palatable, and hotwire Nazi trucks with a speed the belies her large frame. The brothers are crack shots at impossible distances, Durand, capable of turning nearly anything into a bomb. Abberline is a long-suffering sort who gets along swell with Evie, and has a poorly hidden soft-spot for Clara and Nigel.

They are an unstoppable team.

But Hydra grows ever more powerful. A man by the name Red Skull looms like a spector, guiding the war like one would a chess match. The elites of Nazi appear with incredible armor and weapon that are difficult to defeat, nearly impossible to reverse engineer, and glow an insidious gold.

Jacob is grim, but he isn't worried. He has his team, he has his fists. He has his twin. Everything else can be overcome.

-----

And then...there's the train.

The Hydra weapons. The elite soldiers guarding the dangerous cargo. Him nearly getting killed, only to be saved as Evie fires with unerring accuracy.

The golden beam nearly tearing the train in two, the force sending his sister tumbling out.

Trying to reach for her, straining as she dangles from the side of the train over the mountain pass--

The snap as the bar gives way.

And the sight of his sister, his twin, his other half, tumbling like an errant leaf into the snow, hundreds of feet below, becoming nothing more than a black dot, then disappearing altogether, like she never existed.

He doesn't remember if he screamed her name. He probably did.

(Honestly, he had probably stood there gaping in horror instead of doing something, instead of lunging after her, following after like he'd done all their lives. Like he should have done. Like it was supposed to be.

He thinks this because there are many moments where he should have said something, where he wants to scream...and doesn't, too overwhelmed, too broken:

The first time he woke up in a new century, taken from his frozen coffin by a mysterious Brotherhood.

The first time he realizes that everyone he knows is dead.

The time when he goes to the British History Museum and discovers monuments and exhibits to him...and only him. His friends, his family, his Rooks, his sister...regulated to footnotes.

And of course the moment that he fights a deadly assassin on a rooftop in the dead of night, one who killed a member of the Brotherhood he will call his own. An assassin just as strong and as fast as he. An assassin who goes by many monikers the world over, the bogeywoman of the Creed:

The Creed Killer. The Winter Huntress.

Well, no. That's a lie. He does say something.

In that moment where he fights this impossibly skilled assassin of assassins, when he struggles against the strength and tricks contained within her left, silver arm. When he knocks her mask off, and the face looking back at his is achingly familiar and as improbably young as his own, covered in a legion of freckles and holding artic blue eyes in a too blank face.

He does speak then.

"...Evie?"

"...who on earth is Evie?")

-----

The eventual battle with Roth, with Red Skull is a blur. He fights with that same raging fury in his heart, but he still feels...empty. Cold. Even seeing Roth try to harness the power of the mysterious golden artifact, only for it to overwhelm him and wreath him in ethereal flames draws only a grim satisfaction from him.

It's when he is behind the controls of the futuristic plane holding legions of bombs capable of turning all of America to ash that his thoughts crystallize with abrupt clarity.

One Frye died to the cold and ice. It's only fitting that the other should as well.

Or blazing fire, should the bombs go off on impact.

Either way, he'll be going home.

The water rushes in, the cabin shudders and he welcomes the piercing darkness with a smile on his face.

[moonlightxarcher]

Selene’s Log, Day Four

Update, 8:05 am.

“Bzzzzt, Roto Dex here! Soooo, Selene, you slept in last night. I wazz almozzt expecting you to be up an’ at ‘em at 6:00 am or something!” The Dex cracks a cheeky mechanical laugh, capturing the gentle half smile the researcher gives him in return.

“I merely wished to rest before my battle, Roto-san. It is important to get sleep in these moments before a difficult encounter.” A difficult encounter that was soon approaching. “Now, I believe Captain Ilima said this Verdant Cavern was just toward the back of Route 2? Can you see him, Roto-san?” Roto floats to her side, his camera picking up the winding paths before settling on a small nook opposite the Pokemon Center. Zooming in closer, he can see a small figure waiting by the entrance. “Yup! Got ‘im!” He salutes his partner, cracking another cheeky grin. “Man, I’m really excited for thizz! Your first Island Trial, it’s gonna be huge! You got a plan all ready?”

“Yes,” she nods calmly, her eyes closing for a moment, “I have outfitted my teammates with useful items and have prepared each of them for their roles. But I am counting on Lupa the most for this one. Whatever we face, I fear it may have strong physical attacks. That would mean her Fur Coat Ability would be largely beneficial to us.”

The two close in on Ilima, and it is not long before Dr. Selene Berlitz starts her first leg of the Island Challenge with Captain Ilima’s Normal Trial.

---

“Montage time!” Roto chuckles as the footage begins playing out on his screen of a brief conversation between Selene and Ilima, where he informs her that she must find and battle a number of Alolan Rattata before making her way to the far back of the cave and collecting a crystal embedded in the pedestal. The scene shifts to her exploring the cave, her voice muted by the rapidly rising background music that the Dex was playing. “Selene really had this tracking stuff down to a science! She could distinguish the Yungoozz denzz from the Rattata denzz with just a single look! But then those nazzty Team Skull guyzz tried to get in her way-” The screen cuts to a pair of Grunts trying to impede her progress, only to unintentionally allow her to track down and defeat an Alolan Raticate, which sends the goons running off in terror.

