#it should be acknowledged that the ship is based off a lie. it’s not direct abuse like other overlord related ships such as overpan but

[cuppajj]

Hello, it's me again, pouring some of my gelatinous brain into your inbox. I just wanted to share some personal headcanons about the FOWAU and see what you thought of them.

I'd like to think that Melody and Overlord have *some* bond between them, but it's not fully romantic. At the end of the Wreckers series, when Megan reveals himself as Overlord, that he still has some attachment to Melody and tries to protect her. Not in like, an overly protective gesture but more of a subtle move to not have her add to the collateral damage. And to shift away from what is canon for a moment, ideally Overlord and Melody could maintain contact as close friends, like a qpr! In all honesty, I'd just like Melody to have a big murder friend (all their interactions are all so sweet). Still, imagining the potential angst is good too. I'd imagine after Megatron's attack on Earth, she has a healthy dose of sheer terror of Cybertronians and having to deal with the fact that her boss, and potentially someone she was close with, is a Cybertronian would be nice to see. You also mentioned that Melody is a mother(?) And I'd think OL would make an awesome uncle.

Would you mind if I did some more shippy art for them and tagged you?

SOB

i talk in the tags

[yesimwriting]

Searing Starlight (chapter 3)

A/n I CANNOT believe how many people have supported this story,, I’m so excited to continue it with you guys :)) 

Just a reminder that while this is based off the show i hope to blend in some book aspects/vibes and this is just a fanfic and it won’t be completely accurate/follow the show 100% and any changes I make/parts I chose not to focus on are for the sake of the story I’m trying to tell 

-- 

I can’t tell if I wish Kaz had let me go with Inej or not. She’s faster than I am, and considering that I have no real reason to be loyal to them, I’m a flight risk. That means I’m stuck here with only the Kaz Brekker and Jesper, who I tricked. I hadn’t exactly befriended Inej entirely in the few minutes I was alone with her, but she seemed more trustworthy than them. More susceptible to reason. And when she heard where I was from, who was responsible for raising me, something in the way she watched me changed. It was the oddest combination--a look of both tired sympathy and cautious admiration.

“What I don’t understand…” Jesper breaks the silence. “Is why you all go back there. He lets you leave, he gives you money--there’s no reason to return.” 

I try not to let the question anger me. I shift awkwardly, scratching at my palm. “We tried leaving.” My stomach knots. “Once.” How do I make them understand? “He caught us because we young and stupid, and then he…” I exhale slowly. They’re just words. They don’t change anything. Whether I speak them or not, the events of my history aren’t different. “He picked the youngest, a girl only six months younger than me, and he slit her throat from ear to ear and took a finger of anyone that flinched as her blood splattered onto them. He said her blood was our penance and to live with knowing what we did to her would be our punishment.” 

I don’t tell them that I was twelve. I don’t tell them Anya lied about my birthday on the records. I don’t tell them I’m missing the very tip of my pinky--a small punishment for the twitch of my lip. “When Kenya is truly angry, he never hurts you--he hurts those around you.” No one responds to that. They’re making me seem like such a bummer. “It’s not awful all the time...he borders on agreeable when you listen to him.” 

Most days we have peace, left to our own devices as long as we accomplish certain goals. Their silence does little to unnerve me. After speaking so freely of such a nightmare, the desire to be rid of the taste of those words from my mouth is almost overwhelming, but I hold to the silence. 

“Why has he never sold you to the grisha that are so desperate for you?”

Of course Kaz Brekker would ask a question like that. “He isn’t the business of money, he’s in the business of creating gods. He indentures people he thinks could one day become saints or something else entirely. He wants to be owed by the heavens.” 

I watch Kaz carefully, a part of me curious about how someone like him could react to a goal like that. I can see him understanding the ambition of it all, but I can’t imagine himself a person of faith. Perhaps he’ll think it a clever trick. Perhaps he’ll even agree with Kenya.

He nods once; something I get nothing from. 

Whatever. He can be coy and distant this entire time. They all can. I’ll be out of here soon enough, and I’ll find Anya. And if I can stop something bad from happening to Alina then that’s a bonus I’m willing to take risks for. 

“That man is awful.” 

Inej’s voice comes from right behind me. I snap my head around. “You’re in here.” 

She nods once, oblivious to how shocking her sudden appearance is. She hands me a knapsack casually, staring at Kaz. “What’s the plan? We have six hours.” 

I look around the room, only seeing one closed window and one closed door. “There’s one door in this room.” 

“We take the Inferni to the ship.” He doesn’t even bother looking in my direction. 

Okay, they can be mean to be all they want but they can’t ignore me. I don’t think I’ve ever been ignored in my entire life. Gods in the making get attention. It may be the cruel attention of fate, but it’s something. 

“Did she come in through the window?” 

Again, I am ignored. 

“And then what, boss?” Jesper casually crosses the room, sitting down next to me on the small couch. It’s like I’m not even here. “We’d need to break into the Little Palace to get Alina.” 

What? “You guys are going to--” No. No. I am not kidnapping Alina. And there’s no way she’d be in the Little Palace. “First off--if you want to kidnap Alina Starkov for whatever insane ploy you’re all playing at, you’d never find her at Little Palace. She’s not a Grisha and second--” I cut myself off, standing from my seat. “Why am I even telling you this? I shouldn’t be helping you kidnap her.” 

Kaz’s eyes dart to me boredly. At least it’s some kind of acknowledgement of my existence. “I thought you two weren’t close.” 

I seriously consider scorching him. Just a little. Not even enough to scar him, just enough to get him to shut up. “She’s still a person who has a right to her body and what happens to it.” 

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but if we pull this off we get one million kruge.” 

What does he think I’m going to say? ‘Okay, well as long as you’re doing it for a good reason.’ Is that the response he expects. “Okay, well that makes it fair.” 

His eyes narrow skeptically, but Jesper is the one to ask, “Really?” 

“No,” I scoff, slumping back into my seat, “I was being sarcastic.” 

I drop my head back, neck craning over the back of the small couch. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it makes it easier to ignore them. I’ve kept worse company for less. There’s an odd silence for a long second. I look forward without moving, I see Kaz vaguely gesture in Inej’s direction.

“Y/n,” Inej’s voice is refreshingly measured, “I think after the kinds of things we’ve gone through we understand that there’s some relativity in morality.” 

I shift my head to the right so I can look at her. “...Yes, but you’re just forcing another girl into a similar situation.” Why is Alina even worth so much? “And why would anyone pay so much for Alina?” 

Inej hesitates, glancing at Kaz and then back at me. “She’s a Sun Summoner.” 

On instinct, I straighten entirely, my body rigid. They’re insane. “You all are cracked if you think Alina’s a Sun Summoner.” No. No. It couldn’t be her. “Bless your hearts, seriously, she’s--she was trained to be a map maker--she’s not…” None of them relax, none of them shift in any way. What good would lying about this bring them? They have no reason to lie about this. “Saints, I should have had more to drink while downstairs.” 

So what if she’s a Sun Summoner? She didn’t ask to be one. She doesn’t deserve this. I cross my arms. “It doesn’t make this okay.” 

“And would it make it okay if you were getting a cut of the profit?” What? 

Kaz is looking at me in that tactful way. It takes all of my focus to not let myself become unnerved. “What?” 

“If I offered you a cut, would you be able to push aside more protests in order to make working with you easier?” 

Could I do it? Could I betray Alina? I drop my gaze away from his, opting to focus on the forgotten lantern on the coffee table in front of me. It flickers to life with no conscious prompting on my part. The flame is low and blue. Still though, Kaz notices it. What doesn’t he notice? 

“I can help you do what I agreed to.” I swallow around a lump in my throat, “But I cannot help you kidnap Alina.” 

The corner of his mouth tugs downwards. “We’re just going to get her to work with us.” 

“Work with you?” 

“We never said anything about taking her, and if Alina is really your friend you should know that the entire world is after her. Better us who can get her out of an unwanted situation quickly than the brutal General Kirigan who will hold her hostage until she does what he wants.” 

...I guess he has a point. “Oh.” I’m not naive enough to think that their methods will revolve around making Alina comfortable, but perhaps it’s not as dark as I assumed. “Maybe I was a little quick to assume…” I trail off awkwardly, looking at Inej for some type of reassurance. She avoids my gaze. 

I scratch the back of my arm, feeling like a spiraling child. I pick up my knapsack and place it on my lap, fiddling with the strap. 

“Come on,” Kaz stands, adjusting his grip on his cane, “We only have until sunrise.” 

As I stand, I pull down the skirt of my dress, suddenly aware of how inappropriate my clothing is for this late in the night. “Can--can I change first?” 

It’s a sheepish question, leaving me feeling like a child. 

“Five minutes,” Kaz offers, stepping out of the room with the rest of them. 

Inej leaves last, feet more silent than a cat. She offers me the tiniest hint of a smile. Despite my reservations, I beam at her. Something about me finds her politeness endearing despite it all. I think she closes the door loudly on purpose, to assure me of privacy. 

Normally changing in a building so full of drunk men would leave me nervous, but knowing Inej is outside leaves me feeling safe. I may not trust her with my life but something about her being tells me she values personal autonomy enough to protect it. 

I sift through the belongings Inej brought me. Clean underwear I try not think of her searching for, a thin white dress, comfortable pants, shorts, a few casual shirts, my red hood, and a nightgown. When I get to the bottom of the bag, and I see the personal belongings Inej smuggled back for me, I’m moved so powerfully my hand flies to my mouth on instinct. She had brought the folded up piece of paper with the only information I’ve been able to find about Kamil, the book I left on my nightstand, the small candle holder Alina had given me the day before I was taken away, the blade Mal had given me the day I left, the deck of playing cards Anya had first taught me to play with, and my mother’s necklace. The silver north star on a long chain. 

Before I can become too emotional, I take off the Crow’s Club T-shirt Inej had given me when I looked cold. I change into black pants, tucking the small blade Mal had given me into the pocket. The shirt I put on is pale blue, breaking the dark theme of everything around me. I fasten my red hood over my shoulders, basking in the familiar fabric. Lastly, I pull the north star necklace over my head, watching the blue orb with a black dot at its center blink at me in the light. I always found the stone at the pendant’s center odd. I'm quick to walk towards the door, nervous about what wasting their time could mean. 

“Let’s do this,” I sigh, pushing open the door. 

They all pause. Or maybe they were never moving. I try to imagine them interacting normally, but it’s hard to picture them as anything but intense and unflinching. There’s something odd about them, though, Jesper practically sulking and Kaz dropping his head despite Inej’s harsh stare.

“What kind of stone is in your necklace?” 

I swear to the Saints that if Kaz Brekker tries to steal it I’ll melt those leather gloves into his hands. “Try to take it and--” 

“That’s what I get for trying to make ‘polite conversation.’” He throws a look at Inej as he speaks the last two words. 

Wait--did Inej tell him to try to make polite conversation? Wait--more importantly, did he just kind of, almost say something that borders on casual? 

Wrinkling my nose, I let out a slight sigh. “Sorry.” 

His eyebrows draw together quizzically. “Did you just apologize for assuming I’d steal from you?” 

Great. Now I’m fully embarrassed. “Can we just go?” 

“Not before meeting me, I hope.” The stranger’s voice means nothing to me, but the others tense at it immediately. What? The man continues to walk forward, his steps too casual and confident for me to trust. The stranger is quick to respond to the question on my face, “Pekka Rollins.” 

--

Taglist: @ambrosia-v-black @fandomstuffff @boxofteenageideas @losers-club6 @cityofstaars @stillreadingfantasy @slatersbrekker  @xoxo-aclown @alzawas-plug @nuwanda-greaser @swearingsolemnly @-thatgirloverthere-

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7

[deadmandairyland]

Hi! I’m here to bring you yet another Danganronpa tier list: the sexuality tier list, which you can find here.

Now I’m going to be honest here: I don’t really have any LGBT headcanons. It’s just not really something I focus on much when it comes to fandoms. Instead I usually just focus on ships, and as a result from that I tend to present a lot of characters as LGBT in fanfictions and posts I’ve made or reblogged. In other words, a massive chunk of my “headcanons” here are a direct result of shipping (as well as information I’ve picked up from the games themselves). That being said, it was interesting to actually think about this for once, so I’m kinda glad I did the tier list. And it gave me an excuse to bring back the rainbow color scheme I usually put in my tier lists for aesthetic reasons.

The original tier list had Straight at the top, but I moved it to the bottom for two reasons. One, this is Tumblr and that’s not what you’re here for. Two, I gave it a neutral color, and having a gray section next to a white section (i.e. the title of the list) like that looked bad to me. I definitely prefer this setup just on aesthetic alone.

Because this is largely based on ships, I feel it needs to be said that representation does not factor into this chart in any way. I know it probably looks bad that the only character in the Lesbian category is one of my least favorite (though NOT hated or even disliked, I should point out) characters in the main series. That has nothing to do with the fact that she’s a lesbian. She’s just a jerk, and usually not in a way that’s at least entertaining enough for me to like her.

Also keep in mind that this is just the main cast of the main series games. If you were to include characters from the DR3 anime, UDG, or the spin-offs, the Gay, Lesbian, and Ace categories would get more rep, certainly. Think Juzo, Yui, Takemichi, that gay guy with the trumpet, etc.

With that said, let’s go through the list:

Gay

Not gonna lie, one of the reasons why Rantaro is here (and not in Ace) is because of ships. Though I do sometimes ship him with girls, canon suggests he’s not interested in dating girls, and most fans seem to headcanon him as either gay or ace because of this, so I respected that. That being said, I also acknowledge he’s a very popular character in mlm ships, and at the time I was putting this together I hadn’t gotten to Taka yet so the Gay tier was still empty, and Byakuya was already sitting in Ace, so all of that swayed me to putting Rantaro here instead of Ace.

Taka was much easier to place here. He strikes me as a closeted gay man who probably doesn’t even realize he is gay. “Hey, let’s all hang out in the bath, guys! Getting naked is essential to form bonds with your fellow man! No need to be ashamed, it’s tradition!"

Lesbian

Again, ships. I only ship Hiyoko with one other character, and as soon as I say that you already know who she is.

Bisexual (Male Preference)

Akane is mostly here to account for any wlw ships I may have of her (e.g. Hina, Sonia maybe). Obviously she has a thing with Nekomaru, so Male Preference.

Chiaki is here for the same reason as Akane. I’ve shipped her with characters like Sonia and Ibuki before, but she really digs Hajime.

Chihiro honestly could have been anywhere in the Bi and Pan sections, but I ultimately went with Male Preference because of ships, specifically the fact that outside of the more... R18 circles of the Interwebs Chihiro tends to be shipped with guys more often than girls. Also doesn’t hurt that my OTP is Naehiro. I mean, have you seen how often Chihiro blushes around Makoto? (There’s more to it than that, as I’ve covered in the past. I’m just trying to add more fuel to the fire.)

Himiko is probably one of the few characters that isn’t here mainly because of ships. I do think she has some attachment towards Tenko, but I also get “I’m uncomfortable around her” vibes from her, and there are moments where she seems to crush on Kokichi (of all people) so that’s why she’s here. Still very much bi, though.

Hina has a crush on Makoto and has a complex around wishing she was more feminine so she can attract boys. So why isn’t she in the Straight section? ...Because Sakura, duh. And Kyoko too. And any other wlw ship you can think of that might work with Hina.

Honestly if it wasn’t for Miu I probably would have considered putting Kokichi in Gay. Again, while shipping plays a big part of my choices here, much like with Rantaro I have no qualms with putting a character in a tier that contradicts any ships I might have with that character, if those ships aren’t something I’m super invested in. This is a very important distinction, because it’s why I let ships sway my hand for so many of these even if I am also okay with going “Just because I ship this doesn’t mean I headcanon it” as I did with Rantaro. And honestly Kokichi’s ship teasing with Himiko does come off as more trollish than a sign that he’s into her, but he really gets into his back-and-forth with Miu, in my personal opinion, and he gets into it far more often with her for that matter. It’s why it’s one of my favorite ships for both of them tbh, and it’s because I like the ship so much that I just can’t ignore it for this sexuality headcanon tier list.

Maki... is here because of ships (e.g. Kaede).

Sakura... is here because of ships (e.g. Hina). ...What, you were expecting me to put a guy in the example? Remember, she has a boyfriend in canon.

Sayaka... is here because of... NOT ships, but DRAT. Yes, really. (”We really got down and dirty, Naegi-kun.”)

Sonia... strikes me as someone who swings both ways. I can’t describe exactly why I feel that way, but yes.

Bisexual (No Preference)

Celeste wants a harem of vampire boys but shipping her with Kyoko is also very popular and honestly i feel like it would fit her character. She’s got a look that says “I could get any ass I want and I know it.”

Ibuki is decked out in blues and pinks, and also I ship her fairly evenly among both boys and girls. She just screams bi icon to me, more so than any other character in the series.

Junko is either bi with no preferences or pan. She is an equal opportunity heart-and-soul-breaker and lust-for-despair machine.

There is no Mukuro in this list, but honestly I would probably put her where I put Junko anyway.

Kaede... is here because of ships (e.g. Miu, Maki)

Honestly I had no idea where to put Kirumi, so I just randomly chose one that I wouldn’t regret later if I ever put more thought into who I shipped her with.

I’m pretty sure Nagito being bisexual has some degree of canon attached to it??? I think??? I’m not entirely sure tbh, but fuck it. I’m doing this for fun anyway, so this doesn’t really matter.

Shuichi, like all Danganronpa protags, is bi as fuck. I also find him to be more shippable with guys than the other two protags, so IMO he has no preference.

Toko might have a thing or two for pretty boys, but... Komaru, I mean, this isn’t exactly shocking, I don’t think. Probably was closeted before she met Komaru. I mean she did focus on Hina’s boobs a lot in DR1, let’s not forget.

Tsumugi, much like Kirumi, is here because I haven’t put much thought into her ships.

Bisexual (Female Preference)

Gundham has a thing with Sonia in canon, but I can see him being bi. So... yeah, ships again.

Hajime, like all Danganronpa protags, is bi as fuck. It’s just that his Chiaki and Mikan game is just too strong.

Hifumi might claim to only like 2D, but his interest in Chihiro both in human form and computer program form (and the fact that this didn’t go away after the gender reveal) places him here.

Kaito strikes me as a closeted bisexual. The kind that could start any given conversation with “I’m not gay, but...”

Kazuichi also strikes me as a closeted bisexual, only his “I’m not gay, but...” is rooted more in dumbass than it is in systematic homophobia.

Korekiyo... is here because of ships (e.g. Rantaro).

Kyoko is bi as fuck, and I can see her having a preference towards girls in particular. She gets shipped with girls a lot (e.g. Celeste, Hina, Yui, and even Junko and Mukuro), and when she is shipped with boys it’s usually just pretty boys (e.g. Makoto, Byakuya, Ryota, Shuichi, and, depending on your interpretation, Chihiro). Also note that aside from Makoto and maybe Byakuya, Kyoko’s girl ships are far more popular than her boy ships. Just something I’ve noticed over the years.

Leon... is here because of ships (e.g. Chihiro).

Mahiru is here because I’m pretty sure she has a thing for Hajime in her FTEs, but obviously she tends to get shipped with girls more often (especially Hiyoko), and I agree.

Makoto, like all Danganronpa protags, is bi as fuck. It’s just that his Kyoko, Hina, Sayaka, and Mukuro game is just too strong.

Mikan may be interested in Hajime somewhat, but her obsession with Junko cannot be ignored, no matter how much some of you may want to.

Mondo is another character that strikes me as a closeted bisexual. He is said to strike out all the time with girls, so I do think he’s attracted to women. And I do get some vibes that he’s attracted to Chihiro pre-reveal. And if circumstances had been different, I imagine he probably still would have been post-reveal. But obviously it’s his bond with Taka that I feel cements his sexuality in, at the very least, an mlm category.

Tenko... is here NOT because of ships, but because I’m pretty sure she’s at least sort of interested in Shuichi because of some canon thing... and also I don’t want to put her in Lesbian just because it feels like I’d be stereotyping the Lesbian category if I do that. If we were to compare her to the character that I did put in Lesbian, Hiyoko doesn’t treat people like shit because they’re men, she’s an equal-opportunity asshole. Still not the best representation for lesbians by a long shot, but at least Hiyoko doesn’t follow the stereotype of a man-hating lesbian. She’s just like that, and that’s okay. But putting Tenko there, especially if she’s shown some degree of interest in a male character at some point in the game, just rubs me the wrong way personally, because it would feel like I’m ignoring canon just to stereotype her. But that’s just a personal hang up of mine. No disrespect intended toward anyone who genuinely feels that Tenko is a lesbian. Maybe you see something there that I don’t, and that’s perfectly fine.

Pansexual

I don’t remember exactly how her FTEs went, so I’m not going to get into that, but Angie just comes off as pan to me, like gender doesn’t fit into the equation at all for her.

Gonta I can see as either pan or ace. I feel like he wouldn’t care about gender, and honestly the only reason I decided to put him in Pan rather than Ace is because of that scene with Miu.

Imposter is not only pan, they are currently OT3ing it up with Ibuki and Ryota as we speak, and that’s a fact.

Keebo... is mostly here because of ships. A lot of ships, actually. Mostly male ships (Kokichi, Shuichi, Kazuichi, and, depending on your interpretation, Chihiro) but there’s also Miu to consider. And the Miu game is SO strong that I put him in Pan instead of, say, Male Preference.

Just gonna lump them together because I have the same thing to say about both of them: Miu and Teruteru would **** anything that walks. What did I censor? Well, I’m doing the Nier: Automata thing, so you can put whatever you want in there and trust me, it would probably fit, for better or for worse.

Ace

I know this is an unpopular opinion, because Naegami, but I just don’t think Byakuya is interested in anyone, at least not in that way. He might be fascinated with how common people live, because it’s so foreign to him, but that’s about it.

Straight

Even though I do ship Fuyuhiko with some of the boys, his Peko game is so strong that honestly I can’t see him actually dating anyone aside from Peko outside of some very niche fanfiction.

Honestly, Hiro was another one that I was just like “I have no idea what to do with you.” I think maybe his team up with Kanon made me eventually choose to put him in Straight? I don’t remember. I clearly didn’t put much thought into Hiro.

I really only ship Nekomaru with Akane, so that’s why he’s here. I’m sure if I dive deep enough into my psyche I can pull an mlm ship with Nekomaru in it out of my ass, but like Rantaro that wouldn’t be significant enough to change anything.

Peko is in the same boat as Fuyuhiko. I have shipped her with girls before, but her Fuyuhiko game is just too strong.

Ryoma had a girlfriend once, and as far as I can remember he didn’t really seem interested in anybody in the game, so that’s all I have to go off of for him.

-----

So there you have it. Explanations for literally all of them! Explanations that were definitely not pulled out of my ass as I was typing them, nope, certainly not. Definitely won’t be tagging all of them, but I may tag the ones with the longest entries. And like all the tier lists I’ve done, this was just for fun and honestly any opinion I have for any of these characters could change at a moment’s notice because my brain is fickle like that. Tried my best to make sure that every tier had at least one character in it, but I did so without trying to force characters in places that I personally did not believe they should go. I hope you all enjoyed my dive into this area of fandom that I rarely dive into (the LGBT headcanons, not the ships, obviously). It was a lot of fun, and hopefully it will stay fun and not result in angry anons blasting me for my opinions. I am grateful that this never seems to happen to me, but I’ve seen it happen to others and I know what Tumblr is capable of at its worst. These are just headcanons and a matter of personal opinion, and if you disagree with them, that’s perfectly okay. Your feelings and opinions are also valid.

[tinybibmpreg]

prompt fill 5/80, #18 - Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while. ft Percival and Isaacs.

Azathians: Reports

“Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while,” Percival noted, craning his neck to see the shipwide announcement over the screen but making sure his companion could still see him signing. He glanced back to see if the other man was responding, but all his appendages were still. Percival returned his attention to the screen, where it repeated its visual alert that the ship was on lockdown after coming into contact with some sort of flare. The ship’s shields had protected most of the ship, but certain parts like the engine vents had been exposed to radiation and other toxins. To prevent any of that from spreading, all the access doors had locked and vents shut.

Percival wasn’t a technician or pilot, so he wasn’t sure how badly the ship had been damaged or exposed. But their area, crew quarters, was labeled as an unexposed zone. Hazard teams were requested to go through protocol and make their way to damaged and toxic zones, while everyone else was to cease work and stay where they were unless ordered otherwise.

Since protocols were in place for emergencies like this, and communiques would be limited to visuals due to the lockdown, Percival knew that he wouldn’t be given any special orders to go work. He wouldn’t be needed as translator until after the damage had been repaired.

His companion, however… Percival looked towards him and found that he was staring at a smaller screen on the wall of his cubby. He couldn’t see what was on the screen, so he reached out and lightly touched his head. When his eyes on that side glowed and he shifted, Percival knew he had his attention and brought his hand back so he could sign, “Does the Captain need you, Isaacs?”

Though he was now worried that they wouldn’t be spending much time together, he still felt a little thrill as he did the special sign for Isaacs’ name that he’d come up with. Though he’d never be able to sign Isaacs’ real name, as he didn’t have the four tentacles needed to make the proper symbols of it, he felt very happy about coming up with something he thought best matched. When Isaacs signed his name, two of his slightly smaller ‘showing’ tentacles made a shape Percival thought looked like an eye, which he mimicked making a large eye shape with both arms crossed in front of his chest. Then, his two longer ‘front’ tentacles made zigzag lines going down and to the right. To mimic those, Percival used both hands at once and did a zigzag motion in the same direction.

The shape was how he’d come up with the name Isaacs for his lover. Though Isaacs couldn’t hear him, his species not having any ears and relying solely on touch and vision to communicate, Percival had still wanted a name to refer to him as even if only in his head. So, the eye shape became ‘I,’ and the two jagged lines became ‘zigs.’ He’d put them together and thought I-zigs sounded like Isaacs, and it was perfect.

Isaacs approved of his human version of signing his name, and though he couldn’t really judge what ‘Isaacs’ sounded like, he’d given his approval for that as well after feeling the vibrations of his throat as he said the name aloud.

“I am not needed. I am ordered to remain in place.”

Percival grinned under his filtration mask. “That’s great!”

One tentacle curled questioningly.

“We get to spend more time together. And no one will question it because we’re on lockdown.”

Isaacs’ body bobbed. “You are right.” A tentacle wrapped around Percival, and Isaacs moved closer to him. Percival nuzzled his forehead against him in a space between two eyes. As Isaacs settled down next to him, making sure his large spherical body didn’t shove into him within the small space of his ‘bed,’ Percival put a hand on the base of where one of Isaacs’ limbs connected to his head.

Before they could really relax with each other, the visual screen flashed again. This time, it had an order across it. All the ship crew was to report where they were. Isaacs gave an irritated shudder and moved back to his cubby’s screen. He pressed the end of one of his four shorter tentacles to it.

Percival sat up straight and quickly smoothed out his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. Isaacs also straightened up, looking professional as the screen loaded and a visage of the ship’s captain appeared.

“Captain. I obey,” Isaacs signed, putting the end of a long tentacle on his head, where his face would be if he had one.

The Captain, who Percival hadn’t come up with a verbal name for, acknowledged the sign of obedience by hovering the end of their own tentacle over the screen, which would normally be pressed against the tentacle over a subordinate’s face. “Manifest report.”

“I and Interpreter-1 are located in my quarters, First Officer’s cabin,” Isaacs informed the Captain.

The other alien didn’t look pleased. They stilled. Percival hoped that perhaps the video had just frozen, but knew that was just wishful thinking. The Captain hated when Percival was alone with any alien crew member and had wanted to restrict him from crew quarters or traveling through the ship without another human.

Percival wanted to put both hands over his belly, but he didn’t dare, not wanting to appear unprofessional in any way. He couldn’t give the Captain any clue as to who the parent of the babies he was expecting was. It would cost Isaacs his career if he was found out to be the one who had impregnated a human with two Azathian children. He’d be barred from serving on a ship with humans, and since all Azathian ships now employed humans as technicians, he’d be forced to return to the homeworld.

The Captain stepped back so Isaacs could see that they were asking a question. “Why is Interpreter-1 in your quarters?”

Isaacs lied smoothly, “I wanted Interpreter-1 to pass along a message to Terran-1, since Terran-1 and are I both off shift and I did not want to call Terran-1 out of the human quarters. Interpreter-1 was on the way to the human quarters and agreed to take the message.”

“What message?”

“The message was originally a desire to meet at first shift to discuss the duty rooster before Terran-1 started tasks for the day. That is now void.”

“Understood.” Then, another question. Their tentacles roiled in anger as they asked, “Why is Interpreter-1 in your nest cubby?”

Percival butted into the conversation as he realized just how bad it looked for him to be in the suspended ball of a bed, which Isaacs had to lift him into. Reaching out to let Isaacs know he wanted to speak, he shifted closer so the Captain would be able to see him properly. He touched his nose and dipped his head in apology to the Captain, and signed to them, “The First Officer offered to let me sit. I felt unwell.” Not a complete lie. Isaacs had known he was uncomfortable after a long shift going around the ship and insisted he come to his quarters to take a break and lie down in his cubby. He slept better there than his small bunk in the human crew quarters.

“If you were unwell, you should have gone to the infirmary.” The video didn’t have sound, but Percival was certain that if it had, he would have heard the Captain making a furious humming sound. None of the Azathians seemed to be aware they made that noise when they were angry and started shaking a bit. Though he used to find the sound hilarious, now that he was pregnant and in danger of causing his lover’s life to be ruined if their relationship was found out, he’d come to fear the sound from the Captain, who tended to work themself up into a fierce hum whenever they spoke lately.

“I just needed rest. The Doctor says I will feel unwell if I am not resting frequently enough, and I had not gotten enough today.” Percival wished he could say that he had just been standing too much and needed to get off of his feet for a while, but didn’t think he’d used that phrase around the Captain before, and they didn’t appear to be in the mood for an explanation of some odd human expression.

The screen flashed to get Isaacs’ attention. He put his tentacle back on his face.

“Look after Interpreter-1. Make sure Interpreter-1 gets rest.”

“Yes, Captain. I obey.”

With that, the Captain shut off the screen. Percival breathed a sigh of relief and finally put his hands on his belly. Isaacs sank down on a bit on his tentacles, his eyes dimming, also just as relieved.

Percival tapped Isaacs to get his attention. His eyes brightened with focus. “You heard the Captain. You have orders to make sure I get rest. And I think I can only rest if we return to what we were doing.”

After a pleased full-body bob, Isaacs was gliding back next to him, pressing against him with no regard for if his eyes were covered. Percival leaned back against the padded wall of the cubby and then against Isaacs. His lover put a tentacle around him in an embrace. With his others he pulled pillows closer to them, arranging them around Percival in the way he liked.

Settled at last, Percival hummed and pressed his forehead against a smooth spot on his lover’s head. Isaacs shifted and then brought a club to rest on top of Percival’s swollen belly. He placed it so gently, like he was worried he might hurt Percival if he wasn’t as careful as possible with him. Percival put his hand over Isaacs’ club and squeezed it. When the eye closest to his face glowed brighter, he wished he could smile at Isaacs. But his filtration mask covered all of his lower face and he couldn’t remove it outside of the human section of the ship, not when it was far more dangerous to him in his current condition.

Spurned on by the squeeze to his club, Isaacs brought another to Percival’s belly and began to rub it. Percival leaned his head back and closed his eyes, relaxing. He loved when Isaacs rubbed his belly. The soft, warm ends of his limbs felt far better than Percival’s own hands. It’d been strange and a bit frightening at first when his belly began to grow noticeably, but Isaacs being so affectionate to his bump had helped him feel better about the new change.

It was still rather frightening to Percival, being pregnant with two Azathian children. No human had ever been impregnated by one before, and the entire pregnancy was a huge risk. Azathians were supposed to group up and inject one or more Receivers, where the embryo injected would combine with another within the Receiver to mix genes, and then grow for over a year. Or, if the Receiver had no ready embryos, the injected ones would fuse with each other.

Since only the older Azathians chose to become Receivers, they had no problem with carrying two or more children, as they were very large and had plenty of room inside their spherical form.

Percival, however, was most certainly not an Azathian Receiver, and nowhere near the size of even the young adult Azathians. Humans weren’t built to carry for longer than nine months, and definitely not built to carry a baby the size of an Azathian, much less two at once. And the size and gestational length weren’t even the worst of the risk. Azathians breathed in a toxic atmosphere through their skin. Though the aliens easily tolerated the oxygen levels humans needed, exposure to the levels of toxin in the non-human sections of the ship would kill a human in about twenty minutes. Brief exposure would cause respiratory distress, then fatigue and weakness. Hence why all human crewmembers needed to wear heavy filtration masks in order to navigate through the majority of the ship, were required to keep the mask around their necks while awake, and had to keep them within arm’s reach while sleeping or showering.

And because the toxin was as necessary to Azathians as oxygen was to humans, Percival had to receive injections of it into his bloodstream and maintain a tolerable level of it for the babies. The level had increased in minuscule amounts every week and would continue until the babies were born. It scared him, the prospect of having to not only carry large alien babies but to do so while ill. The doctor had hope he would develop a tolerance for it but had stressed to him that he would always feel sick.

Being with Isaacs, however, made that fear wash away. No matter what happened, Isaacs would be there to support him, to help him. Percival knew he’d be able to get through his pregnancy, long enough for the babies to reach a safe age to be surgically removed, as long as he had Isaacs.

Percival sighed happily and leaned back. Repairs would take a long time, he didn’t need to spend it all deep in thought. He could just enjoy spending time alone with Isaacs without having to worry about anyone seeing them.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 100

Whaaaaat....?  I never get over seeing that chapter number.

This is the chapter that will wrap up the Cult Panic story arc. I honestly didn’t intend for it to go this long, but after rushing the Plague arc, I was determined to focus more on making sure I liked how this one went than finishing in a certain timeframe.

After this chapter, our crew will go back to more ‘Humans are Weird’ content, with the fluff and comedy I think we need in current times (especially if you’re American).

Once again, thank you to @zommbiebro for letting me play with Jokul, and @baelpenrose for beta reading and helping me particularly with this story arc.

After our conversation with Jokul, he agreed rather quickly to meet with the Council.  I could even say - truthfully - that no threats were necessary.  Instead, Antoine and I had explained the level of concern Jokul and his group had eventually caused, the former cult-leader had offered to make amends and set the record straight.  The only point I had to convince him of was that the session needed to be recorded and distributed across the ship.  In the end, he conceded only for the reason that such a broadcast was the only way to regain any trust among the population of the Ark.

Two days after our meeting in my office, the Council was gathered in the same room where Arantxa’s trial had taken place. As this wasn’t a trial, instead of each Councillor having an administrator present, the six of us were joined by Jokul,  with Tyche, Antoine, Parvati, Simon, and Arthur as witnesses to attest to Jokul’s statements.

Pranav Ranganathan, as the most neutral member of the Council, opened the meeting. “Jokul Bjornson, you are here of your own volition to account for your recent actions.  To be clear, you are not on trial, there are no charges against you.  You have voluntarily submitted yourself to be questioned by us and to offer to make amends for the interruptions you and your group of followers have caused among the social structure of this ship. Do I understand that correctly?”

To his credit, Jokul was entirely unflinching. “Yes, Councillor Ranganathan. When I arrived on the Ark, I realized that humanity had endured Ragnarok, and our journey to Von was our way of emerging into the renewed world.  I never intended to start a cult, and did not realize that is what happened until very recently.”

It took everything in me to keep from cracking up laughing, just to avoid ruining the recording. The reality was, Jokul had nearly fainted when we explained to him that his group of ‘followers’ had a religious-level worship of him.  He was actually queasy at the concept, it turned out - sure he wanted followers, but he abhorred cultish behavior, ironically.

Without batting an eyelash, he continued. “I will readily admit, I am not the most socially savvy person.  The people I considered to be my friends rephrased every piece of information I received, either by providing it to me directly or by being of one mind in their conviction regarding the underlying meaning of what I learned independently.  In the end, I believed that Councillor Reid had nefarious designs towards not only myself but the entirety of people on this vessel.”

Pranav nodded. “And how did you come to realize that you were acting in bad faith?”

“Let’s simply say I had some sense knocked into me,” he managed to joke.  My chest hurt from restraining my laughter, and I was envious of the snorts Tyche and Arthur indulged in.

That, combined with the presence of witnesses who were not likely to lie for him, seemed to mollify the Council enough regarding his intentions.  Pranav took his seat, opening the floor to questions.

With an entire half-second of hesitation, Xiomara surged to her feet. “I’m sure it will come to the surprise of no one that I’m going to cut to the chase: How can we be assured that you and your allegedly-former followers pose no danger to the society we are trying to establish?  We have no jail to hold you in, our economy is currently calorie-based but we do not agree to any manual labor as punishment. How do we hold you accountable?”

He gestured to where I was sitting. “Councillor Reid is recording the entirety of these proceedings, with the goal of distributing them to the ship.  None of this will be kept in the dark, and everything I say and admit to here will be public knowledge. The entire Ark will be able to hold me accountable to my actions and promises.”

“And what are those promises?” Xio asked, refusing to give an inch of slack.

“One of the demands I made to Councillor Reid was that, should I win the challenge, she would be required to step down from the Council and would never be able to hold a position of leadership at any point in the future.  I feel it is only fair that I make the same commitment.”

My jaw dropped at this. This was a surprise, even to me, and so much so that the iron grip I was keeping on my composure snapped. The rest of the Council was in an uproar, demanding clarification.  Xiomara held a hand up, drawing attention to the fact that she still held the floor. “Please explain what you mean by ‘the challenge’, Mr. Bjornson.”

Jokul paled as he seemed to realize he slipped up. “Sophia Reid came to a gathering of my - well, followers, I supposed - attempting to parlay, so to speak. I refused to listen and made demands of her, insisting she step down from the Council. When I refused to take the path of peace, Arthur Farro agreed to negotiate on my terms, so to speak. He won, so Councillor Reid was able to have her parlay.” He waved to the room in general. “And here we are.”

That is NOT what happened, I thought to myself.  I was fairly certain I was scowling with the effort of not gaping at his explanation. He wasn’t exactly lying, but I had never seen someone throw themselves under the bus like that, much less execute an Olympic-qualifying swan dive beneath one.  Still, Pranav and Eino were looking at Arthur with suspicion, while Huynh smirked his approval at the underlying story Jokul hinted at.

Xiomara arched an eyebrow but said nothing, despite the fact that I knew she had the true story. “So, no holding positions of leadership in the future. And with this recording, you can be held accountable by the ship. Neatly done. That accounts for you. What about your followers?”

He nodded in acknowledgement. “They can only be held accountable if they are known.”

Silence roared through the chamber as my fellow Councillors weighed what he just said. “Jokul Bjornson,” Xiomara ventured carefully. “Please elaborate on what you mean by that?”

Rather than an explanation, the words that fell from Jokul’s mouth were names. One hundred and seventy three names, carefully enunciated and separated only by a brief pause. At no point did his eyes drop from Xiomara’s.  Hers only glanced away once she realized what was happening, and only long enough to confirm that I was recording this for them to refer to later.

After six minutes of names, Jokul finally finished. “Parvati Fletcher. She was only present at that last gathering, but the ideas she spread and comments she made give me reason to believe that she could be a potential traitor in the future.”

Xiomara blinked slowly, processing this information, before coughing violently. Tyche shook with silent laughter, and I was getting a headache from holding my breath to prevent laughing.  Arthur didn’t even try and rolled his eyes dramatically before dropping his head to his hands.

“I would strongly suggest keeping a very close eye on her in the future,” Jokul intoned, entirely serious.

The entire Council looked at a loss for words, unable to even start to explain the issue. 

Arthur, apparently, had no such internal battle, it seemed. “Yeah. Tell you what, we’ll leave that to Xiomara, I think.” How he kept a straight face eluded me. I made a mental note to ask Miys if there were superpowers involved.

“I am quite serious. I believe the entire ship should be monitoring her,” Jokul insisted. “Why would you limit responsibility of this to only one Councillor? I understand she is over Health and Safety, but even she cannot be everywhere at once.”

Delicately, Grey spoke up while keeping one eye on Xiomara. “Parvati Fletcher was part of the group who infiltrated your organization.  I recall she acted as a distraction to provide additional surveillance.”

“But her anti-establishment tendencies - “

“Joke-skull,” Arthur interrupted drily. “They’re lesbians.”

I could hear Jokul’s jaw snap shut from across the room as he turned an amazing shade of red. “Jokul,” he muttered in correction.

Unable to speak up through her laughter, Xiomara sat down, waving at Grey to proceed while shaking with laughter at the odd turn of events.

Entirely nonplussed, Grey stood. “You said that you never set out to create a cult. I ask that you provide insight as to how we can prevent such events from recurring.”  Jokul was clearly caught off guard by the question. His face scrunched in concentration, head tilted.

After two minutes of silence, I surrendered. “Have any of you heard of a post-turtle?” I asked, earning a giggle from Tyche, who was still propping her head up from the shenanigans around Xiomara and Parvati.

Jokul and Parvati were both clearly fighting smiles, but the rest of the room looked confused.  With a sigh, I forged on. “It’s literally a turtle on top of a fence post. You don’t know how he got there by himself. He doesn’t either. But both of you know: he doesn’t belong there, he didn’t get there by himself, and he needs help getting down.” Granted, my explanation was met by a combination of groans and dawning comprehension, but it was accurate enough that everyone clearly got the point.

With a nod of acknowledgement in my direction, Jokul finally spoke. “I ended up where I was because of isolation and a very narrow group of opinions.  I insulated myself in the familiar, and that led to all of my information and discussion coming from sources with an agenda.  To prevent that, I would suggest continuing to encourage that people meet and become familiar with people they normally may not.  Cultural sharing.”

I shook my head as I heard the man who tried to kill me for my actions actually encourage those actions to continue.

And then, he took it further. “Not only with entertainment, which is optional, although they are essential I realize. Take cultural sharing into account when allocating work assignments, which are not optional.”

The last person I expected to speak up defied my last tenuous hold on reality. “I would add class assignments, as well,” Arthur insisted. When I turned, eyes so wide I thought they would fall out, to stare at him, he shrugged. “What!?  You know as well as I do that we learn through the lens of our culture. Mix up culture, you get questions you would never get normally.  Is this dish from this planet halal? I don’t know! You don’t know! But I would love to find out.”

Damnit. He had me there.

“What about further surveillance to prevent clandestine meetings?” Grey asked, dragging us back on topic. 

Jokul firmly shook his head against the notion. “There is plenty of surveillance, and you cannot increase it without creating a police-state. Ordinarily - I guess ordinarily for humans? - travel is the enemy of narrow thinking. We are already travelling at light speed to another planet, but we also cannot go anywhere but this ship. The next best thing is spending a prodigious amount of time around people who are as different from you as possible, I would think. At a certain point, no matter how hard you try, that person becomes a person, and they start to matter to you. You start to care. And you learn whether you want to or not.”

Oddly, that seemed to be the answer Grey was looking for. “I concede the floor to Eino Wiitala,” they intoned officially before taking their seat.

With a nod of recognition, Eino stood. “You just mentioned adjusting our class rosters to provide a more diverse group of students in each class, which I agree with. From an educational perspective, what other flaws are lending themselves to situations such as this?”

Without hesitation, Jokul responded. “The only compulsory course we currently have is the Galactic Core curriculum, and I do agree - now, at least - that it is essential to our new start. However, there is no course in existence that covers the late 20th century through contemporary times. That would be a solid start… Divisiveness ruined our world, did it not?” 

Nods echoed around the table, as he had a solid point.  I had to admit, he thought through this far more than I had anticipated.

Suddenly, the tables turned. “But you - “ he gestured at the entire Council, “do realize that most people on this ship don’t actually know any of you?”

Again, silence filled the room. I felt horrible as the accuracy of his question hit home, but Eino’s infinite calm only went so far as to nod in acknowledgement and encouragement for Jokul to continue.

“One of the underlying flaws that led to all of the recent events, I’ve realized, is that I saw Sophia Reid as a foe to be conquered. And I believed it when others told me she had designs for sovereignty. Had I known her? Were she more familiar to me as a person?” He scoffed, and for once I didn’t get offended. The fact that even Huynh had to stifle laughter at the idea that I was plotting to rule supreme may have helped. 

Jokul spread his hands, gesturing at how absurd everyone found the idea. “Everyone close to her finds the concept of her seeking power laughable, it seems. Anything approaching what I thought of her would not be possible for more than a few minutes of rational thought if people on this ship knew any of you, beyond being the people in power.”

Eino nodded and started making notes. “A series of workshops or seminars, perhaps? Open forums where one of us can be asked any question, get to know people better?”

Huynh grumbled. “Or you snots could just eat in the cafeterias once in a damned while.” Everyone turned to him, stunned. “What? I know I’m the only one who eats with everyone else on the Ark on a regular basis.  Somewhere that I’m not ‘Councilor’ anything, I’m the grumpy Vietnamese guy in the corner who ordered whatever someone was eating that looked good when I walked in.”

Fair… I thought guiltily. It had never occurred to me that my love of cooking meant I rarely ate with people outside my social circle, and I realized that I had been the same way Before.

Xiomara nodded thoughtfully. “Cooking classes.” 

Almost everyone looked confused.  The only exceptions were the smirk Tyche threw my direction and the look of horror I knew filled my face.

Sure enough, Xiomara turned to me. “Sophia loves to cook. What if she did some cooking classes for people on the Ark? And had other people - not the Council - come in and teach her how to make something, as well as the class?” 

While that sounded marginally more bearable, the idea of hosting a cooking class in general flooded me with anxiety.  I decided in that instant that, if I had to host education courses, so did the other Councillors.  Either they would back down, or everyone would be in the same position. I could handle either solution, honestly.

Eino conceded the floor absently, intent on his notes. Pranav was next. The first thing he asked about was the proximity alerts, which Jokul shamelessly admitted to being something they found out by mistake. After Miys confirmed that they would have to replace the implants with some rated for higher electrical current in the brain, we moved on. “It is known that a significant portion of your perception of Sophia Reid stemmed from the similarity between her primary traits and yours.  However, this information is not publicly accessible. How did you obtain this information, and who among your group was able to provide her file? Educator Farro’s as well, for that matter, seeing as you are on record as referring to him as Sophia’s, quote, pet warlord, end quote.”

I was dying to know the answer to this question. I had been waiting for this question. Derek and Zach had been working around the clock for close to a month to find out the answer to this question, to no avail.

However, the expression on Jokul’s face screamed that I was about to be disappointed.

In what could only be described as extreme confusion, Jokul actually removed his data band and passed it to Pranav. “I have nobody’s file but my own. I’ve never had anyone else’s file. You are welcome to perform whatever test you need in order to confirm the truth of that.”

Taking the data band with a nod, Pranav continued his line of questioning. “Assuming what you are alleging is true, how did you obtain information you should not be privy to?”

I should have been clued in by the sigh from Simon and the subsequent look Tyche fixed him with. I should have. But, in that moment, I thought nothing of it. Like an idiot.

Slowly, as though wanting to ensure we understood what he was saying, Jokul answered. “I was freely given this information, when I first woke up on the Ark.”

My stomach dropped when Tyche kicked Simon, who managed not to yelp but tried his best to scowl at her.

If anything, the majority of the Council looked more confused. Xiomara, however, groaned loudly. “When you woke up, who did your initial interview?”

“Interview?”

“Who was the first human you spoke to on the Ark?” she clarified pointedly.

With relief, Jokul’s expression relaxed. “Simon Rodriguez. When he explained why I was on this ship, he stated that there was another person with similar attributes who they were searching for. One Sophia Reid.” He gestured to me. “When we discussed my history in the After, he also mentioned that his previous conversation was, ironically, with another warlord.” Here, he pointed to Arthur. “This information was freely given. Certainly nothing obtained by devious means.”

Recording, hell. The sound of my palm hitting my forehead was echoed around the room and punctuated by a loud crack. When I peeked around my fingers, I saw a smug look on Parvati’s face and bright pink mark on Simon’s face.

After a couple more minutes, Pranav stood hesitantly, all formality gone. “That.  That satisfies my questions? I believe so. Giang?”

“No questions,” he barked. “I will keep that suggestion in mind for the engineering crews,” he added, pointing at Jokul. “He has a good point, and we should listen to that.”

I never, in my life, thought I would wholeheartedly agree with Giang Huynh, but I found myself nodding hard enough to risk injuring my neck. When he turned to me with a pointed look, I realized it was my turn. “No questions,” I held my hands up in surrender. “All of my questions have been addressed, quite publicly.” I couldn’t resist, in the end.

Arthur smirked in satisfaction and reached for the hilt of his sword but managed not to stroke it. Jokul scowled deeply, but at Arthur instead of me.  I could live with that.

It was astonishing what I had just learned I could live with, it turned out.

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[orangegreet]

No Minor Miracles | Chapter 4

On the Other Side of the Fold

In which we get a glimpse into what Alina has been up to all these years.

Three Years Ago

Alina opened her eyes.

It was well past midnight now. The sounds from downstairs told her people were still up but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the bed.

Who would she be once she stood from it? She could not say for sure anymore.

Ten years without looking upon his face. The jolt of adrenaline at seeing him left her off-kilter.

Had he always been so passionate?

Her breath was quick thinking of it. Of his hands. Of his mouth. His eyes alight with a touch of madness, desperation. Yes, he had always been this passionate.

With her—always.

His passion was never the problem. It only made being away from him harder.

It was the passion he evoked in her that was dangerous.

Alina forever fought an internal battle to contain the Light inside herself. That was what she called it, anyway. Though it was not altogether pure or holy, this Light.

It was easier when she was younger. Before she had seen so much pain and horror. These experiences only built the energy up inside, made it harder to contain. Alina tried to wield her powers in ways that brought justice and healing.

A handful of situations called for her to use her Light to eradicate; deliver annihilation and nothing less. She tried to be frugal with these instances.

More often than not in her adult years she felt she was a poorly constructed lamp. Full of something combustible which thirsted for the flame. A constant state of anticipation kept her limbs jittery and her mind alert for the next opportunity to ignite.

Seeing her Shadow Summoner, speaking candidly with him about what they both wanted—their future together, eternity—made containing the blaze feel dangerously precarious.

She had claimed him as hers and in that singular moment her Light exploded with a possessiveness that frightened her. Every molecule of her would gladly burn anything in the way to getting what she wanted—him.

Now she was here in her bed again, listening to the sounds of people in the boarding house.

Scared to move. Scared to stay. Scared to speak and string together any words. For the words would surely be lies. What could she say to her people? It would be better not to speak at all.

Everything about this was tiring.

Using the tether was not like falling asleep. She was not rested. That was the longest she had ever stretched the connection. The most she had touched Aleksander in years.

But they had not really touched, had they?

Enough soft touches were exchanged between them to know it was real but the lingering feelings of skin on skin were fading quicker than steam.

Does it all happen in her mind? It felt so real.

A moment before she had been experiencing that pleasant soreness between her legs. The feel of Aleksander’s fingers sliding and pressing inside her were so vivid. On this side of their visit it was terribly muted.

Where before she elated in the satisfaction in his presence, she felt now that she had been denied. Orgasm undone.

What witchery was this shit?

Reaching her hand down, she parted the dress uncovering her thighs. He had done just this; she felt the way the fabric slid over her skin.

She did not have his hands now. She did not have his mouth, nor his tongue. She did not have the wild look in his dark eyes. Full of promise of what was to come.

Saints, she really might kill to learn what would come next under his direction.

The wetness smeared between her thighs told her at least that her mind made it as real for her as possible.

With memories of him so recent it was easier to finish than it had been in years.

“Are you feeling okay?” Tamar was staring at her.

Alina pulled her eyes away from her plate.

“Yes. Tired is all.” She untucked the hair from her ear and let it cover her face while she ate.

“Timur said you went to bed early last night.” Tamar kept the accusation out of her tone, but Alina knew a press for information when she heard it.

Behind her hair she tried to calm the rush of blood and heat to her face. Things would have to end with Timur. Soon.

“I wanted to be alone. I did not know there would be an interrogation about it.” Alina looked at her friend.

Tamar held up her hands in surprise.

“Lay down your weapons, Sun Queen. I’m not trying to corner you. Just don’t try to tell me that something isn’t going on after that reaction. Tell me you want me to stay out of it but don’t lie to me about it.”

Alina stared back at her and then nodded, “Fine. You’re not wrong. I don’t want to talk about it and I want you to stay out of it.” Her voice sounded cold, even to her, and Tamar’s face hardened but she acknowledged the request with a nod.

After a moment’s pause Alina continued, “I’m sorry. I’m not myself.” Then, as she remembered more details of the night before added, “I need to ask you to do something.”

Tamar was alert again. “Send word to our envoys in the West. Warn them against staying in camps near the Fold for longer than two nights. They’re drawing attention.” Tamar nodded though covered her confusion at the instructions by looking away.

Alina stood and collected their plates, retreating to the kitchen without word. Lunch was nearly over and the other people dining did not try to get her attention as she passed; her aura gave off a sense of foreboding.

She relieved the young squaller on kitchen duty and began filling the basin with water and soap.

It was mercifully quiet in the empty kitchen save the occasional click of new dishes stacking by the dining window at her back and the thud of a plate sinking to the bottom of the basin underwater.

This was the best time to think—hands busy with their own purpose and a sense of satisfaction at dirty dishes made clean.

Why did it feel like penance?

Should she feel guilt for wanting to see him? For going to him when he called to her?

For staying? For taking her pleasure? Promising herself to him?

It was her right to pledge herself to whomever she wished. She was her own person. She would be her own person long after all these people turned to dust.

The flame inside her flashed in approval.

She was her own person and no one else understood the weight of eternity like she did. Like Aleksander did. Like—

“You do not fool everyone as well as you think.”

Alina straightened her back. Her hands stilled. She did not turn.

“You mistake me. I am not trying to fool anyone.”

Suds ran down her fingers and dripped into the dirty water.

“I feel the shadows stirring inside you, girl.”

Alina took a breath. She turned, head held up with dignity. She would not be cowed or reprimanded.

“Your observations are wasted. It is not your place to monitor me, nor guide me.”

Baghra stamped her cane against the ground and Alina twitched a fraction.

“Yet you take my advice when it is offered, do you not? You are not wholly a fool.”

Of course she was bringing up the very thing which plagued Alina’s conscience for the last month. The thing which Baghra ultimately swayed them on.

“It remains to be seen how that advice will play out. The Council has never been so divided as it was after that meeting. It has yet to recover.”

Baghra scowled and if she would younger might roll her eyes to match the disdain. Alina held her ground, unwilling to pretend it was the simple matter that was being presented.

The transportation portion of their enterprise had been in something of a bind when they lost a ship to a storm at sea. Moving refugees under the noses of several government entities, across three and four countries, was delicate work. One snag in the system and lives would be lost.

They were desperate and in need of a new ship to turn around and collect the refugees who were already on route to the rendezvous point on the Arkesk peninsula.

It was under such duress in their ranks that they allowed a known Grisha slaver to pick up this run at their discretion. The group was to be delivered within three days time and until then, they would all be on edge.

It had been an ugly council meeting, one in which Baghra had issued a persuasive argument.

Use the man. Know his faults but use him just the same. Determine his routes, his suppliers and his commissioners. Use his boat and his crew for the time-being. We will dispose of him when the time is to our advantage. If we are lucky we will take down others in his network after.

They voted to do so in the end. They would use him, posing as wealthy merchants looking to transport indentured servants to Kerch the long way around. It was either that or they would have to forfeit some twenty Grisha lives who lingered a little too close to the Fjerdan border.

Baghra continued, waving her cane at Alina, “You know that I know what is best. For us, for Grisha. Even if it is not the bowl of sunshine you wish for. That slaver may be a beast of a man but he has been a beneficial resource for us when we needed it.”

Alina’s temper flared.

“Your advice comes with caveats and darkness all the same. He is a beast. One I will have to put down soon along with his crew. I would not boast about having a hand in it, if I were you.”

He would be put down. In the next week based on the impending timeline.

“You do not like the things I say but you need to hear them anyway. I have some years on you yet, girl.”

Baghra was getting haughty and it drew another sneer out of Alina.

“You overestimate your usefulness. You are here to serve, not to dominate nor direct.”

Baghra pointed a gnarled finger at her, “No, I am here to stop you making as big a blunder as my son—“

“You are here at my invitation alone. I did not request your presence nor your guidance.”

Baghra’s face twisted into a scowl.

“Just as haughty and prideful as he is. Don’t forget who told you the truth of him, girl. He would have played you for a fool were it not for me.”

Keeping the fury off her face was a struggle as her hands glowed and heated like white hot irons.

How many times had she heard this?

It was demeaning. An impudence on her very character. On Aleksander's too. Neither woman could be sure what would have happened because there was no option for it to play out.

“I have not forgotten anything about that time, Baghra. If you believe the worst of your son, that is your choice. I have the same facts as you and I will interpret them as I see fit.”

The old woman stamped her cane again, her face showing an increasing desperation.

“Listen to me, Sun Summoner—“

“No. You listen to me now.”

The authority echoed around the small kitchen as the fury of her Light poured out of her pressed against every surface.

Heat emanated from the pores of her body and the golden hue of her eyes flashed with her power.

When she spoke it was quiet but no less effective.

“You are here at my allowance. It was you who requested we transport your Grisha soldiers out of the army and into safety. It was you who decided to stay and lend guidance to those who wanted to help. But it was at my word—“ she paused for a breath, staring the woman directly in the eyes, “that we granted you room and board and station among us.

“This operation was running long before your arrival and it will continue to run in the event that either of us leave or perish. That is the mark of the strength of it’s foundation. Do not attempt to control me or assert your years. I do not need them and neither are they vital to the continued success of this mission.”

Baghra’s face was still twisted into a scowl but she banged her cane once more against the floor and left in a huff.

Alina closed her eyes and inhaled deep. Her light withdrew and the kitchen was quiet and cozy once more.

She turned back to her task and continued to wash, eyes drifting up to the window overlooking the savannah around them. It was a beautiful day in Novyi Zem.

Banishing Timur from her bedroom was more difficult than she thought it would be. He did not want to go.

The Heartrender stroked her skin and spoke in soft tones and attempted to convince her things could remain casual.

These days all she felt was the itch of the tether inside her. Pulling taut, falling slack. As if one or both of them would pick it up and then let it go over and over. It was consuming. It was invigorating.

Alina blinked and pulled her wrist away from Timur again.

“You will make your next partner very happy and quite satisfied,” he smirked at her words and she pressed against his shoulder to keep him from leaning close again.

“I am leaving soon. I cannot say for certain how long I will be gone but you are to remain here and coordinate transports.” She said.

“I could go with you, look out for you.”

Alina strived to keep the annoyance off her features. As if she had need of him to keep herself alive.

“You are needed here with those who are far more vulnerable.”

Her tone sealed it. She no longer looked sentimental or even charmed by him. Timur furrowed his brow and pulled away.

“Very well, I will make you proud.” He bowed to her and her body ached to cringe at the gesture but she held still. A gracious nod was returned to him before he left her room.

Alina relieved the building tension in her body that evening. Her confrontation with Baghra, her tiff with Tamar and her dismissal of Timur had exhausted her for the week. More reminders of the reality of the mortal life span. Sometimes it did all feel petty. Small scale.

She longed for the comfort and longevity of Aleksander.

The newest round of refugees were safely delivered and ‘paid for’ the night before. Now it was time to cut ties with the slavers and get their money back.

A moment of combustion was upon her and she left the safety of the boarding house to channel the fury.

The light bent around her body as she crept onto the slaver’s boat. He kept a skeleton crew—just down to four or five men now.

When she entered the crew’s quarters, none of the men stirred. If any had been awake in that moment, they would have seen an Angel of Death.

They could have watched as she cast her eyes up toward the sky as if in supplication. They could have seen how she returned from that moment with light gathered in her palms. Could have gaped in awe as she squeezed the energy into twisting solar charges.

The charges hung in the air over the body of each man, writhing and coiling with barely controlled vitality. Two of the men at least did open their eyes at the sudden brightness. The bolts of sunbeam struck each crewman in the heart. One moment of awe, the next moment compressed by death.

The Captain’s quarters were locked. Nothing a flash of steel-melting sunlight couldn’t handle.

“Who’s there?” He sat up in his bed, a revolver pulled from under his pillow.

Alina was invisible again. She came to stand behind him, her light burned the hand with the revolver and it fell to the floor. Capitalizing on his distraction, she trapped his wrists and secured them with rope.

He yelled and thrashed but she remained invisible to him. No one could hear him scream anyway. He did not yet know that.

She bound his feet to the bed and his wrists to the low ceiling so he sat half up in his bed.

When she revealed herself, his face bore confusion and betrayal.

“You crazy bitch! I did your run and you got what you paid for!”

“Your use has run its course. Your men received a merciful death. It was quick and silent. You will not be so fortunate.” She said. Her voice was hoarse but she continued, reaching up to tighten the holds in his wrists.

He began to thrash again and paused only when her hand began to glow.

She pressed the fiery palm to his mouth and his muffled scream vibrated in his throat.

Alina held her hand to his face until the fat melted under her touch and the skin curdled like dry parchment over a flame.

When she pulled her hand back, she admired the outline of it burned across his disfigured face. He tried to move his mouth but screaming had become too painful for him. His visage was melted into a permanent grimace.

“The Sun’s Palm over your face silences your cries just as you silenced the cries of the Grisha you captured and sold. Just as you branded them for captivity, so you are branded for judgement.”

Tears streamed from his eyes as he watched her tower over him.

“The ropes at your hands and the ropes at your feet represent the binds of slavery which you have sentenced upon thousands of Grisha in your lifetime.”

Alina raised a blade above his heart and looked into his face.

“When I carve out your heart, it will be a humble sacrifice to the Saints. A meager offering of penance for the thousands of hearts you have carved from the chests of the Grisha who trusted you. Those who believed you would deliver them to safety, to refuge, to freedom.”

She glowed. A subtle, quiet glow that covered her skin and caused his eyes to grow wide as they continued to water.

“And perhaps the Saints will have mercy on you. I cannot.”

As her hands pushed the blade through the hardy barrier of his sternum, she tried not to luxuriate in the satisfaction.

As she left the ship rocking quietly in the harbor, she bent the light around herself again and retreated back to the boarding house. The bodies were disposed of and it was safe to send in the clean up team to retrieve the valuables on board and begin preparing the ship for a new name and new heading.

No one would ask after the slaver or his crew. No one admitted they existed. A grim reality which was to their advantage now.

As she walked the dirt paths back home she thought of the face of the slaver. Recalled the moment the light left his eyes. Pabel would be dismayed to see her. His little Sun should not find pleasure in murder.

It was not pleasure, she would argue. It was justice.

It was a small taste of satisfaction in the name of justice. For Grisha. For her parents. For herself.

He would fret over his memories of a General he knew. One who murdered frequently.

Alina pondered this herself but for a different reason.

When the Darkling exacted his vengeance, it was cold and expressionless. He executed with pens and ink and moving pieces on a map. She admired that about him.

For all she tried to distance herself, her vengeance was too personal. It was alive. She breathed and it moved and when she set on the path of destruction she could hardly contain the intensity of her Light from clawing out of her being to burn everything along the way. It frightened her.

For the rest of the evening she battled with her own will. Always after battle—murder, she found that though she quelled the combustible thing inside for a while, the urge to seek out carnal pleasure was nearly insatiable.

This is why she sent Timur away from herself. She could not continue to exercise this out with him. He wanted too much. Took her thirst for pleasure as something to do with him. Alina could not allow him to see that side of her any longer. It did not belong to him.

The need to seek out Aleksander, to relish in the glory of her bloodlust, was strong. Though she knew if she did reach out to him, if they came together through tether or by the mercy of the Saints, she would not be able to stop herself.

She would sit herself astride him and she would ride her body against his own. Together they would revel in the righteous justice she wrought and in the cosmic pleasure that belonged to them alone and she would not let him stop until she passed out.

If she started she would not stop.

Alina cursed the strength of her will all night.

It was deep in the hold of a merchant ship that she felt him call. A real and distinct pull from within her. She gave her excuses to Tamar and retreated to her bunk. She tucked herself in the corner of her bed and let herself fall out of space and time and consciousness and into him.

He was sleeping.

The black silk fabric of his sheets slithered between his legs and his torso was covered in a cold sweat. Alina crouched by the bed, unwilling to wake him.

Her eyes devoured every detail of his beautiful face. He would not be happy to wake and find her here, she was sure. Their game of chess was predicated on having the upper hand and to be invited into his presence at the height of his vulnerability would crush him.

The burn of her own victory was pleasant though. She tried not to laugh out loud.

She watched his face in repose for hours just thinking of a time when she would not have to hide this desire from him. From anyone.

Alina left before sunrise.

The next time he called she was already in bed and alone. She went to him immediately.

He was asleep again.

Well. This was too irresistible. She climbed in next to him and gently brushed her fingers through the strands of his dark hair. His face relaxed and she smiled.

She was not sure how long she stayed, only that she woke up in her own bed to see dawn over Kerch.

The third time it happened she was not so pleased anymore.

The success she was feeling initially on her mission in Kerch was waning. Finding a sponsor for herself among the upper class was proving to be difficult.

If she continued to meet dead ends, she would need to follow up with their contact in West Ravka. Though Alina found that option to be the most promising for the sake of strategy, she was not ready to return to her home country.

When she felt the tug she went eagerly.

All she wanted was to see his eyes. Open for a change. She wanted to see him seeing her again.

And yet he was asleep.

His rest looked fitful. He tossed in the bed as she watched him and though she wanted to see his eyes and to hear his voice, something inside her told her that he would not be kind tonight.

Perhaps it was the feelings he felt inside himself that she was sensing. Guilt and anger and torment. Crippling aches of sadness.

It hurt to be so close. The little glass dome within herself was brittle. To be hurt by him could break it permanently and she might lose control over what would come pouring out in response.

She did not have the strength to endure it tonight.

Alina allowed herself a gentle stroke to his ear, only enough to trace the curve of it and to rub the lobe between her fingers where his skin was soft.

He stirred.

She left.

West Ravka was nothing like she remembered. Admittedly, the ballroom before her was nothing she could have come close to seeing in her youth. Much less as she was now: an honored guest.

Alina sipped her wine and turned on the spot, her eyes caught on the gilded dome above the sea of people.

“Anya.” Alina turned.

“Xenia,” Alina said, sighing a bright smile and reciprocated kisses to her cheek. “I was just coming to find you. They will be seating us soon.”

The blonde tresses of her friend brushed against Alina’s face and Xenia whispered in her ear, “This is the man I spoke of to you.”

Xenia pulled away as a man in formal army attire approached, a bashful smile on his face. “Commander,” Xenia was beautiful when she smiled and the man did not take his eyes from her face, “this is my dear friend, Anya.”

Alina extended a hand, “A pleasure, sir. Xenia has nothing but glowing things to say about you.”

The man blushed further, “Xenia is exceedingly kind. I understand her family have been hosting you the last couple months now you’ve graduated university. Tell me, how are you enjoying West Ravka, Anya?”

Alina pulled a simpering look, “The society is everything I have been missing and more. When Xenia and her family agreed to take me in as their ward, I was deeply honored. To gain such a lovely sister as a result was beyond my wildest daydreams.”

Xenia kissed her on the cheek again and the Commander looked on fondly.

Alina ran her fingers over the gold necklace Xenia had placed around her neck that evening.

If you will represent our house, Anya, you will do so as a most treasured ornament. Xenia had said as Alina sat at her vanity.

Alina had laughed, feeling sincerely endeared to her host and lamenting the secrecy which kept them unequal. Xenia dear, we all know you are the true ornament of any gathering. I am happy to be bystander to your beauty.

Beauty I have in spades, I suppose. However, it is companionship I wish for most. I have never had many true friends before. Xenia said honestly.

Alina stared back, speculation on her face and a little pity as well. I appreciate the hospitality your family has extended to me, Xenia. Similarly, I hope you know I think of you as more than a means to an end. You may trust me.

Xenia looked taken aback at the bluntness of the statement and then quite pleased. Very well, I shall confide in you. I do have someone special whom I would like more time with but without the presence of a chaperone, I am doomed to see him only in passing for the rest of the season.

Leave it to me. Alina had told her.

Over dinner, Alina continued to facilitate conversation between the couple before her. The Commander and the blonde woman who was a real jewel of Ravkan society this season.

They were beautiful together and Alina felt twinges of absence missing her own beautiful person.

The tether had been pulled taut for a weeks but there was no true tug and she could not leave in this moment in any case.

“Anya has completed her studies in public services, education and accounting.” Xenia said, looking at Alina. She blushed in response, taking a demure stance to keep from needing to elaborate.

“Saints alive!” the Commander said watching her now with interest and puzzlement. “What is it you intend to do for Ravka with such a background?”

“Reformation to orphanages mostly, Commander. With the Fold and the War, many of Ravka’s children are left without parents, education or even proper nourishment. As a woman, I believe there is good work to be done on the home front while our brave soldiers continue to guard and protect our freedoms.” Alina said.

She added a blush to her cheeks for effect. “I had hoped to meet the First Army General tonight. It’s foolish, I know. He’s a terribly busy man, after all. I simply hoped to discuss ideas with him where our pursuits might overlap.” She carefully brushed around her mouth with her napkin, eyes lowered in deference to the Commander.

“You don’t say?” The Commander looked at her like he wished to laugh but it was lost to him. Alina was not so pleased at the calculating look she found on his face now. She much preferred his ambivalence to this development but there was no turning back now.

The comrade in uniform seated next to him gave him an elbow to the chest and added, “Sankta Anya, is it? What a treasure you are, lovely. I’m sure the General would love to make time for you.” The man’s speech slurred and the Commander looked at him with wary eyes before deciding to abandon the discussion as a whole.

Alina seized the chance to turn the conversation back onto Xenia.

Late that night, long after dinner was finished and Alina had made acquaintances with several more diplomats and senior military, she took the carriage home. Xenia slept against her shoulder and the women held hands loosely in her lap.

The evening was a success. The Commander would be joining them for dinner in a fortnight and even if she could not get an audience with the General himself, she had time to plan at least. A Commander was nothing to scoff at in the scheme of things.

Alina let her head rest against the window.

Loneliness had stolen over her strongly throughout the evening.

It was difficult to tell if it was her own.

Frankly, hiding under the cover of a fake name with false pretenses would have that effect on anyone. And yet her thoughts strayed to Aleksander and the loneliness—and longing—intensified.

She retreated to her bedroom and stripped herself of her overlaying dress. Just as she began to take down her hair, the tether inside gave an almighty tug and she could not help herself for how quickly she followed.

He did not see her immediately. She took advantage of his distracted state to watch him. Her Aleksander was finally awake. The Light inside herself brightened and expanded.

His attention was fixed on letters in his hands and she lingered on the planes of his chest on display through the gap in the fur he wore.

Alina’s eyes lifted to his face again. Something in his expression quieted her.

“Hello Aleksander.”

When he finally looked at her, she sighed at the sight of his eyes again. Too long. It had been too long.

Something had shifted inside him. At first she only knew that something had but by the time he was yelling an accusation that she was there to spy on him, a realization set in.

That mask of indifference which was once fixed on his face was at last broken.

She honored the transformation by taking him to his bed and cradling his head in her lap.

There she held his face with utter reverence and when he responded by pulling her around him, she went happily as his shield.

There was no one in the world except they two right now. She needed him. Her Light danced.

When he asked her once again to tell him details of her life she felt her control cracking.

How could she tell him now, while he appeared to be on some mental precipice no less, that her entire life was smuggling Grisha out of several countries, East Ravka included. That she helped them dodge the draft, helped them escape—far outside of his purview. An operation which was founded primarily with the help of deserters from his Second Army.

Alina could not betray her people that way.

Alina could not reveal her own treachery to him. Not when they were so fragile. The shame she felt at feeling more sympathetic to him than to her own mission and people was not lost on her.

She should have known Aleksander would not let go once he latched his jaw to something raw. In an attempt to dismiss the conversation, she only invited him deeper.

“You should also know on this side of the Fold, there are those you have harmed who would seek retaliation on you. I do not know that I can stop them.”

“Those I have harmed? Who exactly do you mean?”

She shrugged a shoulder, wanting him to drop it and move back into less dangerous territory. “Does it matter? I do not think you notice or think of it as harm. You do things as a General in war and those actions hurt people. People who are dear to me.”

“Tell me which people are dear to you and I will see that it is stopped.”

“Do not mock me.”

“Perhaps you could draft a list? First and last names please, followed by their exact locations and their specific relationship to you.”

The heat of her light was intensifying inside her, roiling just thinking of the stories she knew about this General.

First hand accounts of his ruthlessness reaching back decades before her even. She had heard so many over the years.

The first she knew of the General at all were stories from Pabel. Pabel who raised her, who loved her, who warned her.

Pabel who once stood by the General where Ivan stands now.

Aleksander did not even stir in recognition of the name. Pabel was not an uncommon name—it was silly to think he should even have a recollection of the man. He may well remember him but only as a soldier he thought long dead.

The idea that he could have forgotten about Pabel at all made her upset.

Perhaps it was her own guilt but she was angry with him now. Angry at the way his actions would continue to keep them apart.

“You know, for as long as I have desired you and wanted to keep you for myself, you have made it very difficult for me to be able to do so in good conscious. It seems that you do nothing but set up more obstacles for us.”

He tried to appeal to her, “Surely you can meet me halfway on this, Alina. Tell me how to make things right for us right now and I will do everything in my power to see it through. You cannot leave me in the dark forever.”

The frustration was mounting in them both. The negotiation went on. Alina tried in vain to give him a glimpse into the way things had to change—show him how she had changed.

She felt that she was doing her part for them already, why could he not see that? Why did he make things worse on his end?

The Light was licking up her insides and she was almost vibrating to contain it. She would use anything to make him understand.

Alina considered telling him about the slavers from just a few months before. If he could see her in her darkness, would he believe then that she did not see herself above him?

Would he understand that to keep her in true balance was a more convoluted task than her Light and his Dark? It was not so clean anymore.

The conversation was out of her hands. It was moving too quickly. He brought up the past. His plans for her hoping that she would—what? Feel guilty for screwing him out of his plans to dominate her? To control her? He was a fool.

She did not expect the Cut.

Whatever was said, whatever state he was in, she did not expect this.

Alina tackled him to the bed. “The Cut? Saints, Sasha. What were you going to do if that actually killed me?”

“We both know it wouldn’t have. Best case, it would have severed our connection and I could get some bloody peace for once. I could finally think.”

He hid his eyes from her again. The fire inside her was at capacity, she had seconds of composure left. Seconds before she burst, before she tried to strike him with lightning for hurting her. Why did it always have to end this way for them?

Life-threats made, old wounds recut and one or both of them begging the other for some sort of mercy.

Underneath the tempest and brewing storm, she found a core of shadow. The fire raged inside her but at it’s center was a cooling black vapor. Alina burrowed in. The vibrating stopped. The roaring in her ears and the agony of desire which was present just a moment ago slowed like cooling lava.

“You’re right.”

Pulling herself off, she held her knees to her chest on the bed beside him.

“It is selfish to keep coming back here when I know I am not ready.”

The way Aleksander was looking at her made her feel like that small girl from years ago. The one who got her hopes too high for him. The girl who managed to forget all the pain that came before her. The girl who fell in love with him in the first place, even when everyone in her life had warned her away.

When she first arrived at the Little Palace, all confidence and determination, she was hoping to get the drop on him. She was pleased that she did.

Aleksander hadn’t heard rumors even of the existence of a Sun Summoner. Much less one who was fully grown and undeniably powerful. It filled her with mirth to see his confusion and awe openly on display.

At the time it was easy to think she was ready to face him. He was nothing more than a boogeyman. An idea of a person molded in her mind by his former foot soldiers, his critics, his victims.

It was exhausting to hold all these accounts in her head and not have one of her own to compare. She begged Pabel to allow her to meet him but he refused. He said he worried too much about what would become of her once The General knew she had arrived in the world.

Once Pabel died she could endure only a couple years of mourning. Once her heartache subsided, the vibrating need to act had returned and she could not delay meeting the Shadow Summoner any longer. They were the only two of their kind in this generation of Grisha.

And Pabel had left her alone in the world.

More than that, his very being seemed to call to her.

Across land and sea and amplified by the Fold, he called. When she was finally close, she found peace. And then she already loved him. It did not take long.

And yet all the people she knew and loved—all the people who had ever loved her—identified this one man as the enemy.

It was humiliating how quickly and easily she fell in love with him despite this fact. Alina was thankful Pabel was not alive to ask her about him. She never was able to lie well to her adoptive father.

How could she explain to anyone that being with Aleksander made her feel like she existed outside of time itself, protected from its costs. She was seen by him there. Stripped down and bared in her entirety, unguarded; only for him.

It was that vulnerability that broke her. Aleksander would break her further if she stayed. When she left, she collected herself. Rebuilt stronger and more durable. They would come back around again. He would come back around.

It was painful to sit on his bed now. It was painful to look into his empty eyes. It was painful to love someone, to reach for them with every molecule of power inside herself and to know that it was not enough.

Not for now, anyway.

“We should go back to how things were before. It’s cleaner.”

He didn’t disagree. He didn’t say anything.

When she opened her eyes, she was still in her bed in West Ravka. The fire was crackling and there was a warming pan between the sheets. Tamar must have come by because a note was left unopened on the nightstand.

Alina rolled away from it. Her body curled into itself.

The loneliness that hung around her like a fog these last months finally swallowed her up. It coated every inch of skin and left her chilled.

Alina cried until the salt burned and dried in her lashes and her throat ached for rest.

The next day she moved and spoke as if nothing of significance had happened. Xenia tittered about the Commander and Alina played her part recounting the details of every exchange. They prepared for the impending dinner and Alina converged with Tamar through letters to determine their next moves.

Her Light had gone quiet for now. She rested in the safety of the shadow beneath it. Not tempted by emotion or driven one direction or another. For once she allowed herself to rest from the erratic nature of her power.

It would be there in a week when she opened herself up to it again.

Aleksander would be there too, eventually. That was the one thought which penetrated the shadow in her core. Aleksander would be there when this was all over. They were Inevitable.

This was the one comfort she could allow herself. A single flame in the center of dense black.

[scarpool-gmk]

10

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 10 (12/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Annabeth sighed. "It was Michael's father, wasn't it?"

Gibbs's masseter muscles flexed. "Impersonating a federal agent is a criminal offense."

Well, she already knew the answer to her question anyway. "I know that."

"Is that all you've got to say, Chase?"

"I won't apologize if that's what you're searching for."

Gibbs jabbed a finger at her. "You lied to me! In my house!"

"Did you expect me not to? What did you want from me?"

"The truth. Honesty. Trust."

"I couldn't take that risk."

"You took that risk the moment you came into my investigation, meddling with my team."

Was this guy for real? "I had more than myself to worry about, Agent Gibbs. I had my mission, my friends, and Michael."

"Your mission? Something other than Kahale?"

"He called me because something was wrong. 'Help them,' he told me. That was my mission. Find out who needed protection and from what."

"His family," Gibbs concluded, "And you entrusted me with them, what he told you to protect."

"Justice still needs to be carried out, and by leaving it to you, I know it will be dealt with professionally and impersonally."

Gibbs took a second. "You trust me in that."

Annabeth nodded. "Yes."

Gibbs peered at her. "How'd you know?"

"About Mr. Kahale? He would have told me the truth."

"That simple, huh?"

"He knew who we were, there was little excuse. And when I figured out his family was what Michael was talking about, I knew they had to be involved."

"He's family."

Annabeth looked up in surprise.

"Greek gods have a pretty messy family tree," Gibbs said. "You were his family. The one on his god side."

Annabeth breathed out an airy laugh. He was a smart one. "He was my brother. We shared the same mother."

"Athena."

Annabeth considered him. It wasn't a question. He knew. Gibbs was definitely not to be underestimated.

"Did some research on the myths. It's part of the job when a case revolves around it, especially when they turn out to be real."

Well, that wasn't vague at all.

He was probably making assumptions again. Annabeth narrowed her eyes. Or was there something more?

"I couldn't turn my back on him. I know you understand that."

"You don't know anything about me!"

"We both know that's not true." Annabeth pointed to herself. "Child of Athena, remember. If there's one thing we're good at, it's analysis. This is your team, but it's also your family. I've been to your house- your living space says a lot- and I did my own research, Gibbs. On you. Family isn't just important to you; everything you do has your family at its core. Your rules probably don't have anything on family. Family is why you do what you do, so there's no need for rules about them. It's your drive. Your center."

Gibbs said nothing. Annabeth huffed. 'That's right. If you get to use your vague assumptions, I can one-up with deduction.'

"You do what you have to for family," Gibbs said. "You and Michael were close?"

Annabeth noted the softness that permeated his voice. "Not in particular."

"He held your contact close to him. He told you that he was heading to Peru."

"You're assuming that-"

"It's part of the fake name you created. Hell yeah, I can assume! No such thing as coincidence. You knew the ship's next dock. He must have told you; he trusted you. Out of everyone, he chose you to help. There is obviously some sort of network for you. The evidence has been working with me for two days. Maybe that's how you met, maybe not, but he has to have more connections. He decided to bring you into this, not someone older."

"I am older!"

Gibbs's eyes flashed, questioning.

"The world isn't the safest. Demigods attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. There is a safe haven, and we either make our way there or get killed off."

She turned to look at the rest of the two teams staring wide-eyed at them. She met Percy's green eyes and held it for a moment, before turning back to Gibbs.

"Look. I had a job to do, a mission to finish, and family to take care of."

"That you did."

"We understand each other, then?"

"Yeah, guess we're good." Gibbs smirked. "Agent."

Annabeth almost sighed with relief.

"And if anything happens." Annabeth straightened. This was Gibbs. Of course, he wasn't done. "If you hear anything…"

"We'll handle it. But," Annabeth added as Gibbs's entire body stiffened, "I'll keep in touch."

She saw a vein on his temple twitch in annoyance, but he stayed silent— stubborn Navy cop.

"So," Grover fidgeted under everyone's stare. "What now?"

"It's time for you to go home," Gibbs said firmly.

Annabeth saw Ziva playing around with one of her other celestial bronze knives. Ziva tried grabbing the blade, but it continued to faze through her. She shook her head and extended it to Percy. "Thank you for lending us these."

Percy looked at them. "Keep them. You never know when you might need them again."

Annabeth smiled at him. "Even though those aren't for his to give, Seaweed Brain is right. You should have them. You were able to see through the mist and should have something that actually works against monsters."

Gibbs tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"I guess this is where we part ways," Annabeth said, feeling exhausted all of a sudden, the adrenaline's and ambrosia's effects wearing off.

"Hey," Gibbs said. "This will be the last time I catch you impersonating federal officers." Annabeth smirked. Old people are so demanding. "And try not to land in any more newspapers, especially you, Jackson."

This time, Annabeth let out a laugh.

Percy squawked. "What! Just because- those times- it wasn't my fault!"

Annabeth suddenly remembered something.

"Gibbs! One more thing. Michael's body…"

Gibbs nodded in understanding. "That strawberry farm any valid?"

"You won't be able to enter." Although, Annabeth was sure he probably assumed that anyway. Probably thought he wouldn't be able to find it, either.

Gibbs grinned.

"I'll call you."

-Κλαρίς-

Clarisse watched the greyed Jarhead, and his three teammates walk away. Faithful. Loyal. Proud. That man had her respect from the beginning. He was a man trained for more than combat. It took courage to break the rules, independence to do so with solid reasoning, and leadership to have his teammates follow not because of fear but because of trust. Leroy Jethro Gibbs is a great Agent, a great Marine, a great man.

Clarisse was proud to know and say she had worked and fought alongside Agent Gibbs. Although she had to be purely honest.

"I will never step foot in an office again!"

-Αντώνης-

"Are you really going to keep this quiet, Boss?" Tony clicked his seat belt in. "I mean, this is pretty big."

Gibbs shrugged. That was a yes, then.

"I don't want any of you to lie for me," Gibbs told them. "Your reports are your own. It's your own decision."

"Well, I don't think putting down that I fought against snake ladies and such will go down very good with Vance. Not to mention how a supposed NCIS Agent is part donkey."

"Goat."

Tony snapped his head to McGee. "What?"

"He's a satyr," McGee said. "He's part goat, not donkey."

Tony was prepared to make a snide remark but held back when he took a proper look at his younger partner.

"You look a bit pale there, Tim. You alright?"

Tony's concern grew when McGee looked at him with a terrifyingly vacant expression. "He was part goat, Tony." He waved his hand in front of his chest. "Half human. Half goat."

Oh, boy. "Yeah, I get that. You should drink some water. Lie down."

Ziva gave him a threatening look. "Not on me. It is hot, and we are covered in dirt. Wait till we get back, McGee."

"He might not make it," Tony warned.

"He is perfectly capable of-"

"Do you think there are elves?"

Ziva spluttered to a stop, looking incredulous in McGee's direction.

"You know. Like, do they have other magical weapons? Gems and potions and..."

Ziva felt his face. "Oh, McGee, you are burning up. No! Don't fall asleep! McGee!"

"We gotta get back to base, Boss."

Gibbs nodded, and Tony groaned at his words.

"Back to work."

-Γκρόβερ-

Grover frowned. "Is telling him our address a good idea?"

"He already had it," Percy pointed out. It was a good point, too. It was already in their system.

"Can't we use the mist and the laptop to make them forget about us? Chiron is not going to like-"

"It will be fine, Grover," Annabeth said, halfway leaning on Percy. "I trust Gibbs."

Gibbs… That man was something else.

Grover had felt so anxious! He didn't think he could have been in Annabeth's position. Gibbs had such control over his stare. Even though he wasn't the one under it, Grover had felt the cold steel gaze he pinned Annabeth with.

All that disappeared when he felt a weight across his shoulders. Percy had wrapped his arms around Grover and Annabeth. Squishing them together. Clarisse grumbled as Annabeth held an arm out to her, but let herself be pulled in any way.

And it felt right. The four of them waddling awkwardly away. Grover felt Percy's happiness practically envelope their link.

"I'm totally gone," Annabeth said with a laugh. "I hope whoever's in the backseat doesn't mind me laying on them."

They almost fell as Percy jostled in the middle. "I don't mind!"

Grover laughed. Being with friends always felt right.

"Let's go home."

-Λεον-

The door swished open. "You called, Leon?"

Leon looked up from. 'Leon.' The Long Island team was really gone, then.

"Some disgruntled scholars are calling us cheats, Gibbs. Accusing NCIS of hiding intricate historical artifacts vital to their field."

"'Vital,'" Gibbs chuckled. "I didn't realize dealing with annoyed university professors was in the Director's job description."

"It's not. I was just made aware of the situation and went to ask Ms. Scuito about it. Now, accuse me of being curious if the knife they were all after was gone. Part of another investigation. One that I am unaware of. I go visit the good doctor downstairs, and Kahale's body has already left the building."

"Things move fast around here, Leon."

Leon felt his teeth grind together. "The chair is big, not slow."

"We solved the case, Leon."

"You did, collaborating with Long Island. Speaking of which, where are they?"

Gibbs handed him the case file. "Kahale had a run-in with the Reynosa Cartel. They went back up to follow leads on their end."

Huh, so the Reynosa Cartel is involved.

"What about on our end?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Their case. It's all in the report."

Gibbs gave another team his evidence? His body? His case?

Leon felt a bit bad for those academics. They would never see the knife nor Scuito's findings.

"So, they're fighting Reynosa alone? I don't remember giving that directive. Seems inefficient."

Gibbs raised his brow. "You are Director, Leon. You can assign tasks as you like."

Leon made a face. "Not that team. Can you believe I didn't even know there was a small NCIS department in Long Island? Apparently, something in the works by SECNAV. He's all secretive about it."

Gibbs shrugged. "It's the top dogs, Leon. They're always secretive."

Leon glared at him. Something about the way Gibbs spoke made a small part of Leon nag at him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"We should start digging into the Reynosas. It's bad enough that they've infested our neighbor's lawn. We don't want the same in our own backyard. I want this wrapped up, Gibbs, and I expect you to lead me through every step."

"Of course."

The nag got stronger.

"I trust you put as much detail in the report about what happened."

"Of course."

Leon's grip on the file tightened. He felt like he was being played, which means he probably was. He had read enough of Gibbs's and his team's reports to recognize garbage. He was sure that's what he would find. He hadn't even opened the thing, but he could already smell the stench. Leon should take Gibbs's badge, break up his team, file a report. Do all the things he swore he would do when he took the chair. But he couldn't. Not yet. With SECNAV also waving his secrets around, Leon had to be patient about this. Had to be smart.

"And you found out about all the Greek stuff?"

"It was a part of his life. He and his family lived like these stories existed. Had to fight them to survive." He carried a bit of a faraway look on his face. "We finished it for him."

Gibbs missed the skeptical look Leon threw his way "What were you fighting?"

Gibbs snapped back to reality. Replacing the lost-in-thoughts look with a mischievous one. "Hellhounds, harpies, a hydra." Gibbs grinned. "I took out a Cyclops!"

Leon ground his molars, wanting to punch that smug look off his face. Trying to be Mr. Funny, huh? 'It doesn't suit you, Gibbs.'

"Really?" Leon said. "And what happened to all of them?"

Gibbs mimed an explosion with his hands.

"Poof!"

-Περσεύς-

Michael's shroud was a silken sheet designed as the flag of the United States of America. The cords tying the body were embroidered with grey owl tassels. It was beautiful and patriotic, but it had turned to ash long ago. The fire burned low, surviving on the remaining cinders. Most of the campers had left. Only a few stragglers remained.

Clarisse stood by the forest, staring moodily at the smoke rising into the clouds.

Grover sat far from the fire, whispering with Juniper.

Annabeth sat nearest. Percy couldn't figure out the face she was wearing. Troubled, perhaps? The bonfire was a neutral grey. Lost in thought then.

He sidled up next to her. "It's over. Mission complete."

"I know. It's just…"

He gave her a smile, hoping it wasn't as awkward as it felt. "You are overthinking about what's going to happen next. I know you. You're going through every detail of what happened."

"It's just- It's so odd to see a network between mortals and monsters. I can't shake the feeling like I'm missing something."

He nudged her side. "You're overthinking it."

Annabeth rolled her eyes at him and leaned over. "I'm compensating for your lack of thinking."

"Hey!" Percy pushed her but put no force behind it. He was glad she wasn't frowning anymore. "Seriously, though, I'm sure you've thought about it enough. If anything does happen, it's nothing we can't deal with, and we'll get through it together. I promise, Wise Girl."

Her eyes sparkled from the fire's light. "Thanks, Seaweed Brain."

Like magic, the fire burned brighter, turning a colourful shade of pink.

Previous Chapter Chapter List Next Chapter

[shinneth]

subject to future deletion

Normally I wouldn’t resort to that and I might end up being too lazy to do it anyway, but between getting sick again, dealing with some very intense verbal abuse every day irl, and the monthly burdens of the gender, I’m really not in a good place right now and I need to vent something. 

It’s officially gotten bad enough to interfere with my ability to write, even though I’m at a point in my current story that I’ve been very eager to reach... and every step of the way I’m struggling to write it and I hate what I currently have and it’s taking everything in my current power to not just scrap it entirely. 

Basically, I think I’m failing as a writer.

The irl stuff is actually not what I’m gonna get into because it’s really nothing new and it’ll probably resolve itself, but the side-effect of suffering that kind of negativity is that it enhances lingering negative feelings you’ve had about other things.

Namely, things you do to get away from the pains of the real world. The things you do to have fun and get some enjoyment out of life, no matter how challenging it is to be in this thing because it’s so wrongfully derided and demonized by the majority of your peers.

I try to keep telling myself it’s just because I’m still relatively very new to the fandom compared to my contemporaries, but as I’m typing this right now and listening to my favorite wrestler Shelton Benjamin in an interview, immediately I see the pit I’m starting to fall into. 

Like, it’s uncanny. This is what he said as I started on the above paragraph:

“If I sit and constantly compare myself to other people’s successes, you would drive yourself crazy. Because no matter what, there’s always someone who’s gonna be more successful.”

“I need to remember where I come from; how far I’ve came.”

Basically, in the very small world of Stevidot (and to a lesser extent, SU’s fandom as a whole), despite my efforts, I feel very much like the Shelton Benjamin in a small, dedicated group of talented Stevidot content creators.

Which is to say, I’m basically a midcarder in the mix with a bunch of top-tier legends. Shelton graduated from the same group as some modern very well-known mainstream stars that I can easily associate with a very well-known and accomplished Stevidot contributor.

Shelton graduated with the likes of John Cena, Brock Lesnar, Dave Batista, and Randy Orton. At least half of those names should be at least vaguely familiar for my followers as most of them have had such great success that they’re known in avenues beyond wrestling (save for Randy Orton, but he’s well past outshined his father as a legendary wrestler who’ll never be forgotten). 

I could easily say Watcher is the John Cena of Stevidot, while Platon’s probably the Brock Lesnar... sinderella0069′s the Batista. But I honestly don’t feel like I’ve done enough (or stood out enough) to even be a Randy Orton for this pairing. I’d at least give that honor to Ig just for being so active with it on Tumblr despite the wave of hatred thrown her way (even though she’s shifted focus onto Stevinel now). 

Again, I keep trying to tell myself that it’s because I’m not even remotely as tenured in the fandom as any of them are. 

Then I see this said in a review on a very recently-made Stevidot story...

And said reviewer has not once ever left a review on any Stevidot story of mine. Not even a follow or a favorite or a goddamned kudos. Considering I currently have an actively-updated Stevidot story going on (and a two-shot that I just did last month), I highly doubt my stuff was just overlooked.

Now, is it true that Stevidot is hard to come by? Of course it is. But this isn’t the first time I’ve seen a fellow Stevidot fan lament about the lack of Stevidot content while completely disregarding anything I contribute.

I know there’s one that outright doesn’t like my content based on personal taste (nothing to do with Stevidot itself, just how I execute it). There’s another big-name who shows no interest whatsoever in reading what I have to offer - and at this point I feel that’s for the best, because I have a feeling they’d hate my execution as well. 

While I’ve always primarily written for myself, I also felt a great fulfillment for providing content for a niche crowd that really deserves more than what they have. I think Stevidot’s a fantastic pairing with tons of unexplored potential and should be much more readily available than it actually is. Even if I tend to not get many reviews, I keep track of the site traffic every day on my stories and I know for sure that there are people reading my stuff. Since I’m really bad at leaving reviews myself, I go out of my way not to whine about not having very many overall for my series since I’d be a huge-ass hypocrite to do so. 

However.

Statements like the the aforementioned review and statements I’ve seen elsewhere by those who I know are at least aware of me are like stakes through the heart.

Because it can only mean one thing: my content doesn’t count.

I’m honestly not sure which is worse for me; being critically panned for the stuff I’ve put my all into over the past year, or being treated like my stuff doesn’t even exist. 

I prided myself on contributing as much as I did for Stevidot over this past year. Quantity doesn’t = automatic quality, but I’ve got 20+ years of writing experience in, so even someone with a shit self-esteem like myself can’t just say I’m an objectively bad writer, because I’m not. 

But apparently it doesn’t matter that I put in over half a million worlds in the name of Stevidot to a good chunk of the very tiny Stevidot fanbase; according to them, my contributions are irrelevant.

Is it my fault?

One thing I will admit is a detriment to my particular brand of Stevidot is that, save for one story (which happens to be by far my most successful Stevidot story in terms of recognition numbers), the rest of my series follows a continuous narrative that greatly deviates from canon as of Change Your Mind. I’m also notoriously a very verbose kind of writer - I have the tl;dr curse something fierce. 

So all stories I’ve written since my main 3-act series (which ended up being nearly 200k in length on its own) have been direct sequels to that. Because of the heavy deviation from CYM, the environment of the following stories is very different and easy to get lost in if you skipped GA entirely. 

Because there are so many dangling threads and new opportunities to be had after GA ended, I basically committed myself to my AU.

It’s not like anyone else is going to explore these possibilities.

Beyond that, honestly, I just don’t want to rewire my brain back to the canon status quo - not after the shitloads of character development I’ve not only given Steven and Peridot, but nearly everyone at this point has had a moment or two of really intense character growth. 

I like having Peridot co-star with Steven. I like having her become a more competent and active teammate than she’s portrayed in canon (while still giving her comic relief moments). I like that I didn’t redeem the Diamonds and instead had them killed off to force our protagonists to deal with the fallout of the collapse of a mighty empire on a much grander scale than what’s going on in the actual show.

In a way, this AU of mine has helped me cope with the shortcomings of the show itself. I already went on a stupid tirade once about how the sadistic nature of my writing has basically made me no-sell whatever trauma Rebecca Sugar’s throwing on Steven and upsetting everyone else. I’m still fairly certain I’m still outdoing her in that department. 

And because 100% of my passion for creating Stevidot is through this narrative I weaved, I have no desire to leave it. 

So I’ll admit my stories aren’t exactly the most accessible to the average reader who hasn’t been following my work since Day 1. 

Then again... I first got into Sinderella’s series completely ass-backwards at first. I eventually read it in the proper order, and like many of the great Stevidot epics, it’s canon divergent from a much earlier point in the series, so it was very easy to get confused about why certain things happened differently at first... but ultimately, I wasn’t that bothered by it because I just wanted some good Stevidot. I’d figure out the finer details later. 

I really do owe this author more props than I’ve actually given - she’s one out of two readers I know for a fact have been following my series since the beginning without missing a beat. I’ll probably review her newest story sooner or later now that it’s complete. 

Not gonna lie, though... when I saw our numbers side-by-side like this:

Considering they’re very similar stories (Stevidot smuts that were originally meant to be one-shots), mine is over a month old and hers is only a few days old and there’s already that big of a gap in our numbers? 

It’s hard not to feel like a failure; like I did something horribly wrong to suck this bad by comparison. 

I really should stress that I bear no ill will against Sinderella or any Stevidot author; this isn’t a competition, so this isn’t a matter of popularity. I knew coming into this that I wouldn’t get popular overnight; especially not with such an unpopular ship being the focus of my story. 

But when other Stevidot stories get frequent reviewers that I’ve never seen once acknowledge my stories even passively, I can’t help but feel like I’ve massively fucked up somewhere. That despite all my efforts, I might as well be invisible. When they say “Oh, good thing your story is here! It’s been such a Stevidot drought around here until you came along!” to other authors after I’ve written half a million fucking words in under a year for this ship...

You know, is it unreasonable to feel that I utterly fucking failed in several ways? 

I guess it’s no wonder why I’m struggling to keep writing. I still want to - like I said, I’m at a part I’ve been eager to write for a while now - but ever since I started it, I’ve just hated almost all of what I have so far (almost 8k words). And I’m really having trouble trying to salvage it.

I’m honestly not the type who’d scrap all my progress and start from scratch once I’ve gotten this far in. But maybe I’ll have to make an exception this time, because I think I finally made the mistake of trying to write while being mentally and emotionally distraught.

I thought I’d calm down once I wrote all this out, but honestly, I’m not really feeling it. Now I’m wondering if I should have just reached out to someone instead of making this, because now I’ll come off as a whiner with my pansy-ass first-world problems. 

But then again, I’d be an asshole to subject anyone to my idiotic woes. 

Maybe this’ll pass. I’m hoping it’ll pass. I really, really really really don’t want to lose my drive to write again. I was used to it coming and going in short and random spurts for almost all my life - then it finally came to me and stayed with me just a little under a year ago, and I’ve been desperate not to let it go because I’ve been more productive now than I’ve ever been in my 20+ tenure as a writer. 

I don’t want this to go away. There’s still so much more I want to tell. 

But then my logic goes... if you tell the story and no one’s there to hear it, is it ever really told?

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Episode 9

So, I’ve spent the last few days trying to type up my thoughts on the last episode, sort of like I did for Episode 3. However, each attempt kept turning into random keysmashing and more profanity than I think that this forum will allow, and you guys did a good job of covering how complex the situation is. Therefore, let’s keep moving.

We open with aw jeez I have to see this again. My newest ship of Sayaka and Kyoko are at the train station, shortly before Sayaka’s Soul Gem breaks. (Also, what the heck is with this show and my ships? I ship Madoka and Mami, and Mami gets eaten. I ship Sayaka and Kyoko, and Sayaka turns into a Witch. I am therefore swearing off shipping in this show, as apparently my thinking two characters are compatible is Urobuchi’s sign to ax one off. My Ship of Death is hereby docked.) Sayaka mutters about a balance between happiness and curses, her tear falls… “I was so stupid… so stupid.” And we are in a new Labyrinth. This one created by Witch-Sayaka. There are strange runes floating around, musical bars and a checkered floors/walls, train tracks stretching through space. So it’s a mixture of Sayaka’s music-based wish and the trainstop environment? Also, what the hell, why is the music so awesome. This is a tragic moment, I do not need music that sounds so good I want to download it. Sayaka- Sayaka’s body falls through the air, Kyoko immediately transforms into MG mode and leaps for her- it. The Witch launches train tracks and train wheels and apparently a whole train at her, but Kyoko makes it through and grabs the body, ending up right in front of the screaming Witch. Sayaka’s body slumps in Kyoko’s arms while Food Girl tries to figure out what’s going on, or more likely refuses to acknowledge what just happened. I sadly do not have that luxury, as I have to report my thoughts to all you jerks. I hope you’re happy. Kyoko continues to dodge the tracks and wheels, until one explodes in front of her? Homura! I- I have mixed feelings about you showing up. Because on one hand, yay, you can help Kyoko out. On the other hand, the last time you were around Sayaka… Homura tells Kyoko to get back and the animators stop drawing her, then they draw a cylindrical grenade right in front of the Witch. Ok, I know the last one looked like a frag grenade but was actually a flash-bang. This one looks more like the flash-bang type I know from shooters, is it going to… yup, big bang. REALLY big bang, sends Kyoko’s hair waving. Homura pops back in front of Kyoko and tells her to take her hand, and then activates her shield when she does. Suddenly the Witch freezes, hand and sword casting a shadow over the three-two Magical Girls. Kyoko’s confused, and Homura warns that if she lets go of her hand time will stop for her as well, before they start running away. Kyoko asks where that Witch came from. Sorry to tell you Kyoko, but- Homura beats me to it, bluntly says that it’s what used to be Sayaka Miki. Kyoko doesn’t say anything like “What?!” or “That’s impossible” but just asks if they’re just going to run away, making me believe that she did realize but just wasn’t accepting it. As for running away, Homura says “If you want to fight it, drop that needless baggage and we’ll turn around to kill it right now.” … That’s… Ok, I know that Sayaka’s soul was already out of the body, but… for all my comments on meat puppets, it was still her body. To call it ‘needless baggage’... Knowing that Homura’s a freaking TIME TRAVELER and has presumably seen this before is one thing, but… Kyoko’s only response is “Like hell!” and keeps running, to which Homura says that she’s only dragging them down. Since Kyoko refuses to drop the body to fight the Witch (and likewise, doesn’t take action to fight the newly-created Witch in general…) they’re heading out. And in a burst of white light they’re back in the real world. Kyoko slumps to her knees still holding the body, and Homura does a Hair-Flip as the musical notes around them fade. Hoo boy. This is a predicament. Intro of LIES Episode 9: I’d Never Allow That To Happen There are flies/moths on a lamppost, forming a skull shape. Random happenstance? Sign of a Familiar or Witch labyrinth? Urobuchi and the artists being jerks? Who knows? Madoka slowly walks along some train tracks. When did we last see her? Oh right, it was right after Kyubey turned (temporarily) into Swiss Cheese and emotionless Homura broke down crying. And good grief, reading back over that part I am amazed at how naive I was. I was actually pissed off at Homura for killing the Incubator, because I thought that Madoka could finally get some powers. But good grief, after learning that apparently Magical Girls who run out of power turn into god-damned Witches, I am so freaking happy that the Incubator was stopped in time. Or at least for a while. We’ve already lost Mami and Sayaka, I don’t wanna lose little Madoka too. Then she looks up and sees two pairs of legs Oh. Oh no. I don’t want to see this. Madoka just saw Sayaka’s body. Said body being carried by the girl who she saw fighting Sayaka to the death a few days ago, and followed by the girl who murdered the Incubator right in front of her. Understandably, she freaks out, rushing forward and… asking Sayaka what happened… and where her Soul Gem went… Homura just does a Hair-Flip and says that her Soul Gem turned into a Grief Seed, and was destroyed when it hatched a new Witch. No, Madoka. They’re not joking. I wish to god it was a joke, that Sayaka would open her eyes and laugh and say “Boy, we got you good Madoka!”. But it’s the truth. The final secret of the Soul Gems. When they grow tainted/run out of power and turn completely dark, they turn into Grief Seeds, and the Magical Girl is ‘reborn’ as a Witch. “This is the inescapable fate of all who become magical girls.” A train roars by and Madoka collapses, saying that all Sayaka wanted to do was protect people from Witches. And now she is one? “It could only last until she had suffered an amount equal to the good she had wished for. From here on, for ever person she has saved, she will curse another.” Man, this is the dark side of karma, isn’t it? I’ve always heard of it in a sense of “life will get better than it is now, look forward to the future”. But this? If Fate/Stay was a cynical take on “The Needs of the Many”, then this is his take on karma. Kyoko lays Sayaka’s body down in front of Madoka. Then spins around and grabs Homura by the collar. Yes, thank you! Homura, I get that you’ve seen this before in the other timeline, that you’ve had time to process the event, but for us its the first time we saw Sayaka turn into a god-damned Witch! Show a little understanding! And maybe explain why you didn’t warn us this was going to happen, like you didn’t warn us about how Magical Girls are lichs! I mean, good God! I gave you so much flak about your Hallway Threat way back when, but now I can see that you were being too soft! If you knew this was going to happen, maybe you could give a more direct warning? Or a more clear threat to scare Madoka off, so all this doesn’t happen? Kyoko chews Homura out for acting all “Ooh, I’m a Time Traveler, I know all this stuff and you don’t”. She was Sayaka’s best friend! They knew Mami for a few days, and that was tragic enough. Madoka knew Sayaka for years! But all Homura does is say that they truly know what the thing they wanted to become is like. Oh, and try not to be seen with the corpse you insisted on dragging along, alright? Don’t be sloppy disposing of the middle-school girls remains, otherwise the cops might find it and then things just get distracting. ...wow. I’m going to have to take away your seat cushion for that, Homura. Kyoko asks how Homura can even call herself human when she acts so callous in the face of loss. And even I can know how Homura’s going to respond to that one: “I don’t, of course.” Hair-Flip. “And neither should you.” Well. You may have had an alternate timeline/who knows how many years as an immortal lich to get used to ‘not being human’, but Kyoko is not only likely younger, but came from a religious background. It’s not that easy for her. One final Hair-Flip and Homura walks off. It’s later now, and Madoka is in her room, curled up on her bed in her pajamas and failing to sleep. YOU. GET OUT. The Incubator is outside her window. Nope, no, uh-uh. I am not in the mood to put up with your shit right now, Incubator. I don’t care what you’re going to say, what excuses you’re going to give like “But you never asked” or “What does it matter what form your Soul takes” or “Well, we’re down a Magical Lunch Lady. Guess you need to pick up the pace to keep me fed. On that note, I know where you can find a newly-hatched Witch, shouldn’t be too hard to fight…” NOPE. Not putting up with your shit tonight.

*one angry sleep later*

*Deep breath*

Alright, Incubator. Let’s see what excuses you’ll make this time.

Oh, well thank you for asking to come in, instead of just showing up like at Homura’s. Very polite of you.

Madoka is very unsurprised to see that the Incubator is alive, considering last time it was Swiss Cheese. I’m guessing Homura told her?

Oh, never mind about being polite, the Incubator’s inside with all the stuffed animals now. Permission, what’s that?

Madoka asks if what Homura said was true, the Incubator’s all “Yep, true enough I can’t protest it. I can’t lie, nosiree.”

Aw, Madoka no. She looks so… blank. Burnt out.

She asks if the Incubator really has been turning them into Magical Girls just so they’ll become Witches.

“Please don’t misunderstand.”

Oooh boy. *Sits back, munches on popcorn* Alright, you little monster. You justified tearing out these girl’s souls to make them more effective Witch fighters, let’s see how you excuse Contracting them into becoming literal monsters.

You… don’t do this out of ill will towards humans?... bwuh?

“Everything we’ve done is for the sake of prolonging the life of the universe.”

...turning young girls into monsters is good for the universe. Seems legit.

Ok, huh? Why are you talking about entropy now?

Energy a fire gives off is not equal to the energy to create its fuel, sure. Standard thermodynamics here. How does this relate to Witches?

Amount of usable energy in the universe is decreasing, sure…

Does this apply to Magical Girls as well?

Hold up, I think I’m seeing where this is going.

Incubator’s Race: “Oh no, we need warriors to defend our physically weak race and get us food from stronger creatures. Hey, these ‘humans’ can wield great power, but they can’t unlock it on their own. Let’s uplift them and get them to fight our battles. This could in no way backfire!”

Incubator’s Race: “Hooray, they’re defeating all our foes… but they’re using up all of our power in doing so, they lack any idea of subtlety. We need some way to cull their numbers… hey, we just figured out a flaw we can introduce into their Soul Gems, if they use up too much power at a time it shatters and their soul corrupts, they can’t use our power anymore. They turn into monsters, sure, but there are so many humans we can always Contract a few more to fight them. And hey, these ‘Witches’ drop tasty treats!”

Ok, sorry for random speculation. Been on a Mass Effect kick lately, made a tenuous connection between the settings. Back to the Incubator.

So their race looked for an energy source that wasn’t bound by thermodynamics, to counter entropy. And they found a solution with Magical Girls?

The Incubator’s civilization created technology to convert… emotions? Into raw energy? An impressive technology, but then why not just use it on yourselves, unless humans are somehow more emotional? A sort of Vulcan/Humanity emotional divide? (And I feel dirty for comparing Vulcans to this little jerk.)

Wait, you don’t ‘possess the capacity’? Like, at all? Huh.

So they searched the universe for species to serve as emotion batteries for their new tech, until they finally found humans.

(Hoping that the finale is a bunch of these other races that didn’t meet the Incubators’ needs showing up and helping out the “young” Terran civilization against the Galactic Jerks)

Shots of empty chairs?

So since humanity was a Yeerk Class 5 species (big population, fast reproduction), and the emotional-energy (emergy?) produced by a single human is more than they use between their birth and growth, the Incubators had found their power source.

Yep. The Incubators consider human souls as the perfect fuel source.

Abridged!Mr. Popo: That carpet gets 10,000 miles to the soul. Abridged!Bulma: What? Abridged!Mr. Popo: The gallon.

Oh, but why settle for unleaded humans for emergy, when the most effective of all are girls in their “second stage of development”? Seeing as they experience the greatest fluctuations between hope and despair.

Hmph. And I’d imagine that girls who are not fully informed have more ‘fluctuation’ than girls who know exactly what they’re getting into, hmm?

Oh for-really? Really?!

“In the moment when your Soul Gems flare out and turn into Grief Seeds, enormous energy is created.”

That’s it?

That’s the whole reason for this farce?

Ok, sit down, Incubator. I SAID SIT DOWN.

Look, maybe there’s something I don’t understand about the process. But not a minute ago you said “a single human” produces more emergy than the energy they use in a lifetime. Bam, problem solved, you have energy for days right there. But no, you just had to get greedy, didn’t you? It’s not enough that you’ve got a source of emergy with plain old humanity that bites its thumb at thermodynamics, that solves your “Oh, energy of the universe is running out” problem just as it is. Nope! Instead you manipulate young girls into giving up their souls and turning into monsters because that gives you even more emergy!

This is not logic! This is greed! I am so glad to be wrong, you aren’t the Vulcans. The Vulcans would never stoop so low for a little bit extra. You’re the Ferengi!

*Sigh* So the Incubators go around collecting the energy, ‘hatching’ Soul Gems into Grief Seeds. Buddy, setting aside how wrong that is, what about all the lost potential emergy from the humans a Witch eats? Is one Grief Seed forming really enough to make up for that?

Madoka’s still in shock, mutters a question asking if Incubators really just see humans as disposable energy supplies. The Incubator asks if she knows just how many species there are in the universe, and how much energy they use all the time.

...which implies that the other species’ energy use is supplemented by the Incubators. Suddenly hoping they don’t show up after all.

“And someday even you humans will be able to leave your planet and come join all of us.”

Which will probably be pretty awkward. “Hey, so you’re the species that we’ve been harvesting to power our hot tub? Cool, cool, nice to meet you.”

Actually, why don’t they Uplift humanity? If a single planet of humans create enough emergy to conter the energy use of the rest of the universe’s species, how much emergy could be created by a Human Federation? See, Incubator? I’ve only known about this for a few minutes, and already I’m finding problems. You fail at logic!

Ahaha, NO. Incubator, you don’t get to try and blame humanity for the rest of the universe’s species using so much energy. Maybe they should cut back on their electricity, turn down the AC? If we leave our world to find an “empty and desolate” universe, that’s not our problem.

...don’t make me say it.

...I really don’t want to say it.

...ok, FINE. You may have a tiny, itty-bitty point. Yes, it would be advantageous for humanity as a whole to rise up into an established universal community.

BUT. You are saying that this comes at the cost of human lives.

Read my lips, Incubator. It was NOT okay for Mami to die. It was NOT okay for Sayaka to suffer. It was NOT okay for Kyoko’s family to implode.

“But we always ask and receive your consent before making the contract. Doesn’t that alone show our good will?”

Madoka screams that they do it by tricking all of us. YES.

“We aren’t able to comprehend what you mean by ‘tricking.’”

…

“Why is it that when humans regret a decision based on a misunderstanding they feel resentment toward the other party?”

…

…

… *snap*

FUCK. YOU. BUNNY-CAT.

This is not logic, this is not “for the greater good”, this is just being a dick. You claim to be an advanced species? Then you damn well understand what we mean by ‘tricking’ someone else. You knew all the details, and only gave out information at your leisure. If someone makes a decision based on a misunderstanding, it’s not their fault for not having all the knowledge. It’s the fault of whoever did have the knowledge, and neglected to share it for their own advantage.

Here, let me try something. Hey Incubator, I know about this other planet with a species that produces ten times as much emergy than any human, even a Magical Girl. Just fly off to the Alpha Centauri system, you’ll spot them easily!... Oh, what’s that? You flew all the way there and used up so much energy, but there was nobody there? Aw, what a shame. Hey now, what are you blaming me for? It’s not my fault you misunderstood that I was joking.

Madoka can’t follow the Incubator’s so-called “logic”. Believe me, Madoka, it’s good that you don’t understand that little jerk’s excuses.

Oh come the FUCK on, Incubator. You’re going to act the victim here?! Oh, I’m so sorry that it’s so hard for you to understand humans and our values system. We’ve got nearly 17 billion people, with 10 more every 4 seconds-

“-why should you care so much about the loss of a tiny handful?”

...WOW. Ok then.

Aaaand we have reached the tipping point. Madoka, our all-loving Protagonist, has said “If that’s how you think, then you really are our enemy.” Good job, Incubator! You proved to be so immoral with your faulty logic that sweet little Madoka has named you Enemy.

The Incubator soldiers on, acting all gracious that he came to try and explain themselves to her.

“I was hoping you’d understand what incredible good your sacrifices have done for this universe.”

Oh, well if you think that sacrificing these girls for the universe is for the best, then who am I to stop you?

The Incubator can’t understand Madoka’s point of view, and Madoka can’t accept the Incubator’s.

But the Incubator keeps up the compliments, saying that one day she’ll be the most powerful of Magical Girls. And then the wickedest of all Witches. A Witch with protagonist powers, brrr…

Oh, I’m so happy to hear that the harvesting of Madoka will get you an incomparable amount of energy, Incubator. That makes everything so much better!

“So if you ever feel like dying for the the sake of the universe, please call me anytime. I’ll be waiting for you!”

...wow. You dick.

The Incubator jumps away, and Madoka starts to cry.

*slight break between posts*

Aw jeez, sorry guys. I thought I’d take a few days to get settled into the fall semester, not get delayed over a month getting back. But on the plus side, as I’m sitting here, about to pull up Crunchyroll and resume the episode, there’s some emotional distance from that last part. Yes, I recognize the irony. And in that time, I have come to two realizations: Kyubey is right. And Kyubey is a moron. Hear me out. I’m going to try and do this response justice. If we accept what Kyubey has said as truth, then we are not alone. There are other species out in the universe, other inhabited planets. I don’t know how many there are, but let’s assume at least two others besides us and Kyubey’s race. If we go by pure, ‘unemotional’ math, we can say that humanity is outnumbered by 3 to one. And that’s not even factoring in the likelihood that these other races have settled more planets than our single world, the ratio could be much, much higher. Going by pure numbers, we are in the minority. In pure voting terms, if the other races are in agreement, our ‘discomfort’ means diddly-squat. And even beyond that, we’re talking about the heat-death of the Universe, the Incubators and the other races are working to prevent the end of reality. If that’s your goal, what sacrifice is too great? Especially if it’s not you who’s doing the sacrificing? So yeah, the need is there. Using emergy is a solution, perhaps the only solution, to the heat-death of the universe. Assuming that Kyubey isn’t lying about it being greater than entropy. In that, this single point, Kyubey is right. What I find painful however, beyond that whole ‘sacrificing young girls who knew not what they were getting into because you didn’t tell them’ thing, is that the Incubators are being criminally inefficient about this. It’d be funny if it wasn’t measured in lives. As Shay Guy said, they’ve found a local maximum with the emergy from a single human and just focused on maximizing that. Which I find to be criminally short-sighted on their part. I mean, seriously? You find a species that is the single solution to the heat-death problem, you maximize the emergy from young girls, and then you just leave it at that? Let’s run a scenario: Instead of sulking about in the shadows, creeping on little girls, you land a spaceship in front of the UN. An Incubator saunters inside, reveals that there are multiple alien species out there, and that they rely on human emotions to prolong the universe. Set up a few emergy-capturing satellites in orbit, rather than whatever method you use to gather emergy from individual girls, and start uplifting humanity to settle other planets, set up more emergy satellites… Hell, at worst if emergy satellites won’t work you get people who contract knowing the price. For crying out loud, I’d be willing to make the Contract myself, knowing that I’d get to enjoy power for at least a little while, be wary about my magic use and falling into despair so quickly, and knowing that my passing would result in the entire Universe lasting just a little bit longer. Ugh. Just, ugh. Incubators, what you are doing now is like finding a coal mine and setting it on fire to stay warm. Or whatever, I just cannot wrap my head around the inefficiency of this so-called advanced race. Bleh, whatever. Let’s get back to the Magical Girls. Been a while since I saw the episode, so I’ll pause here, watch up to where I left off, and then come back once I’m in the proper mindset. *Ten minutes later* FEEEEEEELS. Also, I demand an Incubator plushie for Christmas so I can punch it repeatedly. Camera is panning over Anime City (I know it has a real name, but I can’t remember how to spell it), settles on a table loaded with food. Ah, Kyoko! What are you up to? ...That’s Sayaka. No, that’s Sayaka’s body. Why do you have Sayaka’s body, Kyoko? What are you doing with your Soul Gem? INCUBATOR. GET OUT. It asks what Kyoko hopes to achieve, using so much energy to “keep the body fresh.” Aw, Kyoko. You haven’t given up on Sayaka, have you? I get it, I really do but… you know what happens when a Magical Girl uses up their energy or gives into despair, you’ve seen it happen right in front of you. Don’t put yourself at risk. Kyoko asks if there’s any way to get the Soul Gem back, the Incubator- Oh, you dick. “None, as far as I know anyway”? That is the worst kind of manipulation, saying that you don’t know but not completely dismissing the possibility. Because after all, it only benefits you if Kyoko uses up too much energy trying to fix Sayaka and Witchifies herself. Aaargh. Yup, after the Incubator says that Kyoko stops eating and pounces on the possibility, the fact that there’s stuff even the Incubator doesn’t know. Oh. Oh damn you, show. I accept that Sayaka is gone, that there’s no hope of her coming back, but then… “The existence of magical girls defies logic as it is.” This is a world of magic, of power greater than entropy. I can’t rule anything out. Heck, there’s apparently a time traveler running around (and doesn’t that say volumes about the show, that someone being a time-traveler has taken a backseat to this current issue). Like Kyoko, I am thinking about the possibility. I want it to be true, so bad. Argh, and the Incubator just keeps not committing. “There’s no precedent for it.” Speaking the truth, but framing it in a way that these poor girls are getting played. “Unfortunately, I can’t offer any guidance at this time.” GOOD. Now get out. Kyoko (and I) are done with your ‘advice’, you can just shove off. Later, it’s a new day! The sun is shining! The birds are singing! Madoka shuffles along to school, knowing that her best friend has become a Witch and fielding well-meaning questions from Hitomi! She tries to claim that she just didn’t get enough sleep. “Speaking of which, it looks as if Sayaka is staying home again today.” … Please stop talking. Please stop talking about how you should go visit her later, but you’re worried about how awkward things are between the two of you at the moment. Madoka is about to speak up- Sudden Kyoko telepathy! She rightfully calls Madoka out for trying to act like everything is normal and going to school, after the bombshell of yesterday. Kyoko says she needs to talk to Madoka, who says she’ll stay home today too and runs off, leaving a very confused Muggle behind. In what I assume is the touristy part of town, with the clean streets and windchimes, Madoka meets up with Kyoko. “Don’t you want to save Sayaka Miki?”... what are you planning, Kyoko? Maokda immediately leaps on the possibility of saving her best friend, and damn you Incubator I can see where this is going. Kyoko wants to save the girl who countered her “live only for yourself” philosophy… Side note: I know that I said I would stop shipping people in this show because apparently my saying “they would be a cute couple” is a death sentence. But am I allowed to ship people if one of them is already dead? I still think that comic of Kyoko and Sayaka is adorable, and she should be safe now that a ship is impossible. Right? Anyways, Kyoko questions why Madoka was going to school, not trying to save her best friend. Ouch. Well, I mean, I assumed that becoming a Witch was irreversible, too. Can you really blame Madoka for not trying something that she thought wasn’t possible? Oh? Kyoko’s apologizing for her phrasing? Damn, her personality has really mellowed since her first “let the Familiars feed on Muggles” introduction, hasn’t it? Still stubborn and headstrong, though, as seen here when she says that until they are certain whether Sayaka can be saved or not, she’s not going to give up. Ok, so what’s the plan?... Talk at the Witch and hope that when Madoka calls out to her, she’ll get back her human memories? Um. I… am not certain about the validity of this plan. I mean, if it is possible, then her best friend Madoka would probably be the only one capable of getting through to her. But given this show’s track record, I’m not so certain that “magic of friendship” plan is going to work. Kyoko admits that she has no idea if it’ll work or not. But that’s just the reason that she wants to try it. Heck, maybe if they cut the witch apart Sayaka’s Soul Gem instead of a Grief Seed would pop out. “Wouldn’t that be something? It’d be like one of those stories where love and courage triumph over all.” Urobuchi, stop laughing. I can hear you from here. Let me have this. Awwww. Kyoko’s talking about how she probably became a MG in the first place because she used to love those sort of stories. She’d forgotten… but it was Sayaka who reminded her again. Crap. Crap crap crap. I did it again, didn’t I? I just doomed Kyoko with my Ship of Death. I’m sorry, Food Girl, please forgive me! I didn’t mean to put you in Urobuchi’s crosshairs, I thought it was safe to ship you with a dead girl! And that sounds way creepier than I intended! Kyoko’s frank, saying that she won’t force Madoka the Muggle to follow the plan, that it’ll be dangerous if she does, and that Kyoko can’t guarantee that she can protect her. But our Protagonist agrees. Go Madoka, show that stupid Bunny-Cat what for! And we get the adorable pair-up of sweet, friendly Madoka and the tough, cool Kyoko. One joke about Madoka cramping her style and giving her some food (The Kyoko Seal of Approval), and the plan is in motion. Ouch. The classroom is looking a little emptier now, with multiple “absent” future-desks. And Homura claims sickness, walks out. Later that day, as the sun is setting, Kyoko and Madoka are walking along under a highway, heading to Sayaka’s Labyrinth. Madoka asks about if Homura would help them, but Kyoko blows it off, saying that she’s not that kind of person. Methinks Kyoko’s still a little bitter about the “drop that useless baggage” comment from the night before. Madoka, sweet loving naive Madoka, asks “Aren’t you the two of them friends?” Kyoko says not really, they did team up to beat enemies that they couldn’t defeat alone- Oh crap, Wally-Watsit, the Super Witch! I completely forgot about them! I mean, knowing that Homura is a time traveler, I’m not thinking that she’s intentionally summoning it, but… Ok, wild theory time, thinking about Homura’s philosophy of power. I think my idea that she summoned Wally-Witch could still work in the original timeline, but when she realized that she bit off more than she could chew she (somehow) went back in time to try it again. Try to warn Mami about the hospital Witch, keep Sayaka from making a Contract and turning into a Witch and distracting them from preparing for Wally, recruiting the outsider Kyoko to help in the fight… seems like a good plan to me. Pity it all went to pot. Oh, Kyoko is telling Madoka about Wally (Walpurgisnacht) now, warning her that it’ll arrive in a few days. Stronger than either Kyoko or Homura, if they team up they stand a chance. Incubator: “Oh, how brave of your friends to fight this terrible foe! But it’s really dangerous, they may not survive. But of course, if they had help from another Magical Girl, one with loads of potentia-” *Gets punted by Kyoko* And they’re at the construction site. Kyoko’s sure that it’s Sayaka, since the magic patterns are the same as yesterday. Kyoko finishes off her whatever-on-a-stick and transforms, checks one last time to make sure Madoka is up for the Labyrinth. “I’ve gotten kind of used to this, actually. Although… all I ever do is trail along behind others.” Nope, nope nope nope. You are doing just fine, Madoka, do not give into peer pressure now. But she’s still brave enough to go in as a Muggle. Kyoko smiles… and opens the Labyrinth. Inside what appears to be a dark brick-wall hallway, Madoka asks Kyoko if she’s a coward, since everyone else fights but her. Kyoko just asks why she would ever become a Magical Girl. It’s not a job just anyone can do. If Madoka gets to live a life that Kyoko dreamed of when she was younger and her father’s church was failing, good food every day and a happy life with her family… why give it up to fight monsters? “I’d never allow that to happen.” Daw, and Kyoko has joined the ‘Protect Madoka Brigade’. You may think that you’re weak, Madoka, but frankly you’ve got superheroines tripping over themselves to protect you. But of course Kyoko adds her own twist of tough love to this declaration of protection, saying she’ll pound Madoka’s face in before she became a Magical Girl. Heh. “I mean, putting your life in danger… only people who’ve got no other choice should do that.” Aw, Kyoko’s turning from a Barbarian to a Paladin. She keeps calling heroes idiots, but she is becoming quite a heroine. Damn you, Urobuchi, for making me see that as a sign of death. Let me have the hope that heroes can prevail, not just die tragically. Stop crushing my optimism. “But maybe a time will come when you’ll have no choice but to risk your life and fight. You should wait until then to think about it.” And with that lovely quote, they approach the end of the hallway. Now there’s another one, with glowing walls and a bunch of musical notes… oh yeah, Sayaka’s magic signature was music notes! Man, this scene’s going to have some good music, isn’t it? Yeah, I can hear an orchestra starting up- crud, the door just slammed shut behind them! She’s coming! Music is picking up- oh hell yes, it is an orchestra. And the Witch herself, swaying as if she’s conducting. Ladies and gentlemen. Showtime. Come on, Madoka. Call out to your friend. Let Sayaka be in there, let her hear Madoka. Let us get a happy ending… no, the Witch is attacking now. Kyoko summons up a barrier for Madoka and tells her to keep calling out while Kyoko parries the train wheels. Madoka’s pleading for Sayaka to remember how she wanted to fight for justice, to go back to her old self. But it’s not working. The (awesome) music is swelling as the Witch sends a stupid amount of train wheels at Kyoko, and oh crap the barrier just went down. Ok whew, Kyoko is still ok… but looks tired after that barrage. She just tells Madoka to keep it up, resummons the barrier and keeps at it. But she’s getting knocked around, Madoka’s not getting through. Come on, Kyoko, keep fighting, don’t just stand there and get hit. Aw hell no, Kyoko. Don’t get all maudlin on me now, stop talking about how you started off trying to kill each other. You gave her food, doesn’t that mean something! Stop reminiscing and start kicking ass! But nope, she’s thinking about a red-and-blue image of Kyoko reaching out to Sayaka only for the Blue to shatter and the image collapse. Crap. You really did like Sayaka, didn’t you? The barrier is down again, Madoka is exposed. Crap, the Witch grabbed her! You let our Title Character go! There we go, Kyoko is pissed off, get back up! She’s cut Madoka free, is yelling at the Witch… crud. Madoka is unconcious, the floor is collapsing, and Kyoko is praying. Is that… Kamijo? Oh thank god Homura’s here, caught Madoka. But… Kyoko is not doing too well. And she doesn’t have Sayaka’s healing ability. “Hey. You… take care of her for me…” No. “I was an idiot for dragging her into this.” NO. NO! Kyoko! You pull that barrier down this instant, young missy! Homura just got here, don’t you dare keep her from helping you! Don’t you dare throw her “you can’t fight when weighed down with a burden” words back at her, make her retreat with Madoka. Don’t you dare pull a self-sacrificing Paladin! Don’t you fucking dare! Kyoko undoes her hair, and a hairpin falls out. She grabs it, and then kneels down in front of the barrier and beings to pray, or rather use her magic to summon a bunch of giant spears. She talks to Sayaka, says that she’ll be here with her… kisses her Soul Gem… and then stabs it. Explosion. Homura and Madoka are out in the real world. And the Labyrinth is nowhere to be seen. Later, at Homura’s house/apartment/residence. Homura is sitting in her room, staring at the floor. Or maybe at the maps scattered on her table. Still planning for Wally-Witch, then? But without Mami, Sayaka, or now Kyoko, can you still face it this time without Madoka giving up her soul? INCUBATOR. GET OUT. Homura asks if there was any real chance for Kyoko to save Sayaka. “Of course not. She should have known that it was impossible.” Oh fuck you, Bunny-Cat! And then to go on, say that you would have stopped her if “her death had been needless”? That getting her out of the picture served a very important purpose? But of course, this all works out to your favor. Because like I said, now there is no one else to help Homura against Walpurgisnact. Even with the experience of a past life, she is not strong enough to face the Super Witch alone. “In order to protect this city, there is no choice but for Madoka to become a Magical Girl.” And here’s the terrible, terrible choice. Homura is defined as doing whatever it takes to save others from the fate of giving up their souls, becoming a Magical Girl. Everything she has done has been to prevent Madoka from making that sacrifice. But when the cost of Madoka’s freedom is her city getting attacked by a Super Witch? Can one life be preserved at the cost of the many? Homura won’t let Madoka make the Contract. She swears it. … OH FUCK YOU, UROBUCHI! You end on this downer note, I’m practically crying over the injustice of the Incubator manipulating things to where Madoka has to Contract in order to save the city, and then you blindside me with this beautiful artwork of Kyoko and Sayaka?! God damn it, just take my heart and stomp on it, why don’t you? And this end-credits song… Da fuq? Final artwork piece of Kyoko looking a lot older and much more cat-like. Ok? Alright, let’s hear this teaser for the next episode: “No one believe me about the future.” Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. We finally get to see Homura’s story? Her previous life? “No one can accept the truth about the future. I won’t rely on anyone anymore.” ...oof, this next episodes going to be a gut-punch, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve come to accept that these episodes are murder on my emotional state, but seeing Homura try to distance herself from these people, to keep from despair? This is going to be brutal. 

[anearthstruckalien]

[          A hand is slowly extended towards the bright and rectangular object shining amidst the otherwise unfathomable darkness of the room; it was just a void now that the sickly red tint had (thankfully) disappeared.  Slowly. Measuredly.  Tentatively.  But, he never opens it.  Not at the moment he had envisioned in his thoughts because of properly opening it, his hand remains idly hovering over the point at which he could open it with one simple manuveur.  Tension still runs high throughout his exoskeleton and now it’s reached the tip of his tail given how it’s curled in on itself ever-so-slightly.  His mouth presses into a tight and rigid line and ultimately rather than moving any further, the pale alien simply casts his dull gaze towards the ground as though that would effectively calm and distract him from whatever it is that may be behind this door.  He had never planned for this.  He had never anticipated it.  This was an event that had occurred beyond his calculations.  It was never supposed to get this… complicated.  What will happen next…?  What will he be capable of doing based on what happens next?

           The faintest of exasperated sighs is what ultimately escapes him in apparent response to his own internal set of inquiries, what should have otherwise been a greater travel of sound fundamentally absorbed by the darkness and thus leaving no further continuation of the sound in its wake.  This is not the purpose behind his visit to The Place That Time Forgot, but all the same, the truth of the matter is that he is… afraid.  Despite his best efforts he is still afraid.  It might not show very well now because he’s in what one might refer to as ‘survival mode’, but something like this is among his greatest fears… or rather a precursor to it.  He lifts his gaze up from the ground and down to his hands anew.  If he’s still capable of doing anything at all, of thinking rationally and freely moving about his mind, then it has not happened yet.  Not yet. But, it could if he doesn’t take action soon.  Now his gaze is rigidly fixed back upon the door in the middle of the room before him. The truth is… that he’s also afraid of what he might find behind this door.  He knows what is meant to be behind it (because even as he fears it, curiousity and a desire to find answers to critical questions exist within) but seeing what is there would either confirm the absolute worst to be undeniably true… or refute what he’s believed thus far in unforeseen ways.

           Both of those possibilities would be difficult to process for different reasons.  Possibilities that he may not be prepared for… and yet it is what he must do anyways. It is too quick.  This is something that had never been meant to be touched.  Something that should have stayed locked away until he could face it (no matter how horrible) if that day would ever come.  This is the only progress that he’s made thus far in his current situation.  And it was enough to get that disgusting part of him to ease off a bit (he simply knows it)… so it in turn, may be precisely what he needs to put this nonsense to an end.  For good. Just like he had originally set out to do.  He takes several breathes to calm himself down and thus push aside some of that which is clogging up clear thought to at least feel like he can do more despite the ultimately muddled state of his mind.  Then, he resumes his earlier motion and draws his hand closer to the door so that it can be opened much like the high-tech doors lining the inside of his ship and with little more hesitation, he steps through the entry and into the next location…  ]

[          The room that he finds himself in next may as well be the prior location’s precise opposite.  It was bright.  Uncomfortably bright but only because of the highly reflective nature of the room and some unknown light source hidden behind each facet.  It’s cut like a crystalline system of caves and just as rough on the greyish-white ground below (that too somewhat reflective in its own way) and at first, that there’s nothing else in this room has the Psion thinking that perhaps there is indeed nothing beyond what he’s considered to be himself for the longest time.  What a wasted effort.  Soon would that thought be put aside however, because just as the Psion is about to turn to leave, something in the reflective surfaces catches his eye. Something that isn’t merely a reflection of his current form.  Rather, one of the many duplicate images of himself seems to melt away like it was a trick of the light itself to that of the distorted variant which had been present in the other room.  And before he can even properly react to that… yet another image on a different reflective surface repeats the prior process to give way to an image of himself without all the evident signs of damage to his physical form.  And yet another morphs to something almost too idealistic to be true; what seems to be a younger variant of himself, as a child, and donning a scarf in the color which he hates so much though this red is a far more valiant take on it.  It’s this latest one which causes him to take a step back out of instinct and for a singular dark blue void to widen a marginal amount, as though he cannot believe what he is seeing within his own mind.  ]

‘What.  On.  Earth…’

[          A disbelieving shake of the head and another step is almost taken back, one that certainly would have been enacted were it not for his own refusal to display any further weakness, even within the unseen recesses of such a hidden place.  The altered reflections (though visibly different in appearances) do not seem to be entities of their own so much as they are just that, altered reflections of himself.  Everything he does is mimicked by the otherwise listless images scattered amidst crystalline formations.  Cue another critical glance about the general area and then another sigh.  Of course.  He had been expecting something like this or least just that of the first two. The third was a complete surprise. After a moment’s worth of hesitation, he moves towards the more heroic-looking image as though innately drawn to it in an inexplicable manner.  And ordinarily, this would be enough for him to call its truthfulness into question, but this is his mind and no matter how… –troubled he may be deep-down, that (a part of one’s Magicant) does not lie.  A pause at just a short distance from it and he tentatively presses a hand to the reflective facet’s surprisingly cold surface.

           Is that really… himself… –?  It must be.  This cannot be a lie.  One’s Magicant never lies no matter how much one may personally wish to see otherwise. But… how… –?  He thought that… he had thought that… it was just a dream. An impossible illusion perpetually out of reach from a monster like himself, an evil creature with an innate nature that indiscriminately drives it to warp and destroy when left to its own natural devices.  If so… if this is truly himself, then it means that his nature isn’t what he thought it was… he isn’t just a hollow shell moved by the will of others, a corrupted Psion tool, or just the nightmare which had to be exterminated for the good of everyone... is he…?  He shudders just a little bit, his right eye twitching in kind as though holding something back, before the Psion sharply turns away as if he cannot stand looking at such a bright image anymore.  There’s an overwhelming build-up of something inside him and that something is powerful enough to block out the perpetual pain and nightmarish buzzing all on its own without any input from Giegue himself.  It’s difficult to properly sort out what he’s feeling and what he isn’t because it’s just so much… but it is (with no small degree of certainty) some bizarre mixture of relief bordering on sickly happiness that he isn’t what he thought himself to be… that in the end, it wasn’t a complete waste of time for her to associate with him at all… and that of an almost hardcoded desire to reject such a conclusion because it just didn’t make any sense…

           No.  He frowns and shoves that later sentiment aside.  Regardless of what his personal feelings are, it would be utter insanity to reject it in a place where truth about the self was meant to shine through despite one’s own perceptions of themselves.  He casts another critical glance about the images anew and tries to think through what this means logically.  If that more heroic variant is himself, the true self, then the others indicated must also be his true self as well.  All of it is a part of him and perhaps even more depending on his own willingness to search.  A vague blink as the overarching conclusion to this dawns upon him after more careful (and somewhat suspicious) thought.  He isn’t inevitably a monster by nature, but rather a… very flawed entity just as capable of good and terrible things as any other neutral form. And just as importantly, all of this also means that he’s… always been himself this entire time.  Despite his own condition… missing a piece and everything… he’s always been himself.  The corrupted after-image has always been a part of him.  It has always been with him along with those terribly corrupted and distorted feelings. It has always been connected to him; he had simply never wanted to acknowledge the fullest extent of all this. He had been more afraid of it than he consciously realized; it went far deeper.

           A more direct glance at the corrupted image in all its oozing and grotesque glory and he practically pushes himself into an almost shambling kind of walk towards it with definitive intent in mind.  It is himself.  These are his feelings too and they have continued to exist within beyond the outcome of the second attempt.  He is the nightmare.  The Evil Power.  The Universal Cosmic Destroyer.  Giygas. Despair.  Hate.  Anger. Regret.  Fear.  And sadness. Those are all a part of himself, but it does not have to be all that exists and it most certaintly isn’t.  Though unnecessary (given that what he’s about to do is more so about a state of mind, sentiment, and willpower than anything) pale hands gently clasp together in front of his physical form.  If it truly was all that existed, then he wouldn’t have been capable of doing good things at all for its own sake.  Of even doing these things for Maria’s sake based on his obligation to her which itself is undoubtedly rooted in how he feels about her. This is not an illusion.  He is not an illusion.  A deep inhalation of breath and (like many other times preceding it) a subsequent exhalation.  His intentions have been genuine all along and though that alone doesn’t grant a cohesive understanding of who he precisely is as a person in full… it does give further weight to the hope that he could somehow be so much more despite everything.

           His mind has now been stuck back into clarity and focus.  An internal sense of peace has overridden all that bothersome noise.  And now his sole focus is simply on doing something… anything to put a permanent stop to the trouble being caused by what remains after the second invasion of Earth, so that no one else has to get hurt and pointlessly suffer because of his own actions.  As such, it seems that his efforts (this time around) are not in vain because he does feel something building up, the intangible turning into something that can transcend its limitations.  Power.  Willpower. Determination.  An incredibly dense and bright concentration of energy. Far more than a star or even an entire galaxy for that matter.  But certainly less than what he had felt from the Earth’s Power.  It burns.  But, not in any way that’s uncomfortable or emptying.  And the phantom, it seems, can feel it too because suddenly the corrupted image stops being a direct mirror of himself and morphs into the real creature which tries to strike out at him like before…

           … only for Giegue himself to move his own appendage (his left hand) towards it, sparking just a little with something unidentifiable by any current standards, and makes direct physical contact with little more than an index finger.  At first nothing seems to happen, but a moment later, the corrupted after-image seems to fall off itself in a way.  It’s like shedding a shell.  An incredibly damaged shell distorted beyond easy recognition and one that ultimately falls apart in pieces as though it were as fragile as paper to reveal something else beyond it all.  Or rather what it always has been beyond corruption.  All that remains in its place is something pale blue in color and of indiscernible shape.  He narrows an eye to study it for just a bit, though he already knows what it is, before reaching out towards it once again and allowing for it to disappear into himself. It has been absorbed and is now a part of himself once again.  Now there is no more after-image and no further concerns about what it could do given that all of its terrible effects have long since ceased to be.  He hears no message.  No buzzing.  And no further pain.  ]

[pretttydemonboy]

ACoM - Racquel Threatens a Child

@leeferal Most of the reason this is so long is because I did a bit of stuff leading up to when Racquel and Cassa meet up with Gruff and Co.

Receiving a message from the Ring of Sending was kind o like an alarm going off inside your brain. When Racquel first heard it, ze was hiding in a casket from an undead giant. It was little more than a general SOS, but it still sent a pang of panic through zir chest because it meant Gruff was in some kind of trouble. Racquel had to get to him, but it wasn’t exactly possible at the moment. Zir brother would have to wait until Racquel wasn’t shacking up with a corpse, and until ze could sneak away from the group without raising too much suspicion. Although considering zir history of not sneaking away, there were going to be questions when Racquel got back regardless.

Once they got out of the caskets, it wasn’t giants they had to worry about but general undead, as well as a few fiends who were far too hard to kill for Racquel’s liking. It didn’t help that Orila, apparently confronted with some kind of illusion magic she couldn’t see past, kept swinging at the air until the last fiend had disappeared. When asked about it, Orila seemed frustrated and bewildered because the undead she was supposedly fighting was impossible to hit, showing an agility that was extremely unusual for that kind of being. They managed, and nobody died, so it’s refreshing to know that Racquel and the others could still survive without their star fighter. Not that Racquel wanted to survive without Orila’s assistance, but it was still nice to know that the group wasn’t as helpless as it used to be.

The more time Racquel spent in the city of the undead, the more anxious ze became to leave. More than just the cold, which wasn’t zir ideal climate anyways, but another SOS message had gone off in zir head in the middle of the battle, causing them to whiff an arrow directly over the head of one of the translucent jellyfish looking things. Racquel cursed and knocked another arrow, glad for the opportunity to do so since the jellyfiend was distracted by zir crew. This one sliced right through its head, a crack of thunder rippling through and tearing the creature apart from the inside out. It landed in a slimy heap at zir feet, and after that it was down to one more fiend and the corpse flower that had fallen from the ceiling. Racquel barely managed to ignore the foul odor coming from the plant, but ze managed enough to help Elliana kill the damn thing. Not that she needed much help. Elliana grew tired of the battle and Racquel watched as with a fierce expression, dark energy shot out of her hands and covered the snaking vines of the flower.

Whatever Elliana did seemed to eat at the plant, dissolving it until the tendrils just fell away into nothingness. She did it a second time just moments later, apparently not satisfied with the amount of decay she’d already imposed on the thing. That second blast of energy was enough to completely destroy it though. Once it was gone the last fiend disappeared, seeming to understand that it was outnumbered and sure to lose the battle. Racquel was slightly bitter, ze would have felt much better if the thing had died like the rest of zir foes, but a battle won was a battle won regardless of the circumstances.

From there it was a matter of following the canal and the stream of caskets beyond the door out to a pond of sorts. None of them were really expecting to find the Lich King living in a tiny shack, surrounding by all his wooden carvings as well as the corpses of his people, but that’s what they found, and it’s where another side of the story came out about this war that was supposedly being fought. Racquel groaned internally. Politics were tiresome at best, downright infuriating at the worst. They required a sense of nuance that Racquel didn’t have the patience to learn so ze avoided them as much as possible. The Lich King, as nice as he seemed, made Racquel uneasy. Memories of the Old Duchess, of a large ball of fire sent flying at the group...of Demjin, her fur singed and her skin raw and blistered, her eyes...blank, empty of the affectionate spark that Racquel always saw when ze looked at her.

It didn’t help that while talking to the King, the alarm went off a third time. This time, the tone was desperate, tired, and Racquel began to itch with the need to get away. By the time they all returned to the castle, ze could barely stop to come up with an excuse for breaking away from the group. Going to check on the Emperor’s wife seemed like a good enough reason, and Xan wouldn’t think anything of it when Racquel decided to slip away to the kitchen for another raid of the pastries and cakes they seemed to always have on hand.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Racquel said, careful to keep things vague lest ze be caught attempting to lie. Ze still wasn’t ready to test the consequences of zir little deal with the hag in the mausoleum.

“Okay....hurry back,” Xan replied, reaching up with his pale fingers to caress Racquel’s cheek. Racquel leaned into the touch and then into a quick but gentle kiss before pulling away and taking off in the direction of the kitchen.

From there, however, Racquel made zir way out the servant’s exit. Demjin trailed along behind zir, setting off at a lazy trot to keep up with Racquel’s hastened stride. Since they had just got back, ze didn’t have to worry about collecting supplies. Ze was already more than prepared to follow Gruff’s beacon. As ze made zir way towards the outskirts of the city, ze twisted the ring on zir finger and sent out a message to get an idea of Gruff’s current position and where he was headed.

The ring wasn’t like talking face to face, it wasn’t capable of back and forth conversation in real time, but it was useful for sending locations and distress signals. Based on the signals, Gruff wasn’t more than a few hours away. It would have been quicker on horseback, but Racquel didn’t have time to procure a horse. It was easier to just walk there and find a good spot to intercept them.

Avoiding the main roads and sticking to the tree line, it wasn’t long before night fell. Racquel was moving briskly, Demjin trotting along quietly beside zir, but ze knew there was still some distance to go in order to get to where Gruff was going to be. He knew where he was being taken and more or less what route was being used to get there, so Racquel knew where ze needed to be in order to intercept whatever caravan Gruff was being held captive by.

Racquel didn’t want to overexert zirself, but that soon became non-optional when the sudden thunder of heavy footsteps raced up behind zir. Ze bristled, readied zir quarterstaff, and spun around to face whoever was on zir trail, but relaxed when a flash of golden scales caught the moonlight.

“Cassa!”

But Cassa wasn’t slowing down, and Racquel realized a couple things very quickly. One, they were a ways away from any kind of shoreline. The dragonborn ship captain wouldn’t dare head this far inland without good reason, and that meant that Gruff had probably contacted her as well, and if Gruff thought things were serious enough to call in Cassa from the shore, then Racquel should be running too.

Racquel sheathed zir staff and spun on zir heel to starting running. Cassa caught up with Racquel, but neither of them said anything. They couldn’t spare the breath. Demjin sprinted alongside them, her blue black fur gleaming under the moon, and all she and Racquel could do was follow as Cassa bolted across the open fields. They ran for what felt like hours and Racquel was amazed that someone as large as Cassa could run so fast, not to mention that when they finally stopped it was as though she’d only gone for a leisurely stroll. Racquel, on the other hand, was drenched in a fine sheen of sweat and even Demjin looked a little weary, collapsing by the fire pit that Cassa was already swiftly assembling.

Racquel helped her set up a small camp, both of them working in a comfortable silence. Normally Racquel would be scrambling to fill the silence, but with Cassa ze knew it was better to get settled and then ask, lest ze be on the receiving end of Cassa’s harsh captain demeanor. Once the fire was going and Cassa had stopped pacing, Racquel looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“I hate horses. And I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

“We’re miles from the shore.”

Cassa gave Racquel a look. “I’m deceptively fast on my feet.”

“Fair enough. So you think they’ll be coming this way?”

Cassa nodded. “Any second now. We made it just in time really.”

Racquel turned and stood with zir back to the fire and looked down at Demjin. Ze nodded at her and with that, Demjin stood up and began a silent patrol around the edge of the camp. Cassa stood beside Racquel and the two of them scanned the surrounding area, waiting for any sign of Gruff. Like Cassa predicted, they didn’t have to wait long. A caravan made its way around a bend in the road and as it neared the camp, it slowed down. Racquel could make out two figures up front with the horses, neither of which were big enough to be Gruff. Demjin stalked towards the caravan, tail twitching, and once Racquel and Cassa saw a large figure stumble out of the cart and begin making their way towards the camp, they both took off.

Gruff didn’t look hurt so much as he just looked drained. When Racquel reaches him, he still tries to crush zir in a hug but it’s a fraction of the strength he usually embraces zir with. When Demjin comes up and weaves a protective circle around them, Gruff doesn’t even acknowledge it. Racquel can smell bitter alcohol on his breath, more like he just took a drink rather than he’d been drinking, but it still said something about his current state and Racquel held tight to zir brother up until Cassa caught up and not a moment sooner.

When ze let go of Gruff to hand him off to Cassa, ze shot a glare over at the people still standing by the caravan. There were four of them that Racquel could see, one of which bore the distinct horns of a fellow Tiefling but was also the shortest of the group. A human clad in heavy armor and a...blue...person, as well as one other human man wearing the kind of clothing ze knew to be cleric’s robes were also standing by and each of them looked as though they had been getting ready for a fight until Gruff ran over.

Behind Racquel, there was a thud as Gruff and Cassa sank to the ground, Gruff leaning against Cassa just to stay upright.

“Gruff!” The others temporarily forgotten, Racquel turned and leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Mom,” Gruff mumbled, and then said something quieter that Racquel couldn’t quite make out. But then ze watched as he raised his hands and tugged at a collar around his neck, and then zir blood began to boil.

Racquel sent Cassa a brief look and when she nodded back, ze stormed off towards the caravan, Demjin following close behind. Cassa would look after Gruff, as best as she could, while Racquel set off to behead whoever thought they had any right to enslave Gruff Sharptooth.

Zir spear was out and pointed towards the group, but they stopped a good ten feet away from the crew and glared at them.

“Who did it?”

“Who did what?” The blue one, what Racquel now recognized as an Air Genasi, asked in a seemingly bored tone.

“Who put the collar on him?”

To Racquel’s surprise, the Tiefling child raised his hand. “That was me!”

He sounded almost proud of it. Racquel snarled in his direction. “You’re going to take it off then.”

“No, he hasn’t finished helping us!”

Racquel charged forward, holding the spear low and stopping as soon as the tip was right next to the child’s throat. “He was finished helping you the moment you decided putting a slave collar on a former slave was okay! I don’t care what arrangement you made with him, you take the collar off and you let him go!”

Ze was briefly aware of one of the human men, the one with the heavy but battleworn armor, moving to draw his sword, but Racquel could also see Demjin standing by zir side, hackles raised and lips curled back over her teeth in a warning snarl.

“I wanted to make sure he would help us, and the collar makes it so that he has to do what I say!”

“For the record, I was completely against the idea and kept telling Doom here to take it off of Gruff.”

Racquel turned to look at the man dressed in the cleric’s robes. The other one nodded along with him. “Yeah, that wasn’t our doing.”

“If you were against the idea then why is it still on him?!” Racquel shouted.

“The child refused to listen.”

Racquel scoffed. “And? That’s it? You just let it go then?”

The men looked at each other, then back at Racquel. The cleric looked almost ashamed, but the other one still had his hand on the hilt of his sword even though his gaze kept flicking to the panther in front of him. Racquel looked over at the Genasi, who hadn’t said anything.

“What about you?”

The Genasi shrugged. “I didn’t do it, but he owes us a favor.”

Racquel made a note to kill her slowly, but said nothing. Turning back to face the child, whom ze now knew to be named Doom, Racquel pressed the point of the spear closer to the boy’s neck. “They may not want to hurt you simply because you are young, but I have no such reservations.”

Ze was about to make good on that threat when suddenly out of the corner of zir eye, there was someone running at zir. Racquel turned to look just in time to see the cleric, a mace raised in one hand, get tackled to the ground and wind up with Demjin standing on top of him, snarling in his face.

“Don’t move, child,” Racquel said before going to stand over the man. His mace had flown out of his hands with the force of Demjin’s weight crashing into him, but Racquel knew he was likely capable of some magic as well and wanted to eliminate that complication.

“What’s your name?”

The man cast a hesitant glance towards Demjin before wheezing out a reply. “Franz.”

Racquel leaned down and murmured zir next words to Franz. “I have no intention of hurting the boy. He will take the collar off, however, and I will threaten him as I see fit until he does so.”

“He’s a child.”

“He’s a stupid child playing with things he doesn’t understand. And you are stupid for trying to attack me when there’s a giant cat standing by ready to rip you to shreds. If you try it again, she will do more than knock the wind out of you. Understand?”

Franz seemed to think it over for a moment, at war between his obligation to protect one of his traveling companions and his desire to not get torn to shred by a literal panther.

“You swear not to hurt the boy?”

“I swear, so long as he does as he’s told.”

“...Fine. Would you mind telling your friend her to get off of me now?”

Racquel turned and grunted at Demjin, who let out a warning growl but climbed off of Franz and allowed him to get to his feet.

“I think I’ll go check on Gruff. Sam, Whisk, you’ve got this handled right?”

Sam, the other human man, and Whisk, the Genasi, nodded their response while Franz gathered up his mace and made his way over to the fire.

Down one ally, Doom still looked defiant but less so now that he knew Racquel wasn’t going to be dealt with easily.

“You’re going to take the collar off, and you’re going to do it now.”

Doom’s eyes were alight with indignation, but Racquel could see the glimmer of fear behind them. “Why should I listen to you?” he asked.

His voice was surprisingly stable when he spoke, Racquel would have given him credit for that in any other situation. Instead, Racquel choked up on the spear and dove in close to the young boy so that ze could growl in his face.

“Because if you don’t, I will make sure you never have to worry about someone putting a collar round your scrawny neck. You catch my drift?”

Where once there was a flash of resilience and bravery, only fear and humiliation remained. Doom seemed to deflate right before zir eyes and he held his hands up in what looked like surrender.

“Fine, I’ll take it off. But he better still help us!”

“We could always just threaten to take him back to jail,” the Genasi offered, arms crossed over her chest.

Racquel stood and pointed zir spear at the Genasi. “You shut up. If Gruff decides to help you after this you will consider yourselves lucky because it means I won’t be putting all your heads on spikes and letting my panther devour the remains.”

The Genasi didn’t seemed phased by the threat, but Racquel did see her hand twitch towards her crossbow and that at the very least meant she was paying attention. Ze turned away from her and back to Doom, grabbing him by the collar of his clothing and yanking him in the direction of the camp. Doom let out a yelp and stumbled, trying to keep up with zir long stride.

“Hey! Let him go!”

Racquel didn’t turn back at Sam’s warning and instead kept pulling Doom alongside zir. “As long as he takes the collar off, I won’t harm him. You are welcome to come watch if you don’t believe me.”

As Racquel approached the camp with Doom still stumbling along next to zir, ze took in the sight of Cassa carefully unbraiding Gruff’s unkempt hair and running her fingers through it, claws scratching gently over his scalp in a calming massage. Franz was standing nearby, though keeping his distance which Racquel knew was at Cassa’s command based on the way she was staring at him.

By the sounds of it, Gruff had fallen asleep in Cassa’s arms almost immediately. He was snoring loud enough to wake an entire village and despite how obnoxious it was, Racquel wanted to sigh in relief. Instead of doing that though, ze looked down and yanked Doom’s collar to get his attention.

“Do you need to wake him up to take it off?”

Doom shook his head.

“Good. Don’t.”

Racquel let go of him and watched as he reached into a pouch at his side and pulled a key out of his pocket. Ze was kind of irritated that it was just a simple key, it would have been just as easy to shake the kid down for it if Racquel hadn’t thought it was some kind of enchanted collar that required a spell to undo it.

Regardless, a moment later there was a heavy thunk and when Doom stood up there was a heavy metal collar in his hand. Without a word Racquel snatched it out of his hands and threw the collar into the fire.

“Hey that-!”

Racquel clamped zir hand over Doom’s mouth and leaned in close to the child once more. “You will never enslave another person ever again. If I find out that you have, I will hunt you down.”

Doom nodded and Racquel let him go before turning to look at the rest of Gruff’s captors. Sam and Whisk did end up following and were now standing off to the side with Franz. Ze watched Doom join them a moment later and then crossed zir arms in front of zir chest.

“If Gruff wants to accompany you still that’s his choice, but we’re not asking him until he’s rested. I suggest you all go to your caravan and do the same.”

“Couldn’t we stay by the fire? We’ll stay on the other side if that makes you feel any better.”

Racquel looked at Franz. “You can build your own fire. Away from my brother.”

“Racquel.”

At Cassa’s gentle but chiding voice, Racquel sighed. “Fine. You lot stay over there. Don’t come near us. And we’re not sharing food.”

“That’s fair,” Franz said, offering Racquel a small smile. Racquel didn’t return it but ze didn’t glare back either. Instead, ze dropped down next to Cassa and held Gruff’s head up enough for her to regain use of her legs.

“I’ll take first watch, you stay with him,” Cassa murmured quietly, crawling to her feet and then stretching her arms up above her head.

Racquel nodded and gently lowered zir brother’s head to the ground before laying down next to him. Ze wanted to curl up around him, remind him that ze was there and wasn’t going anywhere, but ze knew Gruff wouldn’t want the others to see that. Frankly neither did Racquel, so ze stuck with simply pressing the entire length of zir back against Gruff’s. That way they were still in contact, but it didn’t look quite as ‘cuddly.’

After such a long day, not even Gruff’s loud snores or the sounds of quiet conversation had between those sitting by the fire could keep Racquel awake.

[kiruuuuu]

Montagne/Bandit oneshot in which they do a whole lot of not talking to each other (but what little they say is meaningful) - continuation of this snippet. (Rating G, emotional hurt/comfort, ~1.5k words) - written for @kapcan because if I made myself ship it, you should go down with me :)

.

Something wakes him, makes him drift into this hybrid state of both being conscious yet drowsing simultaneously and it takes him a minute to realise what it was that alerted him: the notification light is blinking forlornly in the darkness, a beacon of attempted communication. He picks up his phone, mind still muddled from sleep, and checks his messages. There’s only one from a polysyllabic name which he always shortens in his head to no more than three letters – three letters with which he associates so much. It reads: you up? Were he to scroll up, he’d see that the only other messages they exchanged are work related, quick inquiries, impersonal, sterile, practical.

This one isn’t. It’s neither of those things which is the only reason Montagne replies: pk? He doesn’t know whether he should get up and get dressed or prepare for a call, this hasn’t happened before so he doesn’t know what to expect. In return, he receives a singular question mark which mocks his sleepy brain because he wrote ‘why’ in French, not English, so no wonder Bandit doesn’t understand it. Before he can correct himself, a word appears on his screen which tells him all he needs to know: lounge.

So, getting up and getting dressed it is.

.

He made a mistake.

Ultimately, he doesn’t blame himself as it was impossible for him to have guessed it, to anticipate Bandit’s reaction, but that doesn’t help in the moment. He should’ve known something would happen just from having watched Bandit for this long. The German operator crackles with unspent energy, he’s like a live wire dancing on the floor, fascinating to look at yet fatal when touched – he despises nothing more than waiting and therefore regularly causes events, creates occurrences which interrupt the tension that builds up after too much nothing. And before Montagne’s misstep, the base had been quiet for too long.

For a while, it was nice. It mostly doesn’t take much longer than a quick peek into the lounge or outside or the canteen or wherever he saw Bandit last, makes sure he’s in good company, and then Montagne can sleep without worry. If he finds Bandit alone, the plan changes. He buys snacks or something interesting to drink with which he doesn’t treat himself normally, digs up or borrows a film or finds something else to do. It eats into his own sleep schedule but seeing as it happens maybe once a week, it doesn’t interfere with his general well-being.

Neither of them acknowledge it. Bandit takes his company largely for granted, never asks why he’s not in bed, usually complains about his choice of film or food but ends up falling asleep after a few hours nonetheless, sometimes with his head on one of the tables in the canteen, sometimes against Montagne’s shoulder, sometimes alone in a plushy seat. Wherever it is, Montagne makes sure to carry him to the nearest sofa, drape a blanket over him and then returns to his own room to rest as well. They don’t talk about it. During the day, they do whatever they normally do and hardly interact unless Bandit forgot his jacket. He’s been forgetting it less and less.

And then Montagne ruins it. He says: “You can just text if you need me.” He had to hunt Bandit down, finds him in the workshop and drops this sentence which turns Bandit’s expression stony, makes him physically distance himself.

“I don’t fucking need you”, he replies. And just like that, he’s gone.

.

Since then, nothing. Montagne respects his wish for privacy and thinks not about absent-minded touches, the way his clothes smell when a permanently cool body has either worn or rested against them, how peaceful it was to witness Bandit doze off in his presence, wholly relaxed, often wrapped in a blanket already or otherwise pressing up against him. He pushes these memories, these scenes inside his head away because admitting their absence would sting. Better to pretend they never existed in the first place.

Only now it all comes crashing back due to a few words displayed on a screen in the middle of the night. Who is he to refuse this show of trust? Navigating the hallways in the dark has become easy after the first few times of stumbling and fumbling – he wants to avoid waking anyone up lest their presence shatters whatever opportunity he might get now. He doesn’t even know what to anticipate or what to hope for, only knows that he needs to be there.

The TV is flickering with the sound on low, some rerun of a B-movie Montagne hasn’t seen but the fast-paced scenes don’t catch his attention anyway, no, the slim silhouette perched on one of the uncomfortable chairs however does. Bandit jumps up as soon as he hears him, ready for action yet uncertain on the details, sways in his direction but holds himself back. He’s hesitating and so Montagne decides for him, but when he approaches, hands on his cheeks stop him, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, cool palms on his skin. The gesture is unambiguous though Bandit doesn’t dare to bring it to conclusion, is probably riddled with self-doubt. “I was wrong”, he says quietly and even if Montagne might not get an apology for the sudden silence and avoidance, this is still an admission he didn’t expect.

His hands find their way to Bandit’s waist, hold him in place and he feels Bandit’s electricity thrumming in his fingertips. He leans in, is stopped by a short press of cold hands and now their faces are mere centimetres apart, Bandit looking scared and like a trapped animal, eyes wide and flitting over Montagne’s face. “I need you too”, Montagne replies without even thinking about it because he can’t lie to himself any longer, can’t pretend he’s merely watching out for his team – all of this goes so far beyond his normal sense of duty that the excuse doesn’t work anymore.

Bandit kisses like a desperate man, takes and takes like someone who’s used to everything nice being fleeting, like someone who might be denied any second. He pants and mewls into Montagne’s mouth, licks it open and gasps when he’s simply picked up. This part is familiar, Montagne carries him to the nearest couch, only this time Bandit ends up in his lap, restless and still kissing him as if his life depended on it.

It’s over as abruptly as Bandit started it, he buries his face in the crook of Montagne’s neck and scoots closer, as close as he can but doesn’t start relaxing before Montagne embraces him. They stay like this, his lips burning, teeth remembering the feel of Bandit’s tongue, heart racing. He cards a hand through Bandit’s hair and waits.

“I don’t want to sleep.” His voice is small and shaky. “No one knows some of the things I’ve done. But I know. I can’t not know. It’s not letting me rest.”

“You did it for a good cause, Dom.” Somehow, it feels like they’ve had this conversation before – numerous times – when it’s the first he’s hearing of this.

“No. I did it because I could. Because I could get away with it.”

Montagne doesn’t believe him. Based on everything he knows about him, he can picture Bandit performing ruthless, cold-blooded actions but they’re never without cost. They would haunt him. He pays his price. “I’m sorry. I wish I did, but I don’t know how to help you.”

“You are”, Bandit objects softly. “You already are.”

It’s good enough for the moment, he’ll take what he can get. Words burn on his tongue, concessions about how worried he is, how glad about Bandit’s trust in him, how much he missed his prickly company yet he doesn’t get to say them, Bandit’s counterpart swipes them off, steals them for himself and answers the unspoken question of whether the kiss before was merely a manifestation of loneliness or… or more. This one is more deliberate – still messy but deep and slower and Montagne has an easier time reciprocating it.

Neither of them acknowledge it: when it’s over, Bandit curls into him and stays silent in his arms. Once he’s fallen asleep, Montagne carefully stretches him out on the sofa, wraps him in a blanket and wonders whether he should try raising the point that Bandit might sleep better in Montagne’s room if his presence calms him down. For now, all he does is lie down on the opposite couch so that he’ll be there if Bandit wakes up again in the middle of the night. He falls asleep to quiet breaths and the feeling of lips on his own.

[team-free-squiggle]

For the Sanders Sides prompt thing. I honestly really like Virgil x Sleep/Remy?? Like, since Virgil has only recently gotten more comfortable outside the mind he doesn’t know who Remy is? But like, they click instantly. Like, Remy’a sass and Virgil’s sarcasm?? Imagine???? Also they would totally go to concerts together.

oh hells yeah

I love this prompt, thank you so much anon!

~~

Meeting Remy

~~

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Summary: Virgil and Remy meet and fall for each other 

Character: Virgil Sanders, Remy Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Logan Sanders

Pairings: Sleepxiety (Virgil x Remy)

Warnings: hella gay fluff

~~

Virgil was still getting used to not staying in his room all day to hide from the others. Now that they accepted him for who he is, he’s been trying to spend more time with them. They’ve been trying to include him more in their day-to-day activities; and it was all working.

Virgil would sometimes bake cookies with Patton. He would play chess with Logan, or other strategy games if they wanted a change of pace. He would go on quests with Roman, which was always enjoyable - Virgil was surprised that he loved going on adventures, loved protecting people. No one else was surprised when they found this out, but it made all of them smile nonetheless.

It was a lot easier now to be a part of the Family than it had been once, up until now anyway. 

Virgil was walking down for breakfast, like normal, only to find that there was an extra person and chair at the breakfast table. 

Virgil slowed down, studying this new person carefully. Virgil couldn’t lie - the man was hot as hell - sunglasses on, a black leather jacket on over a thin white t-shirt, black ripped skinny jeans with a pair of white converse. 

Virgil walked in, grabbing the last seat, which happened to be next to this new person. “Morning, everyone,” Virgil smiled, grabbing his coffee. 

He was always nicer in the mornings, when he was refreshed from sleep before becoming a mess in the afternoon from wanting more sleep. Logan, Patton, and Roman had always found this very adorable.

“Morning, Virgil. Sleep well?” Logan acknowledged. This had become their daily routine, and Virgil was comforted by it this morning. 

“Yeah, you guys?” Logan, Patton, and Roman nodded. The newcomer smirked. 

“You’re welcome.” He smirked, which was unfairly hot in Virgil’s extremely gay opinion. The others laughed, and Virgil turned to him.

“Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Virgil,” This was the first time he had introduced himself by name, not by title, and he was understandably anxious as he held out his hand. 

The stranger smiled. “No, we haven’t cutie.” He winked, causing Virgil to blush slightly as the others smirked at how cute they were. 

“I’m Remy, and it’s very nice to meet you. What’s your job?” He continued, shaking Virgil’s hand before going back to breakfast. Virgil’s smile fell a little bit.

“I’m Anxiety, if that’s what you’re asking.” Remy turned to him.

“Woah, wait, really?” Virgil nodded, expecting rejection.

“Oh my god, dude, you’re amazing!” Well, that wasn’t what anyone had been expecting.

“What? What do you do, and what do you mean?” Virgil was thoroughly confused.

“Oh, how rude of me, I’m sorry. I’m Sleep, and dude you do so much good. Like, one time, when Thomas was driving, I wanted a nap, but the anxiety of what would happen if Thomas got too tired while driving kept him awake and he got home safely! Or, like, you make Thomas keep the car and front door locked so no one comes and gets all our stuff while I do my job!” Remy was ranting, leaving a blush and smile on Virgil’s face.

“So, Sleep, huh? How’d you get personified?” Virgil was curious now, too entranced with Remy to consider how it might seem rude. Luckily, Remy was super chill.

“Oh, Thomas made a short about me last night, so now I get to spend time with you guys!” Virgil silently thanked Thomas for sending him someone so hot. 

“Okay, so Remy. I have a very important question for you.” Virgil smirked, he had to know based on the Short Side’s attire.

“Alright, shoot, sweetheart.” Damn, his little nicknames made Virgil blush something fierce.

“Music taste. I’m curious if you like the same things I do.” Remy’s face lit up at the mention of music, and Virgil decided he wanted to see that expression on his face more often.

“Oh my gosh, okay, I don’t know your music taste, but god I’m all over the place. I like classic rock a lot, and some country, but mainly I’ve been really getting into the punk and emo and alternative scene lately and it just feels so me and I love it so much.” Remy said this all in a single breath, and blushed when he was done. 

‘Oh my god, me too! Not the country part, and I appreciate some Classick Rock, but the emo/punk/alternative stuff?! Hells yeah!” Both Sides went on to discuss their shared love of music.

“Oh my god, Patton, Logan, this is so pure.” Roman whispered to the other Sides as they watched Remy and Virgil get along super well. Patton had to contain a squeal when Remy asked if he and Virgil could hang out more after breakfast, and Logan high-fived Roman when Virgil accepted, blushing. 

“Hey, Ro?” Roman was brought out of his thoughts of how cute a couple Remy and Virgil would be when Remy caught his attention. 

