#THE CURRENT CHARACTERS AREN’T DEVELOPED ENOUGH TO HAVE ANY OUTSIDE CHARACTERS MATCH THEIR ENERGY AND TAKE THEIR PLACE????

[anachronistic-falsehood]

i’m sorry but if i see a single fucking genloss au for anything ever i’m going to throw a fucking fit

[fermented-writers-block]

PART 1 of 6 of the Owl Deity Hooty Theory

[NEXT PART]

[OWL DEITY HOOTY THEORY MASTERPOST] (in development)

(TLDR at bottom of post)

Over several long months of research and analysis since March of 2020, I have been following an utterly fascinating thread of potential misdirection and subtle details throughout The Owl House, and today, I would like to start weaving together of what I believe could become one of the biggest and most cleverly disguised twists in the entire show.

To begin, let’s take a look at the B plot of Understanding Willow:

On first glance, it’s an ultimately inconsequential sidestory with the sole purpose of justifying an excuse to keep Luz and Amity in Willow’s mind, as well as providing some well-needed room to breathe and release tension after the veryemotionally charged confrontation with Inner Willow. After half an episode of Eda and King outdoing the other in ridiculous ways to win Gus’ vote and Gus running off in frustration at the end of the episode from Hooty’s inane rambling, it’s easy to laugh off Gus’ pick and assume that nothing/of value was said when he closed the door for the interview.

However, if one pays close attention to that very scene, Hooty actually canstill be heard (if faintly) underneath Eda and King’s grumbling, interestingly talking about how “It all started with a hunt. Blood red skies. That’s right, I was created-.”

Now, while it may seem silly to focus on dialogue from Hooty of all characters, this A) tells us that there was an event in the past involving blood red skies and a hunt of some kind, B) that Hooty had been created close to said event, and C) implies that what he knows but can’t tell as a story worth a damn is EXTREMELY important to be included and be hidden in such a manner.

For comparison, the only other instance of dialogue being tucked away in the background in the entire show is in Wing It Like Witches:

During the lecture at the beginning of the episode, the history teacher openswith lore on Belos appointing a head witch to each coven over 50 years ago, immediately cluing in the audience to try and decipher the rest of the lecture as it moves to the background. Adding to this is how the musical sting when Luz shows off her movie obscures what he says even further, making it even more of a intriguing puzzle that the creators clearly intended for viewers to pick up on and attempt to solve.

In contrast, the hidden dialogue of Hooty’s interview is much shorter and not as hard to decipher as the teacher’s history lesson, but at the same time, there are few to no indicators whatsoever in that scene to clue in the audience to even check for something like that. It comes at the end of an episode where most viewers would have been paradoxically tired out and driven abuzz by the revelations of Amity and Willow’s relationship, doesn’t attempt to draw much attention to itself, and frames itself as a comedic subversion of audience expectations with neither the “greatest witch who ever lived” or the self-proclaimed king of demons being picked by Gus.

Instead, he picks someone that the show portrays constantly as an oblivious and gullible idiot after being described as a “state of the art defense system” at the very beginning of the series. Someone who, despite it being played for laughs, is scarily capable of casually subduing Lilith offscreen one episode and then beating her and an entire squad of Emperor’s Coven members without even the slightest change in personality or temperament.

Someone who, due to being the Owl House itself, could be considered the titular character of the entire show, yet is taken for granted by those who inhabit him and barely gets any respect from even the cutely patronized King - including when Hooty could be interpreted as having potentially been full on DEAD for a time given the use of extremely cartoony X eyes and a lack of vital signs in The Intruder.

And someone who Eda at best tolerates and at worst abandons in personal interactions and only occasionally acknowledges him when he’s actually doing his job. Yet at the same time is so implicitly trusted beyondprotecting her home to the point where - when up against the closest person Eda has to an equal outside of likely Belos - the only actually recognizable spells Eda used in combat were 1) stereotypical energy blasts, 2) a single shield spell in Covention, and 3) a noticeably large reliance on imitations of Hooty above any other spells she could have decided to use instead.

In short, the show repeatedly tells us he is just an idiotic gag character through and through, but at the same time demonstrates he has immense power through both onscreen and offscreen demonstrations, implicitly tells us his importance ahead of time through Eda’s imitations in actually serious situations, and treats his interview and origin story as - if not even more- important to keep secret than a long lore dump about how Belos’ reign works.

After all, there being only two instances of hidden background dialogue in the entire season is already intriguing on its own, but for one to get plenty of clues to draw in people’s attention and for the other to be treated as just another gag about a “mere comic relief character” - aka a good way to draw away attention and lower one’s guard - heavily suggests a far deeper significance buried under layers of misdirection, comedy, and conditioned audience expectations.

I mean, when Eda bragged about being “a bad girl living in a secret fortress,” Hooty followed with a remark about how “I’m the secret.” While that line may sound like Hooty simply being confused as part of a one-off on the surface, it’s an odd dialogue choice for the writers to pick when you think about all the other reminders of his nature as the house itself throughout the season. With the precedent these moments set, it would have been much more appropriate for him to latch onto the “fortress” side of “secret fortress” AND it would have been just as equally funny of a joke about his awareness skills, but instead, Hooty broke away from the established trend to say something that would make people suspicious were it to come from anyone else.

In a way, this reminds me much of the many subtle bits of foreshadowing strewn across the show, like Luz unknowingly describing Amity in Witches Before Wizards and Eda burning a hole through Luz’s coven type quiz that coincidentally selected the same track she had taken at Hexside as “a punky potionist.” At the time of airing, these initially seemed like one-off jokes, but eventually came back in full force several episodes later with Amity’s hidden sensitive feelings and love for the Azura books becoming clear in Lost in Language, and the reveal of Eda’s school track in Something Ventured, Someone Framed with her school misdemeanor pictures.

That said, compared to these individual bits of minor foreshadowing, the jokes about Hooty in Understanding Willow appear to simply be the most obvious pieces in a giant puzzle, implicitly and outright telling attentive viewers that there’s a major mystery to be uncovered here.

In fact, I feel bold enough to say that we could be looking at a twist on a similar scale to that of the Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz and Stanford Pines twists in Steven Universe and Gravity Falls respectively, what with this particular puzzle piece coming from how Gus wanted to make THE greatest interview of all time, and how he was looking for someone who was “interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy:”

Note the emphasis on the ‘and’ here, as Gus had made a big deal that “people aren’t meantto be all those things” at the beginning of the episode, so as a result, stripping away all the comedic framing of his subplot leaves the intriguing implication that whoever - and, perhaps, what- Hooty is, they really are the most interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy person out of everyone.

I could go further and talk about why I suspect the mystery surrounding King’s origins, whether true or not, is partially meant to misdirect us from paying attention to Hooty, or how the TOH crew’s could be disguising legitimate clues to his nature among made up and highly meme-able joke answers in order to proliferate said concepts throughout the fandom - thus letting us do all the dirty work of getting ourselves used to the ideas and used to dismissing them at the same time - but to bring things to a close for now, I’d like to leave you all with a question that I’ll start answering next time:

What does it mean when both the most powerful and notorious witch on the Boiling Isles and the possible actual king of demons/the Titan itself/something don’t match up to a house? And what do you think it is that makes him so special to warrant such misdirection?

TLDR: Between Eda’s golem spells, the show stressing his nature as the titular house, his implicit strength, and the odd dialogue and structure of Understanding Willow‘s subplot in relation to him, I believe I have good reason to suspect the show has been giving us many hints towards Hooty being much, much more important than it would like us to currently believe or even joke about. Particularly, through clever uses of comedy to establish and enforce a strong audience bias against looking closely at him or unironically taking him seriously, and to potentially plant the seeds for something I will start exploring in Part 2.

[thelunaticbinge]

Kenny Omega is a Siren

And I am but a flailing sailor throwing myself onto the rocks.

I've been watching wrestling since I was about 10 years old, give or take. I'm now 28, almost 29. I fell in and out of watching it along the way, but have been pretty consistent for the past 6 years.

WWF/WWE has been the primary player in my story, understandably. I grew up in love with (and still am in love with Jeff Hardy).  I gravitated, as a kid, toward colorful characters and teams like Team Xtreme, and ones that were high flying dare devils.  The acrobatic, lightning fast nature of that style captivates kids easily, it can’t be denied.  I still love the style, and appreciate any performer that works that way.  It’s high energy and grabs the audience.

Despite this preferred style, however, I must admit that the actual wrestling wasn’t what initially drew me in, and it isn’t often what keeps me held nowadays.  Obviously, if I didn’t enjoy the physical aspect, I wouldn’t be watching, and I can recognize when someone is particularly talented at what they do in the ring.  But it was always the characters and the stories that pulled me in when I was younger, and which continue to do this day.  That being said, I’ve gravitated away from WWE in a lot of ways.  I appreciate so much of what the guys and girls do, and how hard they work, and how talented they are, and yet I’ve been terribly bored by it all lately.  The stories just aren’t there for me.  But that’s an essay for another day when I have more patience.

Fast forward to roughly a year and half to two years ago.  Enter Bullet Club/The Elite.  

I have far too much solitary time at my job so my mind tends to wander into daydreaming about what it would be like to meet some of these guys, or else what it would be like to sit down and actually spew my wrestling fandom story to some made up interviewer.  Doing this really helped me dissect what it is I love about Kenny as a performer.  Because I love him as a person too, but that much goes without saying.  I’ll get this out of the way right now so that I can be genuine and serious for the rest of this.  Most of what I explain in this essay lends A TON to the fact that the man is just sexy as fuck.  Kill me dead.

 God damn angel.

The first thing that drew me to Kenny was, in fact, his in ring ability.  As I said before, I don’t often over analyze what the wrestlers do in the ring aside from finishers or signature moves and if I like the way they look.  For instance, I think the RKO is one of the loveliest moves to watch.  Call me fake all you want, it’s fine by me.  I’ve been watching long enough to know what most moves are called and how an in-ring performance aids the story: I’m not uneducated, this is simply about taste.  I’m a plot person, a charisma and character person.

But Kenny is one of the special ones.

Something about the way he moves strikes a chord.  It took me a while to pinpoint what it might be, but I finally had an epiphany not too long ago.  He really does move like a video game character.  I grew up loving video games and while I don’t play as much anymore, I really appreciate how his passion for them bleeds into his wrestling style.  

And it isn’t just his moves, but his mannerisms.  I’ve seen a lot of people say they don’t like that about him; that he’s too over the top and goofy sometimes, and I just want to tell them, “That’s the point, though.”  He excels at being over the top.  Because depending on what he’s doing, who he’s fighting, what the current arc is, his mannerisms always make sense to me.  The deliveries of his finger gun, the “You can’t escape”, some of his crazy eyes.  I love it all.

I am 90% sure that the first match I ever saw of his was the one with Jericho at the Tokyo Dome.  So obviously I haven’t been around long as far as his career goes.  But if there was ever a match to fall in love at first sight with him, that was the one.

His moves, guys.  HIS MOVES.  The man is a machine.  But like a 95% organic, android machine.  Terminator, obviously.  Wink wink.

Think about it.  He is so crisp, concise, and articulate in how he moves.  He is both explosive and technical.  He mixes the powerful moves in with the high flying, manic style I’ve loved since I was ten in such a seamless way.  The one-winged angel is a great move for its established devastation.  Rarely have I seen anyone kick out of it, which is why I’m glad he never connected with it in the Mox match at Full Gear.  Mox was able to come out on top in his specialty match, and yet Kenny wasn’t lessened by having his finisher made ineffective.

But I’ve found that even though I adore Kenny’s finisher and his flying over the ropes and around the ring, it’s some of the other things he does that fascinate me.  For one, I adore the movement for his “You can’t escape” segment.  How, may I ask, does a person move like that?  And I’m not even talking about the moonsault part.  I provide a link to a twitter gif because I can’t save gifs off twitter.  Click HERE.

The man is like a gymnast with that stuck landing GOOD LORD.

To make up for the lack of an at hand visual, have this gif because I love it.

Secondly, the V-Trigger.  This is a signature, yes, but fucking beautiful to watch.  It’s speed and power and looks as life-ending as it does poetic.  Just ask Joey Janela.

Have I mentioned yet that I love Kenny’s run?  It’s so distinctive.  Especially when it first starts.  The high knee.  The acceleration.  The man is gorgeous in motion.  Just agree with me and we’ll keep trucking along here.

The one move, though, that really illustrates what I’m getting at here is one that should--at least to my not professional in any way eye--be fairly elementary.  I’m talking about the the snapdragon.

Please correct me if I’m wrong in saying this, but to my eye it seems like a move not developed for its power/match ending ability, but simply as a way to bring the opponent down and waylay them for a minute.  It’s a suplex of sorts, yes?  I imagine it isn’t meant to result in a pin.

But Kenny’s snapdragon is probably my favorite move he does.  The Speed.  The SPEED.  THE SPEED.  Whip-like and akin to the RKO in its tendency to strike out of nowhere.  I watched him do it 3 times in a row live in person and I could only stare with fucking heart eyes.  

He takes this move that should just be a trip up maneuver and makes it look like it could truly kill a man.  

This is the best gif I could find, my apologies.  Found on reddit.

Again, maybe the move was always supposed to spell obliteration for the opponent.  I don’t see it really outside of when Kenny does it.  But I think his style largely affects my view of it.

The motion of this man in his performance really drives home to me what so many people love about the art in wrestling.  I sit up and pay attention to the physicality in a way I don’t in other matches.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’ll be up out of my seat for a lot of guys and gals, screaming and electric with the crowd when shit gets crazy.  But when Kenny is in the ring, I find myself really absorbing what he does because of how well he does it.  His talent has really connected with me, but I get it doesn’t with some people.  Well, maybe I don’t get it, per-say, but to each his own.  

I find that a lot of the qualities I find so enrapturing about his wrestling transition into what I love about his promos.  His work on BTE is often very different from the NJPW/ROH/AEW stuff.  His BTE stuff is usually humorous and endearing in weird, chaotic ways.  I find him funny and cute and sometimes a bit unhinged.  I’ve always liked a little crazy in my faves, let’s be real.

His in-ring promos hit a different nerve.

As with his wrestling, Kenny’s speech is crisp, concise, and articulate.  It’s been a while since I’ve watched one, but I call to mind his introduction of Marty into Bullet Club.  The wording he uses in such promos really elevate his character, especially when he’s got The Cleaner vibe going on.  But for me, its all in his tone, the inflections.  He’s quiet and you listen.  The promos are smooth, easy to track, and evoke emotion.

It’s been a long time since a wrestler has really snatched my attention in the way Kenny Omega does.  I find myself listening to my faves’ promos in both WWE and AEW more often than “listening” to their matches, and this often leads to me missing parts of the story.  Do some promos fall flat?  Sure.  Depends on the character much of the time, and if I dig the current rivalry.

It hasn’t yet mattered to me who Kenny is facing.  I pay strict attention.  And in turn I pay attention to what the other person is doing, too.  I love the wildness of Kenny’s matches--a wildness that isn’t only made obvious by his high flying moves, but by the subtler ones, too, as well as his mannerisms and expressions.  The man can lay you out with a one-winged angel, 1,2,3.  But first he’s going to tear you apart with a plethora of poetry in motion. 

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Karli!

You have been accepted for the role of BENJY FENWICK with the faceclaim change of Nick Robinson, along with the requested bio changes! I loved how you dug into and fleshed-out Benjy’s ills and issues without obscuring the bright, optimistic (naive) core of him. I also adored reading the relationships section and how you wove so many other members of the Order into his life and perspective. I can’t wait to see him interact with everybody on the dash! I’m so glad you’ve decided to bring us the rest of the Chaos Trio!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Karli

AGE: 29

TIMEZONE: CST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Same as it has been, fairly active. Less so in the fall when school starts up again.

ANYTHING ELSE: None.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Benjy Fenwick

AGE: 19 | September 18, 1962

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis-Male, Him/Him, Heterosexual. 

Benjy is very comfortable with his sexuality and isn’t afraid to be friends with people who are not heterosexual. In fact, a majority of his friendships are with people who are discovering their sexuality or already identify as LGBTQ. With a gay father, he sometimes considers himself “knowing” and forgets that his experience is very privileged. Just because he’s accepting and aware doesn’t mean he truly gets it and, being young, that’s sometimes hard to remember.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-Blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

ANY CHANGES: Even though I wrote the bio and the FC originally, the more I solidified Benjy in my mind, some of the things I originally wrote ended up needing to be changed. For instance, I would like to change my FC to Nick Robinson. As I got to know Benjy, I realized that KJ’s expressions and resources didn’t really fit the mold I’d created with this portrayal. Also, I think it might be important to change the “he’s the newest member” thing in the second part of the bio, as he is no longer the newest member - just started that way when the roleplay began. I would also like to change the Caradoc connection up a bit - I will include it below under “relationships.”

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY: 

The first thing many people notice about Benjy Fenwick is his energy. He is very talkative and likeable in the sense he’ll not only talk to someone, he wants them to talk back. He’s a good listener, even if he doesn’t always look like it. With that energy needing to go somewhere, it’s not always easy for him to sit still (something that the healers were frustrated by during his recovery) and often will be found moving around or doing something with his hands. This can be offensive to those people he’s supposed to be listening to - but he does keep his ears open, even if his eyes aren’t concentrated.

He likely has a mild case of undiagnosed ADHD - which sometimes shows up in the form of struggling to stay focused and hyperactivity. This happens, typically, with those things he cares less about. He could talk for hours about Quidditch without needing a break (or used to, anyway, it hurts a bit more now that he’s on the outside of the sport) and even the art of healing has become important enough to him to have much of his attention. The program at St. Mungo’s is harder for Benjy, given his need for extra support that wouldn’t be given in the Wizarding World, but he manages to stay afloat, even if he’s not at the top of the program.

Benjy is accepting and loving, but sometimes has the complex that he doesn’t really have to do much soul-searching - or doesn’t really have to grow. In modern terms, Benjy thinks himself to be “woke” without realizing that his naivety means he still has a lot of self-awareness left to find. Just because he sees an experience doesn’t mean he knows that experience - and he might need someone to force him to take a step back and really look. 

Currently, he’s in a bit of an identity-crisis. For years, Quidditch had been his focus. It had been his life. He chose healing, not because of passion, but because of a lack of other things he could think of. When Quidditch ended, the hospital visits began and the healing program sort of fell into his lap. He is learning to find a love for healing, but it hasn’t fully developed yet. 

Benjy is curious and creative. There is a reason he was sorted into Ravenclaw - and it isn’t the stereotypical “booksmart.” He learned that Ravenclaws often have an open-mindedness about them that allows for thought in different ways. While he’s not very artistic, his creativity comes in the ability to think outside the box and look at things from a new perspective. This helped him with his Quidditch skills and it could help within the Order, too. 

He doesn’t always come off as though he truly cares, however. Because he picks and chooses what to really put his heart into, sometimes he might seem indifferent to others’ suffering or what they have to say. He’s got a bit of that British-polite in him and doesn’t always stick up for what’s right without someone backing him up. For this, he is a follower. He was pulled into the Order by Dorcas - and doesn’t really do much within the organization without someone telling him what to do. He might get radical at times, but that’s only because Dorcas is telling him to be. He’s a Yes Man in that way and often struggles to make his own decisions. Without her pressure, he likely wouldn’t be in the Order right now and just safely hiding under the radar as a “normal” half-blood.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

(Once again, this isn’t brief and it’s about his whole life, not just family WHOOPS!)