“Yeahh! Run away ya gooberzz!” the Roto in the video calls out to them, his waving red appendages falling in and out of frame. 

“With that, she was able to make her way through the cave eazzily, and soon found herzzelf up againzzt an abzzolutely mazzive Alolan Raticate! Thizz wazz the fearzzome Totem Pokemon, oversized Pokemon flowing with extreme power! It wazz a heck of a foe, I’ll tell ya that! I thought I’d be snapped in half with just one Bite attack! But Selene was prepared.” His camera pans around toward Selene, pulling a small blue capsule from her pocket and a red and white ball off her belt. She pops the top off the capsule and tosses the Pokeball forward, releasing Furfrou in a brilliant flash. The regal white dog is adorned with a fashionable scarf, a Silk Scarf that raises the power of Normal moves. She thrusts the capsule forward, flinging a small pill toward the Normal Type, who deftly catches it in her mouth and swallows. 

“She used that X Defenzze on Furfrou to make sure she could weather more hitzz. It was a geniuzz move! Without it, she certainly would have had some trouble.” Roto shivers as the footage plays out, the two exchanging blows briefly before a smaller Alolan Rattata appears, slamming into Furfrou’s side and bouncing off it. “Even though it had extra help, Lupa still kicked that Totem’zz butt!” He cheers, pom poms flashing on the screen. The clip continues, with Lupa beating on the Raticate and enduring attacks from both ends. At some point, Selene darts in during the lull in attacks to personally apply a blast from a Super Potion, but it may not have even been needed, as moments later both the Alolan rats lay on the ground defeated.

“And so Selene won her firzzt Z-Crystal! Now she can put that Z-Ring to work.” The Dex’s screen continues to display Ilima congratulating her for her efforts, and the humble Totem offering a gift of her own- the young Rattata she had fought alongside. “The Totem Raticate wanted Selene to take care of her baby, and who could refuse an offer like that?” The little Alolan Rattata’s data flashes up on screen. 

Name: Ro

Gender: Female

Nature: Bold

Characteristic: Strong willed

“She seemed really amuzzed when naming her, talked about rodentzz of unusual size or somethin’ like that. I didn’t understand headzz or tailzz of it,” the Dex mutters in response, his screen showing an emoji of a blue face scratching its head with a questioning gaze. “We ran into those futuristic lookin’ people again, and I gotta say they need to work on their greeting. Ya say ‘Alola’ while moving your armzz in a circle, not in a square!” The Dex huffs, somehow offended. “Anyway, the female one introducezz herzzelf azz Soliera and the male introducezz himzzelf as Phyco. They seemed pretty interezzted in Selene and what she wazz doin’, but I don’t know if we could truzzt them quite yet.”

The next scene plays out, with Kukui nearly bumping into Selene as she exists the cave- and he comes bearing bad news. Lillie’s missing!

“Profezzor Kukui said something about mizzplacing her around Route 3, so he wazz hoping that Selene would help him. After everything that had happened with lazzt night, she definitely wanted to help, I know I did.” The scene follows on with Selene traversing the winding rocky terrain, unfamiliar to her. But not to the local Pokemon. “So Selene getzz this great idea to have one of the local Pokemon help, and she findzz thizz Cutiefly that she challengezz to a battle and capturezz quite artfully!” And that Cutiefly’s data flashes on screen.

Name: Bylii

Gender: Female

Nature: Naughty

Characteristic: Sturdy body

“Though the crafty bug leadzz uzz on a bit of a winding path, she does direct uzz toward a secluded area where a lot of people end up when they get lozzt on Route 3, Melemele Meadow. That’s where we found Lillie!” The scene shifts to the girl in question, frantically looking between her bag and the yellow flowers. 

“Nebby, where are you,” she mutters to herself, gasping when she’s spotted by Selene. “You think you can help me find her again?” she asks the researcher, her big eyes wracked with worry. “I’m so sorry for being such a burden to you...”

“You are far from a burden,” Selene answers, already starting to walk away. “You are a precious friend, Lillie-san. I will not rest until Nebby is found.” 

“It’zz there that Selene getzz the aide of another local Pokemon, thizz time a kind little Petilil that wazz more than willing to show them placezz that Pokemon like to hide.” The data for that Pokemon flashes on screen too.

 Name: Lili

Gender: Female

Nature: Mild

Characteristic: Scatters things often

“That’s what brought us to the Seaward Cave, accezzed through a tiny hole that Selene could barely fit through crawling on her handzz and kneezz. It was cold and dark in there, so it’zz good that Selene’zz so uzzed to Sinnohan temperaturezz,” the Dex tries to crack a joke, but the humor falls a little flat. His normally cheery voice falls a little low and somber. “Something... Something happened in there. I’ll... I’ll show you what I can.”

---

Update, 3:28 pm.

“Anything yet, Carmilla?” The researcher calls out to her Zubat, flapping a foot or so ahead of them in the dark cave, guided only by the thin beam of light projected by the Dex’s flashlight eyes. The blue bat lets out a low cry- negative. Deeper and deeper they wander, relying on what little natural light was there and the young Zubat’s abilities before they found the cavern floor below them start to shake and sunder, cracks lining the walls and shattering small rocks-

“Izz it an earthquake?” the Dex guesses, frantically clinging to Selene’s back in an attempt to keep himself protected, his screen briefly darkened by the fabric of her shirt before she pulls him off. 

“It might be,” she mutters, the Rotom’s light casting a dull glare over her bang-covered face. “We must keep moving.”

Smaller quakes rock the group occasionally, but they keep advancing onward. That is, until they reach a rather deep, narrow part of the cave, hearing a rumbling roar. “A wild Pokemon?” Selene wonders aloud, but she is soon caught off guard by another vigorous quake, even stronger than the first. It nearly sends her to her knees, the Dex clinging to her shoulder in a meager attempt to keep her up-

And just as the quake seems to let up, Carmilla swoops down and slashes with her wings, blowing a gust of air hard enough to topple Selene back- narrowly avoiding a rock that would have crushed her. Another falls and cracks the ground just a foot away from Rotom. Another drops further away. “A rock slide!” Selene calls out, but the tumbling earth ranging in size from pebbles to boulders start to rain down, blocking off their path forward. The gang scrambles down the wayb they came, but just as it seemed like they’d reach the entrance to this narrowed tunnel, the way out crumbles before them. Quite nearly punching the very stone blocking them, Selene tries to keep her cool-

Only to hear the feeble cry of a Zubat, her left side crushed below a rock more than twice her size. 

“Carmilla!” Displaying the most emotion Rotom had ever seen on her normally impassive face, the girl that he suddenly remembers is only 13 years old frantically tries to free her partner, to no avail. Her cry of anguish rises like an ancient hymn as she struggles to budge the rock even a bit. 

One of the balls on her belt bursts open, revealing Strix the Rowlet. She releases waves of sharp leaves at the rock, but all they do is scuff the surface. Leafage just isn’t enough. “Please!” Selene calls out, “S-Someone get help!” She rounds on the Dex. “Roto-san, can you call someone? Do you have that function?” There is panic in her eyes, the normally calm oceans darkened like the beginnings of a storm. 

The Dex nods, “I’ll do what I can, Selene-” Only for a stray rock to fall and crack his screen, sending him hurdling to the ground. 

“Roto-san!” The panicked cry of a young girl in over her head is the last thing the Dex could pick up before the recording died. 

[multiverseinteract]

Mirror City- 6:04 pm

The forest was dense, and pushing through the stringy metal bushes was a new blockade. The bushes would snag on the teams clothes, making their trek much longer than it had to be. Trecero was carrying Farrow bridal style so he didn't have to strain, though the reflection of the setting sun on the metal trees made it even more difficult for himself. Marque's coat continuously got caught on bushes, and even his scimitar against them did nothing to assist.

However, once they stumbled out of the metallic forest, they stepped out onto a chrome metal ground. Before them was a massive, beautiful city, made almost entirely of glass. The sun reflected beautifully off of the shining buildings, lighting up the city a gorgeous holo blue and pink. The team stood in awe, but no one was as awestruck as Clive and Albi, who'd seen nothing but destroyed cities and death for their entire lives.

The team walked across the sleek chrome street, admiring what they saw. Everything was intact, and it all looked almost polished to a perfect clear shine. Trecero was having a difficult time with the brightness, however even he was admiring the beauty of this new world.

"Should we... Explore?" Molly spoke up after he had finished gawking at the massive glass skyscrapers.

".. I think so. Try not to touch too much. It's beautiful, definitely but... It may be dangerous still," Clive split off and went another way, opening one of the doors to the buildings before looking inside. Even the door was sleek and beautiful, and it felt a comfortable cool to the touch.

"This place sure is... Different. What do you think, Alex?" Marque asked Alex, who was standing beside Shamu.

"It looks like something out of a book.. Or something from the future.. It's amazing! I've never seen anything so.. Shiny!" Alex broke out into a bright grin, which stunned Marque for a moment. Seeing Alex smile. He hadn't seen him smile since they were on the ship together, just after meeting. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until now. It was a contagious smile, and Marque had no choice but to break into a smile right back.

Trecero had set Farrow on his feet, and Farrow seemed to be doing much better now. His swelling had gone down nearly entirely, and he was almost as good as new, with the light soreness from the bruises on his neck. Farrow placed his hands on the glass walls, surprised at how smooth it felt.

"Oh my god this is the coolest place on the fucking planet," Farrow exclaimed, pressing his face against the glass.

Trecero chuckled lightly upon hearing him, but he kept his eyes shielded from the light. He moved over to where Farrow was, reaching around until he found the chrome handle and pushing the door open. He walked inside, moving his other hand away from his eyes. The interior of the room was almost shimmering. Neon blue lights lit up doorways, desks and hallways, and the blue glass tile even felt comfortable to walk on. Farrow joined him inside, gasping in awe at the futuristic hotel.

"Holy shit! The tile is soft,, imagine what the beds feel like," Farrow grinned to himself and ran towards the doors further in the hall.

"Probably clouds or something else miraculous," Trecero couldn't help but smile as his dork of a husband tried opening the locked doors at the end of the hall.

"They're locked!! Dammit!" Trecero heard Farrow yell from the hall.

"Come on, Farrow, let's go get with the rest of the group. We don't want to get too seperated now do we?"

"You're right you're right ok-"

Farrow came jogging back down the hall and back into the lobby. Trecero took his hand and they both walked back outside.

Marque was still standing in the street, admiring the view of the sky blending with the glass skyscrapers. Alex was playing fetch with Shamu, tossing around a small metal branch from one of the forest trees that Shamu had managed to rip off. Molly was examining the emerald skull on his own, leaning against one of the walls, and Clive and Albi were exploring inside.

"This really is a lovely city.. The colors are a beautiful blend.. I could stay here and watch the skies for hours. Would this not be the perfect place for romance to blossom.." Marque was almost speaking to himself, but everyone heard him. And he didn't really care, either.

Trecero pulled his hood over his head, trying to use it to dim the brightness. It worked a little bit, but just made the visible light brighter.

Clive eventually appeared from inside one of the buildings.

"This would be a perfect place to stay the night. I haven't seen a sign of life anywhere! It seems safe enough," he said, motioning for everyone to join him inside. Shamu was the first to get there, running past Clive still with the branch between his teeth and bounding around the room. Clive still reacted harshly to Shamu's quick movements, but at least he was getting better with his fear.

Everyone else joined Clive and Albi inside, and they set their packs down.

Molly sat at the back of the room, seeming to be very intrigued by the emerald. Meanwhile everyone got comfortable, and Albi pulled out the blanket for Clive.

"Well.. Hopefully we lost our tail, and we've found a new safe spot. It's calm and quiet here," Trecero spoke up, huddling up with Farrow against the wall.

"It is a bit cold, but other than that, you are right. It is really very lovely here," Marque replied with a light shiver in his voice.

"Would you like to use the blanket, Marque? Being a Spanish caribbean pirate, you must get cold easily," Albi said, offering the blanket over to him.

"Yes, thank you very much. This is true... I am chilled easily." Marque bundled himself up in the blanket. Shamu curled up on Alex's lap, which seemed to give him the warmth he needed.

Marque wouldn't admit out loud that he wished he had Alex under the blanket with him.

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

Your plus-size shopping guide to wearing bold prints and colors this spring

Plus-size influencer and writer, Margie Ashcroft models spring's boldest looks from Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

Fitting in can be boring, and this season is all about standing out! As a plus-size fashion editor and street-style maven, one of my favorite things to do is find out-of- the-box ways to style extended sizes with a new fashion-forward approach. Since most publications rarely feature clothing above a size 16, I wanted to supply a stylish edit of bold pieces that will have you looking like a street style star in no time...no matter your waist size!

You know those brands that actually get you excited about fashion? To me, that’s Asos. I’ve been shopping the site for years and consistently find next-level pieces that fit my curves and personality. As a size 18 woman growing up in a small conservative town, finding fashionable clothing was nearly impossible! So when the new extended size division of Asos launched back in 2010, I instantly tried it out and have been a die-hard fan ever since.

The online shopping destination not only goes up to a size 26, but offers a fashionable assortment of designs that are affordably priced between $5 and $250.

This spring, we are not only seeing vibrant pops of color, but versatile animal prints which have slithered their way onto the scene. I know that styling plus-size clothing in cool and forward thinking ways can be tricky, so I am going to walk you through 5 street style outfits with a bold POV that will have you looking stellar this spring.

Take a walk on the wild side and keep scrolling to shop my favorite spring favorites from asos.com.

For more style inspiration follow my instagram @margieplus and my style blog www.margieplus.com

The editors at Yahoo Lifestyle are committed to finding you the best products at the best prices. At times, we may receive a share from purchases made via links on this page.

Plaid Power Suit

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

There is nothing that says “boss” more than a power fashion suit. I am obsessed with this flawless set because between the fit and the plaid print, the entire look is a home run. Plaid is one of those timeless prints with built-in sophistication, and I was beyond excited to refresh and update for spring. For this Kate Moss-worthy suit, I wanted to add a retro ‘80s vibe and and pair it with a multi chain waist belt and clear mules for a futuristic touch.

Since I knew the look was made of a woven material and the brand runs pretty true to size, I chose a size 18 in the pants and sized up to a 20 in the blazer. The pants are snug at the waist and have a comfortable slouch fit throughout to account for movement. I prefer my blazers to be worn a little oversized to accommodate my bust and layering. I feel like this size fits everything just as planned!

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

Plaid Blazer

This blazer doesn't have to just be worn as a set. It looks great paired with everything from skinny jeans to a skirt and a knee high boot combo.

Shop it: $79

Plaid Pants

Try dressing the pants down by pairing it with a white fitted tee shirt and sneakers for a perfect Saturday daytime look.

Shop it: $45

Chain Belt

Although the exact belt I used is out of stock, I found a great alternative that goes up to a size 26, so rest assured it will fit a range of curvy figures.

Shop it: $29

Clear Mules

These modern clear mules give me a Cinderella vibe and can easily complement any outfit.

Shop it: $45 (was $56)

Skinny Cat Eye Glasses

These sunglasses are my go-to shades with their sleek, edgy look.

Shop it: $13

Zebra Tea Dress

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

Nothing says spring quite like a cute, bold printed frock, and I am absolutely loving the retro vibe of this zebra print tea dress! Even though the print is already adventurous, I wanted to take it to the next level by combining it with some unexpected styling.

Since the print is loud, yet minimal all at the same time, it is easy to pair it with a classic black heel. However, the bright accessories help elevate the look. As soon as I tried on this fearless and comfortable printed number, I was totally in love with the fit of the garment.

The dress is made of a super comfortable stretch material so I opted for the size 16 to assure a curve-hugging fit. I love the subtle romantic puff sleeve detail and V-neckline that leads down to the flirty side slit at the hem. The waist has a separate diamond front panel that cinches your frame and creates a flattering bust shape.

To refresh the look with more edge, I paired it with red and pink statement accessories.

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

Dress

Fits like a glove and can literally be worn comfortably 24/7. I’m in love.

Shop it: $45 (was $56)

Statement Belt

A statement waist belt can take an outfit a long way! Since Asos doesn't carry the pink vintage one I used, this black version will still give you the same statement effect you want, and it’s easily adjustable.

Shop it: $19

Pink Socks

Wear this neon pink sock with everything from sneakers to heels.

Shop it: $7

Heels

A killer red shoe is a wardrobe must-have for any woman. This pair in particular is great not only because it has a wide fit, but also a strong sturdy block heel for added support.

Shop it: $45

Head-to-Toe Python

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

I am officially obsessed with python prints this season. Some people are even claiming it’s the new leopard. Slowly but surely, this print has been taking over and I am going full Vogue on the styling, showing you how easy it is to rock this print-on-print look IRL.

The snake print can easily be classified as a neutral so it looks great paired with the same pattern. Since both the top and leggings are both stretchy, I opted to go for a size 16 because I know the garments ease up a bit after being worn.

For the jacket, I opted to size up to size 20 so I had enough room for layering (and I especially love the oversized jacket look at the moment). To top it off, I paired the outfit with a matching python heel. I promise this look will have people turning heads all night long.

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

Jacket

This jacket is beyond fab! It also looks great paired with a LBD or jeans and trainers for a more casual slay.

Shop it: $111

Top

I can’t discuss the fit of this top enough! The bust darts and neckline create a romantic and super flattering silhouette that will have you rocking your curves.

Shop it: $22 (was $29)

Leggings

These lightweight leggings are great worn on their own or as a layering piece. Try styling it with a black moto jacket and booties for an edgy look for going out on the town.

Shop it: $26

Shoes

These heels look incredible paired with everything from a LBD to bold leggings.

Shop it: $40

Yellow Frame Glasses

I literally throw these bold sunnies on with any outfit for an instant pop of color.

Shop it: $16

Neon Two-Piece Set

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

Fluorescent shades are a major fashion trend that isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Ever since Prada debuted their 2018 neon collection, the bright colored trend has been popping up all around. This was confirmed during my recent trip to Coachella where the color was being rocked by the masses.

This season, don't be afraid to go a little bold, adding a pop of neon to your look to give off the ultimate cool girl vibe. If you are looking for a beginner’s guide on how to style these daring hues, start with casual street wear and tone it down with a light colored overcoat.

For this look, I went for a size 16 and sized up in the jacket to a size 20 (for an oversized look). You can easily transform this look by belting the jacket and adding heels.

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

Crepe Coat

This coat has a midi length retro vibe and looks chic thrown on top of just about everything.

Shop it: $63 (was $79)

Neon Set

This cotton lounge set is super comfortable, yet it makes a statement all at the same time. Try dressing it up by adding a black moto jacket and matching black heels.

Shop it: $23 (top)

Shop it: $23 (shorts)

Neon Ankle Socks

Colored socks are a fun and easy way to add a little spunk to any outfit.

Shop it: $6 (was $8)

Multicolor Sneakers

Sneakers have been all the rage this year and these rainbow colored soles are next level!

Shop it: $60

Tiger Blouse

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

Quickly cast your animal print fears aside and get up close and personal with your wild side with this tiger print blouse. For those of you who want to test the waters with an animal print, this is the look for you.

I love the combination of a breezy cropped blouse and skinny jeans. I opted for super stretch black skinny jeans in a size 18 and sized up to a size 20 in the top for an extra relaxed fit. Again I paired the outfit with my favorite multi chain waist belt to dress it up.

For shoes I wanted to pick a comfortable, yet bold pair and found these amazing kelly green mules, which are instant statement pieces themselves. If you are looking for a more casual twist, try pairing the look with a bomber jacket and a fresh pair of white sneakers.

Margie Ashcroft in Asos (Photo: Harald Austad)

Top

This lightweight printed blouse can be worn loose or tucked into high waist pants or a skirt for a more refined look.

Shop it: $40

Cropped Jeans

These super stretch sculpt capri-length jeans are not only comfortable, but the high waist looks amazing on your curves.

Shop it: $40

Chain Belt

Like I mentioned before, a chain belt can give an instant refresh to any look and its adjustable sizing allows for wear in a multitude of ways.

Shop it: $29

Green Mules

It was love at first sight with these kitten heel mules. The wide fit of the shoes allow for extra comfort.

Shop it: $45

Vintage Cat Eye Shades

Every girl needs at least one pair of cat eye sunglasses in her closet. Trust me, these will always add a touch of glamour to your life.