“Yes, Sleeping Beauty?” Roman couldn’t help but tease Virgil a little by flirting with sleep, despite the fact he might be losing a limb later if Virgil’s look was anything to go by. 

“Can we go to your realm, Virgil and I? He said he often goes there so he can see band concerts…” Virgil was blushing now, and maybe slightly smirking that Roman’s compliment had been brushed aside. 

Roman chuckled heartily, letting Virgil know that he had just been teasing a little. “Of course, anyone is welcome there anytime! I think you should see my kingdom at some point too, though, because Virgil remember that cave from the last dragon we slayed together?” 

Virgil’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Oh yeah, Remy would love that I think.” Remy looked at Virgil incredulously.

“Wait, you two slay dragons together?” Remy seemed impressed.

“Yeah.” Virgil blushed happily.

Roman nodded excitedly. “Yeah, so Virgil here is quite the adventurer as it turns out. As am I, though that was obvious.” Remy laughed, nodding. “So, we often would go out on adventures. And I love protecting my people, and Virgil just loves to help and protect people.”

Virgil nodded, taking over. “Yeah, and I love doing something to help Thomas. So when I found out that all of Roman’s enemies were negative thoughts that Thomas has, about anything, I really got to helping him vanquish them. I may be Anxiety, but it’s my job to protect Thomas. That means protecting Roman from doing stupid quests alone, sometimes, and means preventing these dragons from destroying Creativity’s realm.”

Remy nodded along. “Well, you’re my new Knight in shining armor.” His smirk was directed right at Virgil, and Roman smiled in victory. 

“Go show him that cave, Virgil. I’ll be in the palace main, maybe - oh, Patton! Wanna dance?” Virgil laughed. Remy looked confused. 

“Yeah, Ro! Let me just go get my outfit!” Patton scampered up the stairs as Logan left to read more books. It was an off day for all of them, and they were gonna make the most of it. 

“What just happened?” Remy was really confused now, and it was Virgil’s turn to smirk as he stood up to put his dishes in the dishwasher. 

“Well, love, Roman and Patton like to have Royal Balls on their days off. Usually Logan and I would read/listen to music - he has a surprising appreciation for Twenty Øne Piløts - but today that’s gonna be just Logan. You and I are going to that cave Roman mentioned.” Remy blushed at Virgil calling him love, and nodded. 

And off they were.

While they rode their borrowed horses to the cave, Virgil and Remy talked. There were discussions of everything they could think of, from favorite foods to what you like the most about your job to which Side was your favorite (and no you can’t count yourself, Remy). Virgil and Remy both said each other to that last question, making them blush the rest of the way to the cave.

Soon enough, they were there, and Remy was in awe just like Roman had said he would be. 

The cave was purple and black - Virgil’s colors - but the top of the cave faded into the night sky. It was an accurate charting, too - as precise as if Logan had mapped it out for Roman to paint. 

“Now this is what I call a fusion of Sleepxiety!” Remy spoke in awed wonder, before he and Virgil noticed the purple and black cushions in a corner of the room, right next to a pile of white and black cushions. 

Virgil blushed happily at what he would call their ship name. But that’s when he noticed that he and Remy were both shivering - the cave was cold. 

“Gee, thanks, Roman.” Virgil muttered, making the cave warmer. Being a friend to Creativity had some perks, such as being able to do a few things of his own in Roman’s realm. He made it slightly more habitable - a place he and Remy could come to hang out often if they wanted? - and just sat with Remy and talked for a while. 

It was afternoons like that - sitting in a cave just for them, exchanging sass before heading to a concert - that made them fall in love more and more. 

And eventually, about a year after they had first met, they finally kissed and started dating. 

A perfect fusion of Sleepxiety, indeed.

~~

(Sanders Sides)

@astraastro 

@madly-handsome 

@amber1594 

@lie-lie-birdy 

@thebaagelboy 

@justanotherpurplebutterfly  

@ravenclawunicorn1 

@ako1209 

@funsizedgremlin 

@princessbelix 

@water13girl 

@romanasanders 

@deathshadowrules 

@virgils-jacket 

@fandomsofrandom 

@cochroachkappa-blog 

@zoeyheys 

@chipminkle   

@6tick6tock6  

@maizieandbirds 

@panic-at-theeverywhere 

@not-my-patton 

@cookieturtleart123 

@confinesofpersonalknowledge 

@generalfandomfabulousness 

(All)

@birdybabybird 

@awesomelissawho 

[pistachi-no]

The Greatest Example of Wasted Potential

Recently, The Greatest Showman became available for purchase on DVD, and of course, I had to watch it again. When I watched it the first time, I was captivated by the excellent costume and set design, catchy soundtrack, and of course, the fact that it’s centered around Hugh Jackman.

However, as is the theme for watching movies a second time, you start to see the cracks in the yellow brick road, so to speak. Yes, the songs sound nice, and the actors aren’t unpleasant to look at, but what is The Greatest Showman really about? It’s a story about P. T. Barnum (Hugh Jackman) and how he goes about making himself a name and a fortune starting the world’s first circus. It’s loosely based on the life of the real P. T. Barnum, but aside from the names of his family members, his dramatic flair, and abandoning his job to create a circus, their lives were infinitely different.

In the musical, P. T. begins as a young child, living in poverty and awe of his future wife, Charity (Michelle Williams) and the audience watches the pair sing their way into adulthood. They have two young children, Caroline and Helen, and P. T. supports the family as a clerk for a shipping company until he loses his job. At that point, he establishes himself as a bad person as he uses collateral that he doesn’t actually have to take out a loan. He uses the loan to buy a museum, and upon realizing that it was a terrible idea, assembles a posse of “freaks” to keep his family from slipping under the poverty line. The collection consists of Charles Stratton (Sam Humphrey), a man with dwarfism going by the stage name “General Tom Thumb,” a pair of conjoined twins named Chang and Eng Bunker (Daniel Son and Yusaku Komori), the Huge Man (Daniel Everidge), and black acrobats W. D. and Anne Wheeler (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II and Zendaya), among others. Of course, P. T. can’t do it all by himself, so while he could’ve turned to his wife for guidance and assistance, he instead offered a position to Philip Carlyle (Zac Efron).

Philip’s character is a rough outline of James Anthony Bailey, though he does more to Anne than he does for the circus. His and Anne’s relationship is very trope-heavy, with Anne believing that he would be better off without her, and it requiring him to almost die for her to realize that she needs him. She comes to her original conclusion after Philip (a white man from a wealthy family) introduces her to his family, when they promptly criticized her social status. It’s implied that the underlying issue is that they’re uncomfortable with their son’s blossoming interracial relationship, but it’s never directly stated and therefore can’t be discussed thoroughly.

Of course, Philip’s family is somewhat of an exception to the city’s attitudes towards Barnum’s circus. There are some that commit arson in a direct attempt to harm the performers, a definite hate crime, and I applaud the film for acknowledging the crimes committed against people who are different, but it was executed poorlyーthe only character injured was Philip, and the crime was used to further their romantic subplot. The rest of the citizens are much more docile in their hatred towards Barnum’s posse; they just attend his shows and gawk at the performers. Outside of the city, Queen Victoria of England didn’t allow the performers to attend her ball, and only the able-bodied white men were present. The rest of Barnum’s cast sings a song about not needing other people’s acceptance to be who they are (“This Is Me”) and clearly fits into the message the movie is trying to get across: be your own person, everyone else be damned, and celebrate your differences.

This message, however, was executed poorly, as the main focus is not on the “odd” characters learning to love themselves; the film is centered around the struggle of an able-bodied, lying white man to profit off of people’s differences. Because he’s trying to profit off of appearances, his goal is not for the citizens to see the beauty in their varied physical characteristics, but instead for them to gawk at the performers. By putting them together in a “freak show,” he is teaching New Yorkers that dwarfism, being black, having tattoos, or being a conjoined twin isn’t something that’s normal, and that it’s so odd that they should pay to marvel at the oddities. Barnumーand The Greatest Showman with itーare perpetuating the lie that there is no way an outwardly different person can get a job for being intelligent or a hard worker. He’s demonstrating that these sorts of people cannot exist in the “real world,” and is reducing them to their appearances. The audience never learns what any of the characters are like because of the lack of screen-time they have individually. The only time they have a voice, as the movie has presented it, is when they’re together, saying that they’re more than the eye can see. But, because Barnum profits off of what the eye can see, the intended message effectively contradicts with the film’s very premise.

In short, while The Greatest Showman is an eye-catching musical with easily quoted lyrics, it fails to comply with the message it’s being widely praised for. While it could be called inspiring for having a vaguely diverse cast, it’s still centered around an able-bodied white man’s ability to exploit those who are unlike him, such that there’s no room within its hefty run-time to develop the characters fans are so excited to see onscreen. We as an audience need to recognize that simply having a sundry cast doesn’t make a film “groundbreaking,” or at least that it shouldn’t. Having so many characters like that and leaving them to only be effective in numbers conveys the wrong message, and is a disappointing waste of potential.

[starwrite-er]

Poster Boy [Chapter 25 - Final] - Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: exactly a year ago I began this fic, and somehow today it’s come to a close. Thank you all for sticking by me throughout this story, and I hope you’ll stay around for the companion fic and the eventual sequel!

Tag List: @firefeatherx @plethora-of-things @britishteahater @umbrellabrass @purple-skeleton @winchesterandpie @the-creative-lie @i-alrightokaycool @definitely-nota-fangirl @purelittleblueberry @gemmielii @thedepressedsponge @merlinlover @flylikeajetpack @buckysmaingirl @wookielicious @andyl394 @books-netflix-and-pizza

 Falling out of hyperspace reveals the rich blues and greens of the planet we’re headed to. The Millennium Falcon flies close to the landscape, rolling hills surrounded by numerous lakes spread out before us.

 “I didn’t know there was this much green in the whole galaxy.” Rey whispers, and I feel a pang of pity for the life she’s lived.

 We come to stop in a clearing, the forest we’ve landed in surrounding a stone castle that towers above the foliage. Rey’s the first one out of the ship, taking in the sights and sounds of the flora and fauna she missed out on growing up. I hang back for a minute while Han gathers equipment.

 “Hey, Solo, listen, I don’t know what we’re walking into here-“ Finn starts, his voice low.

 “Did you just call me Solo?” Han interrupts.

 “Sorry, Han- Mr. Solo,” Finn corrects himself before going on. “You should know, I’m a big deal in the Resistance, which puts a real target on my back. Are there any conspirators here? Like, First Order sympathisers?”

 “Listen, ‘Big Deal’, you got another problem. Women always figure out the truth,” Han pushes a blaster into Finn’s arms. “Always.”

 The older man glances over at me. “Hm? Oh, I knew from the get-go,” I say, shrugging. “I think Rey’s lived life in too much isolation to realise, though.” Han gives Finn a look before leaving the ship, passing me a blaster as he goes.

 Finn takes a deep breath before we leave with Chewie to join the others. For a moment I feel like we’re intruding on a conversation between Han and Rey, but they bring the topic to a close, and we set off down one of the dirt paths towards the castle.

 “Solo, why are we here again?” Finn asks, antsy about the whole situation.

 “To get your droid on a clean ship,” Han answers. “You think it was luck that Chewie and I found the Falcon? If we can find it on our scanners, the First Order’s not far behind.”

 The entrance to the castle is an impressive display of flags from across the galaxy, decorating the base of the looming statue portraying a foreign race I’m unfamiliar with.

 “You wanna get BB-8 to the Resistance? Maz Kanata’s our best bet.” Han continues.

 “We can trust her, right?” Finn asks, ever on edge.

 “Relax, kid. She’s run this watering hole for a thousand years. Maz is a bit of an acquired taste, so let me do the talking,” Han tells us. “And whatever you do, don’t stare.”

 “At what?” Rey, Finn, and I ask in unison.

 “Any of it.” Is the vague answer we receive as we enter the building.

 Mellow music plays throughout the cantina, patrons of numerous species and cultures taking up almost every seat, the atmosphere bustling with life.

 “Han Solo!” A voice calls out, and it goes silent, save for the sound of a shattering glass. Every head turns in our direction. Han sighs.

 “Hey, Maz!” He replies with a wave, and the music and chattering resume.

 Through the crowd weaves a small, orange woman, and I realise the statue outside is of her. This must be Maz. “Where’s my boyfriend?” She questions.

 “Chewie’s working on the Falcon.” Is Han’s answer.

 “I like that Wookiee,” She says. I exchange looks with Finn and Rey. “I assume you need something. Desperately. Let’s get to it.”

 By this point, I’ve learnt not to question things like this, and follow her. Still, this place is full of shady people, and I’m on edge with BB-8 out in the open like this. Maz leads us to a round table, taking a seat as she listen intently to the astromech’s explanation.

 “A map, to Skywalker himself?” Maz turns to Han and laughs. “You’re right back in the mess.”

 “Maz, I need you to get this droid to Leia.” Han tells her, voice low.

 “Hm, no,” She replies shortly. We look at her in disbelief as she continues to address the older man. “You’ve been running from this fight for too long. Han, go home.”

 “Leia doesn’t want to see me.” He says, melancholic.

 “Please, we came here for your help.” Finn pleads.

 “What fight?” Rey asks, as curious as ever.

 “The only fight: against the dark side. Through the ages, I’ve seen evil take many forms. The Sith. The Empire. Today, it is the First Order, their shadow spreading across the galaxy. We must face them, fight them. All of us.” Maz tells the young girl, but she strikes a nerve with Finn.

 “There is no fight against the First Order, not one we can win,” The ex-Stormtrooper states, leaning forward. I clench my jaw. “Look around. There’s no chance we haven’t been recognised by now. I bet you the First Order is on their way right-“

 “Then we deal with them,” I snap, cutting him off. His argument is one I’ve been fighting against for a long time. “Cowardice never got anyone anywhere. If we don’t fight back, then innocent lives across the galaxy would have been lost for nothing, and will continue to be lost under the rule of the First Order.”

 A clicking distracts both Finn and I from the debate. “Uh, what’s this? What are you doing?” The boy questions, watching Maz adjust her lenses. The woman squints at us, climbing across the table, knocking things to the floor. “Solo, what is she doing?”

 “I don’t know, but it ain’t good.” Is Han’s seemingly unfazed answer.

 “If you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people,” Maz tells us, observing closely. “I’m looking at the eyes of those who want to run. A man who wants to run away, and a woman who wants to run towards the fight.”

 I swallow thickly. Finn leans forward, and speaks in a low voice. “You don’t know a thing about me. Where I’m from, what I’ve seen. You don’t know the First Order like I do. They’ll slaughter us. We all need to run.”

 Maz returns to her seat and points across the Cantina. “You see those two? They’ll trade work for transportation to the Outer Rim. There, you can disappear.”

 “Finn?” Disbelief laces Rey’s tone.

 “Come with me.” Finn offers earnestly.

 “What about BB-8? We’re not done yet, we have to get him back to your base!” She reminds him. The orange-and-white droid beeps anxiously. For a moment, Finn looks forlorn.

 “I can’t.” He decides, leaving us behind. It’s not my place to feel this way, but I can’t help but feel almost betrayed by his actions, despite knowing exactly why he’s doing it. The hurt on Rey’s face is clear as day, and she too stands up and leaves, BB-8 following her.

 Han and Maz discuss something, and I too excuse myself the conversation. I make my way outside, BB-09 hot on my heels.

 I take seat on the stone steps leading up to Maz’s Castle, taking a minute to myself to think about everything that’s happened the past couple of days, and everything there is still to do. As my astromech chirps reassurances, I find myself thinking of home, of my family and friends, wondering what’s happening back on base.

 My thoughts are interrupted when around me, people shout and cry out, pointing to the sky. I look up and feel my blood turn to ice at the sight of the angry red beam. I stand, filled with an incomparable dread. Even here, across the galaxy, the destruction of the system is visible. Han is now beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder. I cover my open mouth, tears filling my eyes as my heart goes out to the billions of innocent people that just mercilessly lost their lives. BB-09 beeps, frantic.

 “It was the Republic! The First Order, they’ve done it,” Finn calls to us, running over. He’s breathing heavily, and glancing around he realises someone is missing. “Where’s Rey?”

 The destruction of the Hosnian system leaves me feeling helpless, but as the familiar, distant screams of TIEs fill the air, I’m left with a deep-rooted feeling of dread.

 Maz takes us back inside her castle, leading us to a passage underground. “I’ve had this for ages, kept it locked away.” She tells us. At the end of the stone corridor is a wooden chest. The small women reaches in, revealing to us a metal hilt.

 “Where did you get that?” Han questions, recognising the object.

 “A good question, for another time,” Maz places the item in Finn’s hands. “Take it. Find your friend.”

 The way Finn instinctively holds it makes something in my mind click, and I realise that, of all the things that could have been given to us, this- this is a lightsaber.

 There’s a boom, and around us, everything shudders and shakes. Maz speaks, her words hushed. “Those beasts, they’re here!”

 When we make it above ground, the castle has already been reduced to rubble, flames burning and blaster fire filling the air. Han takes the lead, clearing out the first few Stormtroopers that notice us. Behind me, Maz shouts at Finn to go help Rey and BB-8.

 Han and Chewie briefly split up from us, and as Finn utilises the lightsaber now in his possession, I watch his back, taking out Stormtroopers that don’t get too close.

 I hear a shout of ‘traitor!’ behind me, but am too preoccupied to acknowledge it. When I turn back a minute later, I see Finn on the ground, a trooper preparing to bring their weapon down on him. I fire at the buckethead, distracting him long enough for Finn to crawl away. It’s Han that fires the finishing shot as I dash over to my friend.

 “You okay?” I ask, helping Finn to his feet.

 “Yeah, thanks.” He replies, breathless, Chewie and Han joining us.

 “Let’s call it even.” I suggest, referring to his role in Poe’s escape from the First Order. Finn nods.

 “Don’t move!” I turn to see a group of Stormtroopers surrounding us, every one of them with their blasters raised. “TK-338, we have targets in custody.”

 Our weapons are snatched from us, and we’re shoved with blasters, being made to surrender. Hands on our heads, we’re lead through the ruined remains of Maz’s castle, helpless.

 The Stormtroopers continue to relay messages back and forth to each other over their comms, most of it indistinct chatter to my ears. The group leading us away suddenly stops, though, something else brought to their attention.

 “We have incoming at 28.6, move, move, move!” Comes the shout of their squadron leader, troops immediately positioning themselves in the direction of the lake.

 The flair for the dramatic is not lost on me as incoming ships at high speeds spray water into the air behind them, creating a mist that follows them. My hands drop from my head as a grin breaks out across my face. “It’s the Resistance.”

 I watch, ecstatic, cheering as I watch my friends begin swiftly clearing the area out, wishing I was up there with them. The Stormtroopers guarding us are shot down, and we’re quick to grab weapons and start firing.

 I’m beside Finn when a TIE starts shooting at us, getting dangerously close when an X-Wing speeds overhead and takes it down. My heart skips a beat when I see the familiar black and orange design, and an almost teary smile is brought to my face as I recognise the skill of the Starfighter’s pilot.

 “That’s one hell of a pilot!” Finn shouts at the display.

 I whoop as the X-Wing loops back round. “Take ‘em down, babe!”

 The enemy quickly realises that they are outmatched in skill, and begin to retreat. Finn and I run through the debris, just in time to see a cloaked figure carrying Rey into a ship. I stop, horrified by my friend’s capture, as Finn runs towards them, screaming out her name. We watch helplessly as they take to the sky, vanishing into hyperspace.

 “He took her, did you see that? He took her. She’s gone.” Finn calls to Han as we regroup. He reassures the younger man he saw as he brushes past, making his way to the landing site of a transport ship.

 I pull Finn into a quick hug, knowing exactly how he feels at this moment, having experienced it before myself. “We’ll find her. I promise.”

 BB-8 makes an appearance, rolling past us to the ship from which a number of Resistance fighters exit. With the fighting over, from behind a pile of rubble emerges my own astromech - unharmed, much to my relief.

 I make smalltalk with my droid, discussing the events of the battle as I give Han and Leia a chance to speak. It’s not long before it’s time to leave the planet.

 While Han, Chewbacca, and Finn take the Millennium Falcon back to base, I know the General will have something to say about my actions, and I take the transport ship back.

 For the most part, our journey is silent, but somehow that still speaks volumes about the disappointment my General feels.

 Eventually, she breaks the silence. “I have every reason to ground and demote you.”

 I don’t reply, knowing better than to argue back. The older woman sighs.

 “Had it not been for your message about BB-8 on Jakku, I would,” I glance up at her words. “If you disregard orders like that again, however, you won’t be as lucky.”

 I nod, quiet. “Yeah, that’s more than fair.”

 Setting down on D’Qar is almost surreal. Part of me had felt as though we’d never make it back, and after the hectic couple of days I’ve just had, it’s kind of strange to be surrounded by busy Resistance members again.

 I see Finn, and he nods at me from across the runway. He catches sight of something, though, and quickly runs off in that direction. BB-09 chirps, averting my attention to someone else.

 “Keipii!” I call out. The girls sees me, rushing and jumping into my arms. I spin her around before sinking to my knees, holding her close.

 “You’re okay. I wasn’t sure if you made it.” She murmurs. She must’ve heard my last transmission to base.

 “I’m not leaving you anytime soon. I promised I’d come back alive, didn’t I?” I remind her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 “You did,” She agrees after a moment of thought. “You also made that promise about Poe.”

 My heart drops. Seeing Poe’s X-Wing at the battle of Takodana left me with a spark of hope, but truth be told, anyone could have been piloting it. Finn had all the evidence to believe Poe Dameron was dead, and despite his First Order roots, I trusted the man and his judgement.

 Keipii frowns at my silence, confused by the look of heartache on my face. “Ma? What’s wrong?”

 “Oh, my little galaxy,” I murmur, the guilt of telling her the truth of what happened weighing down my heart and my words. “Poe- Poe didn’t make it back from Jakku.”

 Keipii’s eyes widen, full of fear and heartbreak, but something occurs to her and a deep frown replaces the expression. “What do you mean?” It hurts to see her like that. “He got back yesterday! He was hurt, but he was even more scared when found out you left to find him. He went to Ta- Takod- uh, the planet they just fought at, and he got back safe.”

 I freeze at Keipii’s words, heart pounding.

 “...What?” The whisper barely makes it past my lips.

 “Where is- there he is!” Keipii tells me excitedly, point down the duracrete runway. I follow her gaze, instantly welling up when I see him.

 “I love you, Keipii,” I kiss the girl’s head, reassuring her as I stand to go to Poe. “I’ll be right back.”

 With every step I take, my pace quickens. Finn points in my direction. Shock and relief flashes across Poe’s face when he sees, and suddenly he’s sprinting towards me.

 We collide, clinging to each other as sobs wrack throughout us.

 “I-I thought you were dead.” I tell him, gripping the material of his orange flightsuit.

 “Organa said there would be no rescues. What were you thinking?” He responds.

 Poe pulls back, just enough to wipe his face with his sleeve before brushing away the tears on my cheeks. He presses his forehead to mind, laughter bubbling up out of us at the sheer relief of seeing the other alive.

 “And you called me reckless.” Poe chuckles, pulling me impossibly closer to him and kissing me deeply, a repetition of actions he took mere weeks ago. This time, however, there’s no trace of uncertainty in what we’re doing, just the vague regret that it took near death for us to throw aside our inhibitions.

 For a moment we break apart. Those that bore witness to our action whoop, cheering for what they’d been betting on for so long. Poe, looking at me fondly, shrugs at the attention and kisses me again.

 We’re both grinning into it, overcome by a sheer giddiness. Lost in the moment, we’re broken out of it by our General. “As pleased as I am to see you two together, we have work to do.” I pull back, smiling sheepishly at the woman as Poe positively beams, his arms still secure around me as my hands fall to his chest.

 “We’ll be with you in a moment?” I try, and the General nods, a small smile on her face.

 Poe hums happily, kissing me quickly once more before taking something off from around his neck, slipping the chain over my head to hang against my chest.

 “Wait, are- are you sure?” I question, shocked as I realise what it is he’s given me.

 “For all the reckless, impulsive decisions I’ve made,” He tells me. “I haven’t got any regrets about anything I’ve done with you.”

 I’m speechless, staring at him wide-eyed. After a moment, I find my voice. “Stars, I love you.”

 Poe grins as I pull him in for another kiss. “I love you, too.”

 The weight of ring on the chain around my neck has already become a comfort.

[fredyates1992]

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