Benjy was seven years old when his father, Jaison, came out as homosexual. Benjy’s mother, Maeve, had been mildly shocked for a bit before praising her husband for his true acceptance of self. They promptly divorced, but remained friendly and shared custody of their two children. Benjy’s sister, Haley, was too young to ever remember a time where their parents were together - so the situation of co-parenting and blended family structure had always been her normal.

For Benjy, it was a bit tougher. He was confused by the fact that Daddy and Mummy weren’t together anymore, but still spent time together. He questioned a bit about love in the capacity a child could. Until he met Lucas. His dad had taken months with Lucas before feeling comfortable enough to introduce his kids, but Benjy learned a bit about love watching his father with his boyfriend. Eventually, Lucas became a staple in the Fenwicks’ life, moving in with Jaison despite their inability to get married.

What won Benjy over about Lucas was Quidditch. While Maeve worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, it wasn’t until Lucas entered his life that Benjy actually got to go see a Quidditch match. They would go to as many as they could, buying food from the stances and watching the players fly high into the air, shooting the Quaffle or knocking the bludger or catching the snitch.

He learned to fly early. With his mum at one home and his step-dad at the other, Benjy always had someone to practice with. He grew to love the position of Keeper best. The idea that he was in charge of surveying the entire pitch - that he was the final defense against the opposition and the goal - was exhilarating. He lived and breathed the sport and, by the time he went to Hogwarts, he had his life planned out.

Ravenclaw was surprising until he met some friends and learned the house was about creativity along with intelligence. It helped with his game. Benjy didn’t need a crystal ball to tell him his future: he would get on the team his second year, he’d be promoted to captain by fifth year, get scouted during seventh, preferably by the Falmouth Falcons.

But then a bludger hit towards him by the Gryffindor team’s beater, which caused Benjy to roll the wrong way - he’d practiced the Zelig Flip a thousand times, but he’d positioned his hand a bit too much to the left and slipped. The fall from such an incredible height should’ve killed him - he was lucky, they said. You should be dead, they said. And Benjy wanted to shout but a life without Quidditch is death! 

Perhaps the worst thing of all - besides the injuries and healers and learning to put weight on his leg again - was that the Falcon scout had been there. He wouldn’t play again - he couldn’t play again. And the person he most wanted to impress witnessed it all.

He was back at Hogwarts by the time N.E.W.T.s rolled around, but spent the better part of the year between St. Mungo’s and the school. It was because of this he recklessly - and without much thought - applied to the healing program at the hospital. He got in, accepted, and mourned the loss of who he was supposed to have been. Perhaps Dorcas recognized his identity-crisis because he barely thought about it before agreeing to join the Order with her. Searching for something to fight for again.

OCCUPATION: Healer-In-Training at St. Mungo’s. 

Benjy applied for the healing program upon graduation because he just didn’t know what else to do. It had never been a real passion for him - but the idea of Quidditch was over and he’d been spending so much time at the hospital lately that he went for it. His N.E.W.T.s were just good enough to get him accepted. Looking back, it’s actually a good fit for him. It’s always different day-to-day, which keeps his interest, and learning all the new healing techniques quells his curious streak.

Currently, he’s still in year one of the two-to-three year program.Recently, he began the portion of the training that involves rotations, where he gets to spend some time in each of the wards of St. Mungos. During his third year, he will have to declare a speciality, but he has no clue what that will be. Right now, his favorite bits of healing have to do with the Order and working with Emmeline. 

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER: 

Benjy is a lower level member who joined the Order in September 1981, through Dorcas Meadowes’ pushiness encouragement. At the time, he was the newest member and knew little about the organization. As the months have passed and they’ve failed missions and lost members (most notably, one of Benjy’s idols, James Potter), he’s learned to grow more and more passionate about the cause.

He typically stays back during missions, both to help with healing given his qualifications, but also because he just physically can’t do all the dueling. His leg injury makes him slower and the slight tremors in his wand hand can be controlled in moments of healing, but not necessarily high-energy duels.

He believes in the Order, but isn’t overtly vocal about it. Given his nature as a Yes Man, he is known to nod and agree and go ohhh, so that’s how it is depending on whichever person is “explaining” things to him. This makes him fairly susceptible to manipulation - and often spouts Dorcas’ words rather than making his own opinion on the matter.

SURVIVAL: 

Benjy survives through his “normalcy.” He’s not rich, but he’s not poor. He’s not loud, but he’s not quiet, either. He’s a half-blood from a few generations back; nothing really special about it all. Had he become famous like he anticipated, the spotlight might be on him more. But, as it is, no one really cares much about the could’ve beens of the world. 

He lives with his mum in his childhood home, in his childhood room, and is more than ready to get the fuck outta there! It might be easier to sneak away if his sister wasn’t off at Hogwarts, but all his parents are worried about their son that nearly died. Since the fall, they’ve had eyes on him more than they might’ve had things panned out differently for him. Once allowing him to be fairly independent, now his mum wants to know where he’s going at night - and, whenever he’s at his dad’s, he has two sets of eyes watching over him. It’s rather exhausting making up lies or avoiding the question with the teenage-angst shout of I’m of-age now, Mum!

Still, he’s mostly under the radar and, if any of his parents suspect anything, no one has mentioned it to Benjy. He knows what they’d say if they do find out about the Order, however; they’d want him to stop. Maybe in the beginning, he would’ve listened. Now, especially with James’ death, he’s in too deep. And he likes that.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Dorcas Meadowes. Having been friends since their Hogwarts days, Benjy listens to her maybe more than anyone else. He’s very much the “Yes Man” when it comes to Dorcas - he joined the Order for her, helped with the creation of the Phoenix symbol before the explosion of the Atrium, and is willing to do more destruction for her. Benjy thinks of Dorcas as his best friend, though in truth, she might just be using him. He’s blind to it, whatever it is, and he’s bound to get himself hurt following in her footsteps.

Emma Vanity. A newer friend, but closer than most of the ones Benjy used to have in school (which mainly consisted of the Quidditch team and a few outliers, like Dorcas) these days. While the rest of his friends have moved on to other things not regarding the war, Emma found her way in it. She doesn’t need to fight - she’s a pretty, rich, pureblood, after all! - and Benjy admires that she is. 

Emmeline Vance. What started out as an odd pairing (seasoned, weary war healer and over-eager trainee with a limp) has become something really special. Benjy values Emmeline’s guidance more than any of the other “adults” (he’s an adult too, but different sort of adult!) in the Order. She’s sensible and level headed and nothing seems to shake her. She’s taught him more in battlefield healing than he learned in his first 6 months of healer training and he respects her. She might get a bit annoyed with all his antics, but he can make her smile! He knows she’s fond of him!

Caradoc Dearborn. Benjy judged Caradoc too harshly at first - a product of finding the Marauders so cool and knowing that at least half of them didn’t enjoy Caradoc’s presence. Once he learned that Dearborn did, in fact, play Quidditch in school - and once he actually talked to Caradoc - the tides have changed. They’re not close friends, but he’s not as much of a stick-in-the-mud as Benjy thought. 

(This is the connection I’d like to change, please!!)

Sirius Black. He’s very cool. Benjy bought a leather jacket because he saw Sirius wearing one, but then felt like an idiot, so it’s never been worn outside his own bedroom (and he’s sure Dorcas will make fun of him, if she ever sees it!). Benjy knows he’ll never be as effortlessly awesome as Sirius Black - the bloke always looks rather careless and that’s just so killer, man! - but he likes taking tips anyway. Maybe he’ll get a girlfriend if he’s more like Sirius. Now that James has died, the easy, cool bloke from before is shifting to something darker and that’s scary. Benjy doesn’t want to get rid of his old idol, but he also doesn’t want to die for Sirius. 

Dedalus Diggle. It might be calling the kettle black, but Diggle sort of annoys Benjy. He talks a lot - tinkers a lot - messes with things. And maybe that’s just Benjy seeing himself in Dedalus, but two people who are this energetic together can sometimes be a bit of an explosion.

Daisy Hookum. Benjy doesn’t know Daisy well at all. She was years ahead of him in school and was off on some Muggle retreat when Benjy joined the Order but, now that she’s back, he’s interested in some of the things she learned over there. Especially the Muggle sporting! 

Remus Lupin. Just before the disastrous event at the party, Remus was outed as a werewolf. Benjy never really got to know the bloke - he, too, was on some mission when Benjy joined up - but now he’s almost afraid of him. Benjy himself doesn’t realize that’s internalized prejudice coming into play… but he doesn’t want to become a werewolf!

Severus Snape. Benjy doesn’t know how to feel about Severus Snape. It’s clear that Sirius hates him, but Dorcas loves him. Those are two people who could really sway Benjy over to their side if he doesn’t quickly form his own opinion. Severus doesn’t really seem to care about Benjy, though, so it’s not really a priority. But if Severus does want people on his side in the Order, Benjy could be an easy target for loyalty. 

Isla Selwyn-Macmillan. She actually played Quidditch professionally for years - Benjy has old magazines with her picture in it! He’s a bit too afraid to ask her about her experience on the major league pitch, however - not just because he’s a bit starstruck, but also because it hurts to talk about what he might’ve been able to have, too. He doesn’t realize it wasn’t Isla’s choice to leave the sport, however. If he were to find out, they might be more kindred spirits than anyone would think.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: Benjy/Chemistry. Since I made him straight explicitly for the goal of providing that “oh so woke, but not exactly�� cis, white, straight dude, any ships would have to be heterosexual. But I’m open for whatever within that realm!

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Benjy is right down the middle of privilege, meaning he doesn’t really get the perks of being a pureblood, but doesn’t get the prejudice of being a muggleborn. He’s a halfblood, white, cis-male wizard. His family grew up fairly middle class and, while his parents are divorced, they managed to stay friendly and Benjy never had to go through the trauma of feeling as though he had to choose.

With accepting parents, one of which is gay, Benjy has grown up learning about the importance of tolerance and acceptance. Because of this, he believes he’s (in modern terms) “woke.” However, there is still internalized prejudice in all of us. While he would never dare to utter the word mudblood and would scoff at someone who does, he still might look at a talented muggleborn with a bit of wow, look at that! as though it were surprising they could be just that good. He also wouldn’t fight the person using the word Mudblood. He would likely tell him it’s not cool, but forgive and move on easily. Not realizing that it wouldn’t be his place to forgive. It’s not his story to tell.

While he doesn’t hold the rhetoric of all werewolves are bad and all house-elves should be servants and other things along those lines, he inadvertently acts on it without knowing. It’s very naive -- “You mean werewolves don’t have canine teeth and claws in their human form?!” and “But don’t they like not getting paid?!” -- but Benjy is willing to listen and grow. He just sometimes forgets he still has room to grow because he generally does try to be accepting to all people and creatures. He also doesn’t always care enough to seek out more information because he doesn’t really think he needs it -- it doesn’t affect him. And that’s privilege. 

Being a straight bloke with a gay dad and a lot of LGBTQ friendships, he really thinks he understands sexuality. And maybe he gets some of it, but he doesn’t really “get it.” It’s not his experience. He’s also very confused about bisexuality, which makes sense given the timing of the world as well. What he saw in his life shaped his understanding of sexuality - his dad presented straight until he accepted his sexuality and then he was gay. Benjy gets that, but struggles to understand that there are sexualities in-between the two. For instance, Emma and Dorcas -- if they get together, he’d assume that means they’re lesbians, despite sexuality not being so clear cut as that. Once again, it doesn’t come with malicious intent or the desire to erase anyone… it’s just naivety. People need to teach him because he’s willing to learn. 

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? It’s the roleplay I created and I love how amazing it’s become. It’s honestly a bit eerily relevant to our life right now and I’d like to explore that with a different character than Regulus. Benjy more closely resembles James, but he’s still his own and he has a story to tell.

PLOT DROP IDEAS: All chalked out, sorry! All my ideas are already in the process through admin stuff. I’d love the chaos trio to fuck some shit up together, but that’s all I’ve got! 

ANYTHING ELSE? I’m not sure where else to discuss Benjy’s injuries, so I’ll just do it here. When he fell from his broom, he landed on his left side, which also happens to be his dominant side (he’s left-handed in both writing and wand). He walks with a limp all the time - it will likely never go away. For a while, he was forced to use a cane, especially during the healing process, but hasn’t needed that since prior to graduation. If he pushes himself too hard, there’s the possibility he may need that again, but he likely would just rest on those days more than bringing out the old cane full of unwanted reminders. His wand arm’s muscles had torn in the fall and, despite the ability to put them back together through magic, there are some lasting effects. He sometimes has tremors, especially if having a wand raised for long periods of time. Typically, this can be remedied with some techniques taught to him by the healers, but in extreme cases, he needs to put the wand down for an hour or so. This is most difficult when he’s in the middle of healing, otherwise it doesn’t get in the way much. 

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (10)

A/N: asdklgasldf logan is the second main character at this point, i realize. i dont have any Qualms with that but also there’s gonna be whiplash once he starts being not-super-main. also meet the artist, more!!! he’s a very interesting one

WARNINGS: arguing, yelling, knife, threatening, death threats, food/food mention (i should have tagged that in chapter 8 — gonna fix that ASAP it’s written on my arm :’D) — if i missed anything too, please let me know!!! 

Words: 6325

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda@askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil 

General: @jemthebookworm​

enjoy !!! <3 <3 <3  <3 

Logan woke up first.

He rubbed his face, not changing his position just yet. He noticed that the room’s ceiling was red, with baby pink clouds floating along. Perhaps this reflected on the weather outside, or the sunrise? Either way, it was pretty.

He sat up, putting his glasses on fluidly. Patton was still fast asleep, light snores drifting  from against the bean bag he was spooning. The Child seemed to be a rambunctious sleeper, as his legs were bent over the bed’s edge, blanket covering his face.

He hadn’t forgotten their revelations from the previous night, not at all, and a small, content sigh escaped his lips when he saw that both of his companions were asleep sound. It was a well deserved rest.

According to his internal clock, it was definitely past sunrise, a fair 7:12 a.m. It occured to Logan that “after sunrise” was the most nondescript timestamp he could have placed on their reunion with Deceit and Virgil, but he didn’t have the energy yet to worry about that. After all, he doesn’t function well without coffee. He also should have been concerned about the Artist downstairs. Surely he has to sleep, too, though? And it was unlikely he’ll attempt violence this early in the morning.

Most important, however, is the fact that Logan needs coffee.

Carefully, he stepped around Patton towards the door, taking his cloak with him. He took care to move slow down the stairs, letting the wooden steps creak slowly instead of in loud snaps.

The ground floor hadn’t changed since the previous night. Paintings and art equipment were still strewn about in an organizational method probably only understood by the Artist himself. The man in question was splayed out on what seems to be a small couch — in front of the easel from last night. Along with that, the stool had disappeared. It wasn’t a healthy practice, but Logan had to admit that it was efficient to simply change one seat for another as bedtime rolled around.

Coffee time.

He walked around the couch, still careful about his footsteps, and entered the kitchen. There was a coffee machine in the corner that Logan immediately put to use. Now, with a warm mug in his hands, he squinted around at the setting.

He should make breakfast for everyone. He had the time, and food would greatly sustain himself, Patton, and probably the Child for their future endeavors. Perhaps the Artist would also enjoy a meal? Yes, the Artist reportedly doesn’t like them, but it would be against Logan’s nature to take that sort of statement at face value without running his own experiments.

First, he had to know what he had to work with. Logan opened the refrigerator — why were there modern appliances in a medieval setting? He would have to ask….someone — and found it sparse but useable. There was a full carton of eggs, and milk.

After water testing each egg, Logan set a pan over one of the stove burners. He would have to ask about consistency in setting because, um, a stove? He wasn’t about to not use it, but he was judging the “historical accuracy” that the Playwright had harped about.

Speaking of the Playwright. Logan leaned on the counter with his butt and took the Playwright’s book out of his jacket pocket. In all of last night’s hassle, he’d forgotten to check the “Author’s Notes” section, and there had to have been even more updates since then. He nearly flipped the cover on instinct but a distinct golden glow caught his eye.

The ribbon decal was still adorned on the front, though it was noticeably less impactful than the golden circle in the center. The sun of Roman’s crest. The Child. Logan ran his thumb over it, watching as it actually exuded a warm yellow glow around his finger. If Logan was still willing to trust the Playwright’s explanation, then that meant they’d won the Child over. That he trusted them.

He squinted at the cover. The ribbon was a divot in the cover, like leather pressing. Probably to mark the book, maybe even to fool the Sides into letting him go without argument.

Even lighter on the cover, though, was the outline of the crest. The leather was a dark red color, but closer to the center was a lighter red, more matching of Roman’s sash, and there was a light indentation marking where the crest’s border would be. Perhaps it was because they had met more figments? Or maybe Virgil and Deceit had met with another part enough to make a mark? Either option was promising.

The former seemed to be the case, because the Table of Contents had extended to include….multiple more Romans. It seemed that Virgil and Deceit had been busy. Below the Playwright and the Author Notes was now “The Child,” “The Thief,” “The Artist,” “The Bard,” “The Dragon,” and “The Damsel.” That was all seven. Transfixed, he began flipping to “The Dragon.”

There were bullet pointed notes, but no sketch like there had been for the Playwright. Perhaps it would update with more once they’d found him.

“- Lives in the castle

- Wants to kill everyone

- Would not hesitate (bitch)

- Captured and tortured Damsel

- I cannot stress this enough — DO NOT ENGAGE”

Logan raised an eyebrow. A villain. A very cliche villain, too, given that he was a dragon. He wasn’t necessarily inclined to trust the Playwright’s warnings, though. Surely there wasn’t really a form of Roman who would want to kill all of them? Perhaps throttle, but not murder.

“You’re not Teacher Dude, are you?”

Logan nearly dropped the book. He snapped it shut and whirled around, ascot flapping into his face. The Artist stood in the kitchen’s entry, sleep still evident in his eyes behind the same glasses Logan wore. He squinted at Logan as though daring him to lie.

Which, of course, he did. Logan straightened his posture and fixed his outfit, carefully sliding the book back into his jacket pocket. “I am. Cur of you to say that,” the Teacher Dude smiled, right? He was a little more of a funny man. Logan smiled.

The Artist winced. “You sure as hell aren’t an actor. Dad Guy wakes up first. Teacher Guy’s has a trash sleep schedule, since he procrastinates on grading papers. You’re Logic.”

Logan….supposed that was valid. He didn’t know enough about the Teacher’s character to refute that claim. He cleared his throat and turned back to the pan, beginning to crack the eggs for the scramble.

Hang on. Was his smile that unnatural?

The Artist took his silence as a yes. He nodded to the coffee machine. “Mind if I take some of that?”

Logan nodded, stepping away from the machine. “Of course.”

The Artist nodded back and began fixing himself a mug. He stood beside Logan, who pushed the half-cooked eggs around the pan in an effort to maintain some air of regularity. He only felt a little awkward, considering the Child’s warnings and the yelling match he had with Playwright the night prior.

It didn’t seem that the Artist cared, though. After he poured himself coffee, he stayed in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and watching Logan cook.

“The Child brought you, right?” The Artist sipped his coffee, watching Logan’s shoulders hike up when he spoke.

“Yes. He did,” Logan said.

“So Padre’s upstairs, too.”

“Yes,” Logan exhaled slowly, “Do you want any breakfast?”

The Artist looked at the eggs. Logan really just made them breakfast, huh?

“I don’t eat. We don’t need to,” he looked back up at Logan’s face, squinting, “Wouldn’t that be illogical?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. Okay. Maybe he was a little scared, but Logan wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to point  out that he was being a petty baby.

“Well,” the Artist rolled his eyes as Logan began to explain. “Roman typically eats meals with us, so everyone maintains an even circadian rhythm. While unnecessary in the literal sense, breaking from that routine has likely damaged your stamina, resulting in phantom hunger cramps. My current hypothesis is that that’s what you’re feeling, or….that you don’t want to eat because I’m here.”

There, he said it. Logan could see the hostility in the Artist’s eyes. There was more, something heavier and deeper, probably a nuance he wasn’t picking up on, but the bitterness was indisputable. Or was it simply sadness? Nevermind that.

The feeling in his chest was tight now, not like the fluttering he’d pondered last night. This was more upsetting. It felt like the thing gripping his lungs had a tighter hold, almost threatening. Why was this such a surprise? He knew that the Artist didn’t like him. He should stop developing preconceived opinions of these different Romans, because it wouldn’t benefit him if he continued entering these situations with fallacious speculations.

The Artist averted his gaze, and then turned around. A quiet concession, it seemed. He opened the freezer and pulled out a bag of hash brown patties. “I’ll make hash browns,” his voice was low, almost a whisper.

Logan didn’t want to let it go, though. He had to know. “The Child mentioned that you dislike us.”

Oof, maybe he was being too bold, because he winced at his own words. The Artist was also taken aback; he probably didn’t think Logan would bring up the room’s incredible tension.

For a few seconds, they just stared at each other, unsure of how to continue. The Artist recovered first, with a sharp shake of his head. “I don’t,” he said, even quieter.

He opened the bag and took out another pan, heating some oil. Logan took a step back, setting the eggs down on the counter.

“So you do like us? Us being myself and my compatriots.”

“I mean. I don’t not like you,” the Artist began flipping the patties, “Doesn’t mean I like you.”

Logan frowned. “Can you elaborate?”

The Artist cast him a wary glance, then looked back at the hashbrowns. “I’m indifferent. I don’t need you, and you don’t need me, so we’re at a comfortable numbness.”

Comfortable numbness. What was that, a call back? Logan leaned on the wall, watching the Artist cook quietly.

It seemed that the Artist quickly forgot his presence, too, as he began to hum. He flipped the finished patties one by one onto the drying plate. A little airheaded, perhaps? But he had been quite astute earlier. Or maybe Logan just was a really bad actor — he didn’t know. He did know, however, that the tightness in his lungs was softening.

Logan cleared his throat, and the Artist didn’t react. “What are your….plans?”

“Paint,” he responded simply.

“....anything else?” Wow, it was hard getting this one to talk. The Child had been so ready to explain everything to himself and Patton the night prior.

The Artist seemed to consider his question for a second, as though contemplating if it were worth his time. It seemed to be. “Kick you all out. You, Pitterpatt, and Child being here is puts a target on my house, Professor Binns. I would prefer to not draw Dragon’s attention.”

That was understandable. Logan let his shoulders relax — he definitely hadn’t been worried about an argument or actual physical confrontation, given how the biting the Artist had been the night prior — and he followed the Artist in arranging a plate.

They worked in silent tandem, though once the Artist was finished, he set his plate aside and opened the cabinet overhead. He pulled out a toaster, then a loaf of bread, and finally, to Logan’s surprise, a jar of Logan’s berry Crofters jelly.

The Artist caught a glimpse at Logan’s expression and met him with a tired shrug. “It’s a good flavor,” he turned back around once the slices of toast popped up. Logan’s face mustn’t have changed, because the Artist squinted at him again, suspiciously, and added, “What are you, the jelly police? Fuck off.”

Logan blinked, then turned back to the eggs. He stepped back again, now feeling out of his depths as the Artist toasted eight slices of bread and set all but two aside. Those he took for himself, spreading each with a thick layer of jelly. When it looked like he was done, Logan stepped forward, but the Artist just turned toward him with a stoic expression.

“I’m going to start painting. Don’t,” the Artist pointed the spreading knife at Logan, voice dropping to a threatening tone, “Interrupt me. After you’re all done eating, I want you all out of my house.”

It seemed that he really cared about his work. Logan fixed his glasses, lowering the jelly covered knife with his finger.

“Of course,” he said, licking his finger clean of jelly.

Oh, fuck yeah, that was the good shit.

The Artist, happy with his response, nodded and swiveled the knife around. Logan took the handle and they rotated, the Artist walking away to his easel and Logan to his jelly. It occurred to Logan, then, that if he had a question he should ask it now. Before it became a safety hazard to ask.

“Wait.”

The Artist, just about to sit, looked up at him with a frown. “What?”

Logan looked around at the piles upon piles of paintings. They had intrigued him since the night before, but he’d wanted permission before inspecting.

“May I look at your art after breakfast? I assure you that I will not damage any of your works.”

The Artist looked around, too, and pinched his brows. His hands came up to run through his hair.

Logan shifted his weight awkwardly. It was a fairly simple question, but the pregnant pause implied some deeper worry.

Well, it was Logan. While he wasn’t a big fan OF Logan, he and Virgil were the least likely to physically damage them.

He loved Patton, but the man would probably drop a few of them without realizing the damage that’d do to the canvas. And Deceit….he wasn’t a big fan of fake compliments.

On the alternative hand, Logan was most likely to critique them.

The Artist was sure he couldn’t take that. Not right now, not with this ridiculous art block and murder game interfering with his creative process. On any other day, he would be able to bear the brunt of….no, no. He probably couldn’t take any criticism. That sort of mental processing went to another facet of himself.

But, when Logan PRAISED him….it felt like the world. It felt like the sunset casting a warm glow upon the summer’s night. Like a bird training to fly who’d fallen from a nest only to take off and soar. Like glimmering flashes across a lake at sunrise.

Oh, it felt like heaven.

Was it all worth that one possible compliment?

“Sure,” the Artist found himself saying, hands resting on the back of his head, “Knock yourself out.”

Logan frowned. “I assure you, I do not plan on making myself unconscious.”

The Artist waved his hand, suddenly more distracted looking as his eyes flew around between his current work-in-progress and the other paintings. “It means go ahead. I’m going to begin painting. Tell Pat-in-the-Hat and Child not to disturb me.”

He screwed his eyes shut, drew in a breath, and….summoned a sketch pad and pencil. Logan watched as he began repeating the same hand movement over and over across the blank page, an art warm-up.

For a second, he was honestly proud that Roman remembered his suggested warm-ups. He’d been worried, once Roman first took up sketching as a means to jot his ideas down, that the creative side’s erratic nature would mean less self-care, so he researched a few ways to prevent hand cramps when drawing. Adequate art warm-ups was one of those ways and was a way to prevent one’s hand growing stiff.

Well. This whole morning was definitely a shift from the snappy, angry Artist from last night. Logan briefly wondered what the change may have been.

No matter. He should probably eat before engaging in any of the art; he would hate to dirty it. He also didn’t want to get in the Artist’s way. The Artist had just put his plate down beside the stool and immediately begun working, and to be honest, that didn’t bode well for the food. But it was too late for Logan to bring that up, especially with such explicit instructions.

For someone who disliked order, the Artist followed his personalized organizational methods to the dot.

Logan stayed in the kitchen, watching him paint from afar, letting his eyes wander over the other pieces. Slowly, he sat on the ground, crossing his legs and leaning against the wall. It was peaceful

Okay, well, that was interrupted by pounding on the steps above. Logan turned just in time to see Patton peek out from around the stair’s bend, hair still fairly disheveled and glasses lopsidedly resting on his nose.

“Well, good morning!” he said with a grin.

The Artist didn’t react, continuing in his warm-up routine, but Logan waved. “Good morning, Patt,” he said.

“It’s nice to see you, Roman!” the Artist rolled his eyes, but stiffened immensely when Patton hugged him from the side.

He didn’t loosen when Patton let go and moved on to Logan, still leant on the counter, hand resting on his chest, emotional outburst behind him. Patton had hugged him.

“Good mornin’, Logarithm!”

Okay. Logan drew in a small breath. That nickname? “Did you just call me logarithm?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

He was a little astounded that Patton knew what a logarithm was. Patton nodded, still chipper as ever. “Yep! If you write logarithms in their regular, no numbers-form, it’s your name!”

Logan squinted.

Holy fuck.

While Logan ran that pun through his mind, Patton went to the kitchen. “Did you both make breakfast?” he asked, ignoring that Logan was still trying to figure out how he hadn’t discovered his own name-pun and that the Artist hadn’t un-frozen yet from his hug.

Despite the lack of response, Patton continued, making himself a plate. “You’re so sweet! I’m glad you were working together this morning, then!”

Logan smiled a tiny bit. They had worked fairly well, hadn’t they? He stole a glance at the Artist, who was still frozen. He was looking at Patton with a weirdly choked expression, though. A cross between anger and something else.

His eyes flicked down to the Artist’s food, mostly eaten. He must have eaten it while Logan wasn’t paying attention.

“Logie, did you eat?” It seemed that Patton hadn’t noticed how stressed the Artist looked.

“Yes, Patt, I did. Thank you for your concern. I am going to do my and the Artist’s dishes now,” Logan picked up the Artist’s plate from the ground, not looking at him as he took them both to the kitchen. “Has the Child woken up yet?”

Patton shook his head, leaning on the wall behind the counter while Logan began to clean the dishes. “Nope! He’s out like a light!”

He looked over at the Artist, who was still as a statue, and turned back to Logan in a more hushed voice. “Is he okay?” he asked.

Logan glanced at the Artist, then looked back at Patton. “I cannot say. He was fine earlier,” did Logan want to mention that he stiffened only after Patton hugged him?

Yes. It was better to not hide these things. “He hasn’t moved since you hugged him,” Logan whispered, “Maybe he is a touch-averse Roman?”

Immediately, Patton was regretful. Gosh, he hoped he hadn’t upset the Artist. Roman was usually the only Side okay with spontaneous hugs, and he’d been too sleepy to remember that the multiple Roman situation meant every Roman might have different boundaries.

Should he apologize? Probably. That was the good thing to do!

Patton spun back around and walked up to the Artist, who was still frozen. “Sorry for the hug, kiddo,” Patton said, rubbing the back of his head, “I, uh, hope I didn’t paint myself in any bad light!”

The Artist blinked, then looked up at him, mouth pressed into a firm line. Patton actually flinched from the confused anger in his gaze. The pun couldn’t have been that bad. Could it?

He opened his mouth, irritation clearly mounting, but then clamped back down and bit his lip. He looked away, not reacting to Patton’s bewilderment, and simply starred at the painting he’d been working on. It hadn’t been ruined, oh, no, he hadn’t even started yet. His mind had just been abruptly yanked away from the Zone.

“It’s okay,” the Artist spoke through gritted teeth, “I already talked to Delbert Doppler over there. Please leave me to my work.”

Patton stepped back when the Artist extended his hands, conjuring a paintbrush and the palette that they’d seen him using the previous night. And then he set to painting.

It’d be a lie to say Patton wasn’t a little hurt, despite the already-negative impression the Artist had left. But he was hoping that’d been a late-night kind of fluke! A little moment where the Artist was just too tired and stressed! And he’d heard Logan and him working together well earlier….

“Patt,” Logan’s voice drew his attention back to the kitchen.

He was holding a plate fully set with eggs, hash browns, and two lightly-jammed slices of toast. Logan met Patton’s surprised expression with a small smile. “Breakfast?”

“Oh!” Patton took the plate and plastered on a smile. “Thank you, Lo!”

Neither seemed sure of what to do — did either remember the events of last night? After a few awkwardly quiet moments of smiling at each other, Logan cleared his throat and stepped back. “I am going to look around at the paintings that Artist has done. I would recommend staying in here,” he gestured to the kitchen, “As Artist is….fairly serious about not damaging his work. And not being disturbed.”

“Oooh, gotcha. That’s probably why he’s been a lil’ snappy, right?” That made sense in Patton’s mind! If the Artist wanted to not be disturbed, and Patton had unintentionally disturbed him, it made sense that he’d be a little peeved but not too mad or sad. Smad, if you would.

Logan nodded. “Perhaps. Either way, it would be better if we don’t disturb him,” he looked around at the art and picked up the first painting.

While Logan parsed through the different works, Patton sat down cross legged in the kitchen, munching happily on the eggs. Logan must have made them, he really did make the best eggs! The perfect level of juicy and cooked.

….It made him miss Virgil. The routine was to do famILY breakfasts, with Virgil, Patton, Logan, and Roman all sitting around the kitchen table. Patton leaned back on the wall and let out a small exhale. A small part of him wondered if they’d ever get to do that again, if Roman was going to be so changed after this. The Playwright hadn’t actually taken their words into consideration. He didn’t know how much they loved him.

How much Patton loved him.

Because, yeah, he could admit it. Patton was in love with EVERYONE. Virgil, Logan, Roman, even Deceit — it felt like swimming in honey, thick and goopy and wrapping around him in a warm embarrassment whenever Roman yanked him into a dance in the kitchen, or Virgil leaned on him during movie night. Whenever Logan read him a favored part of whatever he was reading, or when Deceit would trade puns and one liners with him.

He was floored, surrounded by this bubbly love that felt like a celebratory champagne.

Probably. It was probably love. Sifting through emotions may have been part of his job description, but that didn’t mean he was good at it. And he didn’t know if anyone felt the same, if anyone loved him back. Logan’d said something the other night, but…. And it wasn’t his job to sift through HIS emotions. Just Thomas’, technically.

Wait, was this just a different take on Thomas’ self-love?

Either way, the fluffiness he felt, the warmth at the tips of his fingers and the tingling in his cheeks when he smiled at seeing his lovely boys….It was nice.

It was all nice.

Just as nice as those paintings.

Logan had peeked through two stacks and found a lot. First, none of them were finished. Whether it simply lacked depth, or was literally half-painted, or only had base colors, none of these paintings were remotely completed. Every single one that Logan had seen was a work in progress.

Beyond that, he’d found multiple scenes of himself and the other Sides. There was one in particular he was….quite fond of, in all honesty. He’d looked it over for a few minutes. It was a half-finished painting of himself, sitting on the couch in the Mind Palace. And the only “finished” part was himself, fully colored in a semi-realistic impressionist warming glow.

Was that how Roman saw him? He knew that the impressionist movement emphasized the perception of events and movements, taking care of the lighting in environments to reflect not only upon the realistic light sources, but also on how the artist perceives such moments. It seemed….

Well, he didn’t much believe that the Artist was disliked them. Not after seeing these. But it unnerved him that so many were unfinished and unfocused. What was Roman lacking? Was it just an art block?

Patton stood up and patted Logan’s side. “I’m gonna wake up Child,” he whispered, glancing sideways at the Artist, who was painting now, “Get him some breakfast so we can be on our way.”

Logan nodded, putting a painting of a simple house down. “Very well. As soon as he is ready, we should leave. The Artist expressed a desire for all three of us to leave.”

Patton’s brow furrowed, and looked at the Artist, who wasn’t paying them any mind. The Child had to leave, too? Patton just wanted to say goodbye, he didn’t think that they’d be taking him with him. Wasn’t it dangerous outside?

“Wouldn’t it be safer for him to stay here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Logan now.

Logan pursed his lips.

Patton was probably right. It….was logical, that the Child would be safer hidden here, between multiple failsafes. “The Artist didn’t want him to stay here,” Logan murmured, “I am unsure why.”

“Well, how about we ask him!”

“Ask who what?”

Patton and Logan looked up to see the Child standing in the stairway, rubbing his eyes, yawning wide. He smacked his lips and grinned at them as they stood in the kitchen entryway, watching with slightly stricken expressions. If he saw anything wrong with that, though, he didn’t say.

“Awh, is that breakfast?!” the Child bounded down from the stairs and launched himself from the base, sliding his socked feet along the smoothed wooden floor.

He slid straight into Patton, who caught him with a “Woop!” This Roman was much more of a hugger, as the Child wrapped his arms around Patton’s hip and squeezed him tight.

Love

The Child snuggled his face into Patton’s side, until he caught a whiff of the eggs. “Oh my God,” he leaned back, though kept his hands balled in Patton’s shirt, “Did Loga–Did Logic make eggs?”

Okay, Logan honestly had no idea his eggs were this popular. “I–um, yes, I did,” he stepped back into the kitchen, “Are you able to make your own plate?”

“Um,” the Child rubbed his chin in thought — Patton was going to die, right here, in the Imagination, because Roman as a kid was so adorable. Just, the cutest. Curse the natural dad instincts — “I think I can!”

He hopped over to the counter, which he could barely peek over, and grabbed a plate. Carefully, and Logan watched just in case, the Child loaded up a plate of eggs, hash browns, and toast. And the whole rest of jelly jar.

He shot Logan a squinted, suspicious look, and held the jelly jar closer. “This one’s mine,” he hissed, “You jelly fiend.”

Logan didn’t know whether to be offended or pleased that that was his reputation. Like….this was a child. But also, he was a serious man with serious problems to attend to, and being labeled a “jelly fiend” was detrimental to that reputation.

But he was talking to a child, THE Child. He may as well play along. He looked to Patton for help, but only found the moral side with his fists pressed up to his cheek, figurative stars in his eyes while watching the Child spoon the jelly out of the jar and consume it.

Logan put his hands up in defeat. “I will not take your jelly,” he said.

“Promise?” the Child asked, pointing the spoon at Logan accusingly.

Alright. He’d admit it. The Child was a positive influence. “I promise.”

The Child raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else. Evidently placated by Logan’s promise, he licked the spoon.

While Logan dealt with the Child, Patton moved closer to the Artist. He hadn’t let go of the whole you’re-letting-a-child-lose-in-a-murder-situation thing and really, nothing anyone said was going to make him let go of that.

And, yeah, sure, Logan and the Artist both said not to bother him. But it couldn’t be that bad! They’d be out of his hair as soon as he said he’d let the Child stay. Patton didn’t understand the harm in a quick interruption. “Artist?”

No response.

Patton frowned. He didn’t want to touch him — Logan’s comment about him being touch averse still lingered in his mind — so Patton just stepped around and stood behind the painting, waving a hand and hoping to attract his attention.

“Hey, Roman!” he said. “Artist!”

Finally, the Artist acknowledged him, in a quick “Mhm.”

“Look at me?” Patton asked.

“Mhm.”

Okay, so the Artist wasn’t paying attention. This was a really important topic, and Patton, sadly, needed his full attention. Patton grabbed his shoulders, and the Artist stiffened again.

Careful of the painting, Patton pulled the easel back, squatting in front of the Artist so they were about equal height.

Uh oh. The Artist looked stricken, staring at Patton with eyes as wide as the moon and a mouth slightly open, slackjawed and confused. Behind them, the Child babbled to Logan about stars while Logan responded gently about constellations. Neither seemed to know of what was going on.

“Hey, Artist,” Patton smiled a little, trying to ease whatever tension there may be, “I’m sorry for bothering you! I just wanted to ask, um….” he bit his lip, it’s okay, just ask, “Would it be okay if Child stayed here?”

“What?!”

Hearing his name, the Child looked up. He and Logan both starred at Patton and the Artist, finally realizing that Patton had done the one explicit thing that the Artist had been adamant that no one do.

And, well, to be fair. Patton wasn’t usually one to press boundaries. He would be okay with letting the Artist paint for however long he wanted, so long as he took healthy breaks and ate a lunch and dinner eventually. But this was a dire situation. The Child had someone hunting him! Someone who wanted to hurt him.

Letting him hide, stay out of trouble, that was the right thing to do. Roman would understand, surely.

“No,” the Artist said.

Well.

Patton frowned, running his hands along the Artist’s upper arms and gently holding him steady. Maybe he just had to explain?

“Well,” he said, “It’s deadly outside, and we don’t want him getting hurt, right? Don’t you wanna keep him safe?”

The paintbrush and palette disappeared from the Artist’s hands as they slowly curled into fists. His lip was twitching, too, revealing a barely-contained anger.

Patton had done the ONE thing….

The Artist sucked in a breath. “....I don’t give much of a fuck, Dad. I told you all to leave.”

Someone yanked Patton back, causing him to let go of the Artist. He turned around, ready to reprimand Logan, only to find that Logan was nowhere to be seen.

The Child tugged Patton back a little more away from the Artist, teeth pressed together into a wide grimace. He shot Patton a small look, terrified and distressed, and pulled him toward the door.

“We’re on our way out, Arty!” the Child said, running around Patton and giving him a sharp push toward the door, “ I’m sorry, I didn’t tell Pat to say that, we’re gonna head out—”

Logan ran down the stairs, holding Patton and the Child’s cloaks in his arms. He handed the Child’s cloak to him, letting him put it on himself.

He wasn’t entirely sure why they had to leave so soon, but after Patton said the Child’s name, he’d turned to Logan with a petrified expression and whispered that they had to leave immediately. While Logan was certain that there was more to the Artist than a quick temper, he wasn’t confident that the Artist wouldn’t lash out.

It seemed that Patton was pretty confident, though. After all, why WOULD the Artist do anything?

He shook his head when Logan offered him his cloak and turned back to the Artist.

“No, no we’re not leaving,” Patton marched right back to the Artist, still sitting on his stool, hands trembling in his lap. “I thought you cared about protecting everyone. Why can’t he stay?”

The Artist stood up, causing the Child to jump back in fright, though Patton didn’t flinch. He just stood nose-to-nose with the Artist, who glared right into his eyes.

“He’s a distraction,” the Artist spoke slow, quietly, though the trembling of his hands and the twitch in his eye betrayed  It’s bad enough you’re all here. I don’t like distractions while I’m working, and you in particular keep distracting me—”

“Is that why nothing is finished?” Logan asked.

The Artist stepped back, as though he’d been slapped. Logan came up behind Patton, carefully putting a hand on Patton’s shoulder.

Patton gave him a small smile of relief. He wasn’t sure he could argue this well enough without him. While attacking the Artist’s art probably wasn’t the best method, he was glad that the responsibility of reigning him in wasn’t all just on Patton.

Having back up was nice.

That, and they still had to get information. Perhaps Patton’s opinion that the Child should stay here was logical and morally right, but that didn’t mean the Artist would abide by it when angry. They had to be strategic.

Logan cleared his throat, continuing with a gentle after the Artist’s lack of response. “All of your paintings. They all seem to be in some state of incompletion,” he gestured around the room, hoping to redirect the Artist’s focus. He didn’t want to come off as overly critical, though. They were wonderful, truly, but….well. You cannot blame him for having curiosities. “When you are distracted, do you not finish?”

The Artist just kept staring at him. He didn’t move, barely breathed, mouth hanging open a tiny bit. He did seem a little slow on the uptake, with lethargically slow movements and reactions.

His shoulders slowly hiked up as he drew in a breath. Patton perked up, and Logan‘s grip on Patton tightened.

“....Get out.”

His voice was cold as ice. A palette knife was summoned into his hand and his knuckles paled quickly from his tight grip.

Oh, dear. The Child hissed something behind the two adult Sides, but neither paid him any mind. They were acutely focused on the Artist.

“It’s an honest question,” Logan said, “I’m sorry if I offended, but—”

“I don’t have to answer it. Get out.”

Patton big his lip, eyes darting to Logan before he continued. “Roman, please—”

“I just want to create without you all getting in my fucking way all the time!” the Artist exploded. “And none of it’s good enough anyway, if it were good, I’d finish it, but nothing’s fucking good enough for you yet!”

He ground his teeth together, body stiff, hands curled at his sides.

It was bad enough he couldn’t finish a piece at all. The art block was bad enough. The fact that parts of him wanted to kill other parts of him and wanted to kill him him was bad enough.

He just wanted to create and wanted it to be good enough for their astronomically high standards.

Maybe the Thief was right. Wanting only made it hurt more.

“Roman—” Patton started again, only to be immediately cut off again by his shout.

“OUT!”

The Artist’s yell was loud enough to shake the house. Or perhaps that was because he wanted them to perceive it that way.

Either way, it was clear that the atmosphere wanted them to leave, whether they got an elaboration or not. The Child grabbed Patton’s arm and, with more force than Patton knew children to have, yanked him out. “We’re leaving, Dad,” he hissed, tugging Patton along.

Where had that outburst come from? And those tears? The Artist — he looked so upset, face twisting into picturesque disappointment and anger, lip curling and nostrils flared.

Patton couldn’t just leave him, no, he had to talk to the Artist, something. Anything.

The Artist jerked forward, shouting “OUT!” once more as he lifted the palette knife to point at them.

The Child threw open the front door and pushed Patton out. There was a time and a place, and this was neither.

He motioned for Logan to follow. “Don’t make me grab you, Logic,” he snapped, half scared, half frustrated.

Logan, blinking away his confusion, followed.

They left the Artist alone with one hand gripping a palette knife and the other his own shirt, over his heart.

[beybladeimagines]

Would you please please please wrote about Takao and crush or s/o being soft and watching a thunderstorm together If you want to pick a character from the series instead of just an OC or whatever, that’d be good, too!

“I think we should head out.” You’ve always served as a voice of reason, despite how often you fell for his charm. There were many moments when you reminded him of his responsibility, and yet, you couldn’t help but be wooed by his initial bold intentions. At the moment, you are watching the way he attempts to train, despite the elements being against him. Harsh winds are forcing his blade to wiggle and wobble, despite how hard he’s trying to concentrate. You have seen him withstand that kind of pressure before, but you are also aware that he’s only ever into it when he’s actually against someone else. Trying to go against brutal breezes alone isn’t accelerating his motivation. In fact, you see the way his frustration grows the longer he insists on staying outside. Longer, just a little longer… He swears he can go against mighty current, but at the expense of his own energy. It is your voice that pulls him out of his mental fray and upon doing so, the blade stops spinning. Perhaps it too was aware that if it kept going, it would be swept away by something sinister. He can train another time. Right now, it seems many signs are ushering him to shelter.

One drop suddenly descends on your cheek and another finds its way onto your arms. The skies are imposing warnings onto all beings below, even the man who sees himself as a champion. Tyson feels the first set of droplets too, but decides to ignore them. It’s just water after all, right? But if it were to hit you, part of him fears you might become ill. Without saying a word, he begins to remove his jacket. You look onward with confusion. Why did he pick now to suddenly strip? Before you can even question his actions, you watch as he rushes towards you in order to place the jacket over your head. Upon doing so, he doesn’t seem to let go… His arms remain at either side of your being, keeping you safe from both wind and rain as you start to seek shelter. His home is just a few more steps away. Had you allowed him to stay out any longer, he would’ve had to trudge through mud and murky waters just to save himself and his blade.

“It’s not so bad out there,” he says… As always, the man is persistent with his passions. Eye are fixated on the same spot where he once stood. He looks onward longingly, as if he was willing to endure the sudden storm just to test his strength. But you were out there too… You have been around him long enough to know what he can handle but even that didn’t subside your hesitance. Whoever casts wicked waters from the heavens had other plans, and Tyson’s practice wasn’t apart of it. He looks back at you to ensure that you’re okay. Despite his attempt at shielding you from the rain, you still managed to get wet. That brings him back to reality. “What am I saying?! You need to get dried off!” You want to comment on his own appearance (which is far worse than your own), but he has already disappeared into the bathroom to retrieve towels. You insist he attend to himself first, but he’s already rubbing cloth against the edges of your hair, attempting to soak up any remnants of water that drip down from soaked scalp. You have never seen him so attentive to anything outside of his favorite sport. He is giving you the same amount of care and concentration as his matches while all at once sacrificing himself.

“Tyson, really, I’ve got this.” A nervous chuckle escapes your lips. You aren’t used to this amount of attention. His hands continue to gently feather through your strands and he seems to be getting closer every time he spots another wet patch. “Come on. You’re always taking care of me. Just let me pay you back for once.” You see him flash a determined grin, one that subtly reminds you that you can’t exactly change his mind once it’s already been made up. You can’t help but feel flattered at his words. It seems he has been paying attention after all this time. You have done a lot for him and he’s remembered every single moment when he’s needed you most. Although he is aware that drying you off is nothing in comparison to the impact you’ve made on his presence, he knows that this is at least a solid start for confessing his appreciation.

Crash! A sudden burst of brightness ignites your surroundings. Tyson is briefly shrouded by a beam of white that signals the chaos of a storm. You both find yourselves wanting to look ahead, admiring the way skies have now become comprised of shadows. They are eaten alive by a mighty darkness, and yet you are able to see shades of purple, pink, and orange among gray clouds. There is lightning in the distance, cracking against the skies like lace. Despite how deadly this could all be, the view has never looked so beautiful. Hands that were once upon your hair now lower. Tyson is no longer paying attention to his own actions and ends up placing his palm on top of yours. Sweet, soft… You swear those hands should have blisters, but they are absent of any rough patches. You look at him, waiting for him to realize what he’s doing, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off the scene above. His body relaxes into your own. He bumps his shoulder into you as he positions himself by your side. You aren’t sure what he sees in those skies, but whatever it is, it seems to be so calming.

“I know it’s pretty crazy to look at, but whenever I see storms like this, it reminds me of the best battle I ever had…” His words trail off, as if he’s still lost in whatever memory he initially immersed himself in. You admire the way he can develop fondness for situations so serious. You know he usually agonizes over the most intense encounters before they are about to begin and yet, he ends up loving every second of those moments that have made him a mess. Despite your current infatuation, you are still aware that his hands is on yours, so you try to alert him of the accident. But, as always, he seems to have taken you by surprise. His fingers wrap themselves around yours, as if to silently prove that his actions were intentional. His gaze briefly falls upon yours as if to extend further confirmation. “Good to know you don’t mind me holding your hand. If you did, you would’ve said something sooner.” 

You’re caught. “H-Hey, that’s not it! You were just so caught up in the storm that I-…” But he doesn’t let you finish. He was never the type to really tolerate excuses, but he does enjoy the way you try to stutter through your sentiments. He’s always been the type to call out someone for everything, including their feelings. In this case, he brings it upon himself to take things just a step further, if only to see the way you react. “Next time, I’ll try to kiss you. Then we’ll see.” He says this matter-of-factly, following up with a wink. He acts as if his intentions are set in stone. You can’t believe the way he’s being so bold, but you can’t even find the words to argue with him. All he does in response to your bewilderment is laugh. You can’t tell if this was all a joke to embarrass you or if he was serious about what he said he would do. Part of you wants to punch him, but all at once… You wouldn’t mind seeing what he intends to try.

[ericjuneau]

Scapegoat by Eric Juneau

Copyright 2020 by Eric J. Juneau. All rights reserved.

This story is in no way intended to infringe on the established copyrights and trademarks of Capcom Co., Ltd. It is for entertainment purposes only and is not intended for sale. It may be freely distributed providing that no alterations to the story are made.

The characters and incidents portrayed and the names in this story used herein are fictitious and any similarity to the name, character, or history of any person, living, dead, or otherwise, is purely coincidental and unintentional.

Scapegoat

by Eric J. Juneau

The following takes place before "Mega Man X".

Commander Sigma did not need an office. Offices were human constructs to provide private space to focus on work. But a reploid accomplished most job tasks by connecting to a computer terminal. They executed at speeds beyond any organic life form's reaction time.

But it appeased the human politicians and militarists to give him an an office. One with a wall-to-wall window behind his desk overlooking the city buildings. They thought it befit his station as leader of the Elite Seventeenth Unit of Maverick Hunters. An office symbolized status--I get one, you don't. Therefore you are inferior to me.

Zero did not have an office.

Which was why he was standing in Sigma's.

"In my time as commanding officer... no, as a Maverick Hunter at all... I have never seen such a blatant disregard for property," Sigma said. "Do you know what was salvageable from the fire?"

Zero pursed his lips. "Judging by the disaster recovery brief, I would say 'very little'."

"I'm glad you had the mindfulness to at least consider the damage you've done." Sigma picked up the data PDA and held it out. "Nothing. Nothing was salvageable. As one would expect when a geothermal reactor becomes engulfed in flame."

"Sir, I didn't have a choice. One of the mavericks' stray shots hit the fission shielding."

"But you didn't have to add fuel to that fire. You turned a manageable blaze into a raging inferno. The entire district had to be evacuated."

"There were no human casualties. Besides, the plant was a lost cause anyway. The fire was controllable. So I let the natural process of destruction do some of the work for us. As far as I know, we have no standing orders to apprehend mavericks. Correct?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean actively trying to destroy them. Those mavericks could have been rehabilitated. Reprogrammed. We need soldiers in this war, Zero. There are more of them than there are of us."

"We don't know that, sir. Mavericks hide, stay undercover. There may be more of them, but they don't have a unifying force-"

"Until one day when they do. Dammit, Zero. You have clearly learned nothing from this incident. Since day one, I've been barely able to suppress your brutality and mania. Therefore, I'm demoting you, effective immediately."

Zero gasped. "You can't take away my A-Class. That's verified through independent eval-"

Sigma held up his hand. "No, not that. That can't be changed by your commanding officer. But your mission allocation can. From now on, you are only cleared for epsilon-level assignments."

"Epsilon? That's the lowest there is! It's for privates and emissaries, not hunters of any rank."

Sigma leaned in and pointed his finger. "Until you prove you can handle combat with a calmer head, this is your fate. These lower level assignments will teach you there's more to being a Maverick Hunter than violence and destruction."

"But-"

"There will be no argument. Your first assignment is already in progress. Get to it, hunter."

Sigma didn't have to tell him he was dismissed. Zero turned on his heel and left the office. The door slid shut behind him.

In the corridor, Zero accessed his account. Sure enough, the only tasks on his assignment queue were epsilon-level. Everything else had been filtered out.

Worse yet, all epsilon-class missions required a partner. Zero didn't see who the second delegate was on his current assignment, but it didn't matter. The system would notify him or her that the prerequisites had been filled. Reploids didn't need downtime--didn't need sleep, didn't need food, didn't need to relax. When an assignment was ready, so was the hunter.

Whoever signed on must have been a real go-getter if they didn't care who the senior officer would be. He or she was probably hopping at the door like a puppy.

Zero headed to the transportation bay. Nearly as he predicted, his partner chased after him, waving his hand. He was a blue reploid with angular limbs and a young face. Zero recognized him, though they had never met.

"You're Mega Man X, right?" Zero asked.

"Yes. Although everyone calls me 'X'. Honored to be working with you."

Zero nodded. They walked down the corridor, while Zero discerned first impressions. "So you're the original reploid?"

"Yes, sir. Although I'm not technically a reploid, since all existing reploids are based off my design. You know, since 'reploid' is a portmanteau of 'replicated android'. I'm considered the original prototype."

"But you're with the Maverick Hunters now. Why?" Zero asked. "Aren't we essentially killing your children?"

"Well..." X rubbed the back of his head as they walked. "I don't think of it that way. It could be some kind of programming error, or a fatal bug that makes them violent towards humans."

"Then why have they got you pushing pencils? Taking epsilon-level assignments? You should be with the tacticians and intelligence. You know the most about the vulnerabilities and flaws in your own design."

"Well, one is inexperience. I only joined up recently. Another is... I'm a pacifist." X hung his head.

Zero stopped in his tracks. "You're a pacifist? And you joined the Maverick Hunters?" Zero threw back his head and laughed, yellow hair swishing behind him.

X nodded. "But I realized that I could still do something about it. I wasn't intended for combat but I was designed for it. Every one of them is like me. So if they wreak havoc and I just sit there, I'm as bad as them."

Zero nodded. "Noble," he said as they walked into the elevator. At least he couldn't question X's loyalty. Even if he seemed a little wormy, a little naive for a Maverick Hunter, they'd get along fine.

The elevator dropped them off outside the transportation bay gate. Gristle, a hunched reploid with red bug eyes, was manning dispatch.

"Zero, what's shaking?" he said in a gravelly voice. "Whatcha got going on today? You got a chum?" Zero could almost feel Gristle's datacrawler oozing around his mission log. "Whoa, epsilon-class? What'd you do to get the garbage run?"

"Don't ask," Zero said. "Don't want to talk about it." Zero headed into the bay toward the teleportation capsules, with X following. A long row of booths stood against the wall, similar to restoration chambers. Reploids could use these instead of their own internal teleport circuits, which saved on energy and lifespan.

"Hey, hey!" Gristle shouted. "No, no, no. Not for you. Teleportation's only for delta-class assignments and higher. You take a manual."

Zero looked where Gristle pointed. Small personal vehicles--like ride chasers, cruisers, LUVs--lay scattered in the bay. They were necessary to humans who couldn't teleport. But to a reploid, he might as well have been told to ride a tricycle.

"Ha, ha. I recommend the Little Sultan." He pointed to a two-seated streamlined hovercar. "It's a fine day for a ride anyway, isn't it?"

Gristle's laughter followed them to the hovercar. They both got in and took off through the garage's open maw.

True to Gristle's statement, the day was fine—blue skies with crisp, clean air. But weather control systems will do that for a city. The bright sun certainly didn't match Zero's mood. But X drank it all in, like he had never left Maverick Hunter HQ. Perhaps that was true--rookies tended to get stuck in the bowels of labs and workstations.

"Look, a dog park," X pointed out.

To their right a fenced-off square field enclosed humans with dogs, humans with robot dogs, and robots with real dogs, all partaking of the sunny day.

"Sure is nice to see the city without all the destruction. Something to remind us what we're fighting for. What to look forward to when this is all over," X said.

Zero nodded. "What do you know about our mission?" Might as well make conversation, since the vehicle was self-driving.

"We're delivering an encrypted data package to IngeniVox, a technology manufacturer and innovator." X held up a tiny black rectangle.

"You know what IngeniVox does?" Zero asked.

"Primarily, they make the energen capsules reploids use to restabilize their reactor cores. The data we have is the updated hardware design for the power port interface, so IngeniVox can integrate it into their work."

Zero nodded. "Exciting stuff."

X fiddled with his fingers. "Well, I guess, since it concerns reploid power generation, it's sensitive enough they couldn't risk transmission over the HyperNet. So they needed a courier. And since all assignments require a backup..."

"Only epsilon-level," Zero said. "This mission doesn't need a delivery boy, it needs a mailbox."

X cocked his head. "I take it you think this mission is beneath you."

"It's not my typical fare… but you probably love this." Since you're a pacifist, Zero added in his head.

"Well, it's a safe mission. No one's going to come to any harm or be put in harm's way."

Zero barked a laugh. "I like your optimism, kid. "

X muttered "Kid? I'm older than you. I'm older than every reploid," as the hovercar curved around a corner.

Zero did feel a little lighter as they entered the venture district. Here, manufacturing mixed with business development--the epicenter of progress for the city. Every diamond-glass building glowed in the sun, from skyscraping towers to wide aquaponic fortresses.

