#finality or heroes forge ahead....perhaps...

[elmelloill]

played a bunch of ff theatrhythm while i was staying with elsa and finally decided to buy it when i realized i could get a physical copy for like 30 bucks and it's great. i can scratch the itch of playing final fantasy without playing final fantasy.

[muthaz-rapapa]

Hirogaru Sky Final Impressions (5/5)

Honestly, what were they going to do with those two weeks after 48 episodes? Have us wait until WonPre's broadcast? Yea right, lol

So the 20th installment of Precure is now officially finished and it feels both great and a little bit sad to say that since the bar has been readjusted quite high, we will probably need the 25th anniversary to get another season as awesome and well-written as HiroPre. [/harsh]

But that will be for something to worry about in the next five years.

So first, that finale!

Pretty much 5(ish) of the 6 last episodes was a whole arc dedicated to the most engaging lore Precure has ever given us to date.

Cure Noble is definitely entering the league of legacy Cures and perhaps as the one with the best story as well. How she went from princess-sovereign to becoming the very first Precure (in this universe, anyways) to helping pave a way for peace with her nemesis to laying out the foundation for the Cures who will succeed her in the future.

Yeap, Ellee-chan may have gotten a nice age-up bonus so that we can see her embrace her destiny and actually converse in something other than baby talk.

But it's more accurate to say that Ellee-chan/Cure Majesty's character arc is really Princess Elleelain/Cure Noble's instead.

Which is totally fine with me. Not only was Elleelain super interesting as a hero/protagonist in her own era but Kaiserin was...dear god.

Dear god, when have we gotten a twist that was this good and this dark by the series' standards? I felt we haven't touched this level of grim writing since Heartcatch and that was my first Precure season ever.

But seriously, it's impossible not to sympathize with Kaiserin and appreciate how much she contributed to the plot as well as this season's message that power is not what makes a hero, but the strength of one's heart that does.

Even her traitorous tutor, Skearhead, said she had what it took to become a hero (and maybe even Precure? oooh~), which just makes her fall into darkness more tragic.

But thankfully, she never lost her kindness and compassion, which was what ultimately allowed her to not only be saved but her wounds to finally heal after hundreds of years of suffering from the pain of betrayal Skearhead had inflicted on her.

And that her generals, who all turned over a new leaf, came back to the Undergu Empire to loyally serve her and make sure she isn't alone...

Good! This is so satisfying, I couldn't have asked for anything better! Kaiserin deserves her happiness after all she's been through!

But of course, that's not all because no Precure finale is complete without the last episodes dishing out the best combat scenes of the entire season and did it deliver, alright.

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-HUH!

The animation was absolutely stellar and not so overdone that it'd look more gaudy than cool. coughDeliPaPrecough

Moreover, the teamwork is what really sold the animation. As it should because Precure is all about that team effort brought on by personal growth, not a one-man show.

I loved how Wing, representing wisdom, was the one everyone trusted to get that barrier back up because it is a mechanism that he researched and developed to help everyone. It proves that boys don't need to fit into a specific mold of masculinity or genius to be a hero because in the end, those things don't matter. It's being true to yourself, your beliefs and your dreams and what you choose to do with those abilities that counts.

I loved how Butterfly, who is physically the strongest in the group, always takes on the tougher tasks such as facing the army of tedious mooks to let those younger than her forge a path ahead. She never forgets her responsibility as an adult to protect the kids but she also encourages them to move forward because she fully believes in them like a good adult would.

I loved how Majesty comes to understand that though she's meant to inherit Cure Noble's will and power and position as Skyland's princess, it's not her destiny to inherit Elleelain's loneliness. And the whole reason that she started out as a baby but was able to grow and become Precure was because she was surrounded by the right people who brought out that potential in her. For Ellee-chan, being with her friends and fighting alongside them was the bigger, more important destiny than her duty was.

Finally, the star duo of the show.

Sky was given stronger MC vibes than the other cast members but you can't deny that she wouldn't have gotten this far without Prism by her side.

Sora's idea of what it means to be hero expanded a lot because she became friends with Mashiro.

She has come to treasure Mashiro so much that when she was on the brink of losing her best friend, she let Skearhead corrupt her in order to have enough power to save that best friend. She was willing to sacrifice herself for someone important to her, which in a way, can be seen as an act of heroism (but only as a last resort, plz do not attempt).

And even then, Sky kept resisting from being taken over. Prism didn't even flinch when Sky aimed a punch at her. That's how much Mashiro believes in Sora, in the hero that Sora is. That even if Sora accepted darkness into herself to do the right thing, she won't ever let that darkness consume her into doing the wrong thing.

And the fact that it was Prism who had the ability to not only purify Sky but also heal Kaiserin's centuries-old wound. She's come a long way herself from the girl who used to think she was talentless, who didn't believe she had anything special going for her.

"You are good as you are now, Mashiro-san."

What Sora said was true until the very end. Mashiro didn't ever need to change. She was already good enough and she was always going to become even better than how she started out because she was always being inspired and supported by those around her and challenging herself to do things she initially hesitated on doing.

Now she's continually drawing new stories, even winning an award for one. Even her Prism Shot evolved and multiplied as an attack and it's all because she learned to believe in herself because all her friends believed in her.

This is essentially what sets Precure apart from the others, what makes it the major name it is in modern day mahou shoujo.

I cannot begin to describe how glad I am that the staff at Toei reinforced those aspects of friendship as well as the celebration of individualism in a milestone year. But I can definitely say with confidence that we can expect to see more well into the franchise's 30th anniversary as long they don't forget these two very crucial things.

As for me, I think this will be the last time I blog Precure on a "regular" basis.

I'll still continue to watch cuz hey, there's no reason for me to stop yet.

(and all the more reason to not stop if Satoru and Daifuku become the next two male Cures in WonPre OMGI'MSOGONNAJINXTHISAREN'TIBWUAHAHAHAHA!!!)

But my priorities have shifted so I gotta tend to those foremost. And as much as I enjoy the show, I feel like I'm always saying the same stuff over and over again anyway, just in different variations of it.

(also, something about WonPre tells me the next four years will be filled with hit-or-miss seasons so meh, I'd rather just follow it leisurely than get too invested and then disappointed)

On another note, I do have some personal rankings that I'd like to post some day. I was going to do it for the 20th anniversary but didn't have time to cuz life got way too hectic and busy but yea, eventually I'll have them up.

Just for fun, y'know.

Ok, that is all.

Thank you, my hero girls and boy! You made this season so wonderful hahahaha, good luck, WonPre for me and I can't be grateful enough for it.

Thank you for a beautiful anniversary! Let's aim for the next!

25th year with 100+ Precure!

Let's gooooooooooooo!!!

[baronaliswritingcorner]

Tales of Symphonia Stray Thoughts #12: Mizuho/Ozette/Toize Valley Mine

-Orochi: “Sheena! How could you bring outsiders into the village!”

We learn Orochi is a pretty swell individual, but this is the first inkling we get that not everyone's warm to Sheena in Mizuho, which...I have feelings about. We'll get back to that in the Temple of Lightning post.

-I often credit Tales of Symphonia for many things -- be it my first foray into fanfiction or setting firm my progressive politics -- but I hail Lloyd as a personal hero of mine and almost nothing exemplifies that better here than his mission statement to Tiga here. From the very moment everything was turned upside down at the Tower of Salvation -- or perhaps even during Colette's angel transformation -- Lloyd's endured nothing but sacrifice, caste systems, racism, and bigotry. Tethe'alla's flourishing world was hailed as a promised land of abundant mana, yet beneath the glitz and glamour existed the very same societal ills that plagued Sylvarant -- and it was only a matter time before the scales were turned. And he's finally had enough.

Really, there's so much I could elaborate on this one scene alone. The gentle ocarina of Lloyd's theme, an assuring promise ensuring that every one of his dreams will come true. The first of many parallels between Lloyd and Mithos -- a tragic parallel that, despite Lloyd's protests here, he'll have to face by the end of his journey. Lloyd echoing the humble desire etched at the heart of every civil rights movement in history -- "I want a world where everyone can have a normal life." What's spoken (Sheena’s “yes, sir!” is as infectious as every word of Lloyd's speeches -- she's caught up in his vision too!) and unspoken (It's here Regal first learns of Lloyd’s compassion for others and undoubtedly motivates his compliancy with the group. I'd also like to imagine it seeps through Presea's heartless state as well -- perhaps the seeds of her humