#all aboard the emotional damage ride

[wilsons-journey]

Watchful eye

Ever since their argument and breakup, Valefor has kept his distance from Kying. Still, he couldn't help but keep a watchful eye on the Warrior and his new Friend. Valefor wasn’t able to admit his feelings for the other Charr, but at least the boiling jealousy.

The respect for the Warrior forbid it Valefor to interfere. Besides he had to remind himself of his very own words: If Kying expected feelings or more, he should find someone else,... he won’t find that in Valefor. Never. That Kying did exactly this, took the red furred Charr by surprise.

He missed the time together with the other,... more than he would have liked.

-

So it was no surprise he once again kept a watchful eye on the Warrior. Him and his stupid little Friend,... But at least Kying was happy and well. That’s all Valefor wanted to know. Although jealousy gnawed at him, he withdrew pleased without doing anything stupid.

At the same time, he fantasized about killing that guy. If he couldn't make him bleed in reality, he should suffer in his mind. How easy it would be to snuff out his lights with a single, well placed strike. How lovely it would be to see his head detached from the body - or even better, see his inner parts spilled on the ground,... Slowly,... he should suffer.

Then a familiar crowing pulled him out of his thoughts.

There was work for him.

- To be continued.

— Follow up of:

(Tumblr,... again the wrong preview!!)

Another little, unplanned, filler. That's why this one is only a Screenshot edit and nothing drawn. I'll probably throw in something like this again here and there.

I wanted to include this scene as well. It maybe gives a tiny insight in Valefors thoughts. Why he has such problems admitting his feelings and being that brooding manchild, will be explained in detail later on. (Basicly he is just very afraid of getting hurt. Again. Last relationship nearly killed him and blessed him with huge trust issues.)

--- Part 2 will follow very soon. With Kying pov and a little drawing.

[grison-in-space]

Listening to Artificial Condition again, it strikes me how much Murderbot uses empathy reflexively as a survival skill. Look at this bit.

Upon meeting it, ART allows it on board and then announces that it knows that Murderbot is rogue. Then ART threatens to destroy it if it hacks ART's own systems. Murderbot is immediately terrified and shuts down all inputs, gives serious thought to spending the entire three month journey unconscious, and then considers the potential avenues of damage from ART's drones. ART, not realizing why Murderbot had suddenly gone silent, tells it to quit sulking, which understandably pisses off the still-terrified Murderbot. It dumps a bunch of memories of coercive treatment into ART's feed, and ART goes silent.

Then this happens:

Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you. Okay, well. If you think I trusted that apology, you don’t know Murderbot. Most likely it was playing a game with me. I said, “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to ride to your next destination.” I’d explained that earlier, before it opened the hatch for me, but it was worth repeating. I felt it withdraw back behind its wall. I waited, and let my circulatory system purge the fear-generated chemicals. More time crawled by, and I started to get bored. Sitting here like this was too much like waiting in a cubicle after I’d been activated, waiting for the new clients to take delivery, for the next boring contract. If it was going to destroy me, at least I could get some media in before that happened. I started the new show again, but I was still too upset to enjoy it, so I stopped it and started rewatching an old episode of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. After three episodes, I was calmer and reluctantly beginning to see the transport’s perspective. A SecUnit could cause it a lot of internal damage if it wasn’t careful, and rogue SecUnits were not exactly known for lying low and avoiding trouble. I hadn’t hurt the last transport I had taken a ride on, but it didn’t know that. I didn’t understand why it had let me aboard, if it really didn’t want to hurt me. I wouldn’t have trusted me, if I was a transport. Maybe it was like me, and it had taken an opportunity because it was there, not because it knew what it wanted.

The thing about Murderbot's survival is that it clearly involves quite a bit of negotiating with other constructs and bots. That's how it talks its way onto cargo hauler bots in the first place. It uses empathy--envisioning the emotional and cognitive context of the individuals it encounters--to work out what different kinds of people want, so that it can offer them fair trades. It also uses empathy to consider what humans might be looking for, so it can practice blending in and hide.

Murderbot would never have survived so long if it wasn't capable of assessing the individual desires of the people--human, bot, and construct--around it. It thinks about ART's probable fears and motivations so that it can consider whether ART is inherently an ongoing threat or a potential ally.

When your survival depends on evading detection, you get really good at assessing perceptual biases so that you can shape yourself to fit into them. People talk about murderbot being radically empathetic as a choice it makes, or as a feature of its personality that makes it a good person. But I think murderbot would be the the first person to tell you that this empathy is part of its threat assessment suite, a skill that was developed out of necessity in order to allow you to survive.

It is also a trait that makes murderbot a good person, of course: it chooses very carefully to try to survive by doing as little harm as possible and by offering things, like media, that buy it access to things it needs. But it started as a survival skill. It's part of hypervigilance.

I think one of the strengths of this series is that so many of the things we love about SecUnit are traits developed for survival in an inherently threatening world. The shape of its mind and heart have been changed by the trauma of its origin--but they don't make murderbot less good for being altered, even if that skill was developed in a traumatic context.

I like that.

[ronearoundblindly]

Warning Signs

um, I've had a miserable day, so I wrote angst that absolutely no one asked for. Partly hurt/comfort, too. Totally unedited. No descriptions of injury. Just feels and sweet, protective Steve. WC 1.7k

Summary: Your first bad mission shows Steve how you handle tragedy.

Silence.

The quinjet is flooded with it, thick and suffocating. You'd never know there were eight living souls on board.

Plus two bodies.

Steve's worked with everyone around (alive or dead) for a long time, but not you. He watches you follow the pattern of everyone else's grief. As much as he hates to be dismissive, this is standard stuff for the team.

If he had to guess, he's looking at the numb phase. They'll touch down at the base and go through the motions. You'll make it to your quarters, take an absurdly long shower, possibly have a meltdown, maybe blow off steam at the gym, and emerge 'feeling better.'

It won't actually be better. It doesn't actually get easier. He knows that very, very well.

He hears a sniffle and starts, thinking it's you, but in fact, Sam's broken first. That's not a bad sign; it's actually good. Sam Wilson likely broke on purpose, to set an example, to show it's okay to not feel okay, to begin the mourning properly so that you all can heal. He's a good man that way.

Sam wipes his eyes. He makes no moves to step away for privacy.

Your face is blank as you stand from your jumpseat. Steve watches with fascination while you gather bottles of water and the med kit. You make rounds to everyone, completely expressionless. You look over every person for injuries, cleaning every single cut before moving to the next. You walk a tight circle around him and, seeing no damage, step back without a word, handing him his water like a prize lolly at a doctor's visit.

Finally, you go to Sam, and he obediently stands to be inspected, holding out his wrist and forearm crusted in blood.

Arms clamp around him. Your hug is brutal, strong, and a push that sends Sam over the edge of 'example' into the deep end of reality. One by one, each member aboard breaks. Steve's never seen anything like it. They are all close. They are all comfortable enough to see each other and be seen by each other this way, but not around you.

Not yet, Steve would have thought, but he takes a seat and buries his face in his hands, too. He lets himself drown for a few minutes.

Collectively, the flood of emotion drains away, and it's a shocking difference. By no means has everyone healed, but they've vaulted several of the usual hurdles all on a single ride home.

You're still hugging Sam when Steve collects himself for touchdown. The door lowers, breaking another seal of silence, and you let go.

Steve stiffens.

Your face is still blank, eyes distant and unfocused, cheeks dry.

You let nothing go. Not a single tear. It looks like you drank down the grief of seven war-weary soldiers and are just holding it inside.

You walk out first after letting the med crew come in. Steve can't follow because the nurses fuss over everyone and bombard him with questions. You're gone by the time he looks back down the ramp.

He's only able to come to your door hours later.

You don't answer. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirms you are inside. Still no answer.

"Dammit," Steve whispers. He doesn't want to have to do this, but since you've never been on a mission like this one with him, he has no standard for how you process.

"Override the door. Authorization gamma four foxtrot."

"Override accepted, Captain," the AI gently announces, and the magnetic latch pops open.

Slowly, Steve's eyes roll over the whole room, trying to remain as calm as possible.

The place is trashed. Mattress flipped against the window, squishing and bending the blinds. Chair upsidedown on the unaligned boxsprings. A dent in the headboard above shattered lamp pieces. Dresser and nightstands face down on the carpet. You're nowhere in sight.

He can hear water running, so he immediately goes to the closed bathroom and knocks, shouting your name.

Nothing happens.

He tries the handle. Locked.

Steve's way past being nice about this. His shoulder cracks through the hollow wood easily, and he bursts in.

There's no steam.

Through the glass doors, he can't see you standing. There's a dark streak above the rim of the tub basin.

He leaps forward, careful not to grab the glass so hard he shatters it (and he knows he can because he's done that twice).

You're curled up, facing away, drenched and letting cold water run all over you, fully clothed.

Steve says your name gently, heart racing now with concern. He uses a grip at the back of your neck to check for a pulse as well as turn you.

Blank. Your face is still devoid of...anything. You're completely catatonic.

He reaches over to turn off the water.

"Okay," he soothes, "okay, sweetheart. It's okay. Here we go."

He slides an arm under your legs, supportive hold still at your neck, and lifts you out of the tub and straight onto his lap, soaking himself and the bathmat.

"Come on, sweetheart. I got ya."

Steve scurries to yank two towels from the rack above him and covers you loosely. Your eyes don't meet his. You don't appear to see him at all.

He's seen all sorts of versions of shell shock--poorly treated and well handled alike--and he knows several things he can do.

But he just waits. He watches you blink and breathe, and that's it. That is the sum total of what your body can muster for who knows how long.

Your hair is half dry and the pads of his fingers are wrinkled by the time you turn your head in towards the crook of his elbow and shut your eyes.

Steve sighs, wrapping the towels a little tighter and adjusting you closer in his hold.

"We're okay. We're going to be okay." He pets strands of hair off of your face. "You did everything right. You did everything you could. We all did."

Steve keeps saying aloud what he thinks to himself after each mission, except when he says it to you, he means it. He's proud of you, and he says it. He promises to take care of you, and he will. He keeps talking, slowly rocking back and forth until his own heart has calmed and you're sleeping.

He keeps holding you but stretches out his legs because they've fallen asleep, too. He can't carry you while his lower half tingles painfully. Soon enough though, he's standing, adjusting you to allow him to maneuver past doorways easily.

He can't get any of your clothes from the upended furniture and there's nowhere to lay you down. Steve barely thinks before heading straight to his own room, towels still dangling from you and his arm, but he finally hesitates when his twitching fingers remind him of your wet tac suit.

The whole point was not to take you to the infirmary while you slept, but he can't possibly change you without waking you.

He makes an executive decision. You have to rest, and the best way to get started on a proper rest is to get you comfortable and dry first.

Steve sets you down in his chair, leaving the towels bunched under you as he steps away to find a shirt and shorts for you to wear. He returns to see you awake with heavy eyelids, sitting up but slouching.

The blank face is back, so he asks you to change. You don't move.

He asks you to stand up, and you look down at your feet before pushing up off the chair.

"Can you give me those wet clothes?"

He turns around when you start to unzip the suit, waiting for the squelch of fabric hitting his floor to stop.

Offering the stack of clean things without looking, Steve says, "these are for you."

Nothing happens.

He peeks over his shoulder to find you staring at the wall, and he knows he'll have to do this himself.

T-shirt first, he bunches it open and ready while still turned away.

"Arms up."

He looks only at your hands to align the sleeve, lets it fall and drape to cover as much of you as possible, and then pops your head out. He sweeps away the hair that pushed over your face again.

Next, the shorts.

"Left leg, please. Good. Now the right. Thank you, sweetheart." Steve's kneeling, pulling the elastic wide enough to not drag his thumbs up your legs, but he still grazes the swell of your hips before releasing the band.

"Are you tired? You can sleep some more here."

You look over at the bed, his bed, completely unfazed. You don't even nod. You shuffle over and lay atop the covers, facing in, hands between your tucked-up knees, still staring.

Steve takes that as a win and sets about short tasks to get himself settled as well, checking on you after everyone, eventually laying on the other side of the bed.

Your eyes are closed, so he thinks you've fallen asleep and turns out the lights. He tries not to move around too much and disturb you until you speak.

Your voice is so small, so flat.

"Why them?"

Steve turns back to face you in the dark. "I don't know," he offers as honestly as he can. "I don't know."

Your breathing comes a little heavier for a while. "Why can't I feel anything?"

Tentatively, he lifts a hand to the dip of your waist, hiding his heartbreak deep down in his gut.

"Because you'll feel too much every other day--" his thumb sways back and forth over the worn cotton of his shirt over your skin "--and sometimes you need a break. It's okay. I'm right here."

"What are you gonna do?" The words choke you, laced with fear of having failed in some way so soon. He knows that judgment. He judged himself that way until the day he realized: mourning doesn't make him a better soldier but it does make him a better man.

Steve can give you the same gift. He can give you space to mourn.

"Watch over you, sweetheart," he mutters, "just like I promised."

[Sequel: Yield]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[pirate-au]

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 1)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: @cheshirevalentine is the reason this au exists, they've done so much to help me create this story and so many others. I owe them so much, thank you for being my muse and letting me ramble constantly <3

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

The Captain swiveled around as soon as the first punch was thrown, watching from his seat at the bar as one of his crew and a drunk local quarreled on the other side of the tavern.

Roman glanced at Logan seated beside him, chuckling quietly at the look on his first mate’s face as the pair watched the drunken fight.

“I could break it up, you know,” Roman boasted, making a face as he took a swig of the drink he would never admit he loathed the taste of. It fit his image- the image of the daring pirate Captain that Roman had read stories of long before he’d gotten his own ship- so Roman kept the drink in his hand and forced down another mouthful. “It’d be easy. Easier than walking.”

“You will do no such thing,” Logan said, and Roman knew his friend would much rather be back aboard the ship, safe and warm with a good book. “Sit still and at least try to pretend you enjoy the taste of alcohol.”

Sit still? Roman had never sat still in his life, Logan should know better than to feed him such blasphemy. He let go of the retort on the tip of his tongue in favor of taking another uncomfortable sip of his drink, trying and failing to hide the way his face screwed up in disgust at the abhorrent taste.

Logan watched him, amused, before draining the rest of his glass with ease. Roman resisted the urge to gag. The price of having a reputation as a fearsome captain was, apparently, drinking incredibly shitty alcohol to look cool and tough. The life was exciting, and the bounty was worth the price. But by God, the drink was foul.

Logan rolled his eyes, swapping their glasses. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s for the image, Logan. You wouldn’t understand.” Roman retorted, though he didn’t protest the swap. He wasn’t going to finish it anyways.

Logan didn’t respond, just flashed his captain another deadpan look to which Roman responded with a bright grin before turning his attention back to the fight at the other side of the bar.

They were both clearly very drunk, swaying on their feet, their punches wide and sloppy, so Roman wasn’t particularly worried about anyone causing any serious damage.

Roman didn’t even particularly like taverns, and he knew for a fact Logan only came along to make sure he didn’t get himself into trouble, but bars like this were the best place to sit back and observe the most interesting people.

After weeks at sea in cramped quarters with the same faces, Roman couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night before they left again the next morning.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his ship. He did! He wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. He was the dashing and daring Captain Roman, fearlessly exploring the seas with a wonderful crew and his best friend right at his side.

And yet it never felt… complete. Something was wrong. Missing. It was never quite right, as perfect as it was, but for the life of him he could never voice exactly what was wrong.

A bell rang, barely audible above the commotion, and Roman tore his attention away from the fight to watch the newcomers open the door

Two strangers stepped inside, wrapped in dark cloaks that looked like they cost as much as Roman’s whole ship. They both looked a good two heads shorter than him or Logan, and judging by their clothes, a tavern like this was not the kind of place they frequented.

One of them had their hood draped over their head to conceal their face, the other holding the tavern door open and ushering their friend inside.

A disgruntled yell from the other side of the bar turned Roman’s attention back to the drunken fight, and he saw Logan give the newcomers a brief once-over himself.

Roman watched as the fight gradually slowed down, his crewman clearly a little less adept at handling his alcohol, eventually ending up sprawled out on the floor with a broken nose and split lip. Pity, he thought he taught his men how to hold their own in a fight.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Roman’s attention, and he watched curiously as a man from the other end of the bar got up from his stool and sauntered over to the table where the two cloaked strangers had settled down.

He was tall, about Roman’s height, smirking dangerously with a drink in one hand, the sword tucked into its sheath just barely visible underneath his coat.

He finished his drink as he made it to the table, his eyes on the hooded stranger. Roman could just barely make out what was being said from the bar.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he purred, leaning forward with his free hand resting on the table. “You new here or something?”

The stranger didn’t respond, and while Roman couldn’t see their face from where he was seated, he could see his companion visibly tense, reaching over to touch his arm.

“Yes, I’m talkin’ to you,” the man continued, his smirk growing as he looked the stranger over. “Prettiest thing in town, why wouldn’t I be talkin’ to ya?”

The stranger lifted his head, just enough for Roman to catch a glimpse of a pale face and dark hair, before looking back down at their lap. “I...uh. Thank you?”

“So you’re new here, then?” the man asked again. “You seem so nervous. Let me buy you a drink, it’ll mellow ya out.”

Both cloaked strangers tensed, and Roman’s wariness grew along with theirs. He knew that look, knew that tone of voice, knew exactly the intentions a man like that had.

“No thank you,” the hooded one said, barely audible, his friend’s hand still on his arm. “Sorry, I’m… not interested.”

“You don’t have to be so shy.” The man tilted his head as he leaned in closer, and Roman found himself already getting up from his stool. “Come on, handsome. Let me buy you a drink, it’ll loosen you up. I promise.”

Roman started forward, ready to remind this asshole that no meant no, only to stop with a hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a stop.

“Roman.” Logan already looked exhausted, and Roman hadn’t even done anything yet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Roman grinned, pulling his arm away with a wink he knew would only annoy his first mate further. “Saving a damsel in distress, of course.”

“But we agreed to avoid any confrontation—”

Roman waved him off and made his way across the bar, all his attention back to the man who still hadn’t left the table alone.

“I said no thank you,” the stranger said, and his voice made it clear he was trembling. “I don’t want a drink.”

“Oh, come on. I—”

“Pardon me,” Roman interjected, sweeping the man’s hand out from under him on the table. “I believe he said no. If you would be so kind as to leave now, that would be wonderful.”

The man gave him a disgruntled look, to which Roman responded with an even smile. “Piss off, prissy. No one asked you, he’s just being coy.”

“He said no.”

The man shoved Roman’s shoulder, scowling when he refused to stumble back. “And I said piss off.”

Roman could almost picture Logan’s eye roll as he squared his shoulders and shoved back, admittedly with a bit more force than necessary. He thought briefly back to what Logan always said, about how his Captain never backed down. And about how it was going to get them all killed one day.

And yet here his first mate was, standing at his elbow, stiff and unmoving as Roman stared his opponent down.

He was a bit bigger than Roman, the alcohol in his system clearly making him a bit unpredictable, scowling at Logan before narrowing his eyes at Roman, who simply smiled again, a cold warning.

“You need to learn the difference between coy and not interested, scoundrel. Leave him alone or I’ll be forced to remove you from the area.”

It was all a show, hopefully enough to get this drunk asshole to see reason and back off before someone got hurt.

But if a fight was what he wanted, then a fight was what he would get. Roman wasn’t one to chicken out of a confrontation, as much as Logan would like him to, from something silly like a little fear. Fear was a secondary emotion! It didn’t rule him.

Besides, he had someone to protect this time. And with Logan at his side, he was unstoppable.

Logan was going to kill him, of course, but that was a problem for later.

The man scoffed and set his empty glass on the table, looking back at the hooded stranger with another smirk. “Give me a second to handle this, alright? We’ll talk after.”

He winked, before winding back and swinging, his fist connecting right with Roman’s jaw. The Captain jerked backwards, stumbling slightly before he threw himself forward, tackling the man to the floor.

The tavern erupted into chaos, drunk bystanders cheering and shouting as the fight became the center of attention. Roman thought he saw someone start towards them, probably one of this asshole’s friends, only to smile when Logan immediately intercepted.

No matter how tired Logan pretended to be of Roman jumping head first into danger, he knew his friend would always be right there with him.

He wrestled with his assailant, blocking a punch to the face and grabbing the man’s arm, pinning it firmly to the ground. The surrounding bystanders continued to cheer as Roman got the upperhand, suspecting that his opponent being a little drunk helped the Captain overpower him.

Roman managed his way on top of the man, straddling him and pulling his gun from his belt. He cocked the weapon and put it to the forehead of the assailant, watching with a satisfied smile as he froze.

“If you dare come near this young man again, I’ll make sure I have a bullet saved just for you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

The man glared, scowling as he looked away from Roman’s cold stare. “Crystal.”

“Good.” Roman stood, wiping the blood from his nose and rubbing his jaw, his pistol trained on the man as he struggled to sit up. “Up now, I’d like to see you and your wounded pride leave my tavern.”

He struggled to his feet and spat blood at the floor, glaring daggers at Roman as he limped towards the exit, the crowd parting.

As soon as the tavern door slammed shut, Roman turned to Logan and the young man he’d saved with a smug smile, twirling the pistol on his finger.

“It’s not even loaded,” he stage-whispered, turning back to Logan with a playful pout when the stranger’s eyes widened. “What? Not even a ‘good job?’ Anything?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, ever unamused. “You were reckless.”

“You have no appreciation for your Captain, Logan,” Roman said. “Truly. My splendor would be a waste if I had not been saving a pretty man.”

The resident “damsel in distress” was watching Roman with wide eyes, turning only when his friend took his arm again, leaning in close to whisper, “Can we go now?”

Roman realized he hadn’t even bothered to check in, too busy flaunting his victory to his first mate. He turned back to the table and forcibly relaxed his shoulders, hoping to come across as non-threatening as possible.

“I’m sorry about all that,” he said, cocky smiling softening to something more gentle. “Are you two alright? No bumps or anything?”

Roman had meant to address both of them, it was the polite thing to do after all, but he found himself meeting the wary eyes of the stranger with the hood. His chest felt light, his smile easy and a little excited, ignoring the way Logan was probably motioning for them to leave as quickly as possible.

“I’m fine,” the stranger said, still visibly nervous. He was much smaller than Roman, and definitely the most cleaned up person in the bar. “We’re… both fine. We’re ok. Uh, thank you for… that. Thank you.”

The Captain pressed his sleeve to his still slowly trickling nose bleed, quickly wiping away what he could. “I loathe to say it, but that sort of thing happens in bars like this all the time. Are you two not from around here? Travelers, maybe?”

“I… uh, yes. I’m- we’re travelers. We’re just passing through. You’re… uh, you’re bleeding. A little bit.”

Roman broke his now probably uncomfortable eye contact to glance down at his sleeve, blood splattered on his wrist and knuckles. “It appears I am. A small price to pay, I suppose.”

Logan was suddenly beside him again, and he beamed when his first mate handed him a neatly folded handkerchief. He always seemed to have something on him to clean up cuts and scrapes since his Captain always seemed to get into fights.

He took the cloth and pressed it to the blood flow, turning back to the table with another sweet smile. He should politely excuse himself instead of making conversation but… well, he wanted to keep talking to the cute stranger he’d saved.

“Where are you two heading, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The stranger blinked, glancing briefly at his friend before answering. “Uh, we’re not… really sure yet. We just wanted to see the city, you know?”

“Sightseeing?” Roman echoed, brightening. “Oh, this city is so beautiful, especially at night! Perhaps Logan and I could accompany you before we set off for Deigh in the morning?”

“That’s… really nice of you to offer,” the stranger said, eyes bright. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, of course! Where are my manners?” Roman smiled warmly, extending a hand to shake. “Roman. It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

The stranger accepted the offered hand, his touch a little cold and timid. “Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Roman repeated, smiling brightening as he took Virgil’s hand and gently raised it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “A beautiful name. How about that trip around the city, Virgil?”

Virgil’s face went red, much to Roman’s delight, and he gave a small nod. “I’d like that, Roman. If you have the time.”

He was sure his own face was flushed similarly, even as he unfortunately had to let go of Virgil’s hand. “For you, darling? I have all the time in the world.”

He led Virgil outside, watching as he sent his friend a reassuring smile before exiting the tavern, Logan following close behind.

“Any requests before we head off?”

“Wherever you want to go,” Virgil said, hesitating outside the tavern doors. “You’re the expert, right?”

Roman offered Virgil his elbow, like a gentleman should, his smile widening and Virgil accepted the gesture. "Well lucky for you two, you're partying with the best."

He’s full of shit. He doesn’t know this city, he’s not from here. He’s only been here a day and a half.

It was fine, he’d figure it out despite having absolutely no idea where he was going. It didn’t matter anyway, because Virgil smiled at him as the Captain led the small group down the street, and Roman’s heart had never felt so full.

“I’m not exactly the best navigator,” Roman admitted. “But I’m sure the city can’t be that difficult to walk around.”

All he could do was hope Logan would know the layout of the city and jump in to help. Roman didn’t know where they were or how to get anywhere.

His first mate never did offer any assistance, and Roman suspected it was some kind of petty revenge for starting a bar fight. Logan and Virgil’s friend (whose name Roman soon learned was Patton) fell a few paces behind to talk, leaving Roman to guide Virgil around the city, improvising a lavish tour.

He was fairly certain Virgil could tell everything Roman was saying about the city was absolute bullshit, and that he had absolutely no idea where they were, but he seemed to enjoy the show the Captain was putting on.

Virgil was laughing and smiling, genuinely lighting up with each joke and story Roman told, eyes widening whenever Roman would mention his adventures out at sea.

By far, this was the best time Roman had had on land in a long while. Virgil was a little jittery, sure, but he was slowly relaxing, his smile never faltering. Roman adored being able to make someone smile like this.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end. Eventually, the moon high in the late night sky, Roman led the group right back to where they’d started, his heart aching as he slowed them to a stop outside the tavern.

“It really was wonderful to meet you, Virgil,” Roman said, his playful smile softening. “Thank you for allowing Logan and I to accompany you around the city.”

Virgil hesitated, fiddling with the cloak around his shoulders. He glanced at Patton- who had been giving Roman a harsh side glare nearly the entire tour- before turning back to the Captain, visibly nervous.

“Where did you say you were heading?”

Roman smiled again, ridiculously relieved Virgil wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to get away from the Captain. Roman knew he was charming, sure, but people often found him a bit...obnoxious. It had been a while since someone besides Logan had really enjoyed his company.

“My crew and I set off for Deigh first thing tomorrow morning,” Roman said. “It’s a ways away, so I thought it was best to give them a day to rest before we head off.” It was starting to feel more like polite small talk now, but he’d take whatever would let him talk to Virgil for just a little longer. “And you? Any idea where you plan to go after this?”

Virgil met his eyes, and Roman left breathless at the beautiful brown and gray. He seemed to steel himself before answering. “I was…actually thinking of visiting Deigh. Is there any way you could give us a ride? I’d pay you, of course. I have the money.”

Roman brightened, his face splitting into a grin, but Patton spoke up before the Captain could answer.

“Well, hold on now kiddo. I thought—”

“It’s a far journey, you know,” Roman interrupted, too excited to let him finish. “And we aren’t exactly a passenger ship. But I’m sure we could work something out for you!”

He glanced over his shoulder at Logan, his first mate staring with a displeased frown. This was a terrible idea, of course. Pirates don’t take passengers. They’re pirates!

But not only was he offering to pay, he was also incredibly cute and sweet and funny and he made Roman’s heart do somersaults. And he made that quiet, sick sort of feeling of missing something go away. So really, it was an all-around win.

“That's really kind of you,” Virgil said, soft and just as excited as Roman. “Are you sure it’s okay? I know it’s last second and everything.”

“It’ll be fine,” Roman assured. Oh, Logan was going to murder him. Logan was going to smother him in his sleep tonight. Which would be easy, considering they’d be rooming together. Not that Logan knew that yet. “I assume you’ve been on a ship before. You’re not going to freak out two days in because you can’t see land, are you?”

“Of course I have!” Virgil matched Roman’s excited grin as he rushed to his own defense. “I’ll be fine.”

“Perfect!” Roman stepped back, sending the small group a dazzling smile. “We’ll get you to Deigh, traveler. I’m sure the crew will love you.” He turned towards the direction he and Logan had come from, the docks just a short walk from the tavern. “Shall we be off, then?”

He glanced between the two travelers, determined to avoid Logan’s stare. Virgil glanced at Patton, his friend shifting on his feet a bit, fiddling with the sleeves of the sweater he wore under his cloak, just barely visible through the dark cloth.

“Patton?” Virgil asked, turning away from Roman for a moment. “You’re… good with this?”

Patton startled, quickly plastering on a bright smile. “I’m good to go kiddo, don’t look at me. Where you go, I go. I’m just… a little worried, is all. I know how you get… seasick.”

They seemed to be having a silent conversation in their stares, entirely separate from what Roman and Logan were hearing, and the Captain quickly averted his gaze, watching his boots as he waited.

“Right,” Virgil said, quiet and hesitant. “I’ll be fine, but I- I know you don’t love… boats. And you really like this city.”

Patton laughed, the sound weak and full of deflated cheer. “I like you more than I like the city, Virgil. And it’s another adventure! Where you go, I’m going too. Always.”

Roman remembered having a similar conversation with Logan more than once, and his smile had turned soft and almost wistful by the time Virgil turned back to him, his own excitement rapidly returning.

“Okay,” he said. “I think we’re ready, if you’re sure there’s room for us.”

“There’s plenty of room! Come on, I’ll lead the way.”

Roman started down the street, fairly certain he knew where he was going, forcing himself to slow his excited pace when he realized no one else was able to keep up with it.

Apparently, he did not know the way as well as he thought he did. It became clear he’d gotten them lost when they passed the same building twice, and Logan took the lead with a quiet sigh, bringing the group to the docks.

Roman’s excitement only grew the closer they got, practically jogging by the time the water came into view, the temptation to bound up the gangplank and reunite with his beloved ship nearly overtaking him.

Flooded with adoration as they approached, Roman turned to face the group with his arms swept out, motioning towards his ship.

“There she is!” he announced. “The Calypso, in all of her splendor! Isn’t she gorgeous?”

She was, of course, but he felt a swell of pride in his chest when he took in Virgil’s wide eyed, almost starstruck stare.

“She is,” Virgil said, sounding a bit breathless. “Wow.”

The Calypso had been his home for many years, sanctuary from the wind and rain, from the waves and the land, every moment on her deck an adventure waiting to happen. Roman occasionally felt the pang of homesickness in his gut, but he’d been content for a long time.

He beamed at Virgil and Patton, still carefully avoiding looking at Logan, who was being oddly quiet. “I’ll show you two to your room and let you get settled.”

He offered Virgil a hand, and the other young man didn’t hesitate this time before taking it. Roman felt like Virgil’s hand belonged here, entangled in his own.

He led the four of them onto the ship, careful to make sure Virgil kept his balance when he first stepped on board, easily falling into stories of his adventures, eagerly telling his guests about the exciting life of a pirate- and probably overselling it. Just a bit.

Roman brought them below deck, stopping in front of the door to the Captain’s quarters, realizing he really should have at least mentioned this part of his last minute plan to his first mate.

“And, uh… this is your room,” Roman told their guests, motioning at his own door. “Logan and I will be right across the hall.”

He could practically feel Logan staring at him, just inches away where he stood quietly. His first mate was going to flay him alive for this.

Well, they’d talk about it later. In detail, seeing as how they’d be sharing a room for the foreseeable future.

Virgil reluctantly let go of Roman’s hand, seeming to pick up on the unspoken tension. “Thank you, but Patton and I can really stay anywhere if this is inconvenient. I know this is all spur of the moment.”

“Not at all,” Logan spoke up, to Roman’s surprise. “It makes more sense for you to be comfortable than staying with the rest of the crew.”

“A room change won’t kill us,” Roman added, grateful Logan was at least pretending not to be furious in front of Virgil. “And spur of the moment is my specialty, I can assure you.”

Virgil still hesitated, clearly worried and a little overwhelmed, but he relaxed just a bit when Patton reached over to squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” Virgil said again, and Roman knew even Logan couldn’t resist someone so genuinely grateful. “I… I really, really appreciate this.”

“It’s no problem,” Roman said, placing a reassuring hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “But it’s getting late, we should all turn in.”

Virgil relaxed under his touch, tension seeping out of his shoulders as he nodded. “Goodnight, then. And… thank you again. I mean it.”

“Goodnight, you two,” Roman said, lifting his hand from Virgil’s shoulder. “Sleep well.”

He turned, swiftly making his way across the hall and letting himself into Logan’s room without another word, leaving the door open for his first mate to follow.

Roman heard Virgil and Patton step inside their room and close the door behind them, followed by Logan moving to stand in the open doorway, hesitating a moment before stepping inside.

His friend sighed, and he sounded exhausted. “What the hell are you doing, Roman?”

“I’m just helping!” Roman turned around to face him, hands wrung in front of him. “He said he wanted to get to Deigh! It’s not like it’s even out of our way, I’m not changing course. We'll still be on schedule and on par for where we should be."

Logan sighed again, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, and Roman started to pace the length of the cabin. “Roman, we do not take passengers. You just met this man in a bar.”

"And he needed to get to Deigh! He's paying us to take him, Lo!” As he walked, he fidgeted with the (still unloaded) gun on his hip, starting the process of taking it apart. “This isn't the end of the world."

He watched as Logan closed the door behind him, moving to sit on the edge of his bed and watch Roman move. “I don’t understand. We never take passengers, and you insisted on giving these two your room.”

After years of practice, Roman could dismantle his gun with ease by now. His hands were constantly moving, taking things apart and putting them back together, especially when he was nervous. As he walked, he disassembled it, turning every few paces to walk in the other direction, his eyes downcast towards the weapon.

“I just… they needed a ride, Logan. I wanted to help them.” Roman started, his voice making a valiant attempt to catch in his throat. “I know I… should have talked to you first. I can sleep on the deck, it’s not an issue.”

“You’re not sleeping on the deck,” Logan said. “You're sleeping in here. I'm not angry with you about the rooms, I just want to know why you were so willing to change your plans for a stranger.”

Roman didn’t respond for a moment, steadily reassembling his gun and tucking it back into his waistband. “I didn’t change my plans, the plan is exactly the same as it was. The passengers were simply an added surprise.”

“An added surprise you usually would never allow,” Logan pointed out, and Roman resorted to fidgeting with his collar as he paced. “And giving up your room? Logically, you would put them with the rest of the crew. Why do Virgil and Patton get special treatment?”

Roman paused for a moment, his back to Logan, but he was back to moving almost instantly. “They… seemed like they wouldn’t do well with the crew. And I’d rather not cause a disrupt right before we leave. Too much trouble.”

Roman was quickly running out of excuses, but Logan didn’t seem inclined to drop it. “They seem polite enough. I’m sure the crew wouldn’t have had any issues.”

The Captain just shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Roman,” Logan said. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m pacing, Logan,” Roman retorted, quickly buttoning and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. “Come on, four-eyes, you aren’t that blind.”

He heard Logan sigh, his first mate clearly biting back his own rising frustration. “The Captain of my ship just gave two complete strangers his room, and I cannot understand why.”

Roman finally stopped pacing and turned to face Logan, eyes on the floor as his hands dropped to his sides, shoulders falling. “I just… I want to take care of him. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable, Logan. I don’t want him to have to stay with the crew, he should have a space.”

A beat of silence, and he glanced up as Logan blinked at him. “Why?”

“We do this every time I have a crush,” Roman said, going right back to pacing, his hands running through his hair. “You’re so smart and you really can’t see that I… he… you saw him! Did you see him, Logan? Christ!”

“I… saw him,” Logan said slowly. “And he is here, in your room, because you… have romantic feelings for someone you just met in a bar tonight?”

“Yes!” Roman stopped again, face buried in his hands. “Thank you, Captain Obvious! I'll pass you the reins- you're the captain now! You got it! It only took you forever—”

“Roman you know nothing about Virgil. His name might not even be Virgil. Besides, you’ve just given up your room. If you decide to pursue him—”

“Pursue him?” Roman whirled around, eyes wide and face burning. “Logan I’m- that’s not… I’m not pursuing him! I just think he’s cute!” He glanced towards the door, lowering his voice to a whisper. “And keep your voice down, I don’t want them hearing us.”

Logan tilted his head, studying his Captain’s face. “Why? If you have romantic feelings for someone, isn't the best case scenario for them to be made aware?”

Roman groaned and lowered himself to the floor, covering his reddened face in his hands once again. “No, it’s not.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan said again. “He’ll be staying on your ship for an extended period of time and you… don't even plan on mentioning your feelings? That doesn’t seem logical.”

Feelings were never logical, especially love. Roman just didn’t know how to explain that out loud. “I don’t know, Lo. We aren’t even one night in, just… give it time, ok? I just let him on my ship and I don’t… I don’t want him to feel like he owes me something for it.”

The room was plunged into heavy silence, everything achingly quiet, but at least Roman knew Logan understood now.

“Ah.” he said after a moment, clearing his throat. “Apologies, I’m not… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Take your time, Roman.”

“I know, it’s ok.” The room was silent for another moment before Roman pushed himself to his feet, brushing himself off. “It’s late, you should get to sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

“You’re the one always talking about your beauty sleep,” Logan said, watching as Roman made his way to the door. “Where are you going?”

“I just need some air, that’s all. I’m always beautiful, a little lost sleep won't change that, I promise.”

“Roman—”

“Get some sleep,” Roman said, aware he was being uncharacteristically closed off. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

He turned the handle and slipped outside, quietly closing the door behind him, the quiet deck and crisp night air waiting with open arms as he left the rooms behind.

Taglist: @i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers

Masterpost

[pintsizeddeepthoughts]

From Start to Finish: Television Reviews – Battlestar Galactica

Executive Producer: Ronald D. Moore and David Eick

Starring: Edward James Olmos, Mary McDonnell, Katee Sackoff, Jamie Bamber, Tricia Helfer, Michael Hogan, Aaron Douglas

Number of Episodes: 76

Years: 2003-2009

Country: United States

“It’s not enough to survive, one has to be worthy of survival.” – Commander William Adama

Where does one start a review of a show as messy and sprawling as this one? The original Battlestar Galactica was a cash grab meant to ride the wave of sci-fi mania after the success of Star Wars in the late 1970s. Lasting only a season, the cheesiness of that show hid a very dark idea – after a nuclear holocaust, there are only 50,000 humans left and they are being pursued by a race a killer robots (called Cylons) bent on their extinction. Fast forward twenty-five years, veteran sci-fi show runner Ronald D. Moore was intrigued by similar ideas: what if, instead of weekly episodes not linked to each other so they could be run in syndication, there was a show where things that broke or were depleted in the previous episode didn’t get fixed?

Starting out as a miniseries that became a backdoor pilot, the reimagined Battlestar Galactica released in 2003 was dark and gritty, filmed in a mockumentary style aboard a ship one could confuse with a submarine or aircraft carrier. The ship had obvious limitations and people who took those limitations seriously. It understood that few of the people, outside of the commander and his second command, had ever been in actual combat before. The characters were fully realized and fully human, prone both resiliency and rash emotion. It understood people told lies to protect themselves from internal and external forces. It knew that mistakes would be made and did not shy from showing us the consequences of the characters’ actions.

And what characters. Although the cast would expand and change over the course of the show’s four official seasons, the core would remain. At the center of the show is Commander William Adama and President of the Colonies, Laura Roslin. Adama (via a towering performance by Edward James Olmos) is flexible, a bluffer, practical, sentimental, and unusually humanitarian for a career military man. His calm demeanor hides explosive rage and as more is asked of him he has to dig deeper to find the will and cleverness to survive. By the end of the series, these asks break him and he begins to come apart. The same goes for Roslin, portrayed with commanding warmth and steeliness by Mary McDonnell. The secretary of education before the holocaust, she grows into her role as president. By the second and third seasons, she’s been tempered by the fires she’s had to put out and the decisions she’s been forced to make. But, like Adama, it comes at a cost that begins to accumulate beyond what she can tolerate.

The show was at its best when it focused on the basics of what it would take to make the fleet survive. The first season featured episodes focused on finding water, finding fuel, and trying to figure out where to go (they settle on a mythical plant, Earth). The second season featured the discovery of another battlestar and how things could’ve gone differently – and very wrong. The third season began with the occupation of their new home by those same Cylons and featured humans using suicide bombers against their occupiers. The fourth season showed all the accumulated battle damage finally taking its toll on the ship to the point of no return. These were real problems that forced characters to react and stretch beyond their comfort zones. For some characters, these storylines cost them everything (I am forever haunted by Michael Hogan’s performance as Saul Tigh in season three). For others, it stripped them of the lies they’d lived by for years. It left them bare, raw, exposed to grief that grips the soul.

This brings us to the controversial series finale, which is tellingly titled “Daybreak”. The series could’ve ended at the fourth season midway point (titled “Revelations”), a brutal, cold, and cruel episode that would’ve cemented the series theme of grim grief. But that’s not how grief works. Eventually it recedes and, one day at a time, day does eventually break the horizon. A lot of what happens in the series finale ties to the sloppy mythology that Moore and his team of writers made up as they went along. While this mythology did provide the show with some of its greatest emotional highs and its best mysteries, it’s not the show’s center. To the end, the show focused on the characters and the series finale nails the correct tone. Grief ends. Dawn does return.

Along with Lost, Battlestar Galactica was a pioneer in showing that serialized storytelling could work on television. As such, the show runners made pioneer’s mistakes. Moore famously admitted they made up the story as they went along, which left them scrambling to wrap up loose ends in the second half the final season (not always successfully). Still, the show is important because it did not flinch from the reality of a such a bleak story. It did not flinch from being cruel to its characters at times or from giving them moments of heartbreaking grace. Edward James Olmos, from the very start of the series, recognized the show’s strength and power and frequently told his fellow castmates that this would be the best job they would ever have. It’s hard to disagree.

[tedturneriscrazy]

🎶Knock, Knock, Knockin' On Hooty's Door🎵

I wonder if anything will happen in this episode.🙂

(I say as if I didn't watch the episode twice before going to bed and writing this post)

I don't think I'll ever not be amused by the way Hooty just...does things with his face

Seems like he found a thesaurus at some point

Okay so it's canonically spelled "Hootsifer," good to know

Also, this is really all we get of Lilith, huh?

His little hoot/coo at Lilith's letter❤❤❤

To borrow a meme format: If I had a nickel for every time Alex Hirsch was involved in a show where one of the characters was experiencing pubescent voice cracks, I'd have two nickels, which isn't very much but it's weird that it happened twice

Eda's face🤣

As much as this bit is played for laughs, Eda's clearly still shaken by what happened last episode

Jeez, Luz, priorities /j

Pictured: Hooty

The way King talks about being pelleted implies this is something Hooty does on the regular

Hooty's plan to help King is literally a Buzzfeed quiz? Okay then

Betcha never expected lore from Hooty, eh?

"DO NOT INTERRUPT"

Officially a "type of worm"

The dance being a grievous insult wasn't exactly from nowhere, but still funny nonetheless

WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING COCCOON

Tiny Nose playing Switch definitely seems to be drawing from Dana's real life experiences

Wait, Hooty and Tiny Nose are friends?

Well shit, turns out she could use magic this whole time. Guess her going Super Saiyan wasn't just the power glyph.

I am extremely skeptical of your medical credentials, TN

I have so many questions about the methodology they used for the blood test(s)

I think Hooty may have misinterpreted what King was looking for

I'm still amazed at how King has had, and continues to have, moments in the show with some of the greatest emotional weight

Ooh, sound powers!

"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CRUMBLE!!!"

It just occurred to me that that segment consisted mostly of Alex Hirsch talking to himself

Hello not-at-all obvious setup

Today I learned that Hooty is the baker of the house. Maybe he'd critique Amity's fairy pie.

Aaaaand there's the sleep inducing

Oh shit

In hindsight the Owl Beast being part of a dream sequence is rather obvious

Wow, Eda, tell us how you really feel about the Owl Beast

Oh we're just gonna ride aboard the Trauma Express today, huh?

Oh, I guess Lilith did make an appearance, after all

Damn, Gwen, not even looking

Oh shit dad issues

Sandy Cohen?! (To anyone who gets that reference, hi. How are your 30s treating you?)

Well, I know who Peter Gallagher voices now, anyway

Oh dear...

(Also, bright flashing lights triggering the curse? There's an epilepsy allegory in here somwhere)

Blood and eye injury? Gotta stretch that Y7 rating

Now we have some context for that look on Eda's face when Lilith mentioned their dad: good old fashioned guilt!

I desparately want to make a "Dude, you're getting a Dell!" joke, but I'm better than that

New memory! Raine!

Oh no...

I get the feeling I'll hate this part, too

They were exes!😢 Guess the fandom called that one

The reasoning for them being exes is understandable, all too real, and goddamn heartbreaking

That said, the fact they never stopped loving each other🥺😢😭

I do hope we can see Raine again under less...traumatic circumstances. Maybe that wedding that was mentioned?

Oh shit, are we getting into the Owl Beast's memories?!?! What a tweest!

Bet nobody expected Cloaked Moonface to show up in the frickin Hooty episode

(Also, holy shit I briefly forgot this was the Hooty episode)

Who is this mysterious cloaked figure? And why are they so tall and long?

So the curse was a sealed beast this whole time. Damn.

And it was just picked up as beach junk to sell as a trinket. So much for it being connected to Belos. (Not that people will stop trying to do so)

Who had "experiencing sympathy for the Owl Beast" on their Bingo cards for this episode? Yeah, me neither.

And here we have the necessary Eda coming to terms with her curse segment. More accurately, Eda and the curse coming to terms with each other.

Goddamnit why does it have to be cute

"It's like sandpaper" IT'S LIKE A CAT I FUCKING CAN'T

Insert Steamed Hams reference here to kill the mood

New transformation!

Oh no she's hot!

No, Hooty, you made it surprisingly much, much better!

She might have a problem pushing people away and holding onto guilt, but Eda always knows that she looks damn good

Oh right, Luz having girl problems. Fuck, so much is happening in this episode!

"Cotton-candy-haired Goddess" LUZ! 🤣

Attuned to other people's emotions = being a fucking creeper

Oh Luz, what happened to you back home?

Also, 99.999% certain Amity would love your cheesiness

That's...rather morbid, Hooty

So much lore development, including the fact the Owl House has a basement

Classic inanimate object silhouette fakeout gag. Subversion in 3...2...1...

There it is!

I can't imagine being pelleted is a fun experience.

Honestly I have so many questions about how Hooty got Amity there in the first place, but I'm not so sure I actually want to know the answers to any of them...

Cue much panicking

Wow, I'm really getting some Into the Bunker flashbacks

Oh this is gonna be amazing isn't it

I commend Luz for not actually dropping dead of embarrassment

Seriously, how can Hooty set all this up so fast yet not hold a pen?!?!?!

Poor Luz, she thinks this is destroying her chances

Meanwhile Amity is just "Oh, Titan, is this actually happening?!"

The way she's fixing her hair!❤

Goddamnit Luz let this play out, she's so clearly into this!

"Again?!" Okay who do I have to kill?

Luz is luzing it

Nooooooo....

JUST TALK FOR FUCK'S SAKE (aka how like 95% of issues in literally any plot could be solved)

Noooo Amity's so heartbroken right now💔

This isn't what either of them wanted!

To be fair, Hooty, Luz had a part in this too. Not that she can be blamed entirely. Poor thing clearly had some awful experiences back home...

Now Hooty is McFucking losing it

Why did I think he was gonna say "Looks like I'm gonna have to JUMP!" I think I've watched too much Homestar Runner (jk there's no such thing)

Those pulsating organs are still gross

Eda swooping in to save her son (No, really, he actually is now)

I'll say things get weird when Hooty gets upset!

Yes, King! Save them with your voice powers!

Damn that is some romantic lighting, and Luz is enjoying the eye candy (cotton candy, if you will)

Luz's reaction to Harpy!Eda is the family-friendly summation of how the fandom has reacted.

Hooty really just tearing up the landscape in remorse

Mother-daughter moment about love life!

I appreciate not just Eda's encouragement but her actually asking Luz what she wanted

God, Eda is best mom

Also, OH FUCK IS THIS HAPPENING?!

OH SHIT

THESE ADORABLY AWKWARD NERDS❤💜💙

"I'm not as cool as you think" could be interpreted as self-deprecating, but here it seems...oddly reassuring?

The way Luz eloquently says how she wants Amity in her future...beautiful❤

Luz making some good faces

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

YOU CUTE DORKS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

THERE IT IS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

LOOK HOW HAPPY SHE IS

WE WERE LOSING OUR SHIT OVER A PECK ON THE CHEEK THREE WEEKS AGO AND NOW LOOK WHERE WE ARE HOLY FUCK

Awkwardness is still there, but that's to be expected

BET Y'ALL DIDN'T EXPECT THAT TRAILER SHOT TO BE IN THE HOOTY EPISODE HUH

THE WAY LUZ RUBS AMITY'S HAND😭😭😭😭😭

(And yeah, it's gonna still be scary, but only because it promises to be so wonderful)

Let's give it up for Hootsifer, goddamn!

Let'a also appreciate just how fucking funny it is that Lumity becomes official in the Hooty episode

Fus ro WEH!

Hooty actually saying "Luz's new GF" out loud...

In just about any other show the love interests getting together would be a climax/culmination of the entire plot. Here? It's actually used to advance the plot, and that is brilliant!

Dana Terrace and the crew really just knocking it out of the park again and again, huh

"They're adorable, and deserve all the happiness!" Well said, Hootsifer. Well said.

Probably for the best they had Hooty promise that. As much as what happened/progressed, there was a lot of property damage.

OH SHIT ONCE AGAIN

King's dad/relative! And he's voiced by Kevin Michael Richardson!

GODDAMNIT HOOTY

Wow. Just...wow. This episode.

King has voice powers! Harpy!Eda! Lumity are girlfriends for real!!!!

How do you pack so much into a single episode?! And so expertly?!

I had my suspicions before, but this confirms it: The Owl House is the greatest show of all time.

And we have two episodes left until the hiatus! And 11 episodes in the season after that! What are we in for?!?!?!

I, for one, can't wait to find out!

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Rayla’s catalyst

Ethari is Rayla’s emotional catalyst. Once she visits him in the Silvergrove, she begins to suffer a lot of grief and guilt over Runaan, her failure on his mission, and getting ghosted like her parents were. And she also begins to admit her feelings for Callum. All because her soft dad is soft with her, and she hasn’t had anyone be truly soft with her since before she left home. The home where she lived happily with her two dads who loved each other very much and supported her in every way they knew how. The home where she may have felt like she lived on the fringe, but she definitely belonged in the Silvergrove.

Rayla never speaks to Callum of her guilt and grief over getting Runaan and the other assassins killed. But coming face to face with Ethari and realizing that it’s her fault that his husband perished shakes her up hard. Still, Ethari forgave her once he understood, because he loves her very much. Giving her his pendant to keep her safe was a sign of his love and understanding for her. And she knows what that pendant means to her dads. Which is why it also prompted her to consider her emotions for Callum. 

She’s seen how her dads are together--loyal, affectionate, soft, supportive, and balanced. Her parents are the same way, so Rayla understands what a healthy relationship looks like. Unfortunately for her, the object that reminds her of that powerful romantic bond also reminds her of her own failure, and she can’t separate the two.

this post is ridiculously long

There’s a lot of staring at this pendant, and it starts with Ethari. He’s been wearing it all this time, but he takes a moment to study it, to feel what it means to him--what it used to mean to him--and what he wants it to mean to Rayla.

It’s a symbol of his love and protection. And he offers it to her.

She bends down to accept it, but she already can’t look away. She was right there when Runaan had to crush his own pendant. That’s where her mind has gone. She sees her own failure in the middle of Ethari’s gift to her.

She studies the pendant, too. Feels its weight. Remembers all the times she saw Runaan and Ethari wearing these. She’s wearing the symbol of a love that’s lasted longer than the life it was tied to, a life she feels responsible for ending. This pendant is a tangle of emotions for her. But mostly love and guilt. She’s not really able to process that it’s meant to protect her yet.

Maybe Ethari picks up on that. He wants her to know what it means, in case she wasn’t aware. It seems they wore these pendants all the time, but Rayla may never have understood exactly what it meant to Ethari to give one of them to Runaan.

And he wants her to know what it means for him to give it to her, too. He just wants her to be safe. She’s come back to him, against all odds. And he doesn’t want her to be lost or hurt again, not if he can protect her.

This look kills me, though. She’s shook. She just got another layer of understanding on the pendant that Runaan had to destroy to keep her alive, even after she’d lied to him and endangered the whole team. Runaan knew what the cost of Rayla’s actions would be. It cost his pendant, and his life, and his team’s lives. And he paid it all, for her. Despite what she’d done. 

Ethari loved an elf who sacrificed everything for Rayla. And now she’s taking Ethari’s own pendant for her own mission. Will she sacrifice everything, too?

GODS, all the BIG FEELS

Rayla literally can’t handle it. Between all those feels and the ghost spell reasserting itself, she can’t look at Ethari. He’s not really Ethari without his big brown eyes, anyway. It’s a face of anonymity, of rejection. Of distance. And she doesn’t want to acknowledge that he ghosted her. Not after he just gave her such a precious gift, and mounts to speed her on her way.

Runaan was always focused on his mission no matter what, and Rayla retreats from her feels to try the same here. She can’t handle her feels, so she holds onto the one thing she can handle: getting Zym home. And that means looking ahead toward her journey, not behind at what she may never get to experience again.

But she carries her big messy feelings with her anyway, and she’s not dealing with them. The next day, she wears a distant, thoughtful, sad expression. She’s distracted, worried, introspective. Callum notices. He’s felt that way before.

Callum was raised to be more in touch with his feelings than Rayla seems to have been. Or at least, he’s far more willing to admit to them when he and Rayla have only known each other a short time. He trusts Rayla with his feels, but she clearly doesn’t trust him with hers, judging by her expression.

She snaps at him and rides ahead when he tries to prompt her to talk about how she feels. When he tries to tell her that he’ll accept however she’s feeling, because those feels are a part of who she is. She’s still processing, vulnerable, and struggling. She’s not ready yet.

They get through meeting Nyx, and that gives Rayla something to focus on for a while. But once she has some free time aboard the ambler, she finds herself staring sadly again at Ethari’s pendant. Her ears are droopy, too. She’s feeling vulnerable, but not in a good way.

I like this shot of the pendant in her hand. It mirrors Runaan’s grip on his own pendant right before he crushed it, but here Rayla is holding this one protectively, as if she’s afraid it’ll get damaged out in the world. It also foreshadows Callum holding it later and cracking it open before he casts Historia Viventem. Rayla’s the only person who clutches either of the pendants protectively. Ethari’s let go of it, but it’s meant to be used, and Runaan and Callum both broke theirs--to help others instead of themselves, which is how Rayla operates, too. Man, I love these pendants.

Callum comes over to see her. He can see she’s broody again. But she looks away. She doesn’t want to admit she’s a mess.

And she lies about her feelings. I had an ask about Rayla and lying recently. At this point, she’s still trying to cover for her “flaws,” but she still doesn’t have a good enough distraction to fool Callum. And that’s a good thing.

Rayla gazes sadly at her new pendant again at the oasis. Of course their mounts are paying attention to her--they know her--but the way Ethari’s Shadowpaw is studying Rayla here, it’s like it can sense her distress and it’s watching out for her. It gives me a weird vibe like Ethari can sense Rayla’s emotional struggle from afar, and maybe he knew she’d have to go through this, but he hopes she’ll get to a good place in the end.

These three faces Rayla makes as she processes Nyx’s “two blankets or just one” comment are a delight, especially because she’s hiding them from Callum. First she’s shocked at suddenly having to think about snuggling with Callum. Then she catches herself playing with her hair. And the third pic--the way she gets habsolutely hurious at herself--tells me that Rayla playing with her hair like that is a sign of emotional interest. She’s got eight tons of emotional baggage rn, but her heart’s still gonna daydream, and she hates how messy she feels.

Rayla can keep her feelings bottled up while she’s awake, but it overwhelms her at night. She’s crying, and she can’t stop.

Callum, soft-hearted boy that he is, reaches out again, concerned. Maybe he wakes Rayla from a crying sleep, or maybe she was already awake.

Rayla’s really broken up, though. She’s devastated after her visit to the Silvergrove, and all her feels are pouring out.

She tells Callum to get away from her because she’s desperate for distance. She can’t keep her feels inside anymore. She’s had a day and a half to process, and the things she’s realizing are breaking her. And the only way to preserve the illusion of her remaining in control is to go where Callum can’t see her tears.

The hood comes up again. She’s hiding her emotions, trying to stuff them down deep like Runaan trained her to. But they won’t go away. Runaan is part of why she has such wrenching feels now. Rayla’s reaching a breakdown point, and that’s not something Moonshadows show to someone they haven’t trusted with their true feelings. So she’s trying to hide everything at once.

And she knows it isn’t working. So her self-doubt comes out, as well. That overdeveloped sense of failure.

Callum focuses on reassuring her, because that’s how he was raised: to reach out to those who are hurting. But all Rayla hears is an illusion she knows she can’t maintain. She’s not okay. And finally, she blurts out everything that’s weighing on her heart.

Rayla’s acknowledgment of her loss of stability--her social support system, critical to community-minded Moonshadows--is followed by a list of every single negative core belief she has. They just tumble out of her one after another. Everything she fears is true, all the ways she’s not good enough. And on some level, Callum instinctively senses that Rayla’s spiraling because she feels alone. She’ll keep falling if no one catches her. 

So Callum catches her. He stops her spiral. He just wedges himself into her rant and takes it over, because he’s having none of that terrible negativity from her. He knows none of that is true. Negative core beliefs are never true.

you heard me, Rayla

Callum replaces Rayla’s negative rant with a positive one. He matches her in emotional intensity, and she’s completely caught off guard by it.

She’s really not buying into this “you’re really good” bit, though. She’s struggled with that for a while--she didn’t believe Runaan either, when he said she was the fastest and the strongest of his assassins.

But Callum, unlike Runaan, is looking at Rayla when he’s talking to her, so he sees her reaction and acts to reinforce it with supportive touch. Touch is a big Moonshadow language, and one Rayla’s got to be familiar with after living in Runaan’s house for so many years. Callum’s touch says even more than is words do, and it’s really gotten Rayla’s attention.

Their body language here is key. Facing directly, close, he’s still holding her hand, full eye contact, soft expression. This is how you talk to someone when you’re emotionally open. Everything about Callum is saying “Listen, this topic is important to me.” And his topic is Rayla.

He talks her up, gets her to laugh. He’s intent on keeping her downward emotional spiral interrupted, and it’s working. So he sums up by telling Rayla that she knows he’s right. She’s not all the things she said. She’s the things he’s saying about her.

And then he takes her hood down. That’s assassin for “let me see your feelings.” Rayla thinks she knows exactly what he’s saying, but Callum doesn’t speak assassin. He doesn’t know what her hood’s actual purpose is.

No wonder she’s not quite prepared. Lookit those cute high eyebrows of shock. She thinks Callum’s inviting her to be fully emotionally open with him, as he’s just been with her. De-hooding an assassin is an invitation to be soft. It’s probably a very romantic thing under certain circumstances.  She may have seen Ethari take down Runaan’s hood a time or two as a way to encourage him to embrace softer feels and open up. So Rayla feels she’s being invited to do the same. 

And she wants to. Look at this face!

Rayla’s feeling supported, understood, encouraged, and emotionally safe. She thinks she’s just been invited to share her true feelings, since Callum was just so open and complimentary, and since he pulled down her hood. So she does. And in true Moonshadow fashion, she chooses to express herself through touch instead of words. She kisses him!

And in the moment before she realizes that wasn’t exactly what he was inviting her to do, this is her expression. She’s utterly content. Not mushy, not weepy, but balanced again. She had all these big feels revolving around guilt and abandonment. She felt alone. Moonshadows should never be alone. But now... Now she has Callum. Rayla’s not alone anymore. She found her balance, by holding onto him.

Eventually, they get around to confessing their feelings at the same time, and this is the first thing they do after those first happy smooches. They fall asleep together, touching, relaxed, and vulnerable. It’s so very soft and sweet that they touch even in their sleep. Rayla’s probably the one who kept holding onto Callum, and he was absolutely willing to stay right by her side and fall asleep on her shoulder. Rayla’s absorbing all the Not Alone Anymore vibes she can--she needs the emotional support, and Callum’s heart is deep enough to give her everything she needs.

And then, once Rayla’s feeling more balanced, she starts initiating contact. Sometimes it’s serious handholding, like in front of Avizandum’s statue. But they also get adorably silly, and we get to see Rayla’s playful, romantic side. She finally feels comfortable touching Callum with casual intimacy

Ever since Rayla admitted her feelings for Callum and realized she wasn’t alone and abandoned, she’s stopped staring at the pendant. She accepts it as a part of her, like Runaan and Ethari did. She can finally come to terms with Ethari being able to love her despite what she did, because Callum loves her despite what she did. 

The only other time Rayla looks at the pendant is right before she gives it away. She wants to protect Callum, to let him run with Zym to safety. She’s gonna give him the pendant, but as she reaches for it, she’s choosing to protect someone else instead of herself. She finally understands what it means to love someone more than life. 

Just like Ethari loves her and Runaan.

That’s why her goodbye kiss to Callum mirrors Runaan’s goodbye kiss to Ethari. She comes full circle, from the Silvergrove and back to it, from one family to another family, from being loved unconditionally to loving someone else unconditionally. Rayla’s passed through all the phases of her moon, and she finally understands what Ethari knew about love.

Because Callum has become her heart. And Ethari--his love, his gift--helped her understand that.

[atiny-piratequeen]

Character Analysis: Song Mingi, the ‘Wind Whisperer’

Languages: English, Japanese (Post Transformation), Korean (Modern Day), French (Modern Day), Spanish, Sign Language (ESL, JSL, KSL, LSL, LSE-Modern Day)

Crew Position: Boatswain

Powers: Aerokinesis/Air (Inherited from Japanese God, Fujin)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: South Eastern, located under his collarbone, Crystal Opal

Eye Color: Brown (Natural)/ Violet (Demonic Form)

Hair Color:  Brunette (Natural)/ Crimson (Demonic Form)

Piercings: Prince Albert (Modern Day)

Likes: Praise, Successful Snatches, Orange Juice, Crafting Presents for Friends and Family, Reading Stories With the Crew

Dislikes: Bella Rose, Manipulative People, Mean-Spirited People, Being Left Alone

*The above image of Demonic Mingi is a commissioned piece from @seonghwea and is not to be taken out of this moodboard. Reposting isn’t cute, if I find this piece anywhere besides on Atlas’ blog and here in this moodboard, we WILL file a dmca. Don’t be an asshole :)

Mingi. 

An unfortunate child, with a heart of gold. Raised amongst a poor band of thieves, but still finding a family worth more than even the finest diamonds. A child raised around the honey and warmth of a found family. 

Until the day poison began to seep into his life in the form of a little girl with a wicked smile. 

Not even the smiles of his precious baby sister can stave off the looming force of negativity known as Bella Rose.

Boatswain Song Mingi.

The sails fly high above the heads of the members of the formidable Utopia. Reliable, sturdy, innocent, and strong. Despite his inexperience, the crew looks towards him for guidance on affairs regarding cargo and other crew members. 

A loyal and hard worker, none of the crew members are opposed to following behind their boatswain. They sing a hearty shanty together, passing barrels to and fro under his leadership. 

Something about orange juice, but no one seems to mind too much, as long as their boatswain keeps that smile on his face. 

-Mythology-

Feared and respected are the brothers of the storm. The lightning, Raijin, and the wind, Fujin. 

Fujin, an unruly force of nature, is often depicted with messy, wind swept curls and an intimidating snarl. Upon his back is a bag of winds, which is the source of his power. He rides upon a nimbus cloud and can devastate the lands below just as easily as he can aid humanity. 

For all of the lost life that comes from typhoons, at times, the wind is on the side of Fujin’s people. Such a case would be an instance in the 1200s, when the invading Mongol fleet was devastated by a horrible wind storm. Sometimes, the helpful storm is attributed to Fujin’s divine intervention. 

From a gentle summer breeze to a volatile tornado, Fujin is the god behind it all. 

-Power Applications/Demon Transformation-

Upon fully using his powers, Mingi’s hair bleeds into a deep crimson color. His eyes shift into a dark violet tone and a shining, glittering cloud-like mark appears on his cheek. The mark glitters in the light, and the more Mingi uses his powers, the more you can see the hues of color within the gem swirl around within the mark. 

Despite being a Boatswain, not a Navigator or Sailing Master, Mingi still uses his powers for the crew’s ocean exploration. Alongside Hongjoong pushing Utopia with strong waves, Mingi puts the wind in her sails, speeding up their journey and cutting their trips down to over half the time it would take for them to sail places. 

The force of Mingi’s wind can change, from a light breeze to vicious typhoon or tornado force winds. Though he is one of the more combative of the men when it comes to using his powers, Mingi doesn’t have a particularly organized style of fighting. 

What he lacks combative style, he makes up for it in sheer force and power. Mingi plays strong offensive support in group fights and will use his winds to either push or pull enemies closer to the others. Out of the eight of them, sans Hongjoong, Mingi has the farthest reach with his powers. 

He is also one of the mobile members, using the force of his winds to fly through the air and close the distance on long-range enemies. His powers work better when there is some space between them, as it does take a bit for him to muster up the winds for them to be useful in attacks. If he’s interrupted when gathering the winds-specifically before a wind storm-he’ll have to start all over again, but if he manages to stop one, him summoning more or being attacked won’t detract away from the first initial storm. 

Ideally, Mingi fights better with an even, level field to fight on, as too many obstacles on a battlefield will break some of the force of the winds and lessen the damage he can cause. Mingi may not be a trained fighter like Seonghwa, Jongho, or Yunho, but he knows how to use his size to his advantage, and can hold his own fairly well in a hand to hand fight.

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. Mingi’s character song is Never Be Like You by Crywolf. He also has another song that strongly relates to him so I’ll share some lyrics from the other song as well, Masochist by Matt Van.

Both songs feal with Mingi’s near suffocating anxiety and his loss of self-worth as a result of Bella Rose’s constant torment. 

‘What I would do to take away this fear of being loved

Allegiance to the pain

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

I swear she'll never be like you

I would give anything to change this fickle-minded heart

That loves fake shiny things

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

I swear she'll never be like you’

Originally this song is intended to be for a man pleading for forgiveness from an ex-lover, but I decided to use the hurt from the lyrics to change the meaning to apply to Mingi. His fear of being loved, stemming from Bella’s verbal and emotional abuse, is something we follow throughout his time with the pirates aboard the utopia. 

Mingi was raised to be a pickpocket, and that ties in for his love for ‘fake shiny things’. While with the crew and battling with himself, Mingi has to convince himself to accept the good feelings he receives from the others around him and how they’ll never be like Bella Rose. She, though deceased at the time of him joining the crew, will never be like them, either.

‘Stop looking at me with those eyes

Like I could disappear and you wouldn't care why

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you’

Throughout their time together, Bella Rose makes it abundantly clear she only ‘cares’ for Mingi during the times she needs or wants his aid for something. Mingi also has issues making and keeping eye contact from time to time, as a result of his trauma. 

‘I'm only human. Can't you see?

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

I'm only human. Can't you see?’

To wrap this up, I’ll share some lines from Masochist that share the same sentiment and message as the song we’ve just gone over.

‘As long as I'm not myself

I think I'll be safe, yeah

What am I looking for

In this state between love and war

Am I chasing a chemical

That just leaves me wanting more

And is there a difference

Between truth and happiness

If ignorance is bliss

To the emotional masochist’

‘We can go pretty far

If you wanted

'Cause I know it's not your thing

To stay in one place, yeah

I can be what you want

I can be anything

As long as I'm not in love

I think I'll be safe’

-Character Blurb-

“Slowly.”

“I can’t-”

“If you say you can’t one more time, I’ll tell Yeosang to never give you any oranges ever again.” 

Mingi sat up straighter, frowning as he looked down at the paper in his hands. Seonghwa sat across from him. His long legs crossed as he watched Mingi. It was his turn to tutor the boatswain for the week and Mingi felt small under his steel gaze. With a shaky breath, he scanned the paper. 

“Read it.”

“I am, I swear-”

“Aloud.”

Mingi pursed his lips, startling when Seonghwa crossed the room, leaning into his space. Mingi shied away, but Seonghwa followed, catching his chin between his fingers. He tilted his head and smiled, and Mingi felt his heart stutter.

“You can do it, and I promise it’ll be worth it when you do. Read it, please.” 

Mingi blushed and smiled as Seonghwa placed an encouraging kiss to his nose before pulling him away, giving him some space. 

“O-one cup…” he squinted at the page before perking. He knew that word. He’d seen it before in the galley while working with Yeosang.

“Sugar! It’s sugar!” Seonghwa smiled from beside him, carding long fingers through tousled brunette hair before nodding. 

“Excellent.” He placed a rewarding kiss on his lips. “Continue.”

One by one, Mingi slowly read the list of things on the paper, each time encouraged by Seonghwa’s gentle purred praises or a small compliment in that accent they all loved so much. 

Milk. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Vanilla. Coconut.

When he finished, he tilted his head, blinking. 

“Is...this a recipe?” 

Seonghwa’s lips quirked before he nodded. 

“It sure is, meu amado. Yeosang picked up a book on Caribbean desserts at the last port and he wanted to make you something. Toto, I believe it was?” 

Mingi’s eyes lit up as he perked, looking at Seonghwa like an overgrown puppy. If he squinted, the ex prince could swear he could see a tail wagging back there. He chuckled and kissed him, nodding towards the door. 

“Let’s get you something to eat to celebrate.” he hummed. Mingi nodded and took off like a shot, smiling ear to ear as he raced down to the galley, joy erupting in his chest at the scent of vanilla and coconut that flooded the inside of the ship. 

He’s never felt so at home.

-M.List-

[rikudiora]

Unintentionally Seducing Emotionally Compromised Chameleons

AN: This little piece of write fuckary has been bumping around in my head for a long fucking time now. I think I laid out the groundwork for the idea about a year ago, but I haven't seriously put work into it until the past couple of weeks. As usual, it's way longer than I originally had in mind, and probably not as funny, but I'm satisfied with it ultimately. And to address the elephant in the room, of course I know Ilia enjoys the muff, but if I can make Jaune into a girl to bang Blake, then who's to fucking stop me from doing this bullshit? Enjoy some fucking primo crackshipping!

Ilia Amitola had been utterly speechless when she'd watched the human rise shakily to his feet, but when he turned around and looked back at her, speechlessness was replaced by complete thoughtlessness, her mouth falling open partially and her stomach suddenly brimming with tingles.

She blinked and then blinked once more, trying feebly to process all she'd seen; all the emotions that welled up in her head, her heart, her entire body. She'd never felt like this before. It wasn't anger, not sadness, not jealousy, and not joy either. All of those she'd experienced in the past, and subsequently learned how to deal with, thanks in most part to Blake, at least until recently. Thoughts about Adam and how much he'd changed? Same thing; she could handle them. This, on the other hand? This was completely new. Completely alien.

Ilia was well and truly stumped. And all because of a single, bloodied and bruised, yet still brightly smiling blonde boy.

Just how had she gotten herself into this situation?

Well…

XXX

'She just… left… she left us… abandoned us...'

In the most secluded corner of the airship that she could find, the only thing keeping her company being the dull rumble of the engines, Ilia sat stewing in her thoughts, her face twisted in a scowl halfway between furious and heartbroken. While not the first, this was one of the very, very, very few opportunities she'd had since the betrayal to just sit down and think about what exactly Blake had done, the weeks following the announcement having been too busy for her to fully process everything. She'd been sent on mission after mission after mission ever since the Fang had joined forces with that Cinder woman, and days had begun blurring together as she did her work and then immediately fell asleep from exhaustion, only to wake up a few hours later to do it all over again.

Anger and confusion and sadness all tumbled around in her head, each emotion only lasting for a moment before it was replaced by one of the others, and Ilia hated every single second of it. She couldn't decide what feeling was the right one, and that only put her even more on edge. She'd felt flashes of all of these emotions coming over her during the past few weeks, but it was only now that there was nothing else to interrupt her that she could truly think about them. She didn't know whether to scream, to cry, or stare blankly at the floor in front of her—whether she wanted to pummel Blake bloody or throw herself into her arms as she wept.

Her anger was the most simple to understand; Blake had been her close friend, maybe even more—unrequited though her true feelings might have been—and yet Blake had said nothing to her regarding her plans. She hadn't even had the decency to tell Ilia herself through a message or something, it had been Adam who had broken the news to everyone.

For years, Ilia had thought that they'd been fighting for the same goal, that they were both equally dedicated to their cause, but no, Blake had given up on everything without a word to anyone in the Fang! Just how many lies had she told them if it had been this easy for her to abandon them all!

Ilia's hands clenched into fist tight enough that her aura sparked around her fingers, the pain she'd felt in her chest when Adam had returned alone from the mission stabbing through her like a jagged spike of fire once more, her fury draining out of her as quickly as it had blazed up, leaving her feeling hollow and vacant inside instead.

Blake had been her first true companion in the Fang, the person she'd turned to whenever her own convictions had been shaken, and the only person Ilia had ever felt she'd happily want to spend the rest of her life with. When Blake had gotten together with Adam, she'd been disappointed like never before, but deep down she'd known that the chance of the ravenette returning her feelings had always been slim and their friendship hadn't been damaged by it either, occasional pangs jealousy not withstanding. And now Blake was simply gone.

Just as her eyes started to grow watery, Ilia was shaken from her thoughts by the distinct, heavy sound of docking clamps being engaged and the feeling of finally coming to a stop. She got up from her corner and stretched mechanically, not really consciously caring about how stiff she'd gotten from sitting still for so many hours, before picking up her bag from beside her. Her face was downcast as she stealthily joined the other passengers when they began disembarking from the airship, pretending to be just another commuter, but she felt a pair of eyes on her as she walked by some of the airship staff and she set off in a run the moment the crowd around her dispersed enough. She wasn't interested in giving them a chance to call her out. This wasn't her first time sneaking aboard a transport vessel, nor would it be the last, and she'd since long learned to recognize the signs that meant someone suspected her of getting a free ride.

With practiced ease, she melted into the throng of people outside the airship station, willing her skin to lighten and hair to do the opposite. No longer was she the mocca-skinned brunette the airship personal would be looking for. Instead, she could blend into the crowd disguised as just another fair skinned, black haired girl.

'Just like Blake...' came an unbidden thought, and a streak of blue appeared among Ilia's new tresses.

It took more effort than she'd ever like to admit to keep herself from screaming out and making a scene, but Ilia ultimately kept walking along the streets until she reached what she assumed was the city square. As the crowds around her dissipated a bit, she turned her eyes to the horizon and the mountain that overlooked the city, atop which laid her final destination and mission objective.

The world famous Hunter school; Beacon academy.

Seeing the imposing spires and towers crowning the almost castle-esque structure reminded her of her childhood, albeit faintly. She'd heard stories about the school for as long as she could remember and many years ago, she'd secretly dreamed of attending it; learning how to become the greatest fighter in the world so she could protect all of Faunus kind from both Grimm and the humans that had pushed them down so many times. Those dreams had been abandoned the moment she'd joined the Fang, however. The world didn't need more heroes, she'd learned, it simply needed justice to be served, and she wanted to be one of the ones who delivered it.

But then Blake had left, and suddenly Ilia didn't feel so certain about her goals anymore. Not when the person she'd thought would be by her side through the whole journey had abandoned her.

A deep sigh left Ilia's lungs as she tore her eyes away from Beacon. A brief glance at a nearby shop window confirmed what she already knew; yet another streak of blue had appeared in her hair, and , she a new surge of annoyance started to bubble up in the pit of her stomach. She should have more self-discipline than this. Blake was gone and it looked like any of them would be seeing her again for a very, very long time, if ever. Ilia had allowed herself to think about what it all meant, how she felt about the situation, for almost the entire ride to Vale and now she needed to suck it up, accept that her best friend had left, and move on.

"Stop being pathetic, Ilia. You have a mission to do," she whispered to herself, though the words rang hollow even to her own ears.

Unless something or someone took her place in Ilia's mind, she knew deep down that thoughts about Blake would come back to nag at her.

For now, however, Ilia managed to bury the brunt of all those feelings in the back of her mind, her appearance returning to normal. With some concentration, she even managed to make the blue lines vanish, and with that, she set off for the safehouse she'd be staying at while on her assignment. Adam would want to debrief her fully as soon as possible, and she really wasn't keen on having him berate her for being late. Not today.

When she blended in with the crowds walking along the streets of the city, no one could ever guess that there was a White Fang operative among them, and Ilia made good use of this ability to appear human. When given the opportunity, she asked around about the comings and goings of Vale and, to a lesser extent, Beacon academy, taking mental notes of hotspots and places that people suggested she avoid respectively. She learned that Beacon had begun its new term only a week previously and that there were some rather famous individuals that had arrived with the new students. Pyrrha Nikos was one of them, but what interested Ilia more was fact that the Schnee heiress herself was attending Beacon at this very moment. Adam and Sienna would surely want to hear about that little tidbit of information, if they didn't already know about it.

As Ilia started to get closer to the safehouse, more or less content with her first intelligence gathering 'operation', she suddenly tensed up, feeling a distinct sense of trepidation run up her neck. She recognized it well—she'd felt the sensation earlier that very same day in fact; someone was following her.

Pretending like she hadn't noticed, Ilia kept walking for another block or so until she reached an alleyway that she deemed inconspicuous enough, ducking into without hesitation. Once she'd gotten far enough away from the crowded street, she turned back to find that a pair of humans had taken the exact same path as her. One of them was clearly a male, on the taller side and with a face that looked supremely punchable to Ilia right about now. The other was a woman, almost as tall as the guy thanks to a wicked looking pair of high-heeled shoes, with that were features twisted in a sickly sweet smile that couldn't look more fake if there was a person behind her literally pulling on her cheeks. Both wore clothes that reeked of money that hadn't been earned through honest work and Ilia body readied itself for what she knew would inevitably come. This wasn't her first time being accosted by scum.

"Howdy there little lady. Can't say I've ever seen someone like you around these parts before," the man said as he continued to advance towards Ilia, his tone sounding outwardly casual at first. "We couldn't help but notice you've been asking a lot of questions today under what I'd call 'false pretenses' and that just doesn't sit well with people like us you see."

The lady giggled as the man gestured to the two of them and the sound seemed to scrape along Ilia's eardrums. Slowly, she started to back away from the approaching duo, her fists balling up on either side of her body. Her first instinct was to kick in the teeth of both of them and hide the bodies in a dumpster where they could lay among the other trash until they woke up again, but that would be too to conspicuous, she knew. She wasn't supposed to be a fighter, just some random Faunus girl who'd just arrived into town, so all she could do was stay silent and keep backing up.

"A Faunus walking around disguised as a human, asking a bunch of questions? That's just something good, honest folk can't overlook." Ilia cursed mentally as she realized she hadn't been as stealthy in her appearance changing as she'd thought. "I think it'd be best for everyone if you came with us to the police station and told them what you've been walking around doing. Or, if you'd prefer, the two of us could take care of you instead?"

They'd reached the end of the alley by now, the man cracking his knuckles with a poignant glare in his eyes, his female companion's smile dripping with the cruelty that Ilia had known was always there from the start.

"It's your choice, you little pest. Pick wisely," the lady finally spat, and Ilia was just about to make a run for it, when another voice made all three of their heads swivel around towards it.

"Hey! You two better leave her alone or else!"

XXX

Jaune hadn't really had any concrete idea in mind as to what he was going to do in Vale, not being very used to big cities, but he'd figured there had to be something worthwhile checking out somewhere if he kept walking for long enough. A comicbook store or an arcade maybe. He definitely hoped he came across one of these places soon, though, since boredom was starting to take its toll on him and the temptation to call the day a bust and just head back to Beacon was growing.

That's when he happened to walk past a certain inconspicuous and outwardly ordinary alleyway. It was by mere coincidence that Jaune's eyes found themselves turning to look down the alley, but what he saw made every ounce of dullness he'd felt only moments before disappear.

The Faunus girl caught his gaze first, her expression and body language screaming discomfort to him, and he was already moving by the time he'd noticed the clearly threatening words coming from the two humans' mouths. He recognized their tones; it was the same way of speaking that he'd heard from Cardin. When he was halfway into the alley, however, the certainty he'd had about his actions suddenly shook in his gut, and hesitation crept into his steps. Was he really doing this? Was this the right thing to do?

Again, Jaune's eyes came to rest on the young female Faunus' face, and the answer become crystal clear to him. This was what heroes did. What Arcs did. What he had gone to Beacon for.

His voice echoed between the buildings on either side of them all before he'd even had time to think about what he should say, and he set his jaw when both the scumbag looking man and foul sounding woman stopped mid step before turning around to look at him.

For a moment, the two of them only looked at him, and Jaune did his best to keep his glare at them level and unwavering. Nervousness gnawed at his gut, but he refused to look away or turn his back on this now. After a couple of seconds that felt more like hours, the man sneered at him and cocked his head.

"Get the hell out of here kid. This has nothing to do with you. If you know what's best for ya, you'll run off and pretend you never saw us before. Otherwise, this'll get real ugly for you."

Jaune's hands flexed as he deliberately took another step forward, only now noticing that the bastard of a man was a fair bit bigger than him. He told himself it didn't matter; that he was a Hunter in training and that he'd seen far worse things already. This guy was nothing compared to a Deathstalker or Nevermore.

"I said to leave her alone. Or you two are gonna be sorry." Jaune could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Not even he knew where these words were coming from, but he stood by them, his resolve reaffirming itself whenever he glanced over at the Faunus girl.

"You threatening me, brat? Andover some stupid, lowlife Faunus?" the bastard growled back.

"The only lowlifes here are the two of you. Now leave. Her. Alone." Jaune could feel a fire begin to burn in his belly, adrenaline entering his system.

"Sympathizer trash," the bastard muttered and then both he and Jaune moved towards one another again.

It all happened in a flash, so fast that Jaune had a hard time keeping up with it. The bastard had thrown the first punch, but before it could actually hit him, the air right in front of Jaune's face had crackled with energy, stopping the blow. He still felt the impact, staggering back a step, but there wasn't any pain, realization dawning on him.

'My aura...' Jaune thought triumphantly, a swell of confidence rising up inside him as it was his turn to hurl a fist that took the bastard square in the chest. He could do this. He was a Hunter. Hunters fought Grimm—defeated Grimm! Ordinary humans couldn't compete with people like them!

As the bastard stumbled back with a loud oof, Jaune felt another feeling creep in the back of his mind his victory shortlived. Should he really be using this newfound strength on humans, regardless of if they were racist shitheads or not? The question rang in his head as he sidestepped the bastard's wild retaliation, the fire in his belly suddenly joined by a heaviness that unsettled him.

This new kind of uncertainty was just the kind of distraction Jaune couldn't afford to think about, he realized when the bastard took advantage of his hesitation and grappled him, shoving him back against the wall of the alleyway and following it up with a knee right into Jaune's gut. This time, there was nothing to protect him from the full force of the blow, and Jaune felt his breath get dragged right out of his lungs.

Suddenly, stars began to dance in front of his eyelids and pain exploded from his temple, the full impact of the punch he just received taking a second to register. It was quickly followed by another, this one square in the middle of Jaune's face, a wet trickle down his chin teaming up with the pain to further overload his senses.

"I told you this would happen, brat!"

The words were enough to finally knock Jaune out of his stupor, his eyes blinking open just in time to see the bastard next incoming fist. He gritted his teeth and did his best to endure the hit, not content with being a punching bag anymore.

Jaune could feel his split lip start to swell up and blood running running from his nose as he struggled to push the bastard away from him, but with a wall against his back, a hand gripping his collar tightly, and a dumpster to his side, he couldn't go anywhere. Pain throbbed dully in his head as the bastard's fist collided with his cheek again and again, the cruel laughter of the stupid lady ringing faintly in the background.

Eventually, Jaune felt himself stop squirming as his energy was draining out of him bit by bit with every blow to his face, strength slowly diminishing. At the same time, however, he also noticed the bastard's punches had also slowed down, the gap between them growing larger and their impact not shaking him as much. His vision was swimming, but Jaune could still focus just enough to make out the bastard's ugly mug, his unnaturally white teeth bared in a sadistic grin as he took deep, panting breaths. It was only a second's reprieve, Jaune knew, but it was all he needed. As the bastard's arm wound back again, Jaune grabbed his collar as well and slammed his forehead against the bastard's nose with all the might he could muster.

The wet crack that came from the bastard's nose being broken really shouldn't have been so damn satisfying to Jaune's ears, but right about now it really sounded downright musical. From his side, he heard the lady shout in alarm, but Jaune's focus was still on the bastard. Clutching his profusely bleeding nostrils, the bastard stumbled backwards enough for Jaune to deliver a haymaker into the bastard's exposed throat, the bastard letting out a strangled gurgle when he crumpled pathetically to the ground.