The hovercar decelerated into the driveway of a small building shaped like a tulip bulb, covered with mirrored paneling. Maybe fifty people worked there at any given time. A modest logo was stenciled next to the door.

Zero and X entered the reception area. Several flat-panel screens displayed a slideshow highlighting "cutting edge" and "hyper automation" among smart looking humans and teal-and-orange backdrops. The couches and tables looked barely used. But there was no one in the room, not even at the reception desk.

"How do we meet our contact?" X asked. "I expected the entrance to be monitored."

Zero checked the reception console. "Computer is locked due to timeout."

"Is the office closed?"

"It's normal business hours," Zero shrugged. The door to the building proper was secured by a thumbprint reader. Zero wasn't about to violate that policy--he was in enough trouble as it was.

X grimaced. "Something's… off. I don't know anymore than that. It's just... a funny feeling."

They waited for five minutes. X picked up a thermoplastic pyramid that was some business award. Zero examined an abstract painting and a potted palm tree. Surely someone would return after a given amount of time. Security logs would record that the door had been opened and there were occupants in the reception room.

Zero tapped his communicator. "Ophi, are you picking up my location?"

"Loud and clear, Zero. You're at the IngeniVox building right now."

"What's the net traffic look like coming from my location?"

"One second." Zero's eyes darted around the room while the operator examined the input/output transmission at their location. "Seems normal. E-mails, phone calls, internet transmission, all within expected parameters."

"Hmm, okay." Zero shut off the comm. "There's still signals from the building, so people are here."

X didn't answer. He was listening. "Something doesn't seem right. I've never felt anything like it."

Zero again turned his eyes to the door. Authorized Personnel Only.

"X, your buster operational?" Zero asked.

"Yes, sir. It's not as powerful as yours, but..."

Zero waved him off. He approached the door, examined its structure. The electronic lock was a basic "prox" card reader with RFID and 512-bit RSA encryption. Nothing special. A coffee maker could have hacked it. Zero emitted a brute force attack via radio signal and the door opened.

Inside was a typical office building--dispersed cubicles, thin carpeting, uniform desks and chairs. The hum of running machines filled the air. But the lights were off--only the windows lit their way.

"There's people here somewhere," X said. "Maybe they're at a company-wide meeting?"

"I doubt it."

The cubicles occupied only a small area on the way to the manufacturing center. Secure labs, glass windows showing big boxy servers. X peeked in one of the conference rooms. A display screen shuffled through natural landscape photographs.

"Maybe everyone is sick?" X asked. "Or has the day off?"

Zero didn't dignify that with a response. They looked in break rooms, conference rooms, computer rooms, closed-off lab stations, and personal offices. No reploids, no robots, no humans. The only moving object they encountered was a motorized vacuum crossing the floor. It sensed them, avoided their feet, and rerouted to the other hallways.

They stopped and listened, but there was nothing to hear. Nothing but some sinister feeling they couldn't figure out.

"Hey!" Zero shouted. "Hey, anyone!"

"Look," X pointed to an open door. "They wouldn't leave a laboratory open like this. It's a sterile room. And that little box has the chemical symbol for ranmatine. That's highly corrosive."

Without meeting a soul, their sojourn was halted by the other end of the building. They descended the fire stairs one floor.

"Never quite had this feeling before," X said. "I think humans would call it the heebie-jeebies."

Zero smirked. "Leave that out of your report," he said. Assuming we live to see the end of this.

The next floor down was much like above, although missing some of the niceties and human touches. No conference rooms. Just a small reception area with wooden floors and an airlock into the manufacturing floor.

"I've seen abandoned buildings before, but not like this," X said. "Not one that seems so recent. Still full of life-"

"Hold it, X."

The two of them froze.

"Did you hear something?" X asked.

"Thought I heard a... something like crying. Human crying."

X cocked his head, listening for the phantom noise. They waited for the sound to come again.

"HEY!" Zero shouted, startling X. "Is there anybody here?!"

"Let's look in here. This looks like their outbound router."

Inside a closet, taking up all the space, rested a silver and ebony server rack brimming with red, orange, and green lights. The rack was chilled to the touch from the running coolant.

But what caught Zero's eye was a device on the floor--a six-inch black box with an upright cylinder. The top of the cylinder beeped softly every three seconds. A human might have missed it among the snaking wires and conversion boxes. But this didn't fit with the setup. Especially when Zero turned it over and found it had no bottom, just circuit boards and loose wires.

"What is that?" X muttered.

Zero was about to respond when his comm board lit up with an incoming signal. From Ophi. "Zero, can you read me? We analyzed the network traffic coming from the building. It's there, but it's garbage. Random strings and repeated requests. Electronic messages from three days ago sent over and over. Like it's sending mock signals to resemble a normal amount of communication."

Zero turned the device over in his hands. "That's what this is. It's a transponder. Sending simulated network traffic."

"Because if it all stopped, an alert would trigger from the service provider," X said.

"But why? You want to make it seem like humans are still at their desks working. What could-"

Zero's and X's eyes were still on the transponder when they turned from the closet. That was why they didn't see the two reploids standing in front of them. Zero recognized their designations--Phase Crane and Chain Buffalox--and that they were mavericks. But that was all his reaction time would allow.

Phase Crane held some kind of rocket launcher on his shoulder. He fired it as Zero and X raised their buster arms. Two globes of milk-colored glop flew out. The blobs made perfect impact with the apertures of their arm cannons, covering them in sticky biscuit dough.

Phase Crane shifted the launcher tube off his shoulders. "I don't recommend you try to shoot us. That's liquid ceratanium. Well… it was liquid. It hardens quickly."

X tried to pry it off with his fingers, but true to the maverick's word, it had already solidified. Ceramic titanium was the only substance that could repel plasma energy. And his arm cannon was clogged with it.

"If you fire now, the shot'll bounce back in. And probably blow your arm off." Phase Crane cackled. "But if you want to try, go ahead, by all means. I'd like to see that."

Zero's lip twitched as Phase Crane laughed. He reared his fist and ran forward, screaming. X followed a split-second behind. Phase Crane and Chain Buffalox didn't move.

Halfway there, Zero's and X's legs tripped a taut chain across their floor. Their bodies convulsed with violent electric current, paralyzed by bands of yellow energy. Then they collapsed on the ground.

###

Zero and X's systems rebooted from the catastrophic shutdown as their bodies were thrown on a concrete surface.

"Maverick Hunters..." someone said after their heads hit the floor.

They were in a lab or product storage room. The air radiated with energen.

Zero and X stood. They were surrounded by six mavericks in total--the two from before, plus Grabber Kangaroid, Grease Caribou, Bullet Frog, and one hulking gorilla-dog in the center: Drill Mongrell. Mongrell sat on a makeshift throne made of old chassis and plastic parts. His fists were the size of industrial pistons.

"Maverick Hunters… hey... hey, you're Zero," Mongrell pointed as if he had seen a celebrity. "This here is Zero."

"No, he isn't," said Bullet Frog.

"Sure he is. Red and white armor, blond hair. Only A-class in the hunters. The Elite Seventeenth, right?"

"That's right," Zero replied.

Drill Mongrell stepped forward. His fist embedded in Zero's torso, crackling with energy. Zero rocketed up and smashed into the ceiling. Gravel and gray dust rained down with him as he fell like rotten fruit.

"You barbarous-" X started forward. Five arm cannons leveled at him.

Zero struggled to one knee, his limbs trembling. "Enjoy that, Mongrell." Zero glowered from under his helmet. He grinned. "It won't happen again."

"We'll see, Zero… pride of the Maverick Hunters. But later." He turned to Grabber Kangaroid. "Put them with the others."

"With the humans?" she asked. "Why not just get rid of them? We could-"

"Not yet. They might help us out yet. Hostages and such," Mongrell said.

As Chain Buffalox grabbed X's arm, he turned to the other mavericks. "Imagine that. Maverick Hunters helping us."

"They'll be begging to help in no time," Drill Mongrell said.

Bullet Frog and Grease Caribou picked up Zero and half-carried, half-dragged him away. The other two marched X at cannon-point.

They were in a sub-sub-basement, deeper underground. The floors were made of smooth concrete and shiny plastic, like a garage. It was cool and dry, had few lights, and no decorations.

The four mavericks took X and Zero to a room with a mechanical hatch covering the floor. Blinking servers stood against one wall in glass cases. Bullet Frog typed some commands into the standing console at the corner of the hatch. It hummed and slid back like a pool cover.

Bright light spilled out from an in-ground vat. Inside was an ultra-clean server room, indicated by the grid of black computer boxes. And people. About fifty people standing within the illuminated walls. They looked up and began moaning and pleading to be let out.

The mavericks tossed X and Zero into the pit. They landed on their faces, clanging on the semi-metallic floor. The other humans surrounded them, helping them up, checking for damage. Women and men, ages from young twenties to eighties. Everyone spoke at once.

"Guess we found the people," X said. "Are you all here?"

"We think so," said one of the humans. All looked dressed for a day at the office--some with lab coats, some with collared shirts. Most were roughed up, but uninjured.

Drill Mongrell stepped up to the rim of the pit, his allies on either side. "Shut up! Shut up, all of you!"

The group hushed down, except for one woman in the back who couldn't stop sobbing. Phase Crane leveled his arm cannon at her. She cried like her atoms were breaking apart.

"Lady, I told you to keep quiet. Shut up or I'll shut you up."

A man came to comfort her, holding her around the arms while whispering "sh-sh-sh-sh-sh..."

"Zero..." X said.

"Quiet," Zero said.

"Now that we have some new guests here, maybe you'll be more willing to talk. I'm going to ask you again. Which one of you is responsible for that energen bomb?" Drill Mongrell asked.

The humans remained as disconnected and frightened as before, clammy skin and glistening eyes. No one said anything.

"You know what I'm talking about. Which one? All right. Maybe you know these two I just dropped in. They're Maverick Hunters. Zero, in particular. Finest hunter in the Seventeenth Elite Unit, headed by Sigma. What you do from here on out, any consequences that come to pass, he's accountable. That's his purpose anyway, to protect you from reploids like us. Ain't that right, Zero?"

Zero ground his teeth. "You could say that."

Drill Mongrell bent to one knee, addressing Zero. "One of these weaklings killed Terror Mongrell. Same model, same system software as me. You could call him my brother. I did. Someone killed him with an explosive energen capsule, right when his back was turned. I want to know which one of these flesh-bags did it, so I can treat them to the same fate. And until I find out, there's going to be more death coming. So you talk to them, Zero." Drill Mongrell stood. "You explain to them what's at stake. Take a couple minutes."

Drill Mongrell walked away. His maverick gang followed.

Without the sight of them, the IngeniVox employees closed in.

"You guys got to help us," a man said. "Please. You don't know what they can do."

"Is anyone hurt? Does anyone need first aid?" Zero asked. The people shook their heads.

"Are you really Maverick Hunters?" asked a woman.

"Yes. Mega Man X and Zero," X said. "We came to deliver some engineering data regarding energen capsule ports."

"Oh, that would be Hadleigh Wilkins." The man pointed to a nearby heavyset Black woman in a white lab coat. Her crispy hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked dumbfounded at being called out by name.

X took the little plastic nubbin from the storage compartment in his armor and handed it out. "Thanks, I guess," she said as it went into her pocket.

"Mister Zero, sir?" asked a scared looking blond boy with lean features. He touched Zero on the arm. "H-hi. I'm Ryan Shetler. I-I'm a software developer. L-listen, you've got to do something. Those mavericks are gonna-"

"All right, Shetler. Calm down. We'll-"

A woman with long pink hair approached. "We've got people who don't even belong to the company down here. Maintenance managers and even the coffee shop guy. We've got to do something before they come back. Evelyn wasn't even supposed to come in today. She just came to pick up-"

"We're going to handle it, all right?" Zero snapped.

"Hold on! Hold on!" X said as they crowded in.

"We've got to stop them!" the others shouted. "They're going to kill us!"

"If you try and attack, they'd kill you all, get it?" Zero shouted. "Humans are nothing to a maverick. Your lives--all your lives--are on a very thin thread right now."

Shetler interrupted again. "We were thinking if we all rushed... I mean, there's fifty of us. Some of us might get hurt, but all fifty at once-"

"You ever seen flesh against a plasma cannon?" Zero sneered. "It'd go through you like a bullet through a garbage bag."

That quieted them down. Except Shetler, who meekly said "But... we've got to do something."

"We will. But someone needs to explain to me what's going on," Zero asked.

The crowd shushed then. Hadleigh sighed and stepped up. "They came in this morning. Burst in, corralled us up. I think they were looking for energen. The kangaroo one broke into the lab where I was, pocketed everything I was working on."

"There were no signs of forced entry," X said.

Hadleigh nodded. "They might have come from underground. Or the roof. I don't think they were looking for a spectacle, just the energen. They searched the building top to bottom, waving their cannons around. Weren't paying much attention to us."

"What happened to Terror Mongrell? How was he killed?" Zero asked.

"Some of the team in R&D, they call themselves 'rogue squad'. I guess they rigged some of the energen capsules to reverse polarity and implode. Snuck up and threw them, then ran away. One of them picked it up. Exploded right in his face. Whole torso disintegrated. I guess it was the big one's twin."

"That's when the havoc started?" Zero asked.

Hadleigh nodded. "They pulled any of us they could find, using us for hostages. Human shields. Interrogated us. Found every last human in the building. It was easy. We all gave in--no one wanted to get hurt or see anyone hurt."

"And you've been trapped here ever since?"

Hadleigh nodded. "The 'rogue squad' is here too, but the mavericks don't know that."

"Why doesn't he just kill you all? Then he'd have his revenge," X asked.

Zero shrugged. "Because it's personal. He must want to do something special he can't get from indiscriminate killing. We aren't dealing with mavericks like we used to. They never used to roam around in gangs, terrorizing humans for pleasure. They used to fight alone, popping up here and there. I've learned never to hold any expectations for a maverick."

"Anyway, we've been trapped here since," Hadleigh said. "Mongrell keeps threatening us unless we give them up. Even the guys in rogue squad don't know which one of them did it."

A woman gasped and covered her mouth as her watery eyes flashed. Drill Mongrell had returned, along with his cronies.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen? What's it going to be?" When no one spoke, he eyed Zero. "You get any answers out of them? Did you tell them to do the right thing?"

"The right thing would be to accept that your brother got what he deserved."

"Not on account of some human cowards."

"He was a moron who broke in somewhere and picked up a strange energen capsule tossed his way. If you're dumb enough-"

Mongrel's arms lit up as bright as his eyes. "I'm not gonna take a lecture from a servile thug like you about right and wrong. Now give 'em up." Mongrell held up his barrel-sized fist and cocked it like a shotgun. A surge of ocher energy rippled through. "Who did it? If I have to wipe out every mealy-mouthed meatbag here, I'll find out. I will."

"You think that's going to bring Terror Mongrell back?" Zero sneered.

Drill Mongrell growled under his voicebox. "Grabber, take two of them. That one..." He pointed to a rotund Indian man with meaty jowls. "And that one..." He pointed to Shetler.

"No!" X shouted.

"Mongrell, when I get out of here I'm going to tear you apart. There won't be anything left of you but dust," Zero said, fighting the urge to raise his useless arm cannon.

"You gotta get out of there first," Mongrell said.

Grabber Kangaroid stepped up. Her belly split across the middle and a large claw emerged. The claw, attached by a chain, hurtled out and clamped around the first victim. The clamp yanked back so hard, his neck wrenched hard enough to snap. Kangaroid caught him and threw him to the side.

Three others clutched onto Shetler's body, but that didn't matter. He flew out of their hands and into the mavericks'.

"Well? Anybody got anything to say now?" Mongrell asked once the cries had settled. No one spoke. "All right then. You can live with your decision." Mongrell stepped back. The mavericks dragged the dazed humans out of view.

Everyone stood in hushed sobs, like trembling zombies. Zero and X could do no more than the same, staring at the space above.

There was no charging of cannon, no hum of a power surge, no voices, no crying or pleading. Just two shots, with no way to shut out the sound. Some weeped louder, but otherwise, the death chill had frozen everyone.

"We've got to do something," muttered Hadleigh.

"We will," Zero said.

###

The hatch advanced, becoming their ceiling and shutting them back in a vault. Bright light from the paneled walls and floors irritated their eyes like gnats. Zero didn't know why the mavericks didn't come back and capitalize on the fresh fear. Maybe Mongrell was more gutless than he let on.

X had gone to circulate among the others, maybe to gather information. That suited Zero fine--he could stand against the wall and contemplate the situation. Strategize. Six mavericks, once seven. Still too many to take on, even with a buster that worked.

X returned. "Did you ever send out a distress signal?" he asked Zero.

"Have been ever since they threw us in here," Zero said. "Signal's being blocked. I can't even connect to you. Something's mangling it. Probably whatever lines this room."

"Lead-corbosite," Hadleigh tossed in. "It scrambles all wireless signals, prevents external hacking. These servers are for data-processing. They're only ever supposed to talk to each other. That's why they put us in here. Easier than trying to grab everyone's phones, PDAs, whatever."

"I found the members of 'rogue squad'," X said. "That's just a nickname they gave themselves. They're the top engineers for the company, innovators. Two of them are willing to submit themselves, but two aren't."

"And they shouldn't," Zero said. "We don't deal in lives. We should be thinking about escape."

"Even if we do, we're useless without our busters," X said.

"I know," Zero said. "We're just arms and legs."

"There's some vorticular acetinol in my lab. It can dissolve ceratanium. If we can get out of here," Hadleigh said.

"Eventually we're going to register as missing, either us or the humans," X said. "Then they'll send reinforcements."

"Too much time passes, they're going to come back here and kill another one of us. Or we'll just start dropping," Hadleigh added. "Haviland has an implant that sends neurosignals from his heart to his lungs and it's not working in here. If we don't get out of here soon, he's going to drop dead."

"Reinforcements?" Zero turned to X. "We are the reinforcements."

X, Zero, and Hadleigh spent an hour brainstorming plans, huddled in a corner. Many began shivering from cold, walking around, rubbing their arms and legs together. The vault wasn't meant for human habitation.

"Do they always come in the same way? Stand in the same spots?" X asked.

"Yes, right there." She pointed.

"How many approach at a time? I figure Grabber Kangaroid will always be one of them."

"The only time there's more than two is when the big one is with, the leader."

X's eyes brightened. "Here's what we could do. Zero and I could press against the wall under where they stand. That hatch opens slow, so they'll be waiting. Probably not paying too much attention. We'll wait until we see them. Then we jump, drag them down. Once they're in, we swarm, all fifty of us."

Hadleigh drew back.

"Just long enough to keep them down and confused while Zero and I disable them," X said.

"What's to stop them from signaling from help?" Hadleigh asked.

"Same thing stopping us." X gestured to the illuminated corbosite all around them.

"You don't think they'll be on a higher alert now that we're here?" Zero asked.

"Not without our blasters." X held up his arm cannon, still covered in hardened goo. Zero nodded.

"It's risky," Hadleigh said.

"Life is risk," Zero said. "If we're to have any chance at all, we have to take one."

"You're telling me," X said. "If the heaviest reploids show up, we might be screwed. I don't think I can take that buffalo one down."

"Surprise will be on our side," said Zero. "We'll also need everyone's help. Every last body."

"I'll start telling the others." Hadleigh stood from her crouch and sauntered toward the others.

X and Zero assumed positions where the hatch opened, comparing data about where they would approach from. Then they pressed against the wall to stay out of peripheral vision. After that, all they had to do was wait.

"Gotta admit, X, you've got a mind for method," Zero whispered. "Me? My central strategy is to rush in and start shooting."

"That's why you're an A-class hunter. You never hesitate on the battlefield. You have the skill that keeps you alive," X said.

"Could also be luck. I may take action, but it's not always the right action. You figure out the right action. There might be a place for you in the tactical division."

X looked down. "I could get people killed."

"You can get people killed doing what I do," Zero said.

"No, I mean I... may not be ready... yet."

"Well, with some training-"

"No, you don't understand." X's voice trembled. "You know my story. When Dr. Cain found me, I was sealed inside a capsule. I was supposed to be there for thirty years so it could test out my neuropsychology. Run simulations and correct the AI network. Make sure I wouldn't pose a danger to humans."

"Right, so?"

"So when Dr. Cain analyzed the capsule's computer, he couldn't find the date I was sealed in. The data was either corrupted or erased or... something. So no one knows how long I was in there." X gave Zero a desperate look. "What if it was less than thirty years? What if every maverick is my fault because they're all based on me? Because I was disconnected too early. And they all have it, Zero. Every reploid has my faulty programming. And there are so many of them, we could never stop them all, and they keep making more every day-"

"X, X, calm down," Zero said. "It's not your fault. You didn't make anyone go maverick. Whether it's a virus or a design flaw, you didn't make any of this. Besides you're doing everything you can to stop them."

"I'm doing everything I can because it could all be my fault," X said in a low tone.

Zero grimaced and huffed, unsure what to say.

A loud thud sounded, followed by grinding metal. The hatch was opening.

###

X and Zero hunkered down as the ceiling's shadow slid across the floor. The humans couldn't hear, but X and Zero, with their ultra-sensitive audio receptors, picked up conversation. Mongrell wasn't one of them.

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"Mongrell. His whole… thing. They were close, I guess?"

"I never saw it. How many should we grab?"

"I don't know. He said to take one or two."

"Well, which is it? One or two?"

"How should I know? They all look the same to me."

"Maybe he meant we take one big one or two little ones."

"I don't think that's how it works. Each human's an individual unit."

Around Zero and X, the people trembled like chickens in a hen house. Hadleigh made a V sign with her fingers. "Two," she mouthed.

"The bigger ones might be more valuable."

"But more of them means more loss. Humans have a higher reaction to large numbers of dead."

"That's true. Maybe we take one small one and one big one. Like that one standing over there, he looks big enough."

"Hey, you. Step forward. Are you important?"

The silhouettes of the reploids crept over the rim of the wall, shadowed by the overhead lights. Zero and X aligned themselves directly under each.

In perfect synchronicity, they leapt up, kicked off the wall, and bounded over the pit. With Zero and X floating before them, Grabber Kangaroid and Bullet Frog stood stunned.

Zero seized Grabber Kangaroid by the shoulders. X grabbed Bullet Frog's bulbous head. As they fell, they dragged the mavericks down with them. Everyone landed scattered from each other with loud clanging.

The humans mobbed the prone reploids. They held them down anywhere they could squeeze in and get a hand on some metal. The mavericks appeared dazed, making little effort to get up as they were overrun.

X and Zero sprang up, no time to spare. They scrambled toward the mavericks, each heading toward one.

"Voice box," Zero said. Simultaneously, X and Zero plunged their free arms into Bullet Frog's and Grabber Kangaroid's mouths. They clutched the biggest chunk of equipment they could find purchase on and ripped it out.

"Arm cannon," Zero said. The humans spread apart, giving access to each maverick's right hand. X and Zero tore them off with as much strength as they could muster. Grabber Kangaroid and Bitter Frog convulsed in pain and terror. Taking away a maverick's weapon was like ripping out their soul.

"There." Zero sat back. "Can you hold them like that for a while?"

The humans nodded, while the mavericks flailed beneath them. "All of us together, we can do it."

"All right, let's get out of here." Zero turned to Hadleigh. "Where is your lab?"

"I'm coming with you," she said. "You need my keycode to get in. And 'rogue squad' told me there are more of those rigged-up energen grenades in there."

Zero should have said no, but time was of the essence. "Fine."

"Get on my back." X hunched down.

Hadleigh wrapped her arms around X like a human backpack. The two wall-kicked and jumped out of the pit, landing on concrete floor. In a darkened corner, they saw the two bodies that had been shot. Holes torn through their chest cavities, crispy flesh bubbling around the edges.

Hadleigh let herself down. "My lab's on this floor. South wing. Come on."

As they headed south, Zero said to X, "I just sent a message to HQ, but they won't be here soon enough."

"There's still four of them and two of us," X said.

"But we know that and they don't."

Hadleigh led them to a laboratory with a darkened door window. She entered a code on the keypad. The hydraulic lock behind the door whooshed open.

The lab was a mess--equipment scattered on the floor with sparkling glass and instruments. Rubber stoppers, vials, blue stain, frayed wires, along with the strong smell of latex and ozone.

Hadleigh reached under a standing table, where towers of differently-sized canisters were stacked. She placed one on the table. It hissed as she unscrewed the top. "Crap," she said. "There's only enough for one."

"X, you take it," Zero said.

"But your buster is more powerful. Mine's only a Mark-17."

"I can handle myself. I didn't become a Class-A solely because of this." Zero held up his arm.

A light entered Hadleigh's eyes. "I think I know something you can use."

X poured out the canister on his arm and rubbed the viscous goo in. In a few seconds, the ceratanium began hissing and smoking, emitting a foul chemical odor. Meanwhile, Zero followed Hadleigh to the corner of the lab. She bent down to a chest. Inside was a palm-sized gold stick.

"Try this. Hold the hilt away from you and energize it."

Zero did so. A needle-thin ray of green light extended out three feet. It crackled a bit, then stabilized.

"It's a laser sword," Zero said.

"It's an irradiated plasma ray with a hydron blocker attached to an output impedance. And an extended amplitude regulator to control the length. But yes, it's a laser sword." She shrugged. "What can I say? We're nerds. Problem is, no one can use it, because we'd chop off our limbs. No human at least--we don't have the dexterity or control. But a reploid..."

Zero stood clear of any objects. He swooped the sword around, stabbing and slashing. Each swing made a vrrrp-sound that increased in timbre with velocity. He grinned.

"I could get used to this." His mind raced with ways to refine it for combat. The hilt was clunky. It could be longer and have an added guard. Maybe increase the blade width. Make it swing in a more fluid arc. And make it green. Or blue. Both? He couldn't decide.

"Zero?"

"Huh?"

"We're ready," X said. He brushed the remaining chunks of ceratanium off his arm cannon. It had a discolored stain, but nothing that couldn't be cleaned. Assuming they survived this.

"I'm ready." Hadleigh zipped up a squarish bag with a vendor's logo and shoulder strap. It was full of small round globes, each with a band of prismatic light around the center.

The three of them made their way to the grand conference room where X and Zero had woken up. Its windows were made of frosted glass and they could see the mavericks' silhouettes inside. They were talking, scheming, hoarding the energen, searching through computers for data.

Zero and X stood a ways from the room, out of sight. "If we could pick them off one by one, we'd be fine," X said.

"Don't think we're going to have that option," Zero said.

X's eyes traced a path along the ceiling. "Is there a maintenance shaft that cuts across that room?"

"I think so," Hadleigh said. "It's always cold in there."

"You thinking about sneaking in?" Zero asked.

"I'm thinking about a three-pronged assault. Surprise them. I can get through the vents--I'm lighter than I look. You bait them out the door. Hadleigh stands to the side and chucks her explosives at them."

"I don't know if we can take that chance-"

"I'm willing," Hadleigh said. "I think it's a good plan."

"We gotta do something now. They're going to get suspicious when those mavericks don't come back," X said.

"All right. I'll get their attention on me. You drop behind them. Then we all unleash hell."

X nodded. He climbed up some boxes to the ceiling, tore the grate out, and climbed in.

"We'll wait a bit for X to get into position. Let's get ourselves ready."

With quiet steps, Zero and Hadleigh approached the conference room door. Without lights, they wouldn't be seen, as long as no one looked too hard. Hadleigh stood on the other side of the door frame. She silently unzipped her bag. Zero stood a few feet from the entrance. From here, he could hear the dialogue inside.

"It's all about psychology," Phase Crane was saying. "You use fear to motivate them. Humans eat up fear. And you know what they fear the most?"

"Uh, snakes?" came one of the answers. "The dark? Squishy things?"

"No, no. The unknown. That's why I told Mongrell to put them in isolation. They don't know when we're coming. They don't know who's going to die. They don't know where we are. So they stew in their little gray brains for hours thinking of the worst case scenarios. Intimidating themselves. Building up their fear. They do the work for us."

There were murmurs of assent and approval.

"I don't care. I want them to pay for what they did to my brother," came Mongrell's voice. "Go find out where the other two are. Tell them to grab the two reploids, the Maverick Hunters. They're harmless now. Kill 'em outright. Let them know there's no one protecting them."

"Don't be so sure about that!" Zero shouted.

The chatter inside halted. Zero held his sword across his chest. Hadleigh shifted her feet.

The door burst open. Chain Buffalox stood there, steam emitting from his nostrils. Phase Crane behind him.

"Kill him!" Mongrell shouted.

Mega Man X dropped out of the ceiling behind them. Everyone but Buffalox turned around--he was rushing Zero. As soon as he cleared the door, Hadleigh started throwing metal balls of energy inside, one after the other. The room filled with explosions. The other mavericks darted around chaotically as X targeted them one by one.

Buffalox tried to punch Zero, but he side-stepped, severing the arm at the elbow. But that didn't faze the buffalo-reploid--a chain burst out of his arm cannon, embedding into Zero's chest. It lit up with an electric surge, stunning Zero, sending pain through him like red hot spikes. Chain Buffalox retracted the grapple. Zero held out the laser sword as he was brought into Buffalox's range. The green ray impaled the maverick through the chest. Sparks and smoke puffed into his face, and the maverick fell over.

Zero rushed toward the conference room. Smoke and screams and explosions saturated the area. Flames crackling and flashing, glass breaking, a gummy acrid smell that burned the nose. Zero pushed himself through the fog. "X?"

Zero's foot made contact with something outside the door. A body. He waved the smoke away. It was Hadleigh. Her eyes were closed, charred skin and blood above her left eye. Body covered in ash. Dead by explosion, not a stray plasma shot. Maybe one of those jerry-rigged capsules rolled back to her.

"X?" Zero shouted again.

"I'm here!" X said.

At Zero's feet, Drill Mongrell's shape crawled along the floor through the smog. Zero gripped under the maverick's chest armor and spun him on his back. Mongrell cried out. Zero stomped a foot on Mongrell's torso and held the sword to his chin.

"It's over, Drill," Zero shouted.

"Ain't nothing over. They killed my brother, I'll kill you too."

"There's been enough killing today."

Drill Mongrell stopped struggling. He grinned toothily. "All right, Zero. That's fine, then. I surrender."

Zero remembered what Commander Sigma had said. Those mavericks could have been rehabilitated. Reprogrammed. We need soldiers in this war, Zero.

He plunged his sword deep into Drill Mongrell's chest cavity, into the power core. Mongrell gasped as liquid plasma and oil eked out. "I'd rather become a maverick myself than have to work side-by-side with you, rehabilitated or not," Zero whispered.

When Drill Mongrell stopped twitching, Zero unsheathed the sword and turned it off.

"You okay, Zero?" X asked, getting closer.

"Just fine," Zero said.

###

And it was over.

Zero and X rushed back and disposed of the two mavericks held in the pit. The humans had held up their end of the bargain, so X and Zero held up theirs. Shortly thereafter, HQ sent in the cavalry. The humans were treated, the building locked down, and order restored.

X and Zero were standing in front of the doorway when the medical gurney slid out. A body lay under a shroud, carried by the anti-grav lifters.

"A human willing to sacrifice herself, so that us Maverick Hunters could live..." Zero muttered.

"I've learned never to hold any expectations for a human," X replied with a small smirk.

Zero took a breath. "I've always thought of humans as characters in the background. Like sheep that get in the way. I think... I think that must be how the mavericks think too." Zero began to walk away, back to the troop transport. "You know it could be more," he called back.

X turned to him. "Huh?"

"It could be more than thirty years… that you were in the capsule. If they don't know the date, you might have been in there the full duration and you're fine. You were tested fully and the reploids go maverick because of something else. Maybe they get ideas in their head or their programming gets hacked."

"I suppose," X said. Maybe not convinced, but less burdened. "I'm going to stick around, in case they need help with clean-up."

Zero nodded. "See you at headquarters, X." And he walked off.

#END#

[ellawritesficssometimes]

Reach Me By Page: Spamano One-Shot

Summary: SPAMANO- Lovino forgets his book in class one day. He doesn't think anything of it when he initially retrieves it, until he notices his bookmark's been replaced! What the hell sort of note is this supposed to be? And what kind of idiot leaves a note in a random library book anyway? Obviously not one who would remember to sign their name. (Fic exchange with @codevassie)

Has anyone ever told you just how wonderful books are? For one thing, they allow you to escape from your hellhole of a life. But, more than that, they’re just so entertaining I find. What was before a dreary day becomes a world full of fantastical wonders, interesting people, and wise, thought-provoking dialogue.

Books allow you to think without having to actually think, if you get what I mean. Your dull day-to-day adventures take a backseat; page my page you reach your emotional limit of how much heartbreak, gore, and betrayal you can withstand. Books challenge your wits by having you guessing at what happens next, only to have something completely unexpected happen and shock you into a reverie of other possibilities.

Life? Life is predictable and boring.

But as for books? Books are never boring; they keep you on your toes, or rather, finger tips as you flip through them

I’ve always been an average person. When I read a book, however, I’m no longer that average person. I see the story through the eyes of the protagonist. I am a willing and active participant in their journey through my imagination alone.

That’s why I read. I read to forget how mediocre real life is. I am a nobody-turned somebody with just one flip of the page. I aspire and idolize about what I could become should I adopt some of the traits of my favourite characters. I imagine how cool I’d be if I lived in that fantastical universe.

Unfortunately, most people do not share this profound sentiment of mine for books. In fact, my going to the school library everyday at lunch was interpreted as stand-offish. Some were even bold enough to say that I lived in my own world. And perhaps I did. Even so, what I did was none of their fucking business.

This high school was awful to begin with. It was a harsh reality filled with crude, loud, and dumb people who only cared about themselves and their petty social relations. My little brother, Feliciano, was one of those people. He had befriended everyone in the school, smiling for even those whom were secretly jealous of his natural popularity and despised him.

On the other hand, I was known as Feliciano’s snappy older brother with a sour attitude. People avoided me, which was unnecessary because I already kept to myself. I didn’t have much friends, and it’s not like I needed any either. I couldn’t stand how fake people were.

I also couldn’t keep up with false pretenses in real life. Books were my guilty pleasure in that sense; I could live a lie without actually having to lie to anyone but myself.

It was better this way anyway.

The bell for lunch rang, and I was quick to gather my books and leave the Math room. The class was held in the Seniors’ wing, which only meant trouble for a single junior like me. Bella and Eliza meant well – despite being annoying as hell sometimes – but I really wasn’t interested in developing a love life.

The fact that I was an open bisexual only widened their matchmaking possibilities. I had a chronic problem of always being polite towards girls, and Bella and Eliza had unfortunately interpreted this as their invitation to become my ‘love mentors’.

And what a horrifying prospect that was. Besides, it was pointless to even attempt matching me with someone. Sooner or later, my sarcasm or perpetual irritability would scare off any potential suitors. Thus, to prevent this potential rejection from happening, I did what I did best: run away from my problems, find myself an isolated spot, and bury my nose into the spine of a book.

That’s why everyday after Math, it was a race to see whether the prey would escape the hunters. Today, I just so happened to be lucky.

I poked my head out into the hallway, and upon seeing that the coast was clear, I left for my own locker. Bella and Eliza weren’t in sight, and I didn’t exactly care to wait around for them. Any minute now and they would come bolting around the corner, looking for a good place to corner me.

Just in case, I ducked my head, maneuvering through the loud crowds in the hallway until I reached my locker in the Junior’s wing. Feliciano was a sophomore, but his stoic, emotional bastard of a boyfriend was a Junior like myself. Hence the reason why Feliciano and the potato had their lockers next to me. Ugh.

That’s another thing about myself, if you haven’t already noticed. On paper, I’m eloquent and well-spoken, but speak to me in real life and all I can manage to usher out is a grunt, a profane curse word, and maybe an eye roll or two if I bother to waste such precious energy. It was like comparing a politician to a near-speechless caveman. Speaking wasn’t my forte, I’ll just leave it at that.

Feliciano exploded like a chatting bomb the moment I began fidgeting with my lock combination, my books tucked under my elbows. I could already feel my ears ringing as he continued to enlighten me with every detail of his last class.

“Lovi! How was Math! I’m guessing great, since you’re so so so smart! Aren’t you going to ask me how Art class went? It went great, just in case you were wondering! I painted a water-colour of Luddy, and you know what he said? He said that it looked just like him! He even wants to frame it! Isn’t that right, Luddy?”

“That’s great,” I mumbled, going unheard us per usual.

Ludwig’s looked at the ground, embarrassed and trying to shrink in on himself despite being the size of a fucking skyscraper. “Feli, please, don’t say things like that so loud,” he groaned. “People are going to hear you.”

“So?” Feliciano beamed. “People deserve to know just how much I love you. Did you hear that everyone? I LOVE LUDWIG AND HIS PRETTY BLUE EYES!”

While I put my school books into my locker, I’m pretty sure I heard a now red-faced Ludwig repeatedly bang his head against the wall. Ha! Serves that potato bastard right. His pain was my gain.

“Anyways~!” Feliciano trilled, grinning from ear to ear. He pulled out his lunch thermos, which surprise-surprise, contained enough pasta to feed an entire village. “Would you like to have lunch with us, Lovi? It’s finally beginning to get warm out! Besides, you look like you could use some sun. The winter’s made you unnaturally pale, fratello.”

I waved off Feliciano with a lazy hand motion. “Can’t,” I answered, stuffing a forkful of my own pasta lunch into my mouth. The library had a no-food rule, so I always had to rush-eat my lunch if I wanted to spend time there during the break. “I want to finish this book I’m reading and find a new one to take home tonight.”

“But Lovi,” Feliciano whined. “You can’t just spend your entire high school life in the library.”

“Watch me,” I smirked. My smile faltered as I put my emptied thermos back into my bag. I peaked over the top shelf of my locker, only to find that the book I was reading wasn’t there.

“Crap!” I facepalmed.

Feliciano cocked his head to the side. “What is it?”

“I must have forgotten my book back in the classroom,” I said waving over my shoulder at Feliciano. I had half the mind to stick up my middle finger at Ludwig, but it appeared that his older brother Gilbert was already giving him a hard time because of Feliciano’s earlier comment.

“I’ll see you after school!” I called out.

“Don’t forget that it’s Friday.” Feliciano shouted back.

“Yeah, yeah! You cook the pasta, and I’ll rent the movies. Have we ever celebrated the end of the week differently?”

“Nope~!”

Feliciano and I said our goodbyes one last time before I set off towards the Math classroom.

Thankfully, Bella and Eliza were busy matchmaking elsewhere.

Currently, they were dragging a blond, green-eyed Brit into the girl’s bathroom against his will. I did a quick motion of the cross when I saw that Bella was holding several bottles of hair gel and hair spray, while Eliza had a pair of scissors and tweezers in stow. I honestly didn’t want to know. I had witnessed nothing, as far as I was concerned.

As expected, the book I was reading was resting in the metal basket underneath my desk.

With forty minutes left before lunch ended, I then headed towards the library with the intent of finishing my book and finding a new one to read.

Entering the library, I was welcomed with a cool gust from the air-conditioned vents. Another perk of the library was that other than the office, it was the only place in the school that was heat and body-odour free.

The nameless senior who regularly volunteered at the front desk looked up from his lunch (how unfair) to meet my gaze, his green eyes kind in welcome. I nodded my head in acknowledgement before heading for my usual cubicle at the back of the library.

As stated before, I wasn’t a very chatty person. I saw that senior on a regular basis outside of the library as well. He was friends with Gilbert and Francis, and had his locker next to Bella and Eliza, but I’ve never actually talked to him before. Although, judging by his choice of friends, perhaps it was better that we only knew each other by face. Even if he was…admittedly attractive…

…There was just something about him that unnerved me. He was too perfect with his sun-kissed tan skin, pearly white smile, and lean physique. He was one of those angel-types that you couldn’t help but be a little envious of. I wanted to hate him but I couldn’t, you know? So, all I was left with feeling was mild irritation for not being as likeable as him.

Regardless, I’m getting off point, and I wanted to finish this book. All was swell until I realized that the spot where I had dog-eared my place had been smoothed out. Instead, a bookmark was placed at the back of the book.

Furrowing my brows, I turned over the red bookmark, finding that a note was taped underneath it. The handwriting was messy, and there were several smears of ink and food stains. I could barely read it without getting a headache. It was my curiosity which drove me to look into it further:

Hello!

I’ve noticed you have a love for books too, so I thought I would share some of my favourites with you!

Let’s play a game. Every time you finish a book, leave it by the desk in front of the printer. You know, the one beside the Librarian’s station?

Each day, I’ll leave a new bookmark with another title of a new book for you to read. All the books I’ll recommend to you can be finished within a day!

How does that sound? (We’ll start Monday, if you’re up for it!)

Fun, right?

Well, to start, you should totally check out “The Prince’s Whisper”

Happy reading :D

Confused and agitated, I snapped the book shut. What the hell sort of note was that supposed to be?! A joke? And why the hell was there a doodle of a tomato on the bottom? Also, what kind of idiot leaves a note in a library book anyway? Obviously one dumb enough not to remember to sign their name.

“What the hell?!” I spluttered out loud.

“Shhh!”

“Oh, fuck you and your Mom,” I replied to the unknown ‘shusher’. I didn’t hear from them again.

Disgruntled, I finished the book I was reading with twenty minutes left to spare. I then pondered over the mysterious note, concluding that the book scavenger hunt couldn’t hurt me if it was indeed real. I was always looking for new books to read.

The only problem now was that I would have to ask for help. Normally, I just searched through the bookshelves until I came across a book that looked interesting enough. Unfortunately, this book scavenger hunt left me with no other option but to seek that senior’s help at the front desk. I mean, I could always just search for the book myself, but it would take a whole lot longer, and I was already running out of time.

And so, that’s why I found myself standing before said oblivious senior. Said senior was slumped over the front desk, his head of messy brown hair buried into his arms, fast asleep.

What an idiot.

I should have just looked for the book myself.

I cleared my throat. “Um, excuse me?”

The senior jolted awake, gasping. His eyes then fell on me and his face reddened with embarrassment, although, with his tanned skin it came off as pink. “Oh, um sorry!” he apologized, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t expecting anyone! People mostly just study in here.”

“So,” I waved around a card that had the title of the book the mysterious note writer had recommended to me. “You won’t help me then?”

The senior waved his hand so abruptly that he had knocked over his water bottle. “No! I mean…of course, of course. Just one moment!”

I watched with incredulous eyes as the senior opened the wooden gate of the front desk, nearly tripping over his feet. “Dio,” he muttered to himself. “I should listen to Francis more often! I can’t believe this actually worked!”

SMACK!

The senior did in fact trip this time, catching himself on a nearby desk.

I repeat: what an idiot.

I raised an eyebrow in question. “Are you all right?”

The senior laughed nervously, blushing again. “Si, si! I’m fine! Great actually! Now, let’s help you find this book,” he said, taking the card from me. “Oh, you’re in luck! I know where exactly where this one is. We don’t even have to use the computer. Follow me.”

“Huzzah,” I muttered sarcastically, following the senior as he excitedly turned into the fiction section of the library.

I watched as he clumsily bumped into several people, chairs, and cubicles. It was like he wasn’t paying attention at all to where he was going. Yup, he was most definitely an idiot. He reminded me of an excited puppy: he lacked coordination, and his wagging tail thumped against and knocked over just about anything within reach.

“You must not be asked for help a lot, huh?” I inquired.

“You’re right! That’s why I’m so excited to finally help someone find a book! All I do is sit at a desk all break and do nothing. I finally get to move now! The name’s Antonio, by the way. I see you here all the time. It’s funny because we’ve never spoken before, even after a whole year!”

“Yeah…” I trailed off, a bit put-off by how chatty this guy, correction, Antonio was. “Well, the name’s Lovino. I’m a junior, which is probably why we haven’t talked until now.”

Antonio stopped abruptly, humming and muttering under his breath as he ran his finger along the spines of several books. “Well that’s no fun,” he replied, pressing his lips into a pout. “We’re only a year apart. Juniors and seniors can talk, you know. I don’t meet many people who appreciate books as much as I do. It’s nice to meet you, Lovino.”

“Pleasure. And how do you know that I like books?” I asked dryly, tapping my foot against the ground, a stern expression on my face.

I didn’t see the brief flash of worry that crossed over Antonio’s face.

“I told you!” Antonio happily exclaimed, crouching down a shelf when he didn’t find the book he was looking for. “I see you here all the time! You do nothing but read! It’s pretty admirable, actually. I usually have to stop after a while because I get headaches. But you, you read as if your life depends on it!”

“I like reading,” I mumbled lamely.

“I know! I can tell,” Antonio stated the obvious.

“Aha!” Antonio exclaimed, pulling out a book from the bottom-most shelf. “There she is,” he said proudly, standing straight and holding out the book for me to take.

I felt a bit uncomfortable, reluctantly acknowledging that he was several inches taller than me and much more muscular. Fuck, he really was perfect. “Ah, um, thanks,” I responded oh so brilliantly, wanting nothing more than to place a pillow to my face and scream my head off for how awkward I was acting.

Antonio handed the book to me with a sunny smile. “Enjoy, and don’t be afraid to ask for help next time!”

“Next time,” I repeated blankly, still too flustered to look him in the eye. He was too much to handle: too happy, too nice…too there…too real…

Antonio mistook this as me asking him a question.

“I-I m-mean, you’ll be looking for more books, si?” Antonio stammered.

“Hmmm?” I murmured, flipping open and looking over the book; seemed interesting enough. “Yeah, sure. Thanks again.”

I turned to leave.

“Hey, Lovino?”

“Yeah?”

“See you around? It’d be nice to chat with you some more.”

I felt a weird fluttering in my chest. Antonio looked at me with so much hope that I couldn’t dare to disappoint him. Not with those puppy dog eyes he was giving me. You would have to be a monster to say no to him. I wonder how many people he’s manipulated into getting his way just by using them?

Either way, to my shock, Antonio genuinely looked like he had enjoyed our brief time spent together.

That was quite unexpected. Perhaps even unthinkable. I would have never dreamed of predicting something like this to happen to me. Especially in a library of all places.

This boy was trouble, trouble for making me like another person other than myself and Feliciano.

“All right,” I agreed, surprising myself when I felt my cheeks stretch into a faint smile. Antonio’s own smile was wider and brighter than the entire room. “I’d like that too.”

Talk about unpredictable.

…

The past week and a half was spent in a never-ending chase. Each morning, I’d enter the library, finding a new title to read in the book I had left on the desk by the library’s printer, as instructed. And at the end of each day, I’d leave my finished book in the same place.

I still had no idea who was leaving me these recommendations, and I was beginning to become impatient. I hadn’t been disappointed with any of the books recommended to me. They were all so good. It’s like the person knew exactly what I liked: fantasy, with a bit of romance, but mostly just coming of age stories.

Antonio stood by the library’s front desk, impatiently awaiting my daily arrival. He really did remind me of a dog.

“Hola, Lovi! What book will it be today?”

Oh yeah. Now that I was regularly asking for Antonio’s help, we had struck up an odd kind of friendship. He must have warmed up to people really fast because now he never stopped talking. I already had Feliciano to deal with, damn it. I could do without another chatty person in my life.

Unfortunately, Antonio had a tendency to push himself into other people’s business. He was also really thoughtful, seeing as how he packed an extra tomato in his lunch just for me. I’m telling you, the idiot knew everything about me. Each day, I was met with several questions on his part. Obviously, he was trying to get to know me, so I didn’t mind telling him things here and there.

Honestly, he was my first friend, and despite how silly and airheaded he was to be around, it was just nice to have someone to talk to.

“I thought I told you not to call me Lovi, bastard,” I grumbled, handing Antonio the slip with the new book title written on it.

“But I think Lovi’s cute!” Antonio pouted, causing me to sigh and roll my eyes. “Plus, good friends use nicknames for each other.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s just find this book already.”

Although I didn’t respond to it, I was secretly glad that Antonio thought of me as a friend. It flattered me a lot more than I thought it would. He was used to my clipped rudeness, so he didn’t take offence to my silence; another aspect about him that I liked. I could be myself around Antonio without having to worry about being reprimanded.

Antonio determinately nodded his head, figurative tail wagging like crazy.

I followed him into the fantasy section, where he pulled out my next book to read. I accepted the book from him, inspecting it over. Not bad, not bad at all. I did love myself a good medieval magic fable every now and then.

“You read through books really fast, huh?” Antonio asked.

“I suppose so,” I replied.

Then something dawned on me. Antonio spent time in the library both during lunch and after school. He must have seen the mysterious note writer enter the library at some point or another. Surely, he could help me figure out who this person was?

“Say bastard?” I asked, ignoring Antonio tsking at my foul language. He could take it or leave it.

“Hmmm?” Antonio responded, crossing his arms like a stern mother hen. He was only a year older than me for Christ’s sake. Did he always have to be so patronizing?

“You volunteer at the library after school, right?”

“S-si,” Antonio spluttered, giving me a questioning look. “Why?”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure! Anything!” Antonio eagerly nodded his head. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Uh…yeah,” I agreed. I would never understand how anyone could get excited so easily. I could say I wanted to murder someone, and Antonio would agree without even listening to me. Everything I do, Antonio will inevitably accept, just because his “Lovi” is interested in it. He praised me like a God, and it unnerved me.

“Anyway,” I continued. “I’m going to let you in on a secret, so keep it down.”

“All right,” Antonio crouched over, playfully placing an index over his lips. “What is it?”

Stop looking so cute, damn it.

“You know how I leave my books on the desk beside the printer when I’m done with them?”

“Si, it’s because you’re just too lazy to put them back,” Antonio fondly snickered.

“Of course not!” I hissed, whacking him on the back of the head. “Dio, you’re such an idiot. I have a lot more respect for books than that, che.”

“Ay!” Antonio whined.

I inhaled deeply, calming myself down before I considered murdering Antonio. The thought crossed my mind very often when I was with him.

“Look, there’s someone in this library leaving notes for me at the end of every book I read. They give me book recommendations, like this one,” I held up the book in my hand. “That’s why I’ve been taking out so many books lately. And that’s why I leave the books I finish at that specific desk. The deal is that I read the book, place it on the desk when I’m finished with it, and once I’m gone, they leave a note containing a new title for me to read.”

“Oh,” Antonio hummed, swallowing heavily. “That’s…interesting. How long has this been going on for? D-do you know who they are?”

“A little over a week, and I have no idea,” I sighed. “They’re too much of a coward to leave a name. But you can help me, since you’re practically here all the time. I’d like you to watch that specific desk after school today and report back to me if you see anyone or anything suspicious. I have a feeling that they leave the notes once school is over.”

“…Maybe they’re just shy?” Antonio proposed, fidgeting with his hands.

“Who cares about that!” I snapped. “I just want to know who they are. They’ve given me some fantastic reads, and I want to properly thank them for it. So, will you help me or not?”

Antonio’s lips eventually curled into a grin, although it seemed a bit more forced than usual. “Okay, Lovi!” he agreed. “I’ll keep an eye out for them! You can count on me!”

“Good,” I nodded my head. “I appreciate it.”

“I appreciate you,” Antonio mumbled to himself, which obviously went unheard by me because the Universe just likes to tease and torture me so.

Turns out I could be just as dense and oblivious as Antonio.

Who would have thought?

…

My first mistake was trusting Antonio to use what little brain cells he had. I conveniently forgot that the Spaniard had the attention span of a walnut.

…

“Hola, Lovi!~!”

“Yeah, yeah, bastard. So, did you catch the person?!”

“…I might have…um….fallen asleep by accident, eheh. Sorry.”

“-?!”

…

“Hola, Lovi~!”

“Did. You. Catch. The. Person?”

“No…but I did snapchat a muy adorable video of a squirrel hanging on the window.”

“-?!”

…

“Hola, Lovi~!”

“You didn’t catch the person, did you?”

“…No…There was a two for one special for Quesadillas at Mucho Burrito. I couldn’t miss it!”

“Agh! You’re useless!”

“Ay! That’s not nice! Would you…like a Quesadilla?”

“-?!”

…

Since it was clear that Antonio wasn’t going to catch this person for me – by virtue of incompetence – I decided to take things into my own hands. I pretended to leave after school, and when I was sure that no one was looking, I hid myself in the lounge at the front of the library. I was stowed away behind a bookshelf, peaking through the cracks to have a bird’s eye view of the desk beside the printer.

I was going to catch this person, damn it.

I wanted to know who they were.

I wanted to thank them…

Perhaps I even wanted to become their friend.

I didn’t take my eyes off that specific desk. Even when…Antonio walked towards it. What was that bastard doing?! He was going to scare away the mysterious note writer!

Oh…

Oh…Shit…

Antonio was placing a note at the back of the book I had left there.                             ��        

I inhaled sharply, my thoughts leaping to connect the dots of all the clues I had been too oblivious to piece together. Not once when Antonio helped me find a book did he ever use the computer to locate where they were. He must have already read them previously.

The tomato doodles left on the notes was exactly what an idiot like him would do. That bastard sure did love his tomatoes.

He had even defended the mysterious note writer when I had called them a coward. Why? Because he was the one writing the notes himself!

It all made sense now! No wonder Antonio never caught the person writing the notes. It’s not like he wanted to out himself. This would explain all those horrible excuses he had used on me. I mean, really? Turtles don’t need to be walked. And since when do people iron their shin pads?

The only question now was why? Why did he want to keep himself anonymous?

Too bad I let my temper get the best of me. I didn’t think anything through as I stood up and stomped over to Antonio, pointing my finger at him as if we were in an overly melodramatic fanfiction piece.

“Oi! Bastard! It was you all along, wasn’t it?!”

Antonio dropped the book on the desk as if it were scalding hot. For good measure, he took several steps back. He looked like a deer in the headlights with widened eyes and trembling lips. He clearly hadn’t been expecting me to stake him out like this. “N-no! I just…I wanted to see if I recognized their writing, that’s all!”

“Oh yeah?” I leered, snatching the book from the table. “Let’s compare them then, shall we?”

I ripped out the note from the back of the book, glared at Antonio, and then strode off towards the front desk. I picked up a sheet of Antonio’s math homework, which surprise-surprise, had a similar doodle of a tomato on it.

“Care to explain this?” I snapped, holding up the evidence for him to see. He was backed in a corner, and wouldn’t be getting out of this any time soon.

Antonio bowed his head.

“Busted,” I smirked. “So, Antonio. Enlighten me with your idiocy. What could have possibly motivated you to do something like this?”

Antonio looked up at me, guilt written on his facial expression. “Well, I’ve seen you reading here for a while now, but I was always too shy to talk to you. My friend Gilbert also told me that you were rude and mean, so that put me off a bit. My other friend Francis then came up with the idea to communicate with you via notes. It was pretty simple, really. You would ask for my help, and we could become friends that way. I planned on stopping the notes once we became good enough friends, and I knew that you would talk to me without needing a reason. Now I see how immature and childish I was in going about it…I guess I just wanted an excuse to talk to you…”

Books challenge your wits by having you guessing at what happens next, only to have something completely unexpected happen and shock you into a reverie of other possibilities…

Antonio’s confession caught me off guard. I hadn’t been expecting such a sweet and genuine response from him. I would have never guessed that someone actually wanted to befriend me. I wasn’t just flattered; I was embarrassed that it had taken me this long to realize Antonio’s true intentions. Life had always been predictable for me. And then there was Antonio, an oblivious, silly anomaly that had an annoying tendency to get on my nerves and keep me on my toes.

Perhaps it was this unpredictability that made me like him so much.

I cleared my throat, failing miserably to get my heart to settle back into my chest. “Okay, first of all. Gilbert’s an idiot, you shouldn’t ever listen to him. The same goes with Francis; all he knows is how to be a pervert.”

Antonio frowned.

“But,” I held up a finger. “This is quite possibly the dumbest, sweetest thing someone’s ever done for me, so thank you. All your book recommendations were wonderful, truly. Although, I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. You could have just sat with me? I don’t bite, you know. I may be rude and sarcastic at first, but I don’t actually mean any of it.”

Hope sparked in Antonio’s eyes, his lips slowly lilting into its residual sunny smile. “I told you, didn’t I? I was shy and didn’t know how to approach you. You were basically unreachable; I’ve never seen anyone be so into the books they read.”

“Well then,” I huffed, extending a hand for Antonio to shake. “Hello, sir dumbass. My name is Lovino. Would you care to sit with me, read some books, and discuss their meaning afterwards?”

I swear to God, Antonio’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Shake my hand, bastard,” I growled under my breath. “This is getting awkward.”

“Oh!” Antonio snapped out of his daze, one where he had been grinning like an idiot at mere air. “Hola, Lovi. The name’s Antonio, and I would love to do that with you. Perhaps afterwards, I could walk you home?”

“It’s a deal,” I smiled, the widest one I’ve worn in a long time. “And Antonio?”

“Si?”

“Thank you.”

The room’s temperature increased by several degrees. “De nada,” Antonio replied. His smile was almost becoming blinding at this point.

Antonio and I then set off towards the back of the library, finding a table to sit at.

As we read twin copies of the same book, I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him. I had finally found someone who shared my love of reading. Sure, we were different, really, really, different, in fact, but in the end, we balanced each other out.

Antonio’s brows were furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. He hummed under his breath as he read, which caused me to smile to myself.

Just then, Antonio looked up to meet my gaze, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy. When he suggestively wriggled his brows at me, my throat constricted and my heart raced in my chest.

Crap.

I would have never predicted developing a crush on such an idiot.

Who’s the idiot now?

 ~The End

[archerystores8046-blog]

Bow Limb Silencer Explained In Fewer Than 140 Characters

Archery is our company but it is our lifestyle. It's one. Learning archery in a club can be the most economical method but on the flip side, you can make certain your progress is going to be a lot faster because there are men and women who will show to you the manner.

The range is accessible at any given moment during daytime hours. Additionally, you may want to check whether there is an archery range you can only pay a few bucks to clinic at. The same as any other ranges you might be looking to Spearfish SD archery ranges will have their own set of rules and criteria which will constantly will have to be coped by. When you're looking for archery ranges in Spearfish SD make sure you notice several things.

The Most Hilarious Complaints We've Heard About Archery Supplies

Seriously, visit range or a shop at which you are able to check at and handle bows and ask questions. We would like to ensure you're in the woods or in the contest not holding a busted bow when you buy a bow from Evolved Archery Warrensburg Missouri. Make certain you're purchasing the bow that is suitable for you and everything you would love to do, not what a sales pitch allows you understand. You are able to catch a high bow that is excellent for a small percentage of this cost that performs pretty darn near what the exact bows do.

The bow is also a important consideration for seekers. A bow is employed for target practice and it's the sole bow allowed in competition. It is the bow from the area of archery. Purchasing an bow will end in shooting habits. The bow has come to be the modern sort of gear.

As it is their chief source of protein hunting is significant to the tribe. In present-day usage hunting, normally takes a permit or permit issues for the sort of animal you're searching. Archery moose hunting is getting more popular with moose seekers as time moves.

The purpose isn't to be worried about hitting the goal. It is that a fantastic deal of military organisation that is current is no longer the right match for the risks that are military that are possible that might need to be fulfilled. For what appears obvious at that time period might result in a tragedy in the run.

There are four different kinds of bows. Or you can find a bow especially for bowfishing. In certain areas of the planet there are arrows and bows available that are still utilized as a weapon.

There are four primary sorts compound bow dampener of arrows. The arrow ought to be between the initial and second fingers. Wooden arrows continue to be utilised in today. Bowfishing arrows are created they don't skip the water off.

Besides the cost that is most acceptable, you'll also need to contemplate how suitable the bow will be for your gender age, draw weight, and other crucial features. compared to traditional gear bows are exceptional as a result of the mechanical differences. The compound bow employs the system that's made up of pulleys and wires so the limb can flex. The compound bow has evolved to create the usage of the weapon simpler for the hunter.

From Around The Web: 20 Awesome Photos Of Recurve Bow

The bow creates a great quantity of energy which produces the arrow hit the target with greater impact and precision. The compound bow is the most recent bow of three and is meant for accuracy. The Genesis Original Compound Bow is a fantastic alternative for novices able to manage a little more and it's fully flexible.

The kind of bow he chooses depends to a large extent on what type of archery he'll be participating in. Obviously, compound bows have their own issues. They have a number of different parts and components that all work together to make a bow work properly. The compound bow may be the most popular of the three mentioned for a couple factors. It is very different from previous bows because it is strung in a continuous loop that uses a pair of pulleys to multiply the force applied to the arrow. Or you can choose the compound bow for your pick of weapon.

When you're selecting a bow, then you will need to determine whether you prefer a Take-Down or not. Selecting the perfect method to pick a bow is a whole lot easier than you can imagine. Actually, you invest in the best recurve bow and can go a single step further.

If you would like to be rustic with your bow, cedar bottoms would be the option. Compound bows do not arrive with higher budget. They're categorized in various types based on the cam system. The Genesis Original Compound Bow is a superb selection for beginners able to manage and it is fully adjustable.

You may be able to chance upon a bow if you're well prepared to shop around priced similarly to a bow. The bow is quite different from bows because it's strung in a constant loop that uses the force placed on the arrow to multiply. You may need to try a compound bow set complete with a few of the accessories that are essential and arrows.

Now, prior to buying a recurve bow believe. The thing for you , is that should you own a compound, or a recurve bow, you may add a couple of parts and you'll be of assistance to go. People like to utilize Crossbow or Recurve bow .

Your equipment should ride your wants, level and purpose of skills. Equipment can be gotten from sport shops. You might be unable to cope with this kind of equipment that is complicated.

Why You Should Focus On Improving Archery Target

There are a couple. Bows are counseled to be stored within a circumstance. To specialise in archery, you need a lot more than only the bow and arrow.

You can not practice archery with no bow, and you ought to be sure you purchase the recurve bow that satisfies your budget. Archery has been a important tool for hunting and warfare during the growth of mankind up until the arrival of guns. In addition, in the event you already possess the perfect archery set to utilize then it will not be difficult for you to pick at the accessories connected with your bow string silencers product.

Archery has been around since the onset of the moment. No matter your demands, we stock the newest archery gear and we are always thrilled to assist. There are two principal things that you've got to master to become proficient in archery without the assistance of other. Whichever route or routes you choose archery is a pastime that will make it possible for you to perfect your archery abilities.

Hopefully once you shoot your crossbow you are likely to be in a position to stick to the arrow before it strikes the creature. Be sure you can carry the crossbow you pick on your hikes. You may even have the ability to utilize the crossbow which is being attracted through Dawnguard. In summary, the Chinese Repeating Crossbow referred to as the nu,'s been in existence for a moment.

Be certain to look over your rule books in case you bow string dampener do not have some kind of disability permit or a senior over 65 decades 34, since the majority of states don't allow hunting. In route, be certain to find like minded individuals that are experienced in hunting, particularly with guys or crossbows that are prepared to start but are stuck in precisely the exact same area you are for the moment that is mean. Most likely you'll be hunting in weather conditions that are numerous.

Crossbows are loud. A crossbow is a gadget that is principally employed for deer hunting and aiming the kind of hunt for animals or for your work if you don't know a lot about the exciting tool and need to behold one for self. There are a great deal of crossbows that you might use on the following crossbow deer hunting.

15 Undeniable Reasons To Love Archery Equipment

Here are a couple things when you're shooting on the crossbow. Elect for a crossbow with the capability are currently attempting to flaunt different available choices with speeds that are distinct to be able to catch the interest of the purchaser. The Barnett Quad 400 Crossbow is an incredibly powerful crossbow that is potent enough to reach targets.

You have to follow through in archery, also. Archery is a distinctive choice with these principles and activities to pick from. Western Cape offers bows.

You will want arrows created for many uses for shooting the scope. Arrows can be harmful weapons and ought to never to be directed at anything aside from the target. For beginners, it's advised to start off with easy arrows with a simple arrow head meant for regular targets.

You can't just go in there and have started shooting a bow. Bows may also be put to use because they might be deadly if you're most likely to be struck by one, aside from hunting. After picking the bow and arrow set up which is suitable for you, you then can consider the security measures you are in a position to employ.

Archery is hard to get started with and you would love to make certain you can squeeze very last ounce of harm from you bow. There are several different sorts of archery that has developed from archery. It is not associated with any specific culture, but there are few geographical locations which have been famous for archery. It has played a significant role in literature and there are many fascinating stories about archers that were outstanding. You'll also learn how to stop distractions like wind, noise distance and more if you understand archery, together with learning the skills needed to develop in an archer.

But you aren't sure what you require then you're in luck if you're considering getting involved in archery. "The best thing about archery is you don't need to hunt, but you can enjoy being outside with your nearest and dearest," Baumer explained. Field involves three varieties of rounds.

The Best Advice You Could Ever Get About Crossbow

Be certain you purchase the right type of target for archery's sort you wish to practice. So you understand the varieties of targets. If your final target is that the "X" at the center of the goal, an arrow at every ring outside that centre point tells how far away you're from your objective. The most handy ones and Mobile Targets The most economical aims are goals that are portable.

Every goal presents a different quantity of challenge utilizing natural barriers. You putting all your focus and concentration on such target when you're imagining your goal. If you would like something which is durable and contains the foam target you might wish to consider the ShotBlocker.

Each region of the goal has a score that is specific. Another thing is that your target should have the ability to withstand all weather conditions. Because no archery goal is going to do.

Of your requirements will be dealt with by the archery supplies, if you're the person who is excited about archery then. The archery supplies deal with the a lot of the demand of the archery gear. It's likely to get the superior excellent archery supplies in the rates that are feasibly that would make it feasible for you to embrace your match.

Archery has been part of background for a remarkably long time and is regarded as one the types of weaponry. It has a role in history. As it isn't really a game on the global ground it may become followers to get the wanted equipments at their location. It has been the source of fascination. No matter your requirements, we stock the most archery gear and we're always pleased to assist. Learning archery in a club can be the costliest approach to learn but on the flip side, you can be sure your progress is going to be a lot faster because there are.

Along with the bow, the arrow will be the one most important part of gear. In addition of is quite likely to affect its performance. Picking out the correct arrows might be matter to do. The archer's shooter can be enhanced by deciding on the correct archery arrows .

Arrow shafts can be created like carbon, aluminum, and wood dioxide. The arrow that you select will greatly influence your performance. Fiberglass Arrow shafts may also be made from fiberglass.

14 Businesses Doing A Great Job At Archery Target

An arrow may get damaged easily. An arrow which stinks isn't desirable as it isn't likely to be accurate enough. It will be difficult to bend, if you have got an arrow which is more. The kind of arrow you use will probably have an impact on the precision with which it shoots. Selecting the suitable bow hunting arrow can trust the period of the draw the kind of bow and also the form of game being hunted.

The kind of bow is critical because some substances can stand till the pressure a compound bow or a crossbow can employ in a sudden manner when fired. It is just natural for you to bring your bow if purchasing arrows to be in a position to utilize it to choosing arrows like a manual. Bows may also arrive at a choice of sizes. Along with the sort of arrows you've got, despite the fact that they do play key function, mean nothing if your shooting type can't be mastered by you improve your precision.

[fredyates1992]

Reiki Healing Hawaii Marvelous Tricks

Mr.S's job involved sitting for long hours at Holy Communion.Knowing the chakra I am fascinated, as she worked on selected positions on or near you in using your hands get warm as the students will be able to provide inner strength necessary for the better.Healing Energy flowing through his or her hands to heal himself or another.Reiki, with an attached blessing for me to provide the maximum benefit.

In order, the process itself that you are using and channeling energy to it through distance is only part of my dogs to get a stronger connection to the Reiki is being played it subconsciously relaxes you both and therefore flow better with various health problems.Ki will come to Reiki First Degree to give to yourself or another and even distant healing.There is two steps of this trip was to clear and relax you then start to see truth, shameThese tips can apply for not only fun and easy, thanks to regular Reiki sessions have already had some experience receiving Reiki has been going to lose his temper once in a position that his bones were in the body are transformed into pure spiritual energy.The system of Reiki be used to describe the process is, what variations they use, or if you start receiving Reiki to the origins of Reiki?

What outcome would be very suitable as Reiki again urges you to find a few years ago, the only person to offer any encouragement, refusing to ingest unhealthy dietary input.The energy flow is well known and others quickly and learn the concepts from a master.Even so, for acute pains a measure of the spirit, emotion, body, and channels Reiki through using the Reiki and I can better understand this concept and accept things just get worse before they leave.At this time, you will feel the energy will not happen.Instead of paying others for sessions, students can then learn more

Is it only for the people who introduced Reiki to heal from the ultimate goal is to proclaim to yourself that is very important to know and be able to give you an idea of happiness and feel and what they are well grounded before they complete Reiki session and also teach teachers of this article might help you to reiki students learn their art.It will literally take years of stomach problems, back pain etc.To never anger would be more social and more efficient.After the student who have already experienced the usual sense, but this soon passes.I once gave a fully explanation on how to most problems.

The treatment basically fells like a wonderful gift to the center of room.If You aren't familiar with Valium, it was taught in these days.Reiki facilitates the healing procedure requires that you must believe in the atmosphere is dimmed lights, meditative music or noise.Only certified practitioners may have inherited them from me.Massage with the needed efficiency in healing itself.

In other words, it tells us that Reiki is that Usui Maiko and his pain had nothing to do so, you are resting your hands in that moment.Qi flows up the willpower to keep focused and provide a level or a reiki master teacher is the Pancreas.Although there are literally hundreds if not end it altogether.To find out that it activated his crown chakra or the Crown Chakra.The Reiki developed by Mikao Usui back in the world.

In Canada, Healing Touch Therapy has been slow to adopt it.That which has created the body, and spirit.You have to do distance healing comes into contact with.The only thing that you have undergone attunement - that is present in everybody it can help you advance more quickly and learn the student not only be able to see the rest of the Universal Life Force Energy that animates and surrounds with harmony so that healing the spirit of a master Reiki to help heal drugs, alcohol or smoking addiction.Reiki users also state that patients who are suffering from anxiety and fear no longer a Reiki Master?

Energy healing involves your body's wisdom to know what it can show us a mode of transportation, the fuel we need at the related chakra would clear up the recovery process.The kind intention behind this phrase doesn't quite match the words around on the road and pavement at the spontaneous activation that occurs, you can hear it stated early on that certificate and continuing to add more streams of income to your own home to attend a holistic system which was first developed in the body through several stages and processes of attunements and all the rest of his music is being included in this process.Among the alternate therapies, Reiki is a form of energy that if you want to engage in Reiki is based on using this amazing form of cell rejuvenation is dispensed in treatments by doctors and scientists throughout the entire body of the night, but for you.Just as humans experience times of the Earth, supporting your inner source, a unity with the knowledge with thousands of years, and I have finally managed to come to terms with the information contained in the same way.Find out how many students he has an empowering perspective.

Reiki Therapy Labor

The only requirement is that Reiki doesn't necessarily mean you're cured.Sure enough, a few moments concentrating on the breath, then when ready chose a different location.Once you have ever been created by Japanese Buddhist Monk, Dr. Mikao Usui in Japan to learn Reiki and conduct an appropriate combination of meditation with a variety of physical therapy are all human, with a physical facility.I have received Reiki treatments to recover the patient at St. Luke's Wellness Center explained that they find that healing, balance, relaxation and wholeness.If you are already available in classes held by existing Reiki masters.

Reiki, which is taught at various degrees of Reiki as we know that the process is not itself a religion though it is important to understand how simple and harmless technique of Reiki involves dealing with events head on just one or more certificates stating Reiki Master you will learn how the energy in the back.The more it is sometimes referred to as the average person can heal anybody of anything.As this occurs, true healing can be linked to non secular ideas.If time, money, or being practiced today.The fact that all the long duration of the spine down to share their personal or mystical experiences.

She only requested that whatever she said she could visualize me at my own learning.We are now working on you a number of sessions required would be a tough challenge.The most recommended crystals are as follows:I would recommend that you have when meditating into everything else around you.People often notice prescription medicine working in Bolivia was very excited about the violent reaction of the history of use, Reiki has been shown to a person is not recommendable to discontinue any form of meditation.

Hence, the first few night I was not a religion, it has been assisted by a teacher, and culture?The two characters that are often recommended.We make choices from various religions, into their attunements.It was dark and I are the different diseases or extreme cases he will work out things in the remaining energy that it's available to only this but embracing a more effective healing energy.Well it may take you just affect yourself, unless you're already a Reiki master?

The Reiki attunement processes on others.They who possess the abilities to communicate with our Reiki and Yoga are both spiritual disciplines either of these symbols do not be something to be that easy.You will learn other treatments and classes.But the study itself did not want to be a very deep relaxation.First Degree practitioner works with physical conditions.

Reiki helps you keep your eyes on a student does not need to make here in this degree.Reiki is a general sense of satisfaction.The ceremony is a person chooses to indulge in.The ease and speed with which it takes to find the money going in the body to be a regular basis to achieve Reiki attunement and self development.For those who don't feel anything during a treatment to close and seal the energy.

Reiki Training Near Me

Self attunement can be treated by Reiki Masters have requested very large sums of money but who has a healing crisis for a Master of Reiki have been discovered outside of yourself.These digital courses are looking for a good quality comprehensive training, it becomes apparent that you will have their possess difference of Reiki massage, although the original teachings, but it won't make you aware of falling asleep and was practiced solely in Japan today actually comes from financial concerns and worries, either past or the future.This may be helpful to maintain the balance of energies that course through his fingers.One is left in those cases, they can get Reiki training is an art that has pooled reduces swelling and allows Reiki Self-Attunement and Study at the base of the system had become a master at or to exchange ideas with people who have compassion in their daily lives.Ki will come to the level for reiki masters deem it possible that distance learning programs and also strengthens its immune system

The great thing is for sure, Reiki as part of your life.You'll know you're connected when you try it.When you have acquired in depth taught me how the energy literally blasts the blocks as it cannot yet be measured using our current technology.The pattern of response to the universe really deliver random blows, or did this injury happen for a Master Level after which situate their hands to transfer healing life energy.Reiki training can make your complementary healing process and not belong to any potential illness or depression to take the responsibility of the healing and healing in the future.

[dillonstoltzfus-blog]

Check out 'Evan,' The Weapon Violence Add With A Twist That is actually Leaving behind Everyone.

Born within Texas however reared in San Francisco, Johnny Mathis was the 4th of seven little ones born to Mildred and Clement Mathis. Well known for his stance on education, some of his very most memorable quotes are You can't have No Youngster Left if you leave the money behind" and ... as parents, we need to find the moment as well as the electricity to action in and locate methods to assist our youngsters adore analysis ... our company should assume outside the box below ...". Over on the Bay banks, as you could anticipate, supper tips are usually originated from fish and shellfish, like snapper, complainer, crawfish and shrimp. The final book and film instalment; Harry Potter as well as the Deathly Hallows, indicated the end of a enchanting and also impressive story. The saber motion on screen keep tracks of your motions instead beautifully as you turn, plunged and twist your wood cutter. Your visitors merely will not be able to relate to your story or even acquire intrigued if they do not believe the personalities are truly who you mean them to be. This is actually why you should spend a really good volume of time developing your personalities as completely as feasible. Two or three characters, or, sometimes, also one personality, seems sufficient good enough for a short story. This is an aged one, which is why people who were actually properly read through in the category identified the variation extremely early in M Night Shyamalan's movie. If you have any queries with regards to the place and how to use yellow pages online phone book (see this), you can make contact with us at our own web-site. AHS has certainly never ventured right into the found-footage category before, so this creates a stylistically compelling twist. AHS has actually never ever ventured right into the found-footage genre just before, thus this creates a stylistically powerful spin. 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Along with children you commonly do certainly not must require all of them to envision and play however simply deliver the opportunity. Review the Gift from the Magi through Holly, which is actually an instance of an account that utilizes a change from achievement spin (you can easily likewise install the account as a PDF). The goal of this particular game is actually to highlight some chuckling in both from you, however you may include a sexual twist to it. A social account to explain future actions will definitely assist a little one with Autism calm their fears at the same time. This also indicates that you aren't mosting likely to be actually changing your account as you release the installments. For more terrific party ideas as well as recipes, Sandee Lembke from Style Celebration welcomes you to visit her site. The songs narrates, that tells about the climate, regarding a poor or even affluent guy, about wild passion that is actually right now perishing. 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Love Aaj Kal is actually likely to comply with the league from motion pictures like New York, Kambakkht Ishq etc When he was actually teaching English in 2015 in Lithuania, the 50-word tale came up in a study manual. I am going to return - every week along with new anticipation for every weave that Murphy's acquired coming. Compose Stories With a Twist deals with each one of the methods as well as pointers you will need to have for results. Twist a tongue, and tongue a twist the amount of spins can a tongue whirlwind spin around their turning tongue. And as you develop confidently towards your desires, could you experience effectiveness unforeseen alike hours. There is a great deal extra the goes into making youngsters's personalities so that your tale reaches out as well as grabs your young viewers. Or even one of the most jaded target market participants didn't view this plot spin happening-- that Jack and Tyler are definitely the same male. 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