#I’m just spitballing but if anyone has things to add please do!

[ponds-of-ink]

Thoughts on that one Midnight Motorist section that I need to get out

So, it seems that a post on Freddit was right about some of the cars driving on the “wrong” side of the road. “Wrong” for the U.S., that is.

But for England?

Nope. To anyone from Britain, it’d be the “right” side of the road.

Which means, all things considered, some bloke is disobeying all the traffic laws somewhere in Britain— not Hurricane, Utah. Which also means that we can eliminate Jr’s being a Freddy’s location, since Freddy’s hasn’t gone international by this point. Or just Freddy’s Pizzeria/Fredbear’s Diner being a thing to even consider here.

So, uh… What’s the point of this game if it’s got nothing to do with Freddy’s? Or Fredbear’s?

Welll, there is a theory that one YouTube comment introduced in some Midnight Motorist videos, and I’m here to relay it to y’all… Kind of. I actually do have some thoughts of my own.

Paraphrasing TL;DR: The Orange/Mustard Guy is William’s Father coming home from… somewhere… and he stops by JR’s, a local bar he’s been kicked out of. A Green Dude basically tells him “My guy, you know you can’t be here. Please go”. So, Mr. Mustard Afton comes home in a rage and leaves The Gray Person alone. But his own son? Nope. Bang, bang, bang goes the locked door and thump, thump, thump goes the unseen boy’s heart as he runs for his life with some mysterious figure. Mr. Mustard Afton realizes that his son’s gone back to “that place”, vows that “he’ll be sorry when he gets home”, and ends the hidden part of that mini-game.

Now that we’ve got the basics, I’d like to add some more headcanon/speculative stuff. Yes, even more than the above. Because at least OP could back up stuff better than I can right now.

Anyway… If I combine the potential backstory we might’ve learned in Security Breach’s therapy CDs, I think I can infer even more context into this. First of all, I’m pretty sure this would take sometime after the infamous custody case Lil’ William had to deal with. His father’s going out more often and coming back way, way too ornery and trigger-tempered to deal with. A sick, tired, and mourning Lil’ William decides enough is enough. Through some miraculous feat of strength, he shatters the window and hobbled over to someone in huge, rabbit-like shoes. They flee the scene together, with Lil’ William hoping The Grey Person doesn’t take the blame for him.

Of course, he came back to that house. He’s always had that habit to return— for better or for worse.

Where did he go, though? Well, I have a guess.

There are two things that are his trademarks in this franchise that’s not his purple-colored sprite: Circus-themed animatronics and rabbits. So… What if this place was where it all started for him? What if it was a circus starring some rabbit mascot as a ringmaster? Maybe even a precursor to Frebear’s and Freddy’s, thanks to the Circus Animatronics and Freddy’s Singin’ Show being confirmed to exist.

I know the last part’s a bit out there, but it might be a bit better than William putting on some rabbit shoes and sneaking off to his mom’s grave at a nearby graveyard for solitude.

Obviously, I’m just spitballing here. Until Ruin or the movie comes out, we’re not gonna actually know anything about William’s past.

Oh and uh… Not sure about The Gray Person’s identity. Definitely has long legs, though, so it’s probably an adult. William’s Uncle who’s come to visit, maybe? William’s brother? Cousin? Huh.

[dawn-the-rithmatist]

Okay more blurbs on botw2 trailer and this time I have pictures :)

So let’s talk about some details here. Specifically, the sheikah. In Breath of the Wild, we can recognize a certain aesthetic as ancient sheikah tech (the shrines, the towers, the slate, etc.). In the new trailer, we don’t see that kind of look at all. The only thing that comes close is the supports on Link’s glowy arm.

Even that’s kind of stretching it, since you’ve got the circles and glowy lines, but the colors are all off. You also don’t see the sheikah eye in the same style as BOTW. Instead, we have this one on Link’s shield.

I haven’t played all the games in this series so I can’t place which game it might be similar to, but I do know that eye doesn’t look the same as the one from BOTW. Of course, it might be from something else entirely, but the pattern of the eye and the three triangle eyelashes looks sheikah, so I’m going with it.

We also don’t ever see the slate. We do get an altered version of stasis (which looked like a ton of fun), but the slate isn’t the thing activating it- Link’s arm is.

Again, this is mostly me assuming because I really don’t see him holding anything when I check, but I could be wrong here. But that brings me to my last thing: where are the shrines and towers?

We get two pretty nice shots of the new landscape of Hyrule.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure we should see something here. Woodland tower in the second one, or some of the towers/shrines surrounding Thundera Plateau in the first. Instead, the only structures we do see look completely different, with pointed pillars and egg shaped lanterns that don’t match any of the buildings or ruins we know from BOTW.

So I have a theory. All of this miraculously advanced tech, and Hyrule just ditches it completely? Unlikely. This, combined with the weird backwards raindrop (right before Link yeets himself through an island. If I knew how to gif things I would put it here) makes me think time travel. Why wouldn’t you use the ancient sheikah tech? Well… maybe it’s not around yet.

[goldenraeofsun]

Good Ideas

1.5k of canon-divergence fluff, now on AO3!

Dean is almost finished with his standard gun cleaning (once a week whether they need it or not) when footsteps approach from outside his bedroom door. Heavier than Eileen but lighter than Sam - must be Cas. 

“What an awful day,” Cas sighs as he practically throws himself onto Dean’s prized memory foam mattress. He doesn’t even take his shoes off first, like an animal.

“Hello to you, babe,” Dean says, amused. He raises his head to fully look at Cas, now face planted into his pillow. Dean would like to say it’s unusual to see Cas this drained and frustrated after another shift at the Gas n Sip, but it’s become pretty much standard. And, because not-that-deep-down Dean’s a shitty person who lucked out and got a (fallen) angel to fall for him, he can’t entirely squash the pleased feeling in his gut that flares up every time Cas comes home to him, no matter the circumstances.

“Hello, Dean,” or that’s what Dean assumes Cas is saying, based on their past million and a half conversations over more than a decade.

Dean carefully sets down his colt and pads over to the bed. He takes a seat near Cas’s shins, the mattress slowly but surely dipping as it remembers Dean’s distinctive ass print. “What happened?”

“Humanity is stupid.”

Dean snorts. “Don’t have to tell me twice. What’d humanity do this time?”

Cas turns his head so he can glare balefully down at Dean with one brilliant blue eye. “Todd refilled the soda machine incorrectly. We had to reimburse ten customers who poured the wrong drinks despite the clear signs indicating the buttons were temporarily incorrect.”

“What a disaster,” Dean deadpans.

Cas groans a stream of indistinguishable words that might not even be English - knowing him, he’s probably insulting Todd’s mother ancient Aramaic or something - before he concludes, “It was a very uncomfortable situation. Todd is an imbecile.”

“Want me to kill him for you?” Dean asks casually.

Cas’s whole torso inflates with the depth of his sigh. “No,” he says, but the word is muffled and has zero conviction behind it.

“Come on,” Dean pokes Cas in the thigh. “You were the one who wanted this job in the first place. All the ‘human dignity’ you could choke down and all that crap.”

“I must’ve been mistaken.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Dean says, grinning as Cas rolls over so he’s lying normally on Dean’s bed. “Y’know, you could always do something else. Quit the Gas n Sip.”

“Like what?” Cas asks as he frowns up at the ceiling. “I don’t have much experience except in inventory management and customer service.”

“What about all your angel stuff?”

“I can hardly list ‘former Angel of the Lord’ on my resume,” Cas grumbles.

“You’ve got all those languages crammed in your brain, serious hand-to-hand skills - I could teach you all I know about cars, and you can add that.”

Cas gives a considering grunt.

“Look,” Dean says as he scoots further up the bed so he’s more aligned with Cas’s chest than his knees. “You were the one who was all gung-ho about getting a job to interact with normal people.”

“I needed a better baseline now I’m human because you and Sam are not ‘normal’ by any definition of the word,” Cas sniffs.

“Rude. Anyway, I told you to take things slow. So your first stab back at slumming it with regular folks isn’t going so great. Sometimes these things take a while to settle down,” Dean says, uncomfortably reminded of the time he had to comfort Sammy after three piano lessons didn’t turn him into the next Geoff Nicholls - or Elton John, as Dean had to amend after Sammy shot him a look of complete incomprehension.

“You don’t have to throw yourself into anything,” Dean adds gently to Cas. “We’ve got no big bad waiting out in the wings. It’s okay to take things one step at a time.”

“Because you provide such an excellent model of restraint and forethought,” Cas mutters.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You don’t see me jumping back into Leave it to Beaver.”

“Because that’s not what you want,” Cas says, his eyes narrowing. “You said civilian life isn’t for you.”

Dean swallows. He pulls at a wrinkle in the sheets. “You so sure about that?”

Cas props himself up on his elbows, intrigued. “You’re truly considering retiring from hunting?”

Dean glances over at his guns, disassembled and gleaming on his desk. “I’ve been thinking about it. Sammy doesn’t go on many hunts anymore, says it’s more important to teach the next generation of fighters than handling everything by ourselves.”

“A wise thing to say, considering the limitations of the average human lifespan.”

“And you wonder why we never bring you to parties,” Dean says as Cas scowls in return, really only proving Dean’s point. “I’ve been looking into other stuff to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not sure,” he admits. “Sam’s got his Hunter Hogwarts thing going on - I could help Sam out, but the thought of reading and assignments makes me want to throw myself out a window.”

“You do like to be more hands-on,” Cas says diplomatically.

Dean sighs, wistful. “If the Roadhouse was still around, I would’ve kicked ass there. Talking with veterans in the business, passing along intel, throwing out the occasional brawler.”

Cas cocks his head. “Why don’t you rebuild one?”

“What?”

“Another Roadhouse,” Cas says like it’s obvious. “Those hunters Sam is teaching, they will need another meeting point once they’ve completed their training.”

Dean gapes at him, trying not to get his hopes up. He can picture it with alarming clarity, him behind the bar, Cas sitting off to the side, pouring over the books or a translation for one of Sam’s kids.

But this thing with Cas is so new - rescuing Cas from the Empty, telling him haltingly and not in so many words Cas could have what he wanted after all, doing their weird not-dating thing that works for them. Dean can’t be sure they’re on the same page about this.

Cas is technically human, but so many parts of him are still pretty out there in terms of fitting in with normal people stuff. Dean suggested they go on an honest to God date about two weeks after that went down - dinner at a fancy place in Salina. He even looked it up on Yelp. But, naturally, Cas had to ask ahead of time what usually happened on a date - a real date, Dean, because Metatron’s pop culture dump gave me many false impressions of what is normal or healthy for humans. 

When Dean embarrassingly couldn’t think of a single thing people did on dates except eat and have sex, Cas went to Sam because apparently there are zero boundaries when it comes to Team Free Will. And Sam, like a total Samantha, said most people talked about their feelings and life goals.

To which Cas turned back to Dean, said those big, I love you, words like they’re nothing and everything, and added his life goal was not dying before spending the rest of his human life with Dean.

The fucker even looked pleased Dean didn’t have to shell out the dough for a fancy steak.

“You have enough connections in the community to round up a decent clientele base,” Cas continues. “Not to mention your reputation, which would go a long way towards drawing hunters you personally haven’t met before.”

Dean clears his throat. “You really think I could do something like that?”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” he says with that patented-Cas sincerity that Dean would call bullshit with anyone else. Cas continues, “Twenty-seven percent of restaurants fail in their first year, but I have every confidence in you beating the odds.”

Dean snorts. Even Cas’s Beautiful Mind statistics aren’t enough to bring his mood down.

“And if you need help…” Cas drifts off sheepishly, “I do have requisite experience managing inventory. I cut down on unsellable food by fifteen percent two weeks ago.”

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Dean breathes as he bends over Cas.

Cas smiles up at him. “Would you want to?”

“Would I - ?” Dean breaks off incredulously to kiss him. “Of couse I fucking want to. But you really think it’s a good idea?”

Cas purses his lips. “It was my suggestion in the first place.”

“But maybe you were just spitballing,” Dean hedges. “So if you really think restarting the Roadhouse would be a bad idea, I can take it.”

Cas wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. “I don’t have bad ideas, Dean,” he murmurs.

That is so blatantly untrue, Dean almost bursts out laughing. But before he can make a sound, Cas’s other hand slides underneath his shirt, his fingers tapping lightly against the buckle of Dean’s belt. Dean raises his head to catch sight of Cas's face, and Cas’s eyes are dark with want.

Alright, so in times like these, Dean can admit Cas can have a good idea or two.

[cursedbcrn]

Okay this is by no means extensive and rn it’s limited to TVDU characters because that’s the easiest off the top of my head. These are just ideas I’ve thought of recently and if this is helpful / people like this spitball format, I might make more posts like this in the future. If you’re interested, let me know and we can do a thing.

Caroline replaces Alaric after he gets the boot from the honor council. Maybe she gets a firsthand look at the damage Alaric has caused, from the curriculum to eroding the trust from the students, and also how he’s pitted the twins against Hope / treated her like a guard dog over the years. Realizing that she’s made mistakes but can still turn around and try to make amends. (imagine how that changes everything in the future seasons, like would Hope still beat her up to “send a message” after she flips her humanity? Would Alyssa still want to send her to the prison world as revenge as well? Dealing with nh!Hope? Possibilities!)

Alternatively, Caroline who follows the plotline as in canon and returns upon hearing about nh!Hope (or what she did to Lizzie. Alaric too ig).

Resurrection threads. Hayley, Klaus, Elijah, Stefan, Cami, literally anyone who died and for whatever reason. If it’s not Hayley or Klaus, maybe she tried to get them and something went awry, but now they have them? Idk, just resurrection threads. 

Kai wreaks much more havoc in the prison world arc. Probably will end up with Kai dead or back in the prison world tbh ( or some other plucky happy ending ) but also the sass, banter, and absolute brutality. ( no Hope/Kai please )

Either Landon or Lizzie (or both) for the canon verse. Landon would be romantic turned platonic after 2x08, and Lizzie would be platonic the whole way through. I love both ships romantically and platonically, but I have yet to be able to play them out in a platonic way and I think there’s so much depth and potential and I just love deep platonic friendships okay?

Can someone please spare a Rafael for my crops, they’re dying. ( Yes, I know I already play Raf with Ace but also I wanna play Hope - and no, it’s not the same )

Actually, I will take literally any rarepair ship for Hope (i.e. Hope/Jed, Hope/Cleo, Hope/Maya, Hope/Ethan, etc.) like I would legitimately be interested to see how we could make it happen. 

My entire kingdom for a Marcel. What is he doing during Legacies timeline? Did something happen? What did he think after she flipped her switch? Hope needs her big brother.

So....... how do Damon and Elena feel when they hear that Hope Mikaelson is going to be attending SBS? Because you fucking bet your ass that Alaric ran his mouth to Damon, even though he wasn’t allowed to. What was the reaction when she was seven? What about when the Malivore monsters start showing up? When she goes full tribrid? 

Obligatory Hope and the twins were raised by K/laroline or H/ayoline AU. 

Any version of a verse where one of Klaus, Elijah, or Hayley survive, while the other two die. Bonding over survivor’s guilt, swapping stories, trying to move on. 

Canon-divergent AU where Hope actually manages to leaves Mystic Falls after she sees Josie and Landon kissing at their movie night. Anyone from the Super Squad meets her again 5 years later (say..... right before the Merge?)

My Triad verse maybe? Like......... supernatural creatures getting hunted? Hope suddenly reappearing after 12 years and the ripple effects of that nexus vorti which rips open Malivore from the inside, spilling out all these legendary monsters and also Triad is still a menace and idk maybe Josie also comes back from the dead somehow because Hope exists again and-

Okay wait I’m going to add to this, but consider that this changes everything so anyone can be dead or alive, but people still don’t remember Hope. So just imagine the heartbreak of Hope finally running home to see her parents but they don’t remember her at all

More to be added maybe? Idk are these ideas interesting to anyone but me?

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing #81 Review

i swear i actually thought no one was interested so i didn’t write one but a grand total of two (2) people said they wanted to read it, so here it is. honestly, my opinion’s been going a bit downhill, but the art is really cool and there are some decent parts so. holding out i guess? i really hope taylor has an end goal or at least a cohesive plan, otherwise i don’t see this series going anywhere i’ll particularly enjoy

the cover is very straightforward in its imagery, this villain has nightwing in the palm of his hand, easily manipulated, easily controlled no matter the action dick thinks he’ll take. 

what i find interesting is the colour: both previously and heavily in this issue, the colourist has chosen to make pink this villain’s main colour, with different shades of pink as accents. so why the red in the cover? possibly to just make it more eye-grabbing, though one could argue that pink is even more eye-catching than red. maybe to convey a sense of dread or fear that pink won’t fully get across. either way, it’s definitely a decision i’m curious about.

so melinda zucco is in a high enough political position within bludhaven that she is next in line to become the mayor after the previous mayor died and dick just,,,,didn’t have any idea she existed? dick didn’t know anything about her? forget dick’s own brilliant detective skills, forget his doggedness at anything zucco related, you’re telling me bruce never found her and told dick about her? maybe he wouldn’t have now, but back when dick was a young kid, he definitely would have at least made dick aware of her existence, to let dick know and ask if he wanted to interfere with her life or anything.

i have a thought about zucco’s facial expressions. she is very much stone-cold poker face throughout the entire issue. the only time i see her pull a different expression is near the end when dick corners her against a wall with an arm around her throat. 

this is most certainly intentional, what with the varied and intense expressions we see on other characters, dick most prominently. i’m wondering what exactly is the creative team’s reasoning behind this. in these panels, zucco is meeting with the most dangerous, powerful, near-bloodthirsty man in all of bludhaven and becoming the mayor of the city respectfully. in both of these panels, there is barely a hint of emotion in her face: no fear, no determination, no satisfaction. it’s just odd, considering the circumstances she’s in, regardless of any training recieved.

just spitballing here but. like. from what i’ve read so far, dick doesn’t really seem like bludhaven’s guardian angel. more like when peter parker first put on spandex and blindly stepped out into new york.

dick, how exactly can you underestimate someone from one move. so he caught your escrima. anyone with enhanced reflexes can do that. you still don’t know how he can actually fight, and this is shown in the next set of panels. 

i just don’t like the wording here. dick’s “underestimated” him, but beats him up easy in the next page. in addition, i don’t know much about combat, but i would assume it would take more than one move to determine exactly what an opponent’s skill level is, made even more complex when you add physical enhancements and metahumans and aliens into the mixture.

idk my first thought when i saw that he caught the stick was “ah ok he’s enhanced” because obviously he couldn’t have reacted fast enough if he wasn’t (as there are few people trained enough to catch it on human reflexes alone.) then the wording in the next panel, i’ve underestimated him, made me think “oh no ok so he’s not enhanced, he’s just a really good fighter and can give dick a run for his money in a fight.” then, it turns out my first assumption was proven correct in the next panel. it just comes across as misleading to me.

(also sidenote but his curls are cute.)

have i praised the art enough in this series? no, i have not.

i adore the way this is laid out and illustrated. without even having to read the text, the action sequence is visually engaging and intense, and easily followable from one panel to the next. dick’s physical expertise comes through quite efficiently, and i love the special attention shown to draw our attention to dick’s escrima in the bottom right corner.

also that move in the middle row leftmost panel that’s the mcu black widow move to get up off the ground it was the first thing i noticed and it made me laugh; thought it was worth noting

i’m really loving dick’s escrima sticks in this run. they’re just so multipurpose, it’s hilarious and exhilarating. kinda reminds me of bruce’s belt, the way the button in the middle does eevveeerrryyytthhiinngg. 

got a problem? don’t worry! dick’s installed a feature into his escrima that can fix that! (i like thinking dick helped make them it makes me happy and makes my engineer!dick side satisfied)

yawn. your big heart is your one true weakness yadda yadda the fact that you care will be used against you blah blah we get it. jesus can the villains please find a different weakness to exploit, this is getting old.

i need dick’s capacity to empathize and care and love to stop being a weakness that villains sneer about. bonus points if dick saves everyone anyway, either because of or despite his great big heart and the villain is surprised by the goodness of mankind or some shit like that.

i need it to be a strength, right from the get-go. the fact that he cares so incredibly much should be an asset that dick has and will use. he’s a very complex character with years of background, it can’t possibly be that hard to find another weakness of his. 

ooooh this is cool, gosh i absolutely love this.

because what exactly is the reader doing? we are seeing the fear in dick’s face, just as this villain intended. even better, we’re seeing the reflection of it from the villain’s glossy mask, telling us exactly what we’re seeing and exactly what he likes so much about it.

dick’s standing up straight, shoulders drawn back, looking up at this villain’s face with determination and resolve, but his suit is tattered. one eye looks to be swollen. his hair is falling limply around his eyes, as opposed to the curls from earlier. his escrima aren’t even part of the main focus, instead blending into the side of the mask in the outer corners of the mask’s eyes, which tells you exactly how big of a threat they are to this villain.

poor bitewing’s quite alarmed.

also on second thought why would you bring your puppy out like this, when you know you’re gonna end up fighting someone in the suit. a) how many grey three-legged adorable little puppies live in the bludhaven area dick? and how easy will it be to connect the doggo running around with nightwing with the doggo that dick grayson owns? and 2) is this puppers trained? does she have fighting experience? how exactly can you ensure she will survive this highly stressful situation?

dick take better care of your dog 

you know what? i was with tim on this one. why exactly is dick so optimistic and trusting about the people of bludhaven? bludhaven, which has been described as gotham’s smaller, smellier, more corrupt sister city once or twice. it’s not just the corrupt people in power, the entire system needs to change and people need to have faith and hope in order for them to come together, espcially if they’ve been living in conditions like how bludhaven has been described. from how clueless dick is about his own goddamn city, i can tell he hasn’t been here long.

it was a nice moment of hope, i’ll admit. but it was a tad unrealistic for me.

also it was in a weird place in the comic. this sort of confrontation and big get-together of the people to rejuvenate hope in each other feels like it should come near the end of a run, if not the end of an issue. certainly not in the first third of an issue. the pacing’s a bit off to me.

loyal little puppy patiently waiting for her human to wake up. i love her so much.

no it’s not. it’s bitewing.

living for this t-shirt honestly. do comics of dc characters exist in the dc universe? they must if the mug and the shirt are any indication

(now i’m imagining the first batman movie that came out in the dc universe and bruce just. being so offended at who they chose to play him.)

well, yes. but when a group of people are put through hellish conditions over and over again, they soon become desensitized to the pain and terror of their everyday lives in order to both stay sane and keep their life relatively stable, and part of that becomes ignoring or blocking out anything that isn’t directly important to you or your loved ones. having a bleeding heart will most likely get you killed in a city like bludhaven if you don’t have the same skills that vigilantes have.

and of course, people are more than capable of coming together and rallying under their city’s vigilante after seeing the good they’ve done and how they’ve helped the people, but that sort of trust takes time and effort to build. dick also had the whole ric arc and was gone for a while, which has been referenced several times in this particular issue in fact. that’s not going to make bludhaven’s citizens any more likely to trust him.

maybe i’m being a bit harsh but this comic is comic off as a bit too idealistic for the amount of change nightwing can do in a city given the present and past circumstances as well as nightwing’s own abilities. even dick grayson can’t pull off everything.

ok seriously this needs to stop this needs to stop.

right now, dick reminds me of oliver queen in the few episodes of the cw’s arrow i watched. he does the punchy-kicky-fighty and occasionally has smart insights due to the skills he gained from his past that he certainly definitely totally has but only ever exhibits once, while his team does all of the background research and information gathering and actual work.

this is dick’s city. if he has the same intelligence, worth ethic, and stubbornness in this run that he’s been shown to possess all his life, then he knows this city inside out. he’ll have meticulous notes organized in a ridiculously efficient system, he’ll have scouted out zucco long before this started, he’ll have known when anything big happened in the bludhaven political landscape in an instant.

i’m really not liking exactly how much dick’s relying on babs and tim in this series. sure, he loves them and cares for them and likes working cases with them. but he always pulls his own weight, has always been a mentor figure to tim instead of what’s weirdly becoming the other way around, and takes point on the cases in his own damn city.

what kind of weak-ass oracle is this?? redacted fbi files are child’s play. babs used to hack into the fbi for fun. this one particular picture is so out of character i want to laugh.

reading this series has unfortunately made me confront that, despite the tiny fluid acrobat dick that lives in my head 24/7, canon dick is impossibly 5′10 and muscular at that.

mmm. titties.

tim said hydrate or die-drate bitch

love how dick’s doing all this intense brooding and stuff meanwhile bitewing is curled up in a soft comfy post having the time of her life.

you don’t understand i would legitimately kill myself for her.

also the lighting in this one scene is cool. the blue tones come off so well.

they’re just. so multipurpose!! they can become a bo staff. they can cut glass. they can become a grapple hook/line. they can electrify someone. they’re a funky colour. i’m becoming really attached to these things. absolute solid choice in weaponry.

if you’re gonna write up every rookie mistake dick has made during this series to head trauma, then dick shouldn’t be out and about at all, much less in costume.

see this? this is just straight up wrong. dick most definitely should have spotted her, and would have immediately moved to take her down.

scratch that, dick would have done a full check of the building, because he knows not to break into places uninformed, especially if the owner of the apartment was raised by the maroni family. someone as highly trained, experienced, and competent as dick wouldn’t have done this.

and if you chalk it up to head injury, (which is probably true), than his ~love interest~ and his little brother should have done a much better job making sure he stays in his house.

zucco looks so awkward it’s fucking hilarious

are those shadows that mimic a domino mask, to both reflect and hide the fact that his mask is missing? are those bruises around his eyes, to show how, despite what good he’s doing, being nightwing is hurting dick right now? 

(isn’t his domino mask supposed to have an electrifying feature that keeps people from removing them?)

it’s a little odd how the three known villains of this series are all coloured in warm shades, more specifically pink. meanwhile, in earlier issues, dick’s fondest memories were in pink, memories of him and alfred in particular. why has the colour pink changed from signifying something benevolent to something malicious? idk i hope this gets explained later.

this i did like. either it’s just a display of brute force in anger, or dick slipped the ties and pulled them off once untied. both ways, it’s an unintentional display of power, and i think that’s kinda cool.

again. dick is,,,tall? sort of? weirdddd

i’m so glad most readers are unified in the notion that this was the absolute dumbest fucking thing.

i’m hoping this gets disproved or something soon. and i hope dick doesn’t fall for it, because he definitely knows better than to take something as important as this at face value.

what exactly is taylor trying to accomplish here? why is he trying to go back on what we all knew was a happy, loving childhood and throw strife and disharmony and (what i’m assuming will be) infidelity? this will not end well at all.

---

,,,,,this review got way longer than expected lol. and i realize most of it just became me ranting. i guess i didn’t realize how ticked off i was originally. fingers crossed it gets better.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds​ @comics-observer

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 2

Perrin and Galad deal with leadership and its consequences, and I continue to not deal with the narrative conspiring to make me like Galadedrid Damodred.

Chapter 2: Questions of Leadership

With a title like that, this can only be a Perrin chapter.

Because average leader questions himself 10 times per book factoid actually just statistical error. Wolfbrother Perrin, who lives in a tent and questions himself 1000 times per book is an outlier and should not have been counted.

And that might be a new low for this liveblog, which is saying something.

A few days ago, the pervasive cloud cover had turned black, darkening like the advent of a horrible storm.

Luckily for you and the rest of existence, that particular meteorological phenomenon masquerading as a man decided against total annihilation of everything. *shakes head* Weather forecasts. Can’t trust ‘em.

(The science nerd in me now wants to write, like, a short story or something in the form of a journal article called Impact of localised heroic systems on global atmospheric chemistry and I think perhaps this is a tangent).

Anyway, we are indeed with Perrin, who’s been having a great time lately dealing with mud and plague. Yes, well, aren’t we all.

Both Asha’man had nearly died

Yeah well they’re used to that by now, surely. All in the job description.

Perrin you’ve had a month to work on that blacksmith’s puzzle in your pocket and you haven’t solved it? Just – give it to me. There. Solved.

(I used to love these puzzles. Haven’t come across one in ages though.)

Perrin’s taking in refugees because either he’s lying through his teeth or he’s ta’veren enough to slightly counteract Rand’s spoil-everything-edible influence, maybe.

He had bigger worries to bother him, not the least of which were his strange dreams. Haunting visions of working the forges and being unable to create anything of worth.

Is this the blacksmith equivalent of dreaming you’re suddenly sitting an exam you’ve not studied for, and also you’re naked?

Moving so many refugees was slow, even discounting the bubble of evil and the mud.

Hey at least you’re not also dealing with border walls and immigration control.

Everything took longer than he expected, including getting out of Malden.

Oh, TELL ME ABOUT IT. Me? Still bitter about the Malden plotline? Whatever made you think that?

All in all it seems like a pretty standard Tuesday for Perrin: slogging through mud, questioning his ability to be a great leader (not to be confused with the Great Leader), and trying to keep four nations’ worth of soldiers and refugees away from each other’s throats. Only one we’ve not ticked off the list yet is denying his wolfpowers, but there’s still time.

“Find out where they’re from, learn whether they did serve a lord, see if they can add anything to the maps.”

In which Perrin Aybara invents the census.

Oh hey! The road’s getting less muddy! Which is definitely not symbolic or anything.

“Where are the others?”

“They went on ahead, my Lord,” Fennel said, bowing from horseback. “I volunteered to stay behind, for when you caught up. We needed to explain, you see.”

I’m sorry, hold the phone, forward-thinking and communication – a plan specifically about communicating, even – all in one statement? Well. You know the apocalypse is coming when.

So everyone Perrin sent ahead has taken a detour because there’s mud up ahead, which may be the Pattern’s way of saying ‘we’re running out of time can you please just go where I need you for once’ or may just be bog-standard (see what I did there) geology and meteorology, but will, if the glimpses of Perrin through Rand’s special colour vision last book is anything to go by, result in a collision course for Perrin and Galad, which I’m… weirdly looking forward to.

“But from the look of things here, you decided to bring the entire town with you!”

Think bigger, Fennel. ‘Nation’ bigger, at the least. More likely plural.

Perrin does briefly consider splitting the party army nation(s) at his back, but the Shaido are conveniently in the way so instead I suppose they’ll all just make their way, amoeba-like, to wherever they can engulf Galad’s own group. Or be engulfed by. Alliance, phagocytosis; to-may-to, to-mah-to…

No I’m not sure where I was going with that either. Moving on…

He himself could Travel back to Rand, pretend to make up – most people would still think that he and Rand had parted ways angrily

This strikes me as being strangely sad, and I’m trying to figure out why. Maybe it’s because there’s a secondary reading of this which is that their ‘making up’ would be as much a pretence as their ‘fight’ because both of those have friendship as a prerequisite, and are they even friends anymore after all this time and all that has happened and all that lies between them?

Especially because, in terms of timelines, right now-for-Perrin, Rand is… not really in a place to be anyone’s friend.

I wonder, though, because I’m a terrible person who finds opportunities for Suffering even in things that should be entirely free of it, whether Rand-after-Dragonmount is in a better place to be anyone’s friend. I think yes, because that was very much the point, but I feel like there’s a bittersweet potential to it where ascendance is just as bad as damnation for maintaining a normal social life.

Or, less flippantly, there’s a strange loneliness to the messiah’s role, to being a force of nature and a champion of fate as much as or more than a man. He is known to all and all look to him and he stands, surrounded, at the centre, and he has learned to see the hope and promise in that rather than just the despair but there is still the sense of being alone on a mountain, alone on a pedestal, existing alone on a level that is not quite human but not quite divinity, touching all but no longer, quite, as a peer. Forces of nature don’t have best friends, even if they turn towards benevolence.

I mean, I’m spitballing here, because I’ve seen exactly one chapter of Rand-after-Dragonmount, and in fairness he seemed at peace with himself and his role now, but I still can’t help but wonder. And by wonder I mean wish. Because see above re: Suffering.

I guess mostly what I’m looking for is something along the series-standard line of you can’t go back, you can only go forward. And even when forward is better, even when forward is healing, even when forward is hope, it’s not the same as what you had or who you were before, and sometimes there is a sadness to that.

Sorry, this is a Perrin chapter and here I am going on about Rand, but I just… like thinking about all the friendships and relationships between all these characters, and how they change over time, and how those ties can be so altered and sometimes strained and yet even then they can also be what saves them all.

(“My best friend turned into the world.” “That’s rough buddy.”)

Faile was back now, and it appeared that his truce with Berelain was over.

NO.

*throws book at wall*

WHY. Damn it I was so glad when that finally died and Perrin and Berelain got to just work together and appreciate each other’s competence! Why must we return to this? Don’t you know that you can’t go back; you can only go forwards? WHY THIS. WHY ME.

The Prophet was dead, killed by bandits. Well, perhaps that was a fitting end for him, but Perrin still felt he’d failed.

Probably just because he doesn’t know that Masema was Faile-d.

I’m sorry. I’ll see myself out.

(That’s a lie; you’re just going to have to put up with me and my bad puns for at least another book).

His duty was done, the Prophet seen to, Alliandre’s allegiance secure. Only, Perrin felt as if something were still very wrong. He fingered the blacksmith’s puzzle in his pocket. To understand something… you have to figure out its parts…

Because you’ve only done the middlegame part of your duty, Perrin! You still have to get ready for the ending! And that means… *dramatic hammerstroke* forging. But, you know, metaphorically.

Perrin feels awkward around Faile now because when you’ve focused your entire life and self and nation, waking and sleeping, on achieving a single goal, and rewritten your entire world around that goal, and then you do achieve it, it’s sometimes hard to know what to do with the reality of having achieved it, of having that person back at your side but an emptiness ahead of you where the idea of them once occupied everything. Or at least that’s my suspicion but Perrin when this is all over you may want to, I don’t know, talk to someone about it.

Seriously, a qualified therapist could make a killing setting up shop in this world.

“I should start turning them away.”

“I suspect they’d find their way back to our force anyway.”

“Why should they? I could leave orders.”

“You can’t give orders to the Pattern itself, my husband.”

Perrin: “WATCH ME.”

Maybe you could ask Rand to, as a favour? He seems to be on good terms with the Pattern these days. Er. These days in his timeline, I mean.

Yes, Perrin, this is you being ta’veren. Or have you been living under a rock for the last several books? Denial’s not going to last you much longer.

“And so coopers learn the sword,” Faile said, “and find they have a talent for it. Masons who never thought of fighting back against the Shaido now train with the quarterstaff.”

It’s such a ploughshares-to-swords image, and I still just love the way this is how Perrin’s ta’veren-ness manifests specifically: the one who was so careful lest he hurt someone, the one who tries so hard to deny his capacity for anger and ferocity, the one drawn to the Way of the Leaf and a dream of peace, is the one to cause that rippling of peace into war, farmers into soldiers, a quiet nation into a waiting army.

Because on one level there’s the sadness of it, of the only one who returns home bringing that home back out into the world with him and leaving it forever changed, of the one who wants gentleness rousing a people to follow and fight… but even that then ties into the deeper issue of acceptance. Of realising that the potential has always been there – for a ploughshare to be a sword or a blacksmith to be a warrior, or a man to be a wolf or a town to be an army – and that drawing that potential out and allowing it to exist and be used doesn’t negate what was there before. That man and wolf can coexist, that anger does not preclude gentleness, that fighting a war for survival does not negate the hope, one day, of peace.

And so Perrin’s ta’veren power becomes almost another level in playing out what he will eventually need to accept about himself. Just as Rand’s darkness and then light spread out to touch the world around him, it’s as if Perrin’s lack of acceptance of aspects of himself keep these people from truly coming together (the dreams of forging things that don’t come out right), whereas if he can accept what he is, and accept all parts of himself, forge them into unity, then the part of the world he affects – the people who follow him – will be forged together as well.

At least he acknowledges to himself that Faile’s right about this one. That’s a good step.

“Once we have gateways again, I’ll send these people to their proper places. I’m not gathering an army.”

Sigh. Or not. Two steps forward, one step back.

Understand the metal and the tools and the puzzle in your hands, Perrin. Look at what you have. Not at what you wish you had, or think you should have. Look at what the pieces can and need to be made into, rather than forcing them into what you want them to be made into.

“A man’s got to see a thing for what it is. No sense in calling a buckle a hinge or calling a nail a horseshoe.”

The hilarious thing here is that he’s making my point, whilst thinking he’s disproving it. Because Perrin, seeing a thing for what it is means looking at all these people around you and realising you’re their leader and they’re following you and you’re headed for Tarmon Gai’don. No sense calling a buckle a hinge, or an army a random group of refugees. (Well, they are that, too. But if you try to return them home now, soon they will have no home at all).

I do appreciate that he sees and acknowledges some of his flaws from when Faile was gone. He’s a little too hard on himself in places, and misses out others, but it’s a kind of humility and self-awareness and ability to recognise where he could be better that I like.

“It’s not [Berelain’s] fault,” Perrin said. If I’d been able to think of it, I’d have stopped the rumours dead. But I didn’t. Now I’ve got to sleep in the bed I made for myself.”

Perhaps not quite the idiom I’d have chosen in this particular instance, Perrin, but…

When she’d been a captive, nothing had mattered to him but recovering her. Nothing. It didn’t matter who had needed his help, or what orders he’d been given. […]

He realised now how dangerous his actions had been. Trouble was, he’d take those same actions again. He didn’t regret what he’d done, not for a moment.

Well… partial credit for self-awareness, I suppose?

Frustrating as this is, though, it also feels quite realistic. And there’s a certain kind of maturity in the devastating honesty it takes to look at something you’ve done and say ‘I shouldn’t have done that, but in the same situation I’d make those same choices again’. Even if it’s a mistake, being able to acknowledge that about yourself is… impressive.

You couldn’t make a drawknife into a horseshoe by painting it, or by calling it something different.

Yeah, and you can’t make a ta’veren lord, leader, wolfbrother, and warrior back into a simple blacksmith’s apprentice boy by sheer force of denial, but don’t let that stop you.

“I’ve been thinking on this for the last few weeks, and – odd though it seems – I believe my captivity may have been precisely what we needed. Both of us.”

*throws book against wall and lets out an Elayne-like scream of pure rage*

ARGH.

WHY.

‘It’s fine, Perrin, you see I actually think it’s good that I was just used as a plot device to further your character development because I was tossed a bit of character development as a last-minute consolation prize, so really it’s all good!’

Sigh. Okay. I mean, in-story and in-character… I get it. It’s over now, it’s past, and they’re both trying to move on, and Faile has always been one to try to find a pragmatic angle – even an optimistic one – on a situation. And she’s strong enough to say this and make it sound (almost) believable. To look back on harsh lessons learned in harsher circumstances and appreciate the fires that forged her.

Which of course puts me in mind of Rand and his if a sword had memory, it might be grateful to the forge fire, but never fond of it ‘gratitude’ towards his imprisonment in Far Madding, but with Rand and that thought, we are given fairly obvious narrative cues that point to ‘yikes, Rand, that’s maybe not the healthiest of responses to trauma’, and we know full well that we’re not supposed to think ‘ah, yes, being locked in a cell with his worst nightmares was good for his character development so everything’s fine’. (Which is not to say we can’t enjoy it, because sometimes you just want to see your favourite character broken and bleeding and chained to a wall, but that’s uh. Neither here nor there).

But here, it’s as if we’re supposed to take Faile at face value. As if we’re supposed to nod and think ‘yeah, actually, that probably wasn’t fun but it was What She Needed’ (which… wow that is an entire pile of yikes, because yes, what a female character in this genre needs is to be held captive and sexually coerced and deprived of all agency… is maybe not a point you want to be making?). It feels like trying to hang a lampshade on that travesty of a plotline and say ‘but look! It brought them both character development! So it’s fine!’

Anyway I’m still just bitter about the way Faile has been used as a plot device for Perrin’s character development across the last few books, and this… while entirely understandable from a character and story perspective, from an external perspective feels like salt in the damn wound.

Moving on.

*

To Galad, apparently.

Galad who is bound and in pain after being tortured. I’m listening.

(Why am I like this)

All was dark around him, but pinprick lights shone in the sky. Stars? It had been overcast for so long.

Huh. There’s something almost sweet about how closely this echoes that chapter in TGS when Gawyn is wishing he could see the stars. I mean I’m certain it’s not actually intentional because it’s a spurious connection at best, but it’s just a kind of sweet-sad note of similarity between two brothers who haven’t seen each other since they both got lost trying to find their way, and are still trying and wishing, just for a moment, for the stars for guidance.

They’re not actually stars, just pinpricks in the tent, but that’s beside the point.

What’s not beside the point is the inventory of Galad’s wounds because honestly, it’s as if everything from then he did dance, all his grace turned in an instant to fluid death onwards has been a targeted attack on me as a person by going down a list of all the things I like to see in a character and going ‘do you like him now? What about now? What about now?’ and I’m mad about it.

Galad did not fear death or pain. He had made the right choices. It was unfortunate that he’d needed to leave the Questioners in charge; they were controlled by the Seanchan. However, there had been no other option, not after he’d walked into Asunawa’s hands.

I’m not sure why I find it so fitting that Galad’s experience at Asunawa’s hands is not unlike Morgase’s in the end, but something about it just works for me. There’s a whole set of connections here that this bookends, between the two of them and their fall from and rise to power, and choices, and Valda and Asunawa and the Seanchan, and for whatever reason it feels satisfying to have this coming to an end much like it began. Though Galad is spared Morgase’s…………… choice. But I suppose there’s almost an irony here in him avenging Morgase in one way but then sharing her fate in another.

Or maybe it’s just back to the classic ‘I like fictional characters in pain’.

Soon the Questioners would come for him, and then the true price for saving his men would be exacted with their hooks and knives. He had been aware of that price when he’d made his decision. In a way, he had won, for he had manipulated the situation best.

STOP. TRYING. TO. MAKE. ME. LIKE. GALAD. DAMODRED.

I just. Damn it. This is such a good look! And yet it’s Galad!

Standing, beaten but unflinching, determined and himself, ready to face whatever they do to him. Well. That’s how Morgase began, too.

Oh hey it’s his friends! Which means probably no more torturing of Galad, which is kind of a shame (I’m sorry), but is also not entirely unexpected.

Oh wow Asunawa’s dead. Okay. Can’t say he’ll be missed, though it’s just a shame Morgase didn’t get to kill either him or Valda herself. Ah well, can’t have everything.

And it wasn’t Galad’s men who killed him, so now he has won the Questioners to him as well. Questions of Leadership indeed. I see what you did there.

It is an interesting contrast in this chapter, to watch Perrin constantly second-guessing or trying to deny his leadership, set against Galad just… accepting his.

I will give Galad this: he has won his leadership by being entirely and unrelentingly himself, and true to his convictions, and standing, despite everything thrown at him, despite the corruption around him, as a determined and unassailable symbol of what the Children of the Light should be. What they can be. He doesn’t try to steal power, doesn’t outright challenge their ways; he just leads quite literally by sheer force of example.

Galad nodded. “You accept me as Lord Captain Commander?”

But also, I just have to remind everyone that he’s buck-ass naked throughout this entire scene, and some juvenile part of me finds that absolutely hilarious.

“We were forced to kill a third of those who wore the red shepherd’s crook of the Hand of the Light.”

What a pity. No, really. I’m weeping. How sad. Terrible.

None of them asked whether he needed rest, though Trom did look worried.

Again! Characters beaten and exhausted and hiding their pain in order to just move forward is a whole Thing, and putting that on Galad and throwing it at me is just unfair.

Galad didn’t feel wise or strong enough to bear the title he did. But the Children had made their decision.

The Light would protect them for it.

(The fact that ‘Galad’ means ‘light’ in Sindarin is just an added bonus here, really).

But I like the way his thinking about this runs: he doesn’t feel wise or strong enough, but that’s not the part that matters. The part that matters is that they chose him. As Galad sees it, what makes a leader isn’t what the leader thinks of himself, but merely the fact that others choose to follow.

He is their leader now, and whether he wants to be or not, whether he feels up to it or not, is irrelevant. There’s an interesting question here around choices, and the lack thereof – that he has no choice, in a way, but to lead. Because whether or not he wants to, people have decided to follow him, and so by definition he is their leader now. And so the only thing to do, because it’s the right thing to do, is to lead them as well as he can.

Next (ToM ch 3) Previous (ToM ch 1)

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: T

Chapter Summary:  Carapace helps Ladybug and Chat Noir build a bathroom.

Word Count:  2491 | Chapter 3/?

XXX

Carapace leaned over the back of the couch.  That made his hood-like mask slipped down over his eyes; she’d need to take his measurements and make adjustments.  Just one more thing to put on her list.  

“So. Bathrooms, huh?”

“Bathrooms.”  Marinette sighed, slumping back on the couch.  She had a notebook in her lap, but all of her ideas so far had been scratched out.  

She couldn’t Lucky Charm a toilet.  (She’d tried.)  She refused to dig a hole and just let Chat Noir Cataclysm the waste periodically.  (Ew.)  She’d even spitballed ideas with some of the kwamis, but like Plagg, none of them really understood the need for a bathroom.  Instead they just floated in front of the TV, playing Mario Kart on Chat’s Switch.

Carapace settled down on the couch next to her, sipping his Carpi Sun and watching the race. Kaalki was winning as Princess Peach, with Wayzz driving Bowser close behind.  Orikko seemed content to let Yoshi trail near the bottom of the rankings.  Xuppu as Donkey Kong was in last place, on account of him refusing to hold the remote right-side up.

“Do you have any ideas?”  She handed her notebook to Carapace.

“You don’t have to build a bathroom, y’know.  I thought it would be cool, especially if we all have a sleepover sometime, but you’ve already done a ton for us. We can deal.”  

She knew they could, but it would make her feel better to have a bathroom, too.  

(Plus, she’d aced her Physics exam last week.  It would be nice to repay Chat Noir somehow.)

“We’ve come this far.  I’m not going to give up now,” she said.

Carapace squinted down at the paper.  Flipped to the next blank page.  Flipped it back.

“Uhhhh… so what do you have ‘this far’?”

“...Pretty much nothing.  But I’m sure there’s a solution!  If I can figure out how to use a Lucky Charm every fight, I’m pretty sure I can come up with something as simple as indoor plumbing.”

“Maybe you’re thinking about it wrong.”  Carapace shut the notebook.  “You don’t write things down when you’re figuring out a Lucky Charm, right?  You just… I don’t know, it always looks like magic to me.”  He smiled sheepishly.

It wasn’t part of the miraculous magic.  It was just the way her brain worked.  But he had a point—it might help to look at this from a different angle.

“You’re right.”  

She stood, smiling at Wayzz’s laughter as the kwami crossed the finish line.  It was good for him to spend time with his friends again, which was why she’d met Carapace here this evening.  She hadn’t yet passed on the code for anyone else to open the Miracle Box.

“I’m going to need to borrow Kaalki,” she told the kwamis.

“Me?”  Kaalki frowned, pointing a hoof to her chest.  “What for?”

“I’m… not exactly sure yet,” she admitted.  Kaalki’s Voyage was definitely part of her plan, but she was still missing a few pieces.  

She scanned the room, gathering objects that caught her eye: a colander from the kitchen, the dragon choker in the open Miracle Box, the sewer map tucked behind that.  Then her yo-yo and the turtle bracelet on Nino’s wrist.  So close, but it still didn’t quite add up.

At least she had an idea of what she might need the yo-yo for.  She flipped it open and clicked on one of her few contacts.

“Bugaboo?”  Chat picked up on the first ring.  “Miss me already?”

“It sounds like you missed me, if you’re out and transformed.”  She smirked.  “Meet me at the base.  We’re putting in the bathroom.”

XXX

“I know your plans are usually pretty complicated, but are they always so…”

“Clever?  Amazing?  Inconceivable?”  Chat Noir asked while brushing off his hands.

“I don’t think that word means what you think it means,” Nino  said automatically, then shook his head.  “I was gonna say messy.”

“Not always.  It’s about fifty-fifty.”  Ladybug—well, Dragonbug, technically—used a broom to sweep out the black dust left over from Chat Noir’s Cataclysm.  It wasn’t enough dust to account for the huge chunk of rock that had been there.  His power must do more than just break things; it actually destroyed them.

Miraculous of destruction.  Duh.  Still, it was super cool to watch the magic up close and personal.

He could hardly believe Ladybug and Chat Noir had picked him out to hold his miraculous full-time.  Alya would’ve killed for a chance like this, and he couldn’t even tell her about it.  He kept worrying he’d accidentally let something slip, and then she’d use her nosy reporter skills to get the whole truth out of him.  

So far he’d been lucky.  Even if he almost cackled when she called “Carapace” a ninja-turtle wannabe.

“Carapace?  Are you ready?”  Dragonbug faced him.

“Huh?  Oh, yeah, of course!”

He stepped into the small room Dragonbug and Chat Noir had finished carving out.  The only thing that stood out was the cylindrical hole in the wall, just a little bit above his head.

His job was to use Shellter in the back of the indention, leaving just a fist-sized gap in the front of the spherical shield.  Luckily he’d practiced different barrier formations since Chat Noir had broken the news about his Miracle Box shield.  He still hadn’t found a useful way to protect the box, but he could make a shield with a hole in it now.

“Shellter!”  He called while plunging his fist into the hole.  Green light exploded inside, pushing the dirt and stone outwards.  The wall trembled slightly, but held.

“How’s that?”  He asked with a grin.  Dragonbug’s plan didn’t make sense to him yet, but he was sure it would be awesome.

“Perfect.”  She clapped him on the shoulder before they swapped places, her own hands inside the hole.  “Now—water dragon!”

He and Chat Noir peeked over her shoulders, trying to see what was happening.  

“You’re making a water tank,” Chat Noir realized with a grin.  “See?  What did I tell you, Cara?  Inconceivable.”

Nino just laughed.  At times like this, he felt like he wasn’t an outsider on the team.  As crazy cool as Chat Noir and Ladybug were, they weren’t larger-than-life.  They were just… dudes, like him.  There was no need to get starstruck like Rena.

Dragonbug capped the hole with the end of a plunger, her latest Lucky Charm.  Nino was just glad that hadn’t been for a toilet. 

“If I get you some measurements, Chat, can you do some math for me?  I want to know how much water this actually holds, and how many showers it should supply before we need to refill it.”

“Depends on how long your showers take, but sure.  I’ve had some physics problems like that before.”

Dragonbug used her sword to puncture a few smaller holes in the wall, then secured the colander over the top of the plunger.

“So it’s like a shower head.”  Nino nodded.  “Smart.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Carapace.”  She smiled at him.  “You were right.  I was thinking too hard, when we had everything we needed all along.”

His face warmed a bit under her praise.  “I didn’t do much.”

“It’s not always about what you do, turtle dude.”  Chat Noir slung an arm around his shoulders.  “We’re a team now.  And even though LB’s usually the brains, we all support each other.”

“Chat’s right.  Wayzz picked you for a reason, and so did we.”

It was cool that they the heroes wanted to include him, but it was hard to take them seriously when they’d all just jerry-rigged a shower together.

“Because I’d help you build a bathroom?”  He joked.  

“Come on, we were having a moment!”  Chat pulled back and playfully punched him in the arm.  “You’re supposed to be thinking wow, the amazing Chat Noir picked me!”

He cracked a grin.  “Ladybug’s right.  You’re a real drama queen, bro.”

Chat Noir gaped at his partner.  “When did you say that?”

“Most recently?  About an hour ago.  But if you meant how many times I’ve said it, I’ve already lost count.”

“You wound me, my Lady.”  He clutched his hands to his heart.  

“See?  My point exactly.”  She waved her sword at him with a smirk.

He sighed.  “Walked right into that one, didn’t I.”

“Yeah.”  Nino patted his shoulder consolingly.

“Maybe one day she’ll be the king to my drama queen,” Chat sighed again, but this time in a more lovesick sort of way.  The same way Marinette always sighed over his bro Adrien.  If Alya hadn’t expressly forbidden him from interfering in any way—and if Chat and Marinette weren’t both so hopelessly in love with their own crushes—he might’ve tried to set the two of them up on a blind date.  At least then they could both be dramatic together.

“Good luck with that, dude.”  

“Are you going to stand there sighing, or actually help me?”  Ladybug had her hands on her hips.  She’d already dismissed Longg, who flew to hover by Kaalki.

“You know I’m always at your command, my Lady.”  Chat swept his arm in a dramatic bow.  

“Show Carapace how to combine miraculouses.  He’s never done it before.”

“Me?”  Nino pointed to himself and blinked.  “I can do that too?”

“I said this base was for training purposes, didn’t I?”  Ladybug handed him the dark glasses.  “Well, consider this training.”

“What? I thought I was to transform the glorious and famous Chat Noir.”  Kaalki crossed her arms.

Chat’s eyes widened for a second before he grinned.  “You heard her.  Ready to admit how glorious I am yet?”

“In your dreams, kitty.”  Ladybug laughed before turning and crouching before the kwami.  “Please, Kaalki?  I may not know Carapace that well yet, but I know he has a good heart, and he’s always willing to protect others first.  I think that’s the most glorious thing of all, don’t you?”

Did she really think that?  He found his face warming again, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“She’s right, you know.”  Chat Noir nudged Nino with his elbow.  “You’re always running in to take hits.  You’re almost as bad as me.”

“I’ve actually got a shield, though.”  He patted the shield on his back, and Chat laughed.

“Good point.  I’ll let Ladybug throw you at the akumas next time.”

By then, Ladybug had finally convinced Kaalki to transform him.

“It’s really not hard,” the kwami said.  “All you need to do is speak my name and Wayzz’s, then say unify.  Just like Ladybug did to become Dragonbug.”

Nino had watched her combine the miraculouses before they started constructing the room. It had looked that simple, but he’d still assumed there was a trick to it.

“That’s it?  I don’t have to, I dunno, feel something in my heart?”

Chat laughed before thumping him on the back.  “You’re a funny dude, Cara.  Oh, but there is one thing she forgot to tell you—you’ve got to neigh like a horse while you transform for this one.”

“Chat!”  Ladybug smacked his arm, but he just laughed again.  “No, you don’t.  You will need to bring your hands together, though.  It allows the magic to flow through you better, so the powers mix evenly.  That’s what the Master always said, anyway.”

He nodded.  “Alright.  Wayzz, Kaalki, unify!”

He punched his fists together, and teal light crackled over him.  It tingled in a different way from the first transformation.  His turtle suit always felt warm, like putting on a comfortable blanket.  This was more like walking outside during a heat wave.  A moment of dizziness passed before he could breathe again.

“Does it always feel like that?”

“Oh.  Right.”  Ladybug smiled apologetically.  “I should’ve warned you about the heat.  It should pass in a moment.”

Sure enough, the heat faded like the dizziness had.  He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together.  The gloves of his suit were brown now instead of green; he wished he had a mirror to check out the rest of his costume.  They’d have get one for the bathroom eventually.

“Cool, cool.  Anything else I should know?”  He asked.

She went over how to use Voyage, then directed him to the spot she’d drawn out in chalk.  

Sweat beaded under his mask.  Getting the exact coordinates of a magic portal sounded a lot more complicated than throwing up a shield.  Whoever Pegasus was, he must be a real genius.

But right now they didn’t have Pegasus, and Ladybug seemed to think he could do this.  He didn’t want to disappoint her and Chat Noir.

He fixed the portal’s destination in his mind.

“You sure I can’t make this go to, I don’t know, Gabriel Agreste’s office?”  He asked with a grin.  “Y’know, as a random, nonspecific example.”

Chat Noir’s eyes widened for half a second before he doubled over laughing.  Ladybug looked mortified.

“What do you have against Gabriel Agreste?”  She asked.

“Other than that his designs are bland and unoriginal?”

“Or that he looks like he’s swallowed an onion in every photo?”  Nino added.

“Or his sour cream dollop toupée?”

“Heh, you mean tou-pee.”  

Chat Noir cackled at that, and they hi-fived.

“I’m sorry, bugaboo.  I think I’m going to have to replace you with the turtle.”

Ladybug rubbed her temples.  “I need Rena here.  This is too much idiot boy energy for me to handle.”

“You know you love us.”  Chat grinned.

Nino still couldn’t help wondering what beef Chat actually had with Adrien’s dad, but of course he couldn’t ask.  Just like he couldn’t admit that his own grudge against the candy-cane man came from how he treated Nino’s best bro.

“Alright, stand back.”  He finally shoed them away.  “I gotta get in the zone for this.”

He pictured the sewer—a real sewage plant, not the storm drain their base was connected to.  Then he punched his fist towards the floor.

“Voyage!”

A glowing portal opened up in the stone.  And it reeked.

“Smells like it worked.”  Ladybug pinched her nose.  “I’ll get the hardware set up later.  In the meantime…”

She dragged over a manhole cover that Chat had fetched for them on his way over.  It was wide enough to cover the small portal and stop the fumes from leaking out.

“I think that’s all we can do for now,” she said before holding out her fist.  “Pound it?”

Nino had shared Ladybug and Chat Noir’s post-battle tradition plenty of times before, but for some reason, this one felt as special as his first.  Maybe because it was over something so crazy.  Maybe he was getting sappy, but it felt like the heroes trusted him for more than just watching their backs in battle.

They were more than heroes, and they were more than just dudes.  They were his friends. 

He smiled at them.

“Pound it!”

[saintsnsinnersbdb]

Submitting to the Darkness Part 10 Last Resort

Co-written by @LordshipHalogen, @SinsSecondcomin and @TrezMoor

Lassiter: It took too long for me to pull my head outta my ass and think back to everything I’d been doing before Lash made me his chew toy. The emotional download with Blay, and the attempts to get the trainee Crhis back on track, were just the start, and had proved good distractions for ‘not’ dealing with my own bullshit. But it wasn’t until the males all ventured out for the night, splitting themselves between trainees, the Audience House and fighting, that I realised I’d never heard back from Rehv or Trez as to whether they’d gotten Sloahne back safe and sound.

The ‘oh shit’ moment was accompanied by a lot more cursing as I grabbed a leather jacket and slung it around my shoulders over dark jeans and a dark shirt. The rather drab ensemble was a big change from my usual verve, and I cast the leopard print leggings and gold jewellery a fleeting look before stomping out the door. My hand lifted to muss my now super short hair, compared to the ass brushing length it had been before, and I waved Fritz off as I got to the entryway.

“I’ll be back, Fritz. I got some business to attend to. If the Brothers ask, I went for a fly. Y’know. Clear my head.”

Aha. Bullshit. I wasn’t itching to summon my wings any time soon. I was ready to settle for basic dematerialisation and be done with it, which is exactly what I did, ghosting my ass down to the club and making my way past the bouncers in a beeline to the back rooms. Reaching Rehv’s office, I hoped like all fuck the male was actually in as I knocked, but the night was young, and if the symphath was going to start off anywhere, it would most likely be here.

Rehv: - I hated wild goose chases, that's what this fucking week has been; Vishous had given me half a dozen addresses for Drake Romera. We had checked out four of them so far and none of them had panned out for us. We were going to do one more tonight, than I had to head to the colony tomorrow for a day to set things in proper running order there. When I returned we would tackle the last address assuming this one flat lined like the rest of them.

I had also been keeping my ear to the ground with the Glymera and their circles, it was proving more difficult than one desired a hunt to be. This abduction struck sour grapes with us all, it left a foul taste in our mouth as memories of Xhex’s abduction kept running through my head.

The sound of knocks upon my door was irritating me like rubbing salt into an open festering wound. I nod for Trez to answer the door, he was more of the people person than I was; I was likely to shoot who ever was on the other side of the door, friend or foe and ask questions later.-

Trez: It was a rough one and I could see Rehv was feeling it. Hell, we were all feeling it. The search was real. Rehv gestured for me to get the door. I thought it was a good idea as well knowing how he is.  

I opened the door without speaking. I knew once I got close enough who was behind it. “What's good, Lass. Rehv is not in the best of moods, but he's here. Come on in”, I said. I moved back to where I was chillin’ out at in the corner.  

Lassiter: Stepping past the Shadow, I moved into the room and picked a spot to stand where I could keep them both in my line of sight. Not because I didn’t trust them, mind, but because I was such a jumpy fuck these days the last thing I needed was them seeing how emotionally un-fucking-stable I was. Being in the company of a Shadow and a Symphath was hard enough on the best of days, and my mental shields were high and locked in place as I flicked a glance between them both.

“That good huh? Gonna assume that in my absence, y’all haven’t found her yet.”

Please, Creator, let her be alive.

“Where we at then?”

I looked to Rehv when I asked, sensing his frustration and anger more clearly than anything else. With any luck he wasn’t going to bite ‘my’ head off, but hey, my luck had proven me wrong before.

Rehv: -Running my hand through my hair, I look up to see Lassiter settling himself into a nook; looking as if the Brothers had finally decided to use him as a living target, then a door mat.

Without a doubt he had a rough week, one that I could relate too. These past few weeks were hell without the fucking hand basket.

I shook my head as he asked his question, I wasn't a fan of the answer I had to lay at his feet. Me the one male that lived his life in the shadows and by the very sins others coveted, craved, and sometimes fought to escape; had to tell him I was turning up nothing but dead ends.

Short of unleashing an entire colony of symphaths upon the glymera to find this single rat bastard, I was close to running out of fucking ideas.-

“I called Vishous, he gave me a bunch of addresses for this assshat Drake Romera; I've checked all of them but two. So far not one fucking clue to where she is … I'm hitting one place tonight and another tomorrow if tonight doesn't turn anything up.

Seriously I'm nearing the end of the road, and there is nothing but cliff edge left and a million foot drop. I've even contemplated unleashing my army of sinners on the city in order to find this bastard, iAm even cheerfully volunteered the Shadow encampments aide in taking this God forsaken city a part one grain of sand at a time …”

Lassiter: I winced at the suggestion - not because I was particularly adverse to help from the sin eaters or the Shadows, but because ripping the city apart seemed like the fastest way to take this shitstorm out of the teacup and and make it a big ass, whole kitchen kinda problem.

“I’m in on the search then,” I replied firmly, even if my voice lacked its usual spark. “Wherever you’re going tonight, I’m coming. And fuck, we’re not bound by daylight with me around, so if we need I can check the other one during the day.”

I didn’t bother saying what would happen if I /did/ happen to find them in the daylight, with no backup. We’d deal with that shitshow if/when it happened, frankly. One problem at a motherfucking time. And if I didn’t find her? Fuck. I didn’t want to think about that either.

“Might also be time to bring in help other than your intended city destroyers,” I add wryly. “I have a friend, he’s on the edge of the Glymera, and the edge of all the things you love that go bump in the night, Rehv. He could offer up new perspective, or fuck, just give us help. I’m ready to ask just about anyone on this to get our girl back,” I admitted, uncrossing my arms and clenching my fists repeatedly. “If we get nothing tonight … I wanna bring him in.”

Trez: I could feel the urgency in Lass’s voice. I continued to listen to he and Rehv discuss the matter before I interjected. “Lass, my brother and I have no problem searching with you during the day. As you know, we are not bound by night.  Maybe we can keep you sane as we search so to speak. We will make sure we are thorough, dotting every ‘I’ and crossing every ‘T’.  That cool with you?”

I looked to both Rehv and Lass as I asked the question. I knew we all had our way of doing things and sometimes working together forced us to compromise with each other’s methods. In a situation like this, it was easy to get riled up so it was best we worked hard on the team work.

Lassiter: Glancing to the Shadow as he spoke, I felt a flare of relief and gratitude, thankful the male had offered at all, considering how much other shit these two had to deal with. With a short nod, I managed a faint smile, wishing I could get it to my eyes for a little glow.

“Thanks Trez. Yeah, that’d be sweet. If we could check off the other one in daylight it gives us an advantage over this Romera fucker if he is there.”

Looking back to Rehv, I arched a brow and managed to keep my voice even as I folded my arms.

“That cool with you?”

Rehv: -Nodding as they both spitball their ideas, but the hell if I was going to let them think I was staying home waiting for word of progress. No that theory was gonna have to be nipped in the bud, they were however on the right track with the day searches.

Scrubbing my face with one of my hands I point to a little bar set up, in the opposite corner of Lass; if the angel insisted on coming into my establishments looking like a five cent whore and a street bum just worked the last three minutes to spew his ass out, the least I could do was offer him a drink to take the edge off and add a bit more of the human qualities back into his diet.-

“Help yourself to a drink Angel, but you two shouldn't take liberties in thinking your asses will be going alone to check out the last place; my business in the colony should be over with by early morning. We can hit the last place around noon … the sun should be at its highest leaving our new friend at a most grievous disadvantage.

Make no mistake we're all equally invested in getting our girl back, so none of us want to be sitting in the sidelines if we find her; and if Lady Luck smiles upon us him as well …”

Trez: As Rehv spoke, I nodded in agreement. “True. I’m down with that plan. I’ll get #iAm on board as to what’s going on and we can get moving”. I looked back over to Rehv. “Anything else you want the Shadows to look into before hand?”

Lassiter: Glancing over to where Rehv had indicated, my spirits lifted at the sight of spirits. Oh, the irony. Making a beeline for the beverages, I took the Goose off the counter and poured myself a generous measure, holding up the bottle by way of offer to the other two males as they spoke.

Let it be known, alcohol does ‘not’ solve anyone’s problems. It does, however, let you forget you have any problems until a much later time, and that was perfectly fine by me as I tipped the glass back and swallowed down the burn.

“Right, well, maybe I should use the time between now and then to figure out a wardrobe and arm myself appropriately,” I added dryly, my pupiless eyes flitting between the pair. “Any suggestions? I was thinking hot pink with a splash of leopard print. In case a distraction is needed, cause let’s face it, I’m pretty distracting … anything else you lot want to do now?”

Trying for my usual sass felt a little more normal, even if the situation and circumstances were anything but. Some days you take what you can get.

Rehv: -Picking up my dagger shaped letter opener, I twirl it between my fingers as I reflect on what I should do; sometimes it was a pain in the ass to be off the dopamine. The damn stuff gave me a clear mind and a bit of a conscience, whereas being off the shit let out a creature all should fear; that creature didn't have morals or limitations of how far it would go to get what it desired.

If I had still been on the shit, I might have considered getting Wrath and his merry band of chest thumpers to aide in looking for Sloahne; unfortunately I wasn't and I wouldn't be looking for their help just yet. The time for quiet reflection was over, the urge to make noise and a big show of things was growing quickly within me.-

“We'll load up on the spirits and weapons then we can move out to our first address, let's just try not to get our hopes up too much. If we do find this bastard, we can hang his ass up in the middle of #ZeroSum and take turns hitting him like a fucking piñata.”

Lassiter: And didn’t that give me something to look forward to. I might not have been able to get my hands on Lash but eviscerating this Romera fucker was going to have to come in a close second. Assuming Sloahne didn’t want the pleasure all for herself. Some things you just had to gift to others. Especially when it was theirs.

“I’ll get ready and meet you guys later,” I said into the quiet, turning on my heel and making for the door. “We’re gonna find her.” Cause frankly, any other option wasn’t worth considering. “And you can take the first swing with the stick, Rehv.”