Jaune was just about to turn to see how the Faunus girl was doing when he too met the ground, a splitting pain arching up his spine and locking his legs. He barely caught the sight of the stupid lady rushing past him to where the bastard was writhing, the realization that she'd kicked him squarely in the back registering in Jaune's head.

With his world spinning and his legs not wanting to cooperate, Jaune could only watch as the stupid lady pulled the bastard up before they ran out of the alleyway, curses flying back over their shoulders, Jaune only now noticing the gnarled look of the bastard's knuckles. Finally, the pair of lowlifes rounded the corner, leaving Jaune and the Faunus girl all alone.

'Guess Noir was right, I really do have a thick skull,' Jaune thought to himselfas his vertigo passed, a tired chuckle leaving his lips.

With the help of the dumpster that had trapped him before, he got his legs underneath him and was pleasantly surprised that his balance wasn't that hard to find. His ears were still ringing a bit and his whole face hurt like hell, but none of that mattered. It all fell into the back of his mind when he saw the Faunus girl behind him was alright. Through the pain, the ringing, and the blood still dripping from his nose, a smile broke out on his features; bright and filled with relief.

He'd done it. He'd managed to protect her.

"You're not hurt are you?" Jaune asked after a moment of silence had passed between them, figuring that the Faunus girl didn't look like she was planning on saying anything. "I'd offer to show you to a hospital or something, but I don't really know my way around town yet, sadly, so I'd probably just get us completely lost." Concern marred his voice even as his smile remained and he tried to lighten the air between them.

That's when he realized he should probably introduce himself before it was too late.

XXX

When Ilia heard the boy speak, her whole chest felt like it suddenly flipped upside down, stunning her even further. There was none of the hardness in his tone that he'd used on the two other humans, no suspicion regarding what had happen, no anger from being injured because of her. Instead, all of it was replaced with by tentative, but undeniably cheerful words that made a small bit warmth blossom in the deepest recesses of her recently scarred heart, like a candle beginning to light up a darkened room. She'd never had a human speak to her like this before.

Never had a human fight for her before.

It was crazy, Ilia thought. After all this human had just gone through, he was now asking if she was okay when it was his face that was currently covered in both his own and the other, openly disgusting human's blood, followed by making a joke?

Just who the hell was this guy?

As if to answer Ilia's mental question, the human spoke up again.

"The name's Jaune, by the way. Jaune Arc. Rolls- never mind," her 'savior' said, though he seemed to stop himself mid-sentence with an awkward cough. Then he smiled at her again, and Ilia suddenly felt like her knees were growing weak.

'Jaune Arc...'

Ilia had lived practically her whole adolescent life by one principle that she thought would always be true: When push came to shove, humans would only look out for other humans, and as such Faunus were the only ones that would ever look out for other Faunus. She'd joined the White Fang for just that reason, to make sure her people were protected. But then here comes a human and gets himself beaten bloody just to protect her. It just didn't make sense

'Jaune Arc...'

Paranoia tried to worm its way into Ilia's head, but it failed to find any purchase. When she looked at the human—at Jaune—and his bright smile especially, she didn't detect any ulterior motives lurking behind his features. In the Fang, one of the things Ilia had prided herself the most on was her ability to read people and get information out of them, and right now, as her pale gray eyes met his strikingly deep blue, there wasn't any dishonesty for her to uncover. In one fell swoop, this strange boy had managed to all but steamroll right through how Ilia was used to perceiving the world around her, cracking it in much the same way as he'd cracked the nose of the asshole.

'Jaune… Arc… I like the sound of that name...' Ilia found herself thinking, her body slowly but surely losing the tension that had built up ever since she'd noticed the two other humans following her.

It was only then that she noticed just how long she'd spent being silent, and her mouth opened before she had the time to formulate any words herself.

"I-Ilia!" she exclaimed with all the grace of a flying washing machine, her cheeks flushing from just how strange Jaune was making her feel. 'Get a grip, Ilia!'

"I'm Ilia," she clarified after clearing her throat.

For the third time now, Jaune smiled at her, and for a third time Ilia felt something inside herself light up simply from seeing it. A light that she couldn't remember ever feeling before. It was just so different from how humans had treated her in the past—how she more or less thought they were supposed to treat her.

"I would say it's nice to meet you, Ilia, but I think we both know we could have met under far more pleasant circumstances," Jaune said with a small chuckle that did indescribable things to Ilia's insides, as did hearing her name coming from his lips.

Suddenly, just as she thought she might be able to relax slightly, Ilia felt a burst of panic in her chest as Jaune's eyes first flicked to the ground and he then began to walk towards her. She found herself frozen as he approached, unable to get her tongue working inside her mouth, the word 'don't' disappearing from her brain, but then Jaune stopped. She watched silently as he picked up the bag she'd been carrying with her all day long, dusting it off before crossing the last bit of distance between them, the two of them now standing close enough to touch one another if either of them tried. She hadn't even realized she'd dropped it until now.

Jaune offered her the bag with a slight twitch of his eye telling of the pain that lifting anything in his condition brought, but Ilia could only stare at him for a brief moment.

It wasn't some grandiose act of heroism, nor was it the first time someone had performed some manner of polite gesture for Ilia, but after all that she'd just seen Jaune do for her—not just a complete stranger but a Faunus on top of it all—and coupled with the stress of the past couple of weeks, it was as if something simply changed in her head.

Like a switch had been flipped.

In a world that only existed as a quasi-visualized amalgamation of Ilia's thoughts, dreams, wishes, and regrets, the crudely drawn face of one Blake Belladonna—an image that had existed in the very back of Ilia's subconscious for many, many years, albeit in numerous different forms—was abruptly and unceremoniously crossed out with something that looked like crayon. In its place stood a majestic portrait of a tall, blonde haired, sapphire eyed young man, seemingly detailed by the most masterful of brushstrokes. His upper body was bereft of any clothing, displaying his rippling and almost impossibly beautiful physique in perfect detail; powerful muscles that looked simultaneously hardened to a point where they could surely stop bullets and soft enough to provide the ideal form of comfort and warmth if wrapped around a loved one covering his broad shoulders and arms.

His face was that of a boy on the very cusp of manhood, with features that still carried softness but would surely soon harden into something unfathomably handsome and rugged. His eyes looked as deep as the very oceans themselves, as if one could get lost and drown in them if they weren't careful, all whilst hiding troves upon troves of emotions; alluring like they'd been carved from the very gemstone they could be likened with.

Held between his teeth, only further accentuating his inviting expression, was a single rose, a few beads of morning dew still clinging to its petals. Were one of these drops to fall, it wouldn't be difficult to imagine the twists and turns it would take running down the man's chest, drawing even more attention to his body if such a thing was even possible. The image was beauty itself, actually radiating its own brilliant golden light within Ilia's vivid imagination, and somehow she knew exactly what the only appropriate name for this portrait had to be.

"Jaune Arc."

From within Ilia's subconscious, the image of the young man was projected through her brain onto the boy before her, igniting fires throughout her body that she had never felt before. She dumbly accepted her bag and it was the jolt that suddenly passed through her when their hands brushed against one another that finally brought her back to the present.

Yet, for some reason, despite Jaune not looking anything like the picture that had just appeared in her mind, the heat that had sprung up in her chest and traveled out into every one of her limbs remained. If anything, it got even stronger as she looked at his blood smeared features and half-torn shirt. What he'd just done for her replayed itself before her eyes and slowly but surely the disbelief she'd held was being replaced by other emotions; emotions that only added coal to the fire.

"T-thank you..." she mumbled almost dreamily, her cheeks darkening. "For everything."

"It was nothing, really. Wouldn't have been right for me to just walk by and not do anything. Not when I could help," Jaune said, his sincerity once more leaving her feeling flushed all over.

'No one would have blamed you if you had, though… not when it was just a Faunus… you could have walked away… could have left me to fend for myself... but you didn't...'

It didn't matter to Ilia that she could have taken care of the situation herself, or that she was undoubtedly a more skilled fighter than Jaune; the mere fact that he had risked his well being for her sake continued to resonate in her heart. She found herself smiling up at him, only now realizing just how tall he was compared to her, though unlike the human from before or Adam, Jaune's size didn't seem imposing. Not to her. He just looked big.

And Ilia found herself liking that.

"I, uh, heard about how, well, bad life could be for Faunus here in Vale before I got here, but I didn't really believe it until today, honestly. I'm sorry. For what they said and tried to, you know, do." Jaune's tone had turned more somber and serious suddenly, the brightness on his face dimming too. "They- we are not all like that, I promise. There are good humans out there too."

"I know. I'm looking right at one," Ilia found herself replying almost immediately.

It was now Jaune's turn to blush and look away, one of his hands coming up to scratch the back of his neck, and Ilia's heart all but stopped for a second or two, as she was fairly certain she'd never seen anything more adorable in her whole life. She needed to see him do it again in the future, she quickly decided. In the near future preferably.

"So, Jaune... from what you said earlier, I take it you're new to Vale?" Ilia asked after a moment, silently berating herself for just how cliche the question was while simultaneously relishing in any excuse that possibly let her talk to him some more.

Along with enjoying the tingle she felt when she said his name.

"Yeah, something along those lines. I've never really been in a big city like this before, my hometown didn't exactly prepare me for it all," Jaune answered, only to hesitate for a split second before continuing. "I'm a... Beacon student, actually. Hunter-in-training and all that. Leader of team JNPR." Though he was still smiling at her, Ilia couldn't help but notice the oddly reserved way in which Jaune now spoke. There was pride in his words, she could feel, but something else too, and she couldn't deny her surprise that someone with his skills, or lack thereof, had been admitted to Beacon of all places.

There was clearly something going on here that went beyond just the surface.

"You're going to be a Hunter then?" Ilia did her best to keep the disbelief she felt out of her voice, quickly feeling relieved when Jaune nodded without showing any signs of being incensed by her question.

"I hope so," he said earnestly, his eyes taking on a far-off look for a moment. "My family have always been heroes in some way in the past, always fighting to keep everyone safe, and I just can't break that tradition. I need to be just like they were. Need to be one of them, you know? I want to protect people too, like us Arcs are supposed to do." When Jaune looked at Ilia again, there was a fire in his eyes. Conviction the likes of which she didn't think she'd seen before, born from the seriousness with which he spoke about heroes.

Ilia was no stranger to lofty speeches meant to inspire and stir the hearts of people. She'd listened more than she could over the past decade of her life, whether they be from fat-cat humans who wanted more power and money, or from her seniors in the White Fang when they tried to fill them all with the motivation needed to keep moving forwardi. She'd learned long ago how to filter herself through the bluster and grand exclamations to actually hear what was being said. That's why it shocked her when she didn't feel any need to pick apart Jaune's words.

Instead, thanks to the portrait that her subconscious had painted for her before, Ilia saw something different than just another human spilling hot air when Jaune spoke. On the fields of imagination that rolled eternally inside her mind, rode a knight in ornate, gold and ivory armor that gleamed in the brilliant sun shining from on above. His head was helmetless, a bright visage with a mane of hair that seemed to be made out of golden warmth itself. He had a smile that told of glory and victory, of safety and protection, and of strength tempered by unyielding resolve, and the eyes of a warrior who knew he fought for a good cause.

His horse was the purest of whites, unsullied by even a speck of dirt and with not a single hair from its mane out of place even as it billowed in the gentle breeze that flowed over the mind-born meadows. The steed too radiated strength, seemingly bolstered by its master's own convictions. The pair together looked like they could lead an army of a hundred thousand men and women into battle and return home with twice as many as when they left, not a drop of blood on any of them.

In short, Ilia's mind conjured an image of a hero. A hero whose form slowly melted onto Jaune Arc, with his eyes remaining as resolute as ever the whole time, the sight causing Ilia's blush to spread even further across her features, going so far as to darken her ears.

Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, the gestalt consciousness of Ilia's unaware cognition, whose appearance could be likened to that of a weird gremlin, rubbed its hands together with satisfaction, feeling very proud of its accomplishments that day, before going off to take an early lunch.

When Ilia once again came back from dream-land, she quickly realized that she must have stayed silent for too long, as Jaune had a look of embarrassment in his face much like the one that made her heart stop before. A phenomenon that repeated itself with no less intensity.

"I know it sounds silly, trust me, but it's always been my goal ever since I first heard the stories of my family. One day, I want my grand kids to be able to listen to tales about my sisters and I and maybe be inspired in some way too. If not, well, then I'm just not enough of an Arc and won't matter in the end," Jaune explained.

Ilia went to reply, to tell him that she'd had similar dreams of being a hero in the past too, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of bells ringing in the distance, announcing the new hour.

"Oh damn, it's that late already?" Jaune mumbled to himself, pulling out a scroll from his pocket and confirming the time for himself. He looked panicked suddenly and started to turn on his heel before stopping and swiveling back around to Ilia. "Sorry, but I have to run! The last Bullheads are gonna be leaving any minute now and I have no idea how to get back to Beacon if I miss them! It was really nice to meet youandIhopewecanseeeachotheragainokaybyeeeee!"

A blinking Ilia was left in the alley as she watched the first human to ever fight for her sprint off like he hadn't taken a severe beating not an hour earlier. She wanted to call after him, tell him thanks one last time if nothing else, but in the end she stayed silent, indecisiveness restraining her voice for what felt like the hundredth time today...

Only for an urge to burst forth inside of her that made an image appear in her head.

When Jaune had disappeared from her line of sight, Ilia felt as if she was left at a crossroads. If she looked down one of the paths, she saw Adam waiting for her, his permanently scowling face making her stomach curl. She could easily imagine what he'd say when she reported in, how he'd scold her for being late and not truly caring about her reasons if she chose to explain what had happened to her. In another life, it was a path that she'd never consider taking, regardless of if she was on a mission or not. She knew she had a duty to the Fang, but things were changing for all of them lately, and the organization that she'd once called her only home didn't feel like itself anymore.

Mentally turning her gaze to the other path, however, filled Ilia's chest with that strange warmth. Instead of Adam's cold, uncaring mug, there was a different figure, wearing a smile. A smile that had implanted itself deep inside of her heart already, and in the state that she was in currently, with everything that happened today and the weeks leading up to this moment, that was all that it took for Ilia to stash away her bag in a hidden enough location and head after the blonde Beacon student who made her feel all these things in the first place.

After all, Adam would yell at her no matter what, so what was the harm in her delivering her report a few hours late?

Or, perhaps, she could hand it in the next morning instead...?

XXX

Jaune grimaced as Nora dabbed at his sore nose with the disinfectant soaked piece of gauze in her hand, an apologetic look appearing on her face whenever he let out any sounds of discomfort. He'd tried telling everyone that it was fine, that he didn't need anyone looking over him, and that it didn't actually hurt anymore, but his team hadn't bought his lies, with Pyrrha all but throwing into a seat on the couch so that he could be examined thoroughly.

Currently, she was hurrying around the common room looking frantically for the gauze and bandages that both Nora and Ren had told her multiple times that they'd already found, but the information didn't seem to penetrate the almost visible layer of worry around her head.

It kind of reminded Jaune of how his sisters had acted whenever he'd fallen and skimmed his knee or something; all but panicking like he could die from spontaneous blood loss at any moment. He felt a bit guilty for finding the sight rather funny to observe, especially considering how levelheaded he'd thought Pyrrha always was. It was kinda refreshing to see that she couldn't contain herself all the time, a fact that Jaune put away in his brain for the future. He should never forget that Pyrrha was a human just like him, champion or not.

"Sorry Jaune, but this is gonna sting. A lot."

Despite Nora's warning, Jaune almost jumped out of his seat when she prodded hard at his cheek, a despairing groan shaking around in his throat.

"Yeesh Vomit-boy, how'd ya manage to get this roughed up? You look like an Ursa used you as a mattress," the voice of Yang rang out into the room with the eponymous blonde herself flopping down into a chair to Jaune's side. Along with her was Ruby and Weiss, both of them standing for the time being, but the team's fourth was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

"I- ugh! I-I kinda got into a fight while I was in Vale," Jaune replied with a pained smile, feeling a small bit of pride from his deed.

At the mention of the word 'fight', all eyes in the room suddenly snapped towards Jaune, and he didn't even have time to blink before both Yang and Ruby were right in his face, their expressions practically the perfect antithesis of the other's.

"Ohohohoho! You need to tell me everything that happened right now! Spare no details! How many guys were there? Did you knock any of them out? Did you break any legs?!" Yang demanded to know gleefully, stars practically shining in her eyes. Somehow, he'd managed to trigger her happy-mode, and as it stood, Jaune wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not considering how Yang was all but vibrating on the spotwith sudden excitement.

Ruby, meanwhile, looked like she'd just burst into the hospital room of her dearest friend that had just been in a horrific, 150 car pile-up on the freeway.

"You were in a fight!? With who?! What kind of monster did this to you!? Do you know where they are!?" she asked in rapid succession, gripping his hand with enough force that Jaune was sure he could practically hear his bones creak.

"I-it was just the one guy!" Jaune stammered out in quick response as he tried, and failed, to lean away from the distraught and respectively elated pair of sisters. "I saw him and some other lady threatening this Faunus girl as I was walking past an alley, so I rushed in and tried to get them to leave her alone. They weren't listening and just told me to get lost, but I stayed, and long story short, the guy and I fought until I headbutted him in the face and punched him in the throat. Then the lady kicked me in the back and they ran off."

As he regaled the assembled group of Hunter-in-training with his daily exploits, he saw a large swathe of different emotions across all their faces.

Ruby had turned from heartbroken to something that bordered on starstruck, apparently her turn now to be excited. To further prove the old adage about actions need equal and opposite reactions, Yang's fire was seemingly thoroughly doused by his words, however, and she didn't need to say anything for him to see the signs of distrust on her features. One glance at Nora told him that she shared Ruby's newfound energy, pride beaming at him from her wide grin, and it was impossible for him to not return the smile. Ren looked far more reserved, though that was to be expected, but he too had a slight upwards quirk to his lips, an approving air coming off him. Jaune's eyes had to search for a moment to find Weiss among the crowd, and his heart fell a little in his chest when he saw her almost bored looking expression and upraised eyebrow, her disbelief clearly written in her eyes.

Just a step away from all of them, a black aura of malicious energy begun to build around Pyrrha Nikos, her mind slowly filling with plots of murder and violence enacted upon those who had hurt her precious blonde bean. It was dispelled in an instant, however, when she heard Jaune let out a new, pained yelp, and she immediately returned to looking for any and all medical supplies available.

"That's amazing, Jaune. You acted just like a Huntsman is supposed to!" Ruby said enthusiastically.

"Yeah!" Nora agreed with just as much bubbly excitement, throwing an arm around Jaune's shoulders. "You're a total hero!"

Their celebratory mood was clearly dampened, however, when Yang chimed in, her tone clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"Sorry to have to ask this, but was that really what happened, Jaune? It sounds pretty cliché, not gonna lie."

"What the heck Yang! Jaune wouldn't lie about something like this! And weren't you the one who wanted to know all the 'juicy details' not one minute ago?" Ruby protested before Jaune had a chance to do more than open his mouth, her face morphed into an aghast mask.

"I thought he'd ran into some bar-thugs or something who thought they could take on someone with aura! There are loads of those kinds of douchebags in Vale!" Yang quickly raised her hands in a placating manner when Ruby suddenly appeared in front of her in a flutter of rose petals.

"Yang is right, Ruby."

Again, all the heads in the room turned, but this time towards Weiss, whose face was practically ice cold as she regarded Jaune, the look in her eyes sending a very unpleasant shiver down his spine.

"Not you too, Weiss..." Ruby whined feebly, but her partner's gaze didn't move away from Jaune.

"Loathe as I am to admit it, Arc, you do have a remarkably large supply of aura, so the idea of a single ordinary human breaking through it to pummel you sounds awfully far-fetched to me. If what you're saying is the truth, then why weren't you able to pacify this braggart with little to no effort? I say it seems far more likely you simply tripped and hurt yourself that way."

Weiss' accusatory tone cut straight into Jaune's heart, but as much as he longed to avert his eyes and slump in his seat beneath her frosty disposition, he knew he was telling the truth. That what had happened with Ilia wasn't just some lie he made up to seem heroic.

"I did have my aura. At least at first," Jaune began, thinking back to the feeling of unease that had filled him when the asshole's first punch had just stopped right in front of his face. "He swung at me and his fist just seemed to skid off the air, and I hit him right back, which sent him stumbling. I didn't even use any real force in the shove, honestly, but he still almost landed right on his ass. But then..."

His hands balled in his lap as he recalled the surge of power he'd felt all throughout his body in that moment, how invincible he'd been compared to a normal human. And how wrong it had felt at the same time.

"My aura just kinda… shut down? I guess?" Jaune shrugged, cheek and nose hurting again from the memory that was so fresh in his head. "I can't really explain it. I started thinking about if using aura against a human, even if he was a racist scumbag, was really okay or not. The next thing I know he's got me against the wall of the alley, just punching me over and over again. I thought I was gonna pass out. I managed to headbutt him, though, when he stopped to take a breath. Broke his nose, I'm pretty sure. That's what happened, I swear on my mother's honor."

"Wait a sec, have you never fought other humans before?" Yang asked, sounding confused.

Instantly, Jaune realized he'd said exactly the wrong thing, revealing more of his inexperience than he'd intended.

"O-of course I have!" he lied hastily. "It's just that my hometown was really quiet and calm compared to a city like Vale so I haven't run into any people like that racist before. I've done sparring and stuff, naturally. Just never with someone who didn't also have aura."

His rapid thinking earned him a moment of respite as it seemed like everyone believed his explanation, with the exception of Weiss who continued to look at him with a suspicious glint in her icy blue eyes.

"So… this girl you saved, did you manage to get her name?" Ruby interjected after a moment of silence, letting Jaune relax slightly.

"I would very much like to know this too," Pyrrha agreed, speaking up for the first time since forcing Jaune to undergo a checkup, her arms filled with more syringes, dubious pill bottles, haphazardly wrapped bandages, and new gauze than Jaune thought any other person might reasonably carry, but somehow she managed without much effort, seemingly.

"She said her name was Ilia. Didn't catch her last name. I'm guessing she was some kind of lizard Faunus or something. Her skin was very odd looking and had these dots that kept changing colors. Mostly different shades of pink and red," as he described Ilia, Jaune went to take out his scroll, only to realize far too late that he'd forgotten to ask for her number or anything in his rush to catch one of the last Bullheads back to Beacon.

The knowledge saddened him for a moment, since even just from the small conversation they'd shared, he thought Ilia seemed nice, despite looking at him in a kind of weird way. He promised himself that he'd learn from their meeting, however. That there were some absolutely rotten people out there, people who were just as bad as the Grimm, and this wouldn't be the last time he ran into them. Next time, he needed to be more ready to use his aura, even against humans like that. He only had one goal here in Beacon, he reminded himself:

No matter what, Jaune Arc was going to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Like his relatives had. Like heroes did.

Just as the tense air that had started to build up in the common room lifted and Nora went back to cleaning Jaune's face, Blake came wandering into the room, a book with an oddly blank cover held protectively in her hands. When her eyes landed on him and his injuries, Jaune could have sworn that he saw the ribbon on her head move like there was something living inside it, but he waved the thought off.

"What happened to you?" Blake asked.

"Jaune forgot how to use his aura mid-fight," Yang gleefully explained, much to both Ruby and Jaune's chagrin, not that the fiery blonde cared when they started protesting.

XXX

Clinging to the side of one of Beacon's myriad towers, a pair of binoculars covering her eyes, was one Ilia Amitola, her form disguised as an amorphous gray blob against the building. Through her binoculars, she could easily look through the window on the tower just opposite her, on the other side of which sat the boy who made her feel such strange things. She was glad to see that someone seemed to be taking care of Jaune's wounds, though she also couldn't help but notice how quickly the blonde seemed to heal on his own. Unfortunately, she couldn't hear what was being said, but from reading the body languages of everyone in the room—with the exception of the last person to arrive who she couldn't make out thanks to an awfully convenient glare in the glass—Ilia had to assume that it had to do with Jaune coming to her rescue.

How he'd been her glorious, strapping savior in shining armor, yet somehow still with his rippling, masculine physique revealed for the world, and her, to see and marvel at-

Ilia had to shake her head to stop her thoughts going down that rabbit hole for the millionth time that day. She had Jaune-watching to do, and she couldn't afford any distractions.

Especially not distractions in the form of her silenced scroll which was going off with messages regarding her whereabouts every few minutes. She could take care of them later. Or maybe the next day...

AN: Chapter 2? Yes? No? Go die in a fire? You decide! If y'all want more, I'll give you more!

Maxaro out!

[talkingwoman]

My Third Charmiversary

Three years ago today, aboard a flight in Spain, I watched CMBYN for the first time and was simply overwhelmed by the perfection of Luca Guadanigno’s masterpiece.  Sure, he completely re-visioned Aciman’s novel and in collaboration with Timmy Chalamet, created a dramatically different Elio, but the result was sheer genius.  More on this topic another time.  Today I am awash in almost unbearable nostalgia for what seems to me to be irrevocably lost. Whether due to the collapse of a marriage, the pandemic, or  stunning explosion of a salacious scandal, I’ve witnessed the erosion of a carefully curated image of a relationship between two beautiful actors that was essentially a mirage.  What was that oft-repeated line, “time was the only enemy for Oliver and Elio”?  No one told me there was an expiration date on the Charmie ship and despite my early statements admonishing myself as much as others on Tumblr that these men were two very skilled actors who were being well compensated to promote a love story as convincingly as they could, I nonetheless quickly succumbed to the allure of Charmiehood.

Perhaps my complicity in the shipping experience is the reason I feel so desolate as I watch Armie’s career, character, and reputation being destroyed by what appeared initially to be gossip at best, and an abandoned fuck-buddy’s brutal revenge at worst.  And I state again, I never “got” the animus toward Elizabeth Chambers expressed by many in the fandom, and believe her alleged role in a conspiracy to destroy the father of her children is about as plausible as the latest post from Q-Anon.  As an aside, people who knew that Hammers from the times they visited Key West, affirm that they were a couple very much in love, mutually supportive, and happy.  That beside the point, and I am not trying to persuade anyone to change their opinions about it, the undoing of a 13 year relationship and the emotional consequences seemed to throw a grenade into Armie’s life. As we watch this train-wreck continue to unfold, the old Hollywood line “Ya can’t make this stuff up”  rears its ugly head.  And to no good purpose, at that.

Most sorrowful to me has been the complete silence from  any and all of Armie’s professional colleagues; directors, screen writers, actors, etc.  I actually considered contacting all his former directors to implore them (yeah, I know this is school of Duh)  to say even the most vanilla of comments, like “Armie was a complete professional who was a credit to this film.  As to his personal life, I choose to respect his privacy...”And then two days ago, when Jarecki, his director in the film Crisis, did speak up it was to imply Armie was comparatively unimportant to the film and that his social media woes had crippled Jarecki’s work.  Yeesh.  Sorry to any who find my opinion offensive, but these public silence episodes from friends and colleagues are betrayals of trust, affection, and relationships that are no less brutal because they are quiet.

You may have noticed, if you have read these three paragraphs, that I have studiously avoided the issue of Armie’s guilt or innocence because I realized at some point in the last 3 months, that I simply do not know the truth of any of this great mess.  And, given the realities of our “woke” world, the MeToo movement, the damage to Armie’s life and career are likely irrevocable.  Even within the fandom, for some there really is no going home again to that lovely pre-topless Vespa rides and  pap walks with wanna-be starlets, era when romantic Charmie dreams seemed at least vaguely possible.  I cannot guess at peoples’ motivations, I can only look at the observable behaviors.  What is apparent is that while one member of the Charmie duo is enduring a very public thrashing, the other is parading around in  different designer casual wear for several consecutive days on the streets of NYC.  To what end?  Does one just wake up one week and say, “Aha! Time for some photos of me stylin’.”?  Maybe, just maybe, these two realities, and the principals involved, have little, if anything to do with the other today.  I wonder this sometimes.  And it makes me yearn all the more for that lost, lovely once upon another time. 

 Toldja I was lost in nostalgia today

[thedarklightwithinus]

Final Exit.

A/N; Spoilers for Endgame (If you have not watched it yet, why????) 

Summary; Accepting that they were going to die is something Tony and Y/N had realised twenty two days after the snap. Nebula becomes a friend.  

Pairing; Tony Stark x Reader (Platonic), Steve Rogers x Reader. 

Words; 2.7k

Day twenty two of drifting through space. 

Not that Y/N had a tally chart on the underside of the half broken table that Tony mocked her for or anything. Even knowing time was running out, Tony Stark was still cracking jokes and being the most sarcastic shit she ever had the pleasure of meeting.  

Of course then there was Nebula. A woman so damaged by the people around her that Y/N didn't find it difficult to see through the hard exterior and the cold looks. On the inside, the woman was crying out for someone to just see her. Not that the pair would or could brag to anyone about it, but Nebula was now Y/N Y/L/N and Tony Stark's 'home girl'. 

What else would they have become after spending every waking hour with each other, trying to repair a ship that simply was repairable without the necessary equipment that they simply didn't have access to. It was with the upmost pride that the three gave up on the seventeenth day. Opting for making the most of whatever time they had left. 

Y/N breathed out a small breath as she sat in the soft chair at the front of the ship, gazing out the glass and taking in what space had to offer. Once the ship had come to a halt days prior, no more oxygen was being made. It left Y/N and Tony in a slight predicament that had then accepting that they wouldn't make it much longer. 

She could tell that the oxygen was indeed being used up as she sat, staring out at a rouge meteor passing the ship. Her breathing had significant change which left every breath being taken with a slight sound of wheezing. Y/N sighed as she got comfortable and began to ponder on just how she had gotten herself where she was. 

After the fight with Thanos was lost, something had happened. She wasn't particularly listening to Thanos when he had appeared on Titan. No, she was to busy trying not to get hit with the planets he was pelting them with. However, she had managed to pick up a few bits and pieces about wanting to wipe half of all life. He had disappeared once he had retrieved the stone that Strange had. 

It couldn't have been longer than ten minutes later when things started to go very, very wrong. The guardians had been the first to go. Go meaning they literally turned to dust before her very eyes. Dr Strange followed, talking about giving away the stone was the only way. Probably the most heart-breaking of all for Tony was Peter. The kid who he had taken under his wing and though she had tried to talk about it with him, comfort the man; Tony always changed the subject. 

The only ones left on Titan were Y/N, Tony and Nebula. After staring at ash for who knows how long, the three of them climbed aboard the Benatar to leave Titan, laying a course back to Earth. En route, Nebula had found that the Bentatar's power distribution cells had been damaged during the battle. Without a supply of spare parts, however, the three were unable to repair the ship and it spluttered to a halt.

That was four days ago.  

Hearing movement behind her, Y/N was quick to wipe and rogue tears from under her eyes as she twisted to look over her shoulder. Tony smiled at her softly, raising his half destroyed Iron Man helmet. "Come here." He said, slightly breathlessly as he lowered himself to the ground on the steps, patting the spot next to him as he placed his helmet against the wall. 

"What're you doing?" Y/N asked quietly, pushing herself from the chair and moving to take a seat next to him. 

He began to fiddle with the helmet, flicking a switch inside it before tapping the side of the metal. "In my dying state, I've decided to be sentimental." He spoke up, looking as though he wanted it to come out as though it wasn't a big deal. "Let's leave them a message." 

Y/N glanced from the corner of her eye at Tony, watching as he took in a deep breath of air in order to satisfy his lungs. "Tony... They might be gone." She found herself saying, knowing she hoped that they weren't. 

"We're still here right?" Tony muttered, flicking the helmet more as he tried to make it function. "I'm sure Pepper and the Capsicle will be too." 

"We're literally going to die Tony." Y/N told him blankly. "I don't want Steve watching this and seeing that we die like this. He probably thinks we didn't survive whatever Thanos did and I'm happy with tha-"

"Too late." Tony interrupted her, nodding towards the Helmet that was projecting a small blue light on them. "It's recording... Hey, Miss Potts... Pep. If you find this recording... Don't post it on social media. It's gonna be a real tear-jerker." Y/N couldn't help but snort under her breath. "I don't know if you're ever gonna see these. I don't even know if you're still... Same with you Cap. I didn't drag this one along for the emotional ride for nothing." Y/N found herself smiling sadly as she wiped under her eye. "Today is day Twenty on-"

"Twenty two." Y/N corrected, leaning back against the wall. 

"Right, day twenty two." Tony began, nodding slowly. "She's always been good with numbers... You know if it wasn't for the existential terror of staring into the literal void of space... I'd say we're doing a lot better today. Wouldn't you?" He tilted his head to raise a brow at Y/N who nodded slightly. "We're here with a blue meany... You'll love her, really. She's very practical." Y/N chuckled slightly. 

"She's only a teeny tiny bit sadistic." Y/N Spoke up, holding her finger and thumb together with the smallest gap she could muster. 

"Anyway... The fuel cells were cracked during battle. We found a way to reverse the charge which bought us around... Forty eight hours of flight time." Y/N didn't bother adding anything to that, knowing it was only going to end one way. "It's now dead in the water... We ran out of food and water four days ago and we're a thousand light years away from the nearest... Seven-Eleven."

Y/N cleared her throat slightly, understanding how hard it was for Tony to sit and talk as if it wasn't such a big deal. "Our oxygen is set to run out tomorrow morning... If I've done my maths right." She said, rubbing at her chin. "And that'll be it for us." 

The two of them sat in silence following her words for a moment. The leaned against the back wall, shoulder to shoulder as the pair really took in the truth that was staring them in the face. To Y/N, it was strange knowing that they were going to die because they didn't have enough oxygen to simply breath. Of all the things they had gone up against, not being able to breath was the one that was going to kill them. 

"Don't feel bad about this, Pep." Tony finally broke the silence, leaning forward as he rubbed at his forehead. "Actually, if you could just grovel for a couple of weeks and then... Move on, that'd be great. I'm going to... Lay down and rest my eyes." He spoke breathlessly as Y/N reached out to grip his shoulder, not mentioning the tears that were swimming in his eyes. "I love you, Pep. Just know that when i finally drift off, I'm thinking of you." 

Y/N was quick to look away, squeezing her eyes shut in order to try and stop the flow of tears that so desperately wanted to leak out. She turned back around once she was sure she wasn't going to start balling as she watched Tony press two fingers to his mouth before he rested them on the helmet. 

"Talk to your Capsicle." Tony muttered, stumbling to his feet and dragging himself to the chair she had occupied before he had come in. 

Sliding across the floor slowly, Y/N came to a stop directly in front of Tony's helmet. She stared at it blankly for a moment, tilting her head as though she could see the answers to everything she had ever wanted to know. 

"You know for the longest time I was stuck trying to figure out what it was I was meant to do." Y/N spoke up, looking off out the glass at the darkness of space. "I was in a dark place and I didn't know how to get out... It felt like ever step forward i took was six steps backwards from the ultimate goal... That every test I passed was a step in the wrong direction. But then you came along and for the first time in a long, long time... I started to feel things again. I was happy and I was safe from my own demons that were holding me back and I finally understood what it was I was meant to do. I was meant to feel things. I was meant to experience things and I was meant to allow myself the chance at life. I didn't see that at first because I didn't have you, Steve. I realised that I wanted to allow myself the chance at life with you." 

She spoke as though every secret she had ever bottled up were spilling out with each word she took. She chuckled slightly, wiping away the stream of tears as she sniffled.  

"The thing is... I know you're still alive. Not because you're Captain America, the star-spangled man with a plan... Because your Steve Rogers, the man who won't go down without a fight. This is one fight you don't have to fight." Y/N Finally turned to look down at the helmet. "I've accepted that I'm going to die up here. I'm not bitter and I'm not mad. I've made an amazing friend in Nebula and I hope she makes it out. I know I used to moan about him a lot but I gotta say, dying beside Tony Stark is an honour." The helmet seemed to flicker slightly and Y/N knew she had moments left. "Don't look back at this in pain, Steve. I want you to live your best life... And if that's moving on with your life, do it. Be happy... For me. I love you more than you'll ever know." 

It was almost as though the recording knew she had finished as it powered down seconds after she had finished speaking. She sat in silence for a moment, staring at the helmet as she let the tears fall freely. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled over to the chair beside Tony as she let herself fall into it. 

A feeling on her hand had her looking down as she watching Tony's own hand grip hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. "It's an honour to die beside you too." He muttered out, his eyes still closed as Y/N looked out the glass, taking in the darkness of space. 

As she watched a shooting star, she gave Tony's hand one last squeeze, her eyes slowly fell closed. Darkness engulfed her as though it was an old friend.

After what could have been five minutes or five hours, a building pressure on her hand had her frowning in annoyance. Even dead she was being pestered by something or another. A croak of her name had her forcing her eyes open slightly. However, before she even had a chance to blink, they were snapping shut on their own, trying to block out the bright light that filled them. 

Another croak of her name and a squeeze of her hand had her forcing her eyes open once more. She tilted to the side, looking at Tony through narrowed eyes as he stared ahead, his eyes wide in wonder. She followed his line of sight, taking in the ball of light. Are we supposed to go to the light? She thought. 

The longer she focused on the light, the quicker she began to make out specific features until all that was left, was a blur of facial features. Y/N eyed what was clearly a woman for a moment, wondering if this was some sort of test to pass on to where ever it was they were headed. Before she could think of doing anything, the woman spoke up. 

"Just hold on a little longer." Her voice flooded the pair's ears. 

Almost as soon as the blonde had spoken, she disappeared from view.

"Was that supposed to be Jesus?" Tony croaked out, letting his head roll to the side as Y/N did the same, the pair facing each other. 

"He's looking good for his age." Y/N whispered, her voice barely there. It became clear why it was the woman had told them to hold on a little longer as the Benatar began to move through space once again. 

What was probably due to the fact that they simply had no concept of anything at that particular time, Y/N was surprised to force her eyes towards the glass and see what was undoubtedly Earth growing ever closer. Or rather, they were quickly advancing on Earth. In the slow blink of an eye they had entered the atmosphere, the ship slowing down when America came into view. 

"Tony..." Y/N whispered, squeezing the mans hand as she eyed the acers they were advancing on. "Look." 

A steady jolting of the ship sent the pair shaking with it as the Benatar, after twenty two days in space, finally landed on solid ground... In the middle of the field that was located at the new Avengers Facility. Tony was the first to gain back a sudden burst of adrenaline as he pushed himself sloppily from the chair. Y/N allowed the man to help her up as Nebula came into view, reaching out towards the pair in order to steady them. 

Together, Tony and Y/N walked the slowest they had ever walked in their lives as Nebula followed from behind, her hands out in case either of the two stumbled. As the large platform lowered, the two of them sucked in breaths of fresh air as they leaned against each other. 

It was dark out, the area being lit up by the lights projecting from the facility. Tony and Y/N didn't have to worry about adjusting their sight as space was much, much darker than what they were dealing with. 

Y/N found herself smiling slightly when a small group of people came running towards the landing zone. The three of them took the stairs slowly as a figure came barrelling towards them, reaching out to help Nebula. Before the four of them even had a chance to make it off the metal stairs, another form came running towards them. 

"Oh my god." Pepper cried, gripping Tony as though her life depended on it. 

Y/N smiled, lowering herself to sit on the last step as a tall, blonde figure came towards her. She smiled through a wave of tears as she slid across the step, allowing Steve room to sit. 

"I'm alright." She found herself saying, turning to smile at him. "I just need to take a moment to breath." She added as he reached out and pulled her into an embrace. 

"I love you." 

[necromatador]

Couriers: VS Drakkar

Okay I am v. behind on Couriers summaries so I’m going to make a bunch of posts that summarize but also hopefully hit the emotions right.

Picking up where I left off: The big showdown vs Drakkar.

We made it to the Mouth of the World, a *MASSIVE* hole in the ocean, just literally a hole, like this: 

but like a mile across in the middle of the ocean.

Drakkar’s ship, the Maelstrom, is anchored near the edge.  Walker gives the party some temp HP and Bud gives us Water Walking just in case.  We come right up on them in a broadside, latching the Seahawk to it as we leap aboard. The crew of the Seahawk pushes forward to distract his sea-zombie crew, while the party cuts through to head directly for Drakkar himself. Aeron and Keyleth are slowed as sea-zombie hands literally reach through the deck and grab us, but Kaicis hits Drakkar with a Firebolt and Nimh charges forward through the sea mist surrounding us to get him with a Ray of Frost.

Drakkar reveals he has the ability to electrify the sea mist covering the ship, but Kaicis traps him in a radiant-damage Wall of Fire. This doesn’t hold Drakkar for long, though, and he Terminator walks through the wall to slash at Kaicis, who Hellish Rebukes him in response. Keyleth uses his glass-tipped arrow to escape the grab and double-marks Drakkar, and Aeron escapes and rushes forward to stab Drakkar, but we’re all grabbed again and he summons a massive wave to knock us all prone. Aeron uses his glass-tipped arrow to escape prone, and Nimh uses Misty Step to appear just above Drakkar and does a dramatic hammer-smash downswing coupled with a smite to do massive damage break one of Drakkar’s arms. After another round of hits, including another massive hit by Nimh, Drakkar finally grabs the still restrained Kelvayla and uses his control of the sea to escape the ship over to an outcropping on the edge of the Mouth of the World.  

We follow via Water Walk and on the way we are slightly waylaid by some water elementals, and arrive at the outcropping to find a heavily corrupted Drakkar who is now half tentacle and undersea monstrosity. The water around the Mouth of the World starts swirling and bubbling. Keyleth circles around Drakkar to get Kelvayla, who is tied up at the edge of the outcropping hanging over the precipice. Aeron and Nimh push through a fear effect and attack Drakkar, but Nimh is grabbed and thrown into Kaicis. Aeron panics and uses Hunger of Hadar, enveloping Drakkar, but Drakkar uses a blast from Kaicis to judge which direction to move out of it and swamps the outcropping with a wave that pushes Keyleth into the Hunger of Hadar. Aeron drops the spell, and Keyleth rushes Drakkar to hit him with the Sunblade. Nimh meanwhile roars, revealing their scales, and breathes ice breath on Drakkar, charging him and knocking him prone. Tentacles of some massive creature, barbed and thicker than any tree, start reaching out of the Mouth of the World.

Drakkar does another surge-step over to the edge where Kelvayla is and cuts her bonds, sending her falling into the pit of tentacles. But then, with a flash of light, she rises back up in the arms of a woman made of the same crystal as the Star.  Cilali.

She blinds Drakkar with her light and everyone rushes forward to attack him, knocking him back into the Mouth of the World, which screams and closes. We all move forward as Cilali and Kelvayla descend to the outcropping, and then pass out.

We wake up back on the ship, Nimh having a major breakdown about the fact that we all have seen their transformation revealed. Keyleth accidentally makes them feel more like a monster with an unintentional comment, while Aeron tries to assure them that he doesn’t think of them as a monster. Nimh doesn’t believe him, and spends the next while quiet and largely avoiding the others as best they can.

We loot the Maelstrom, which we notice has stopped magically repairing itself, and find a strange gilded bracelet and a load of raw mithril. Then we blow it up before we leave. Keyleth confronts Aeron about the magic he uses after having experienced Hunger of Hadar during the fight against Drakkar, and Aeron explains it as having come from a book he’s been slowly translating. Keyleth asks to see it, but Aeron’s throat tightens and he gives an excuse of ‘maybe later’ and leaves. Nimh spends a few days healing a comatose Cilali, who eventually awakens. We explain to her that something bad had clearly happened at the temple, but her people still exist on Ola Ola. After some small consideration, Cilali doesn’t want to go back to them, feeling some guilt for not being there for them, and also wanting to explore the world.

We head back to the Ossa Maria for restocking and some healing/relaxation. Before we get there, the Kuo-toa give Aeron one last basket of prayers and then leave. We were given special accommodations and were told a celebratory feast would be held that night in our honor. We were allowed to enter the sacred garden where their weather orb was located, and were told that the Great Mother wanted to talk to us in person, giving us her blessing and thanks; a massive honor. Afterwards we had the feast and fireworks and a huge celebration. Nimh and Walker snuck away for a bit during the celebration and pierced Nimh’s ears for them.

A bit later, we finally geared up to leave and Xel’bal joined the Seahawk crew officially. The final ride to Fangport took several calm and uneventful days, during which the Sunblade was given to Cilali as a gift. The night before we disembarked, Aeron snuck into Kelvayla’s room while she slept and stole one of her horn cuffs, putting it on as a bangle bracelet.

The next day we disembarked to a big fanfare of the crew of the Seahawk and another musical number, after which they attempt to hit Aeron with a cannon-shot made of fruit as a final friendly revenge for his previous shenanigans. As the Seahawk makes a quick retreat from the Fangport docks, Aeron waves them away with the arm that has the stolen horn cuff/bangle on it, and in the distance he sees Kelvayla squint, realize, and start to yell and make to jump off the ship, only to be held back by a laughing Walker.

[anistarrose]

Fateful Detours - Ch. 2 (Gravity Falls x Infinity Train)

Summary: Stan and Ford have a rocky reunion, and Ford invokes the wrath of a scheming new enemy.

Warnings: description of a car accident (no injuries)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20331070/chapters/48370201

(The Beginning) (The End)

Part two of three has arrived! And don’t get me wrong, I’m quite satisfied with the first chapter, but this one was much more exciting to write :)

***

(12 hours earlier, below a stormy afternoon sky in northwestern New Jersey…)

Stan anxiously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, checking his mirrors for cops. No one appeared to be tailing him.

Maybe the angry mob had been so hellbent on getting revenge in person that they hadn’t bothered to call the police, or maybe the police hadn’t thought a petty con artist was worth their time, but one thing was for sure — this was the fourth town Stan had gotten run out of this month, which meant that one way or another, staying in New Jersey any longer would surely just get him into even more trouble.

There was only one issue: as much as Stan once liked to brag about how he was going to sail away from that godforsaken state one day, he missed New Jersey.

Or, more accurately, he missed the childhood he’d spent there. He missed Ford.

“You cut that out,” he told himself, shoving the train of thought to the back of his mind. “You think Stanford would care that I feel homesick? He doesn’t deserve to be missed.”

His train of thought refused to go quietly, instead jumping straight off its rails. But you do miss him. That’s why you’re taking the longest possible detour out of Jersey, instead of just heading straight to Pennsylvania.

“Shut UP, Stanley!” Stan shouted, smacking his forehead, and the moment his concentration on driving wavered, his car went careening off the highway. He slammed on the brakes, but there was no traction on the muddy downhill slope, and the Stanleymobile kept sliding until a mighty oak tree intercepted it with a sickening crunch.

For a solid minute, Stan just sat with his head buried in his hands, afraid to even look at the damage. It was the passenger door area that had collided with the tree, so Stan himself had escaped any serious injury, but he didn’t know if the Stanleymobile — his only friend in the world, it felt like — would still be drivable.

Finally, he stepped outside in the rain, trudging through the mud without a single spark of optimism as he made his way around the El Diablo. One look at the front left wheel, pointing an angle it definitely wasn’t supposed to, told him everything he needed to know about whether the car could be salvaged.

He felt like crying, and had he been left alone like that for just one moment longer — his one possession of value wrecked in front of him, his already ruined life reduced to even more pathetic shambles than before — he indeed might have broken down and sobbed. But he was interrupted by a flash of light from the woods, and then another, and then countless more, until the flashing stopped and a constant, brilliant green glow was beaming out from between the trees. Beckoning him.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, but his hands were already opening the backseat door and pulling out the duffel bag that contained all his belongings. His feet were already guiding him into the woods, towards the source of the light…

It was a train, come to a stop right there in the middle of nowhere, advertising its destination of Pennsylvania in bright green letters.

And Stan, under normal circumstances, was not an especially trusting person. But today, for some reason — maybe out of sheer bewildered curiosity, maybe because of some sinister spell the train had cast over him, or maybe just because he had nothing left to lose — he found himself throwing caution to the wind, and stepping aboard.

***

Needless to say, when Ford barged into the rock-climbing car and shouted “What are you doing here?!” all angry and accusatory, Stan told an abbreviated version of the earlier events.

“Got in a wreck, needed a new ride, jumped on the train. Didn’t expect it to kidnap me into a wasteland full of cockroaches that try to suck my soul out if I leave.” His words came out blunt and flat, devoid of a whole flood of conflicting emotions that he struggled to hold back.

“You got off the train?!” Ford didn’t look worried about the state of Stan’s soul. If anything, he seemed incredulous at the notion that Stan would want to leave.

“Of course! Do I look like I want to be trapped in some — some sick experiment, or whatever this thing is? I wouldn’t recommend getting off, though — I kinda almost died.”

Please, Stan thought, please say something that proves you’d care if I did die —

Instead, Ford just stared down at Stan’s crossed arms. “Do you have a number?” he asked, as if that was a perfectly reasonable response to one’s estranged twin talking about their near-death experiences.

“Oh, have you already cracked the code? Have you figured out what the numbers mean using your fancy college brain?” Stan’s attempt to stay detached was breaking down more and more with each retort. “Yeah, I’ve got one, it’s —”

He held out his hand, then blinked in confusion. So did Ford.

“Wait, 153?” Stan asked. “It was 147 just a couple minutes ago! It’s been 147 the whole time I was here!”

“It’s lower than mine?” Ford muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Well, that certainly calls for some adjustments to my hypothesis…”

“So you don’t know what it means?”

“I’ve only been on this train for a matter of hours!” Ford shot back defensively. “I simply don’t have enough data points to conclude anything with any sort of confidence!”

As he waved his hands in the air, Stan caught a glimpse of his number — 163. So Ford was ten points ahead of him… or could it be ten points behind?

“But I will solve this,” Ford continued as he headed for the door on the opposite side of the room. “I’m sure one of the next few cars will provide some clues about —”

“Yeah, good luck with that door,” Stan interrupted. “The only key’s up at the top of that cliff.”

Ford tried to turn the handle, without success, and turned around to squint towards the roof of the car. “Ah. So it is.” He eyed the pulley system. “You couldn’t get up there on your own?”

“Look, there’s not a lot of handholds, okay? I’d like to see you do better.”

“Sure.” Ford picked up a harness lying on the ground, and gestured towards the pulley system. “That’s a manual pulley, right? With two of us here, that’ll make the climb simple.”

“Yeah, but why I am I the one who has to pull you?”

“Because I’m lighter, and you have more upper-body strength?” Ford told him. “I thought that would be obvious.”

Truth be told, Stan didn’t exactly want to attempt the climb again… but as petty as it was, he didn’t want Ford to be the one who arrived and immediately saved the day. Ford was always the irreplaceable one, the star of the show, while it felt like Stan was just the opposite — the twin who failed at anything he attempted on his own, and only got anywhere by riding on someone else’s coattails.

He begrudgingly took ahold of the rope as Ford adjusted his climbing harness. “Okay, am I just holding on to make sure you don’t fall, or am I gonna have to lift you the whole way up?”

“I can support my own weight, for the most part,” Ford replied as he began to climb.

“You’re gonna want to move a few feet to the left,” Stan suggested. “You’re not going to get anywhere near the key if you climb straight up from there.”

“Really?” Ford craned his neck, trying to get a better view.

“Yes, really. Trust me, I can actually see the key without looking like an owl trying to turn its head around but failing because it had a broken neck.”

Ford reluctantly did as he was told, and the first three-fourths of the climb passed quickly and without much difficulty. But when he was just a few feet short of the key, Ford slowed to a halt, awkwardly glancing down at Stan.

“You… you were right, there’s not a whole lot of handholds or footholds up here.”

“Do you want me to pull you the rest of the way?”

“I don’t know… give me a second to try again here…”

“You better make up your mind soon, or my arms will get too tired to even get you down safely.”

“Alright, sure. Lift me the rest of the — woah!”

Stan pulled on the rope with all his strength, and Ford rapidly ascended past the rest of the climb. He pulled the key out of its slot at the top of the cliff, and let go of the rock wall altogether as Stan lowered him to the ground.

“That’s all?”

“Well, I only saw one keyhole in the door.”

There was an awkward silence, as Ford undid his harness and walked towards the exit with Stan trailing a bit behind him. As little as a few months ago, a moment like this would’ve surely been accompanied by a victory chant, or a high-six, or something, but now all they had was… a quiet tolerance of each other, and it felt unrealistic to hope for anything more.

We’re both heading in the same direction, Stan realized. What now?

Maybe this quiet tolerance wasn’t so bad, if it meant he wouldn’t be alone.

“Hey, Sixer?” Stan asked as Ford opened the door, and Ford whirled around to look at him — not quite angry, but certainly confused.

This was a bad idea. Why did I have to bring it up? I probably could’ve kept following him, and he wouldn’t have said anything.

“I was just, uh, wondering… I told you my story, but how did you get on the train?”

Ford’s brow furrowed, his look of owlish confusion morphing into a scowl. “I missed my bus.”

“Why?” Stan blurted out, and immediately regretted it when he saw Ford’s expression darken even more.

“I took an ill-advised detour,” Ford explained, speaking in that verbose, detached way that he only really did when he was upset, “that I didn’t have time for. I had a moment of… nostalgia, and wanted to check up on our old project before I left town…”

Staring off into space with a distant look in his eyes, Ford didn’t seem to notice it, but the number on his hand dropped from 163 to 159.

“The Stan O’ War?” Stan asked. “You’re still working on it?”

Ford snapped back to reality, his wistful expression immediately vanishing. “Of course not. I wish I’d never even checked up on it in the first place.”

“Right,” Stan muttered. “Why would I expect anything different from you.”

Ford hurled the key to the ground, near Stan’s feet. “Sailing around the world was never going to happen, and we both should’ve known it!” he shouted. “You know what? I wouldn’t even be stuck on this goddamn train, if only we’d never gotten that ridiculous idea in our heads! Or, if only you hadn’t sabotaged my chances at getting a scholarship to any school other than fucking Backupsmore!”

He whirled around, slamming the door in Stan’s face as he bolted for the next car. Stan tried to follow, but found that the door had locked again, and wasted a few moments fumbling around for the key on the floor. By the time he got to the next car, he could see Ford standing on a raised platform near the opposite door, having already navigated the maze beneath him.

He locked eyes with Stan, no doubt expecting a plea for help. Expecting Stan to beg not to be left behind. (Again.)

But Stan realized — he didn’t want to give Ford the satisfaction of being correct. (Again.)

I can solve puzzles on my own. I can scale cliffs on my own. I’ll get off this train on my own, and then we’ll see who the dumb twin really is.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again,” he growled. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

Even though the words came out of his own mouth, they still stung like a slap across the face.

For one single second, Ford looked caught off guard, but then he turned on his heel and left the room. Before the door even slammed shut, Stan’s hand began to flicker green as his number jumped up once again.

169

***

“I can’t believe I thought this place wasn’t half-bad,” Ford muttered to himself, cranking a lever that lowered a drawbridge into place and opened a path to the car’s exit. His hands were slightly greasy from slotting a dislodged gear back into place, and as he wiped them off, he noticed that his number was rising, passing 166 and going higher than he’d ever seen it.

He took note of the changes in a journal, and headed for the exit. In other circumstances, he might’ve wanted to stay a little longer and study the bridge mechanism, maybe even do a few sketches, but right now his heart wasn’t in it he just wanted to get off the damn train as soon as possible, which meant there was little to no time available for unrelated mysteries.

But as dejected eager to move on as he was, he couldn’t help but find himself captivated by the contents of the next car. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined every wall, holding carefully organized books, strange knickknacks, and a surprising number of yarn balls…

“Ahem,” began a voice from the shadows, interrupting his train of thought, “but did you not even think to knock? Have you no manners?”

The car’s resident slunk out from behind a table — a graceful cream-colored cat, dressed in a sharp navy blue suit and golden silk ascot. “Passengers these days, I swear…”

Ford ignored her, eyes glued to table’s contents. One compact device lit up as he approached it, displaying a waveform that oscillated in time with his footsteps, and he picked it up, snapping his fingers experimentally. One again, the display responded.

“You put that down!” the cat hissed. “My collection is more valuable than you could possibly imagine —”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. I’m so sorry,” Ford hurriedly apologized, lowering the device back down to the tabletop but still holding it between two of his fingers. Recalling childhood adventures in petty crime, he sought to create a distraction with his free hand, reaching for an astrolabe that sat on a nearby shelf. “What’s this? Is it decorative, or —”

“Don’t touch that either!” the cat yowled, springing up on to the shelf to snatch the astrolabe away. As she moved, Ford palmed the smaller device and slipped it into the pocket of his pants, and couldn’t help but smirk as the cat failed to notice.

“Okay, okay, I get the message. Is there anything in this room I can touch?”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of things in the next train car!” the cat hissed. “So go on, make yourself scarce!”

“But your whole collection is so interesting…” Ford replied, looking over the room and assessing which other items he might be able to sneak into his pockets for further study. “Won’t you at least tell me where you found all this?”

The cat blinked twice, and then the corners of the her mouth curled into a smile. “Oh, I can do better than that. I think I know just the thing that will interest you, Mister… what was your name? I don’t think you ever introduced yourself.”

“I’m Ford Pines, pleased to meet you. I didn’t catch your name either…?”

“I’m the Cat,” the Cat told him as she bounded from shelf to shelf. As she rifled through a stack of objects resembling sleek black cassette tapes, she still looked up to glance at Ford every few seconds, as if she still didn’t trust him not to touch her possessions.

“Now let’s see… ah, this edition should suit our purposes well. Just take a seat by the television, and I’ll get this documentary started!”

“What’s it about?” Ford asked, settling into the chair. “Any specific artifact or device in particular, or just a general overview? Did you produce and narrate it yourself?”

“Oh, I don’t want to give away the surprise,” the Cat told him as she inserted the tape, “but I promise, once it gets started, you won’t be able to look away.”

She pressed the play button, and Ford’s mind was filled with static.

***

In any other scenario, the Cat would have at that point taken a few moments to simply stare approvingly at her completed trap, but not five seconds after the television had turned on, the door to her car swung open again.

It took Stan’s eyes another second or two to fully adjust to the dimmer lighting, but not nearly that long for him to realize something was very wrong.

“What the fuck?” He bolted past the startled Cat, shaking Ford’s limp body by the shoulders. Some instinct told him not to look at the TV, so he locked eyes with Ford instead — with Ford’s wide open, yet glazed-over eyes that didn’t show a single spark of awareness.

“Ford, can you here me?” No response.

“Ford, I know you’re mad, but this isn’t funny!” Complete silence, aside from static crackling in the background.

“What did you do to him?” Stan whirled towards the Cat, who grinned sheepishly while slowly backing away. “What did you do to my brother?!”

“Oh, I just… introduced him to a meditative exercise! He was very excited to try it, you see, and requested that I not let anyone interrupt him —”

“Bullshit,” Stan growled. “I know a scam artist when I see one! What did you really do to him?!”

“He messed with my things and refused to leave me in peace!” the Cat hissed. “He had it coming!”

“Messed with your things, huh?” In one fluid motion, Stan snatched a ball of yarn of a shelf with one hand and pulled out a pocket lighter with the other, flicking the wheel a few times before a bright blue flame spluttered to life. “Tell me how to get him back, or I light this baby up and toss it at a bookshelf.”

The Cat gasped when he pulled out the lighter, but then unsheathed her claws and sneered defiantly. “If you’re both on this train, but traveling separately… well, his number’s already sky-high and only getting higher. He doesn’t want anything to do with you ever again, does he?”

Stan flinched, and the Cat smiled. “I assumed as much. You poor thing — all you want is to ‘get your brother back,’ but it’s already doomed to be a hopeless endeavour.”

Stan glanced back at Ford, slumped over in the chair and looking about as alive as a corpse.

“Maybe it is hopeless,” he admitted. “Maybe he never will forgive me. But if I left him here like this, I’d… I’d never forgive myself. I could lie to myself about it for as long as I wanted, I could remind myself how he wouldn’t do the same for me, but — but that wouldn’t make me feel any less terrible. He’s my brother, and I’m going to save him, because… because that’s just who I am.”

He unwound a strand of yarn, and dangled it over the lighter flame. Blue sparks traveled up the off-white string like a fuse, racing to engulf the entire yarn ball.

“And I’m also a person who meant what I said about burning everything in here. So for the last time, I’m asking you: HOW DO I SAVE MY BROTHER?”

“Playing on that television is a record of everything that makes him him,” the Cat explained. “If you look at the screen, you’ll join him inside those memories, but I can’t promise he’ll want to come back out with you. In fact, I’d bet against it.”

“I don’t care what you’d bet on.” Stan blew out the flame, and hurled the extinguished yarn ball at the wall. The Cat narrowly dodged the rebound, hissing as she ducked out of the way.

“Don’t worry, Ford,” Stan whispered. “I’m coming.”

***

(End notes:

Being with yellow eyes and fancy outfit: *exists* Ford: well, they couldn’t possibly have any ulterior motives!

Anyways, thank you for reading and as always, feedback/reblogs are appreciated! The third and final chapter should go up in early September, if everything goes according to plan.)

[kolbehq]

FILE // BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Cassiopeia “Peia” Ryder.

Age: 23 years old.

Gender: Female.

Pronouns: She/her.

Species: Human.

Home Planet: Hermes.

Job: Astronomer.

Criminal Record: Age fabrication, theft, assault.

Sentence: 12 years.

Faceclaim: Tiera Skovbye.

FILE // BACKGROUND

Growing up on Hermes, Cassiopeia Ryder, affectionately nicknamed Peia by her father, had nothing but the constellations in the night sky for comfort.

See, Peia had had a rough start to life; her mother and father met while they both visited the far more scenic planet of Creon, a way for them to escape the war that raged between Hermes and Antigone, and though they lost contact on that night, they later met when they were both back on Hermes. It was a whirlwind romance that lead to them falling deeply in love and marrying a few months later, despite the disapproval of those around them. They were happy together, and although life on this particular planet was difficult, they made do with what they had. Peia’s father, Aeolus, found work in the Psychrine mines, a dangerous job but one that allowed him to bring in an income for his family. Her mother worked odd jobs, finding work whenever she could, and they made life on Hermes work. At nights, when Aeolus came home from long days at work in the mines, he would take his daughter up onto the roof of their tiny home, and he would teach her about the constellations in the night sky.

This was where Peia’s love of stars was born; when she wasn’t helping her mother with her work, she would pour herself over old and badly damaged books that detailed the stars that spread across the universe. She would devour any and all information that she could get her tiny hands on, her mother joking that she was a little fiend for it. Typically, she was too engrossed in her books to respond to the quip.

And when the reality of living on Hermes came knocking, the stars would be all that she had.

It was a freak accident, like so many that happened on Hermes, but it resulted in many causalities. Rumours were that it was an Antigone plot, but none of that mattered to Peia, as one of these causalities was her mother. She had been coming back from picking up their rations for the week when the so called accident occurred, and she never came home again. Her absence tore Peia apart, the girl going from the shy and reserved bookworm to angry and cold girl who wanted something to blame for her mother being gone. Aeolus struggled to help her, having to work more shifts in the mines to help keep them afloat all while having to tend to his own grief. It caused many fights between them, many arguments that were never resolved, and Peia’s emotions and judgement grew clouded by her grief and trauma. It was this that lead her to pick pocketing.

The rush of theft was a good emotion; the euphoria of getting away with the crime was exciting and it prompted her to keep doing it. There wasn’t much of value that she stole, simply just extra rations and a few items she was sure that the owners wouldn’t miss. In her small city, her actions became somewhat infamous, with the residents knowing something was up but never knowing who was responsible for the thefts. Peia, of course, never told her father just how she managed to come into these things – the extra ration cards, some trinkets, and so on – but he was always too tired and overworked to notice what she was getting up to. Peia should have been worried about this, but she was so wrapped up in her own actions and choices, that she didn’t think for a moment that her father could have been hurt.