Shop it: $32

Read More from Yahoo Lifestyle:

• Betsey Johnson just dropped a plus-size line and we want to buy everything

• 'It felt as if it was made specifically for my body': Anthropologie just made the perfect plus-size wrap skirt

• 8 plus-size graduation dresses you will want to wear more than once

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[georgesmithunit1]

Creating Animated Characters in Hand Drawn Environments Animation Research

17/04/18

I researched point and click games online to get some inspiration behind my own ideas. Upon researching, I came across a number of intriguing titles which caught my eye, one in particular. Some of the games which took my interest are “Deponia”, which has quite a charming Western art style with some futuristic aspects to accompany it. I like the character designs and also the backgrounds. There were quite a lot of games which utilised pixel art, which whilst I would be doing a hand drawn animation, these could still be good references for my own animation, when it comes to background(s) and character design. These games include “To the Moon”, “The Binding of Isaac”, and one that I have actually played, and thoroughly enjoyed, “Owlboy”. The art in this game is absolutely phenomenal, and the backgrounds in particular, which I may end up taking inspiration from when it comes to developing my own ideas. However, the game that caught my eye the most when researching point and click games was “Night in the Woods”, which after researching the premise and plot of this game after being drawn in by the beautifully Illustrator-type graphics, really interested me, as I really like the dark themes that it seems to tackle accompanied by happy-looking visuals throughout the game. It has actually made me want to play it myself as this seems like something that I would enjoy, and I really like the simplicity of this game. It may end up being one the main inspirations behind my animation. 

PLOT

The story will take place in the not-so-distant future during 2088, where the world is in a state of chaos and ruin. There are barely any natural aspects left, and neon cyberpunk-esque cities occupy most of the world. A highly confidential organisation had been working behind the scenes on developing a machine which would mass-manufacture creatures to be placed in the public. Designed only to induce fear in people, this would reform the public so that the organisation could essentially take full control over everyone - the organisation was dubbed “Puppet”, since their aim was to control people, like puppets.

The world was becoming a place more and more empty, everyone was straight-faced and had no personality left. There were few people who were able to hide from this reality, including our main character, who goes by ‘Ace’. Too many creatures were being manufactured by Puppet and eventually, Ace, and a resistance group led by him fought back, but to Puppet's distaste, they started sending hostile creatures which will induce fear by violence this time, thus inevitably leading into a third world war, with many countries taking part in the rebellion. Ace eventually became the ‘leader’ of the human race, and it became his duty to take down Puppet, and hopefully salvage what was left of the world.

Ace manages to breach Puppet and get to the machine down below the surface, but at the cost of countless lives. Ace manages to shut down the machine and take down Puppet - but, was it worth it in the end? With the loss of his humanity, for the sake of humanity, Ace becomes an empty human. Struggling to come to terms with his actions, and contemplating over and over whether he made the right decision, Ace lives on and the remaining population tries to rebuild the world. Perhaps some day, Ace will discover his true self.

The story ends there - I decided to give the story a somewhat open-minded ending, so I’ll leave it up to the reader whether it ended happily ever after, or in a tragedy.

VISUAL STYLE

The visual style that I’m most likely going to be going with will be something like what I mentioned earlier; Night in the Woods, as I was captivated by the art and style of the game, without even playing it myself. I really like the simplicity of the art style, whilst also retaining quite a distinct look. My animation will most likely be 2-dimensional, as I think there’s a lot more opportunity and space for 2D backgrounds and foregrounds, as well as characters and movement. Whilst I will be taking inspiration from this game, I will be also trying to develop my own style when drawing out my background(s) and character(s), and I probably won’t be staying very close to this game’s style anyway, as it seems like the vast majority of it was created in Adobe Illustrator (not a bad thing if so).

2D games also have quite a special place in my own heart, growing up with Nintendo games and such, so I think that this animation will be quite personal to me whilst I create it, and when it’s finished, it may end up having aspects inspired by Nintendo games, most notably the Mario & Pokémon series.

CHARACTER & BACKSTORY

My character’s name is ‘Ace’. He has no recollection of who named him this, or even if this is his real name, being an orphan for as long as he could remember. Ace has a strong sense of justice, and believes that the world is a terrible place and despises those who perform crimes for their own sake. Whilst in hiding, Ace started training, using a long blade and a regular handgun which he found laying around - perhaps it was once used by a soldier who fought against Puppet. Eventually, Ace came across other like minded people, and soon after, he founded the largest resistance group whose goal was to take down Puppet.

Ace is a male whose age is unknown, although he looks as though he is in his mid to late twenties. He seems to have a somewhat southeastern accent, so he might have been born somewhere in Asia, although he speaks fluent English. he has a very serious nature but this changes somewhat by the end of the story. He usually wears a long white coat with black trousers and black shoes. He has medium-length black hair and his eye colour is grey. Ace’s weapon is a long blade and a regular handgun which he uses when he can’t fight with a blade.

Above is a character turnaround sheet that I drew of Ace, along with some other sketches. I think the first view that I drew (far left) is the best and I was quite pleased with how it turned out, and then I drew the next one which I was significantly less happy with, as I’m bad at drawing side views of people as well as hands, as you can tell, it doesn’t look very proportionate. I think that the next one is a slight step up from the previous one, but it still doesn’t look great, although, I am a little happy with how the hand turned out, holding the blade. The last two are just simple sketches which turned out a little bit too detailed than I had planned. Initially, these sketches were supposed to show off how Ace could look in-game, but as I said, they’re a little too detailed, and I plan on making a fairly simple 2D animation. I’ll work on these at some point. The two other drawings on the left page are just to showcase his two weapons. His long blade, and the regular handgun. The handgun looks a bit disproportionate, but it doesn’t matter since I probably won’t be animating the it, maybe though.

Below are some sketches that I did of Ace and also some of the monster which he will fight. I decided to draw it with one eye, which made it look like a cyclops thing. I decided to keep its design simple, I’ll probably colour it a shade of red or something, since they are just mass-manufactured monsters. When Puppet added offensive capabilities to the monsters, electricity was probably the most easy to produce, so that’s what they gave them. They can materialise electrical energy from their palms, and join them together to amplify its power. Above the monsters are some sketches of Ace. For the monsters, I had to draw a whole body, bar the feet, so this was a little challenge for myself, but I think it turned out decent to some degree - I like the legs especially. I drew the hand with the electricity coming out just to showcase it. They can fire it out of their palms with relatively strong force. 

Above is a sketch of a potential background for the animation, however, I draw another one which I think will be bit more suitable. Anyway, my background is set in the future, where neon cyberpunk-esque cities occupy most of the world. 

Below is a sketch of a potential background for my animation, I think this will most likely be developed in Photoshop. It’s essentially a row of neon-esque stores with some rooms above where a person will walk by. There’s also a fan or something on the left which will spin - I thought about it and realised that this would be best suited for After Effects, so I’ll try and do that when I’ve finished the main animation. There’s also some hanging lights on the right which I may or may not end up animating in the end. The font on the stores is intentionally eligible. I think this is a solid design in my opinion, so I would like to bring it to life digitally. Below the scene is just a sketch of Ace being showcased with his weapon.

This final page of sketches that I did is just some rough sketches of Ace’s movement at the top, and how he could potentially move about, whilst he slays the monster. I don’t know yet if the animation will contain blood when a monster is slain, but I will most likely decide when I get there. The sketch below it shows the aforementioned scene which I drew, with Ace confronting a bunch of monsters, with a pattern of how his movement could go, like in the sketch above it. I added a reflection of the row of stores to imply that the floor is wet or something. Maybe I’ll add rain somehow, although this seems like a difficult job. 

[writemarcus]

James Baldwin's “I Am Not Your Negro” And The Revival Of The Black Arts Movement

by realmarcusscott

Community Contributor

The writing of civil rights icon and literary titan James Baldwin has recently experienced a renaissance, but recent media attention could also be signaling a revival of black thought.

In a televised interview with psychologist Dr. Kenneth Bancroft Clark, writer and social critic James Baldwin appeared in “The Negro and the American Promise,” alongside then-polarizing civil rights activists Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. and Minister Malcolm X to discuss race relations in the U.S. The New York Times would later describe the 1963 broadcast (itself the product of Boston public television producer Henry Morgenthau III) and particularly Baldwin’s segment, as “ television experience that seared the conscience.” Given the zeitgeist, whilst viewing Raoul Peck’s climacteric 2016 documentary film “I Am Not Your Negro,” the heart-pounding anxiety in Baldwin’s words in that interview seem to reverberate like an atomic bomb in an echo chamber.

“That’s part of the dilemma of being an American Negro; that one is a little bit colored and a little bit white, and not only in physical terms but in the head and in the heart, and there are days -- this is one of them -- when you wonder what your role is in this country and what your future is in it. How, precisely, are you going to reconcile yourself to your situation here and how you are going to communicate to the vast, heedless, unthinking, cruel, white majority, that you are here? And to be here means that you can’t be anywhere else,” Baldwin said. He continued. “I’m terrified at the moral apathy -- the death of the heart which is happening in my country. These people have deluded themselves for so long, that they really don't think I’m human. I base this on their conduct, not on what they say, and this means that they have become, in themselves, moral monsters. It's a terrible indictment -- I mean every word I say.”

What makes Raoul Peck’s “I Am Not Your Negro” an essential viewing on par with, say, “13th,” Ava Duvernay’s incendiary documentary about race and mass incarceration? Based on 30 completed pages of James Baldwin’s final, unfinished manuscript Remember This House and narrated by actor Samuel L. Jackson, Peck’s award-winning documentary truly shines when there is more emphasis on archival footage than the words of Baldwin’s partial script due to his death from stomach cancer at 63 in 1987. Peck spends considerable time highlighting celebrities and literary luminaries of the time who were active during the African-American Civil Rights Movement (1954–1968). Including found footage of glitterati such as Harry Belafonte, Marlon Brando, Sidney Poitier, Sammy Davis, Lorraine Hansberry, and diverging political activists like Charlton Heston. In his directing, Peck appears to make a clear and concise distinction between artists of the 1960s and the contemporary artists of the iPhone generation. But that’s about it. The film progresses at a crawl when it delves into poetics, as Samuel L. Jackson tries to capture the color of the fallen literary titan.

That is in no way a kiss-off of one America’s Greatest Writers, nor of Mr. Jackson’s work as actor, but a reflection on Peck, whose work on the film inspires more questions of interest around Baldwin, his politics and his bibliography. Footage where Baldwin takes center stage and articulates American imperialism is more appealing and more profound than Peck’s reimagining of Baldwin’s last words. But perhaps, that’s unfair. After all, Baldwin casts a tall shadow. Marking the 30th Anniversary of his death, Baldwin’s influence continues to towers over the Afropunk collective, the Black Lives Matter international activist movement, and what appears to be a revival of the Black Arts Movement via TV, film, modern art and of course, on the proscenium stage.

In Fall 2016, his influence saturated the DNA of genre-bending musicals like Stew’s The Total Bent (which he co-wrote with Heidi Rodewald and his band, The Negro Problem) and Party People by UNIVERSES, both performed at the Public Theater. Shortly after those shows ended, the year was capped off with Can I Get a Witness? The Gospel of James Baldwin by neo-soul progenitor Meshell Ndegeocello’s Afrofuturistic concert-sermon at Harlem Stages. Each one of these gems tackled contemporary issues (Trump and a divided Capitol Hill, Standing Rock, refugee crisis, domestic terror) while grappling with the state of white America, race relations, anti-blackness and the nature of protest and revolt. In a way, Baldwin’s body of work became what he accused militant Pan-African human rights activist Malcolm X of doing during that interview with Dr. Kenneth Bancroft Clark: “He corroborates their reality; he tells them that they really exist. You know?”

It’s no wonder why black songwriter-storytellers, especially those who have infiltrated the New York City theatre constituency and openly challenge the white hegemony of musical theatre, worship at the altar of Baldwin. The politics of his message—at odds with the militancy of Huey P. Newton and The Black Panthers, the political boondoggle that plagued Julian Bond and John Lewis of SNCC, the black supremacy movement of Elijah Muhammad and the Nation of Islam—is an earth-shattering, life-and-death kiss-off to the whole establishment while appraising the perils of every black life in a system engineered and fueled by America’s white supremacist patriarchy.

Baldwin’s worldview was equidistant of two polarizing ideological extremes: A pariah of the integrationist wing of the Civil Rights movement, Baldwin believed in a unified America and agreed in the establishing peace through the nonviolent resistance of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his SCLC disciples. But he also believed equally in the deep-seated Pan-African radicalism of Malcolm X. Both incensed black intellectuals, unlike King, Baldwin and Malcolm X were unwilling to were to wait for white society to “solve” The Negro Question, and felt the dominant white culture in America was too toxic for black people and other people of color, considering the effects of systemic and institutional racism. In “The Fire Next Time,” his nonfiction objet d'art, Baldwin wrote: “Things are as bad as the Muslims say they are -- in fact, they are worse... There is no reason that black men should be expected to be more patient, more forbearing, more farseeing than whites; indeed, quite the contrary.”

For newcomers to the work of Baldwin, this may seem disorienting and discombobulating, but that is also what elevates his writing into the upper echelons of American writers. When L.A. musician Mark Stewart, better known as Stew, penned his genre bending semi-autobiographical 2008 rock musical Passing Strange—produced with the support of the Sundance Institute and The Public Theater—the book was purely inspired by Baldwin’s tesseract-warping writing style. Not only did the musical references the New Negro of the Harlem Renaissance, but one its central motifs involved the praise of black artists like Baldwin and Josephine Baker, who expatriated to Paris, France. Shortly after the closing of The Total Bent, in September 2016, Stew reported that he has begun to workshop a song cycle, Notes of a Native Song, inspired by Baldwin’s similarly titled 1955 non-fiction novel.

Other writers have also felt the effects of iconic writer: Pulitzer Prize winner Suzan-Lori Parks studied under Baldwin, who encouraged her to write for the stage and described her as “an utterly astounding and beautiful creature who may become one of the most valuable artists of our time.” Ending her post as a Residency One playwright for Signature Theatre Company this year, the various productions cherry-picked from Parks’ extensive bibliography echo Baldwin’s poetics. There’s also director-playwright Kwame Kwei-Armah. In Dr. Lynette Goddard’s “Contemporary Black British Playwrights: Margins to Mainstream,” Kwei-Armah explained that his plays mirror the ‘diasporic, black politics” influenced by the writings of Amiri Baraka and Baldwin. Journalist-author Ta-Nehisi Coates’s 2015 book, Between the World and Me, was inspired directly by Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time, and lest we forget, the same book of essays also inspired the Fire This Time Festival, which has become a launch pad for early-career playwrights of African and African American descent. Diverse artists are also taking inspiration from Baldwin, like Pulitzer-winning Puerto Rican playwright Quiara Alegría Hudes, who wrote the book for the musical Miss You Like Hell, with help of her outrage in the post-election period and Baldwin’s poetry.

In a neoreactionary zeitgeist contaminated by Breitbart News-quoting white nationalist right-wing populists, and the ever-present tinges of anti-blackness, xenophobia, fear of immigrants, anti-feminism, proliferating ableism, and rampant homophobia and transphobia, Baldwin’s work may not only be the beacon of a Black Arts Movement revival, but a war cry for all diverse artists. To put it simply, Baldwin was a futurist. His genius—highlighted by unpatrolled mordant wit, piquant rue, spill-the-tea élan and unparalleled black boy voodoo—is a master class of artistry; regardless of context, his writing accentuates and deliberates not only the consistent struggle of black people but all of the colonized English-speaking nations of the world. Woah!

Contemporary artists have big shoes to fill. But given the state of the nation, we’re in good hands. Rest in power, Mr. Baldwin.