In a cruel twist by the universe, a collapse in a Psychrine mine resulted in Aeolus being badly injured; with his spine broken, as well as a severe head injury that left him unable to work, keeping them afloat fell onto Peia’s shoulders. Too young to work legally, Peia had to try and find a way around this, and while at first she tried to be honest about her age and situation, not many employers gave her a second look. Desperate and on the brink of losing hope, Peia lied about her age, telling her prospective employer that she was above the legal working age, and she landed herself a job. Riding on the high of it working, Peia did it again, landing herself another job. She worked them diligently, all while looking after her father. On the side, she had her pick pocketing to help her ignore how tired she was now, the rush a temporary fix to her problems.

And Peia thought she had gotten a good handle on things, although she was exhausted from all of the work she had to do, she was relatively safe. She knew the consequences of if she got caught lying, but it was the risk she had to take to be able to provide for the person who had provided for her. She began to make amends with her father and they went back to their nightly routine of watching the constellations, despite how bittersweet it was with everything the Ryder family had been through. Although she was walking a very thin line, Peia had never thought she would be brought down by someone who had no ill will against her.

She had been mid-shift when one of her father’s work friends saw her, and approached to say hi, to ask how Aeolus was keeping. The action itself was innocent enough, but her employer managed to overhear their conversation, and subsequently found out that Peia had lied about her age. Even though she was old enough to have the job now, it was still a bad enough offence that she was thrown out of work, quickly losing her second job as a result. The only reprieve came from not being outed by her employers to the government. They allowed her to go, deeming the sentence of not being able to gain work due to her dishonesty as punishment enough. This hit her hard, as she could no longer find work that wasn’t too dangerous – and working in the mines was out of the question; if she got hurt, or worse, then there would be no one left to look after her father. So, Peia did the only thing she could think to do.

Having worked in the place for a few years, Peia knew the layout of the small business and she knew where her former employer kept their supplies - rations, food, amongst other things. After one last star watching night with her father, Peia broke into the building and began to take as much as she could. She had finally tipped over the line and she paid for it. The owner came back, having forgotten something before locking up a few hours prior, and caught her redhanded. Peia panicked, the fear of being thrown in prison and being separated from her father fairly strong, and she attacked the owner, striking up a fight that left them both hurt. Moreover, it ended with Peia being arrested.

The trial was quick, with enough evidence against her that she barely had a case to argue. Despite her listing her reasons for doing, tears running down her cheeks as she begged for the judge and jury to be lenient to her and her father, Peia was sentenced to 16 years in prison.

FILE // CURRENTLY

Prison was a death sentence in for Peia. She struggled at first, barely able to contain her emotions, being labelled as weak by other inmates. She mostly kept to herself, not bothering to try and make any friends or connections. Although she was completely broken by it, Peia lied to her father when he was able to visit her. She told him that she was doing fine and that she was coping far better than she actually was. It was her last attempt at looking after her father in the only way she could now that she was no longer physically able to do so.

She worked quietly and avoided trouble while she was in prison, hoping that when her parole hearing came around, she would have proven herself as an upstanding prisoner, and therefore, she would be able to rejoin society, the promise of not re-offending on the tip of her tongue. While there, she turned back to her books, making use of the collection the prison offered, to study more on stars, slowly teaching herself as much as she could about astronomy. It was one of the ways she kept herself calm and stable, telling herself that she would be able to talk through everything she learned with her father when she got out of prison.

Peia wasn’t directly told about the ES Kolbe’s mission but she heard other prisoners talking about it. It wasn’t the way back home that she wanted and it would take her far away from the only person she had, the only family she had left, but it intrigued her. Somewhere inside of her was the same small girl who loved the stars and saw a future in them. She toyed with the idea of putting herself forward, knowing that it could either be something she regretted or something that changed her life forever. When she brought it up to her father, after many days of deliberation, Aeolus encouraged her to go for it; to be the first of their family to live amongst the stars.

Peia put herself up for the mission, highlighting her knowledge of stars, of how the universe worked and developed, as a feature of her not so glowing resume. It seemed like a long process, sitting through every step, as she was judged by people who, technically, held her fate in their hands. Much to her relief, she was accepted for the mission, and brought aboard the ES Kolbe. To say she was excited would have been an understatement, and as they left Gaia, she found the best view that she was allowed and watched the universe unfold before her for the first time.

As an astronomer, it is Peia’s job to study the new planets and galaxies they might come across in their exploration. Through the combination of chemistry, physics, and mathematics, it is her job to work alongside the other astronomers and sciences officers to help find suitable planets for the Third Frontier to settle on.

On a more selfish note, Peia secretly hopes to discover a new constellation, one that she would name after her father.

[ankhlesbian]

FE Femslash Week: Day 5

Prompt: Strength

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Awakening

Ship: Miriel/Sully

Title: Strength, and A Lack Thereof

AO3 Link: Here

Sully drags Miriel along to one of her training sessions. It is the single most painful experience of her entire life.

“Up an’ at em!”

An enemy would not be so foolish as to announce their presence. Therefore, the current matter is of less relevance than Miriel’s current occupation. Sleep is of the utmost importance for the functioning of the human body. Yet, the noise outside her tent persists.

“Miriel! You have until the count of ten, then I’m breaking in, like it or not.”

There is not much to break. The flap of the tent lacks any sort of locking mechanism. “Breaking” in will yield no damage to the tent. It is not a compelling threat.

“I warned you.” The pest outside growls.

The sun streaming into her face seems to have an above average magnitude of brightness. She groans, taking the logical course of action and positioning an obstruction between her sensitive eyes and the offending light.

Her pillow is cruelly tugged away.

“I do not appreciate this,” she snaps, squinting at her assailant. She can’t make out much without her spectacles, but the blurry red splotch confirms her suspicions. Sully.

Said woman snorts, holding out something with one hand. Miriel accepts the offering; her glasses. She slides them on. Sully has one hand on her hip, and she looks rather unimpressed. She’s already dressed, albeit not in her usual armor, merely loose shorts and a sleeveless top.

“You’re the one who said you needed to see my workout routine.” Miriel vaguely remembers making that request. She had assumed they would arrange in advance a time-frame during which she could observe, preferably one far later in the day. The sun isn’t even fully risen.

“Would it not be wiser to wait for evening? The present temperature is sure to be unbearable.” Sully is unaffected.

“I do this every morning. No point in rearranging my entire training schedule just for today. Besides, don’t want any confounding variables or selection bias, do we?” In hindsight, it was extremely unwise of her to explain any concepts relating to scientific experimentation to Sully.

“You will have to give me a moment to prepare myself. I failed to foresee this outcome.” Sully waves her on, ignoring the bitterness of her tone. She rolls out of bed and begins to gather her usual robes, but Sully stops her, tugging them from her hands.

“You’ll overheat in those.”

“I wear these every day. I assure you, I am aware of my own limitations.”

“You don’t do any heavy exercise on a daily basis, though.” Miriel freezes.

“I do not. And I am not engaging in anything of the sort today.” Sully smirks.

“Oh, yes you are. Won’t experiencing it for yourself make for better observations?”

“I refuse to make a spectacle of myself. I will only be an embarrassment.” Sully raises an eyebrow.

“Good thing everyone else is still asleep then, huh?” They lock gazes. Miriel will not yield. Sully sighs.

“I suppose it was too much to ask. Poor nerd like you can’t take a challenge.” Miriel yields, snatching her robes from Sully and shoving them back into her chest. She instead opts for breathable pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Despite the promised heat, she will not debase herself further by wearing more revealing clothing. Her lack of muscle mass will be apparent enough as is.

She pushes her way out of the tent, arms crossed.

“How shall we begin?” Sully is inordinately pleased with herself.

“Stretching. And then a little warm-up jog.”

Evidently, a “warm-up” jog entails a mile long run around the outskirts of camp.

“It’ll take ten minutes, max.” Sully promises sweetly.

Twenty minutes later, Miriel is panting heavily, bent over at the waist and gripping her knees tightly with her hands. Sully rubs at her back soothingly, as if the traitor didn’t laugh at her plight mere seconds ago.

“I suppose we can skip the cool-down one at the end of all this.”

“A prudent choice.” She manages between her desperate struggles to obtain oxygen.

Next up is strength training, courtesy of the weights stowed in the supply cart. Mercifully, Sully allows her to make use of the lighter ones rather than match Sully’s admittedly impressive load.

It feels as if her bones have been replaced with a mysterious gelatinous substance when they finally finish. Her motivations for pestering Sully into this seem unsound given the current state of affairs. She had wanted to spend more time with her, but been unwilling to phrase it in that way. She had no desire to appear needy.  

“Now a little light ab work.” Miriel perks up, straightening from her bent over position and sliding her glasses back into place.

“What purpose will that serve? I may require a demonstration.” Sully sees right through her ruse, pushing up her shirt and flexing to reveal the tight lines of her abdominal muscles. Miriel, out of scientific curiosity, stares intently, nodding sagely. Sully allows the reprieve for a scant thirty seconds before lowering herself to the ground.

“No more stalling.” Miriel does not pout.

“I would never do something as asinine as that.”

Sully insists that Miriel complete as many of her drills as possible. Though she lacks the necessary evidence to support her hypothesis, she suspects that many of these “drills” were invented by Sully for the sole purpose of extracting as much pain from the victim as possible.

In the end, all she has left to complete are fifty more sit-ups. Despite Sully’s nonchalance, it is a monumental task. Sully is sprawled out in front of her, her own sit-ups long since finished, an elbow resting on Miriel’s feet to assist her with her burden.

Miriel makes the executive decision to implement a brief break.

“It should not be physically possible to do this.” She complains, staring up at the sky above her. The dawn sky is beginning to recede, leaving only the faintest traces of pink and orange behind. A lone cloud drifts aimlessly by, a puppet to the wind. It is a reflection of how her spirit feels. Without life and at the mercy of her environment.

She closes her eyes and sighs. Just a prolonged blink. One should never slack off during training, no matter how pleasant the radiation of the sunlight feels, permeating through her epidermis and seeping into her tired bones. A nap would be the ideal remedy for her current predicament.

The warmth disappears. She opens her eyes to see Sully leaning over her, looking a bit concerned.

“You know I was jus’ givig you a hard time,” she says. “You don’t actually have to finish.”

Miriel shoots up, ignoring the spike of pain the motion prompts in her abdomen.

“I will not leave this experiment only half complete.” She doesn’t point out that doing the exercises herself won’t actually provide reliable data for how the work-out affects Sully, due to their difference in muscle mass. Sully refrains from mentioning it as well, though she undoubtedly thinks it.

Instead, Sully smiles softly.

“How about some encouragement, then?” She places her hands on Miriel’s feet and leans over her knees. She makes a profoundly over-exaggerated “kissy” face.

“Every time you make it back up here, plant a big one.” A positive stimulant as a reward for completing an undesirable task. Devious. Despite the ridiculous nature of the suggestion, Miriel cannot find it in her to resist.

Her first attempt results in her almost breaking Sully’s nose with her forehead. The second nets the desired result, and Miriel finds herself focusing single-mindedly on her goal. It seems as if no time at all has passed when Sully stops her.

Miriel collapses immediately.

“I am fine.” It is one of the least convincing lies she has ever told. If she was sound of body, she would be recording the results of the experience in a notebook. Waiting too long will deem her recollections unreliable and tainted by the failures of the human mind. That would require her to repeat the experiment to gather more results.

Or, she can abandon the experiment. It was never her primary objection, but Sully doesn’t need to know that.

Sully crouches in front of her.

“C’mon,” she says, gesturing to her back. “I’ll take us to breakfast.”

Miriel climbs aboard, securing her arms around Sully’s neck. She’s a little too tall for the position, and her legs dangle awkwardly even as Sully wraps her hands around her thighs.

Miriel rests her head on Sully’s shoulder. The walk to the mess-sector of camp is relatively short, but perhaps the additional burden will cause the trek to be elongated. There may even be sufficient time for a proper nap.

As they weave their way through camp, they receive a few stares. Miriel has both sound reasoning and physical evidence to prove that she does, in fact, require this piggyback ride. Sully just waves jauntily. At least, until Vaike sees them and gapes, looking aghast.

“Sully! I thought you’d be gentler than that in bed!” Sully splutters, face going red. Miriel draws herself up and summons what energy she can, igniting a small spark and setting Vaike’s hair on fire.

“Think before you speak, you knave! Observe more carefully! From our dress, we were clearly engaged in a training session.” Vaike yelps, clawing futilely at his hair. Negative reinforcement may be the key to convincing him to think before he speaks. Miriel snaps and the flame goes out, his hair only mildly singed.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sully mutters, still embarrassed.

“I am simply defending your honor. It would not do to have false rumors spread about your prowess.” Sully goes red for a second time, barely recovered from the first incident.

Some would say emotions are illogical, but Miriel is human, and humans thrive in their irrationality. With Sully’s arms wrapped around her and her hair tickling Miriel’s nose, and Sully’s face flushed in front of her, all of the evidence points to a single conclusion: it would be illogical to not date her.

Admittedly, the fatigue emanating throughout her entire body suggests that there are more efficient things to do than train while in Sully’s company. But for now, the price was worth the cost. Sacrifices must be made for success. Although next time, Miriel will insist that Sully make the sacrifice. Sully can sacrifice her mobility in exchange for Miriel utilizing her legs as a pillow. She’ll need to recover the energy expended during their work-out.

[bforbookslut]

Sasha Alsberg and Lindsay Cummings’ Zenith Is a Space Adventure With a Familiar Story and Tropes

I have given Zenith by Sasha Alsberg and Lindsay Cummings a ☆☆☆ rating. It is Book 1 of The Androma Saga series. It is Young Adult Science Fiction with some Space Opera and Romance. Harlequin Teen publishes it. It will be published January 16, 2018.

The synopsis reads:

Most know Androma Racella as the Bloody Baroness, a powerful mercenary whose reign of terror stretches across the Mirabel Galaxy. To those aboard her glass starship, Marauder, however, she's just Andi, their friend and fearless leader. But when a routine mission goes awry, the Marauder's all-girl crew is tested as they find themselves in a treacherous situation and at the mercy of a sadistic bounty hunter from Andi's past. Meanwhile, across the galaxy, a ruthless ruler waits in the shadows of the planet Xen Ptera, biding her time to exact revenge for the destruction of her people. The pieces of her deadly plan are about to fall into place, unleashing a plot that will tear Mirabel in two. Andi and her crew embark on a dangerous, soul-testing journey that could restore order to their shipor just as easily start a war that will devour worlds. As the Marauder hurtles toward the unknown, and Mirabel hangs in the balance, the only certainty is that in a galaxy run on lies and illusion, no one can be trusted.

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I haven’t been this early for a review in a really long time but I was super excited to read Zenith ever since I received it. I’ve always loved space stories because if I wasn’t a writer, I’d love to be an astronaut. Or marine biologist. Or historian. Maybe librarian. You get the gist, I love to be a lot of things.

But, you’re in for a wild ride with Zenith. You either love it or hate it.

I haven’t written a review this long in a while so bear with me.

As always, my reviews may contain spoilers. I say may because what’s a spoiler to you may not be a spoiler for me.

Oh boy, is this a difficult one for me to review. My review process is this: I finish a book, I sit on it for a few days and then head over to Goodreads to get a refresher. Usually, it’s a good thing because it reminds me of things I want to mention but have forgotten. But with Zenith, it opened a massive can of worms I wish I had never seen.

Initially, Zenith was going to be one of my 4-star rating books. It turns out, I’m the perfect audience for it. I love damaged and fucked-up characters falling in love and I love all the drama. I went into Zenith expecting a soap opera/drama and I got it.

But after reading Goodreads and learning all I can about the background of this book, it’s dropped to a 3-stars. I don’t hate it. Zenith is not a bad book but it’s not good either. Did it blow me away? No. But, hell it was entertaining.

So, this review will be different than normal and split into 2 parts: first impressions and after goodreads.

F I R S T  I M P R E S S I O N S

I have never read a space opera before. I even had to Google what the genre is all about. And I loved what I found. As you probably know, I am a massive fan of Defy the Stars by Claudia Gray and until another mindblowing book comes along, that’s what I recommend whenever anyone asks me. And I expected Zenith to be something similar but more, for lack of a better term, extra.

And I loved it. I couldn’t put it down. It kept me up late at night and my eyes are probably rotten because I keep reading in the dark. I didn’t even realise it was 500 pages (cause my Kindle app doesn’t tell me so). It was dark and it was sensual, the writing clichés which some people might not like, were lyrical and poetic. The imagery spun was stunning.

Plot-wise, Zenith went in a multitude of directions. There’s the Androma, Dex and the Marauders plotline where the former two have to rescue the king’s prisoner son in the treacherous lands of Lord-I-can’t-remember (I’m not good with names here. I can’t even name you anything in Maas’s books because I never remember), but basically, they’re the bad guys. And then there’s the flashbacks (??!!) which are confusing but I just rolled with it. And then, there’s the evil queen of the bad lands who isn’t all that bad (or at least that’s what they want us to think) who wants revenge on the entire solar system for fucking up her kingdom and her parents’ lives and her life.

The Androma, Dex and Marauders line is resolved and then some. But the others just leave big question marks hanging in the air. But then again, Order of the Firsts, guys. It’s always like this because publishers want you coming back for more cause all they care about is the money.

Plus, they are all told in different POVs which can get confusing but it wasn’t a hard switch. It’s such a way of writing in YA that I’m used to it. I wish we could still get by on one voice only. I miss those damned days.

But to me, the characters make a story and I loved the Bloody Baroness. She’s dramatic and always very weepy and conflicted but oh, she’s so attracted to Dex. Let it just be clear that she’s very much like a copy of Celaena/Aelin but without the latter’s depth. She’s got death following her and her crew of pirates wherever they go and she’s torn up about it. Some people have an issue with the fact that she’s called something so vicious but is just a kicked puppy. But come on, this is a trope we’ve all seen before. Move along, shall we?

But, I did find it a little strange that although she hates killing, she kills everyone left, right and center in the name of protecting herself and her crew. Plus, she’s a fugitive.

Really weird and conflicting but at this point, I’m still rolling with it.

Dex is an arrogant prick. And while it’s my favourite trope when it comes to YA heroes, they usually come with some redeeming qualities. Dex has none. In fact, I’d say that I didn’t like Dex at all. He’s the perfect example of how not to write a YA hero.

And, the romance between Androma and Dex seemed incredibly forced. No chemistry. Just loads of trying-really-hard-to-create-UST.

The rest of the characters in Zenith sort of fade into the background. There are the Marauders which are very Six of Crows-esque, and the evil queen, Nor and there’s Valen, the prince they’re supposed to rescue. And a robot named Alfie that reminds me of Defy the Stars.

While Zenith attempts to fashion a unique space world, it feels too much like Guardians of the Galaxy and that bothered me about the worldbuilding. It didn’t feel utterly unique (unlike Defy the Stars. You can’t stop my love) and the entire time, all I could imagine was Peter Quill’s ship flying across the Guardians of the Galaxy space ala the movies. While there are references to unique “alien” features for example, in the pilot, Lira who has scaly skin that can heat until it burns her clothes off and it’s controlled by her emotions, nothing is taken a step further and explained.

And space opera and science-fiction are known for being detail-oriented.

But I still loved it. In all it’s campy, trying really hard glory. I thought it was a great first attempt and couldn’t wait for me.

A F T E R  G O O D R E A D S

And then, I looked at Goodreads.

I was confused by all the awful ratings. And it spiralled from there.

It turns out Sasha Alsberg is a notoriously famous booktuber (I wouldn’t know. I don’t booktube) and people are concerned that this book being published is because of her connections to the higher ups.

But more than that, the editor tied to Zenith is notorious for having published The Black Witch. Which is a plague on the YA community. I don’t understand how….how could anyone have let that racist crap slide.

And it was only after this that I realised what I had thought to be extra, dramatic and campy writing ala soap opera style was just bad writing. In fact, one reason why I loved the writing so much was because it’s the same time of exaggerated and flowery writing that fanfiction writers love (and readers like me eat it up).

Plus, it tried too hard to replicate the success of Throne of Glass and Six of Crows, perhaps in the hope of becoming the next big thing. It’s basically fanfiction set in space, guys. While I am the type of market this book is targeted towards, meaning that I love my tropes, it’s just laughable. There are tons of books out there like TOG and SOC but they’re all unique in their own way. I’ve even managed to reference Defy the Stars more than once!

Not to mention, Androma has red.hair. Who else has fiery red hair? You tell me. Hint, I’ve mentioned the name several times in this review. Not a fan of self-inserts.

Also, I am not a fan of celebrity books and have yet to purchase/read one. While other writers struggle and work their butts off to even get noticed, celebrities get special treatment because they already have a fan base in place.

While I am still looking forward to see where both authors are going to take Zenith, I wait with all these thoughts in my mind. In film classes, we are taught that the author is not separate from his work (and I did a lovely paper on Alfred Hitchcock which I loved) and it’s true in this case.

I’m afraid that Sasha’s reputation has coloured not just my opinion, but the opinion of many other readers out there.

While Zenith is not bad, it’s not great either. I can’t shout about it from the rooftops. For one, it reads too much like fanfiction (and we all know the kind of fanfiction turn book that has hit the market these days) and secondly, it needs a shitload more work before it’s public-worthy. Zenith has great potential. It just needs a lot more polishing, preferably throwing the entire draft away and writing it fresh. And perhaps, Sasha should consider a pen name.

Thank you to Edelweiss and the publisher for providing me with an ARC copy in exchange for an honest review. This review edition may differ from the final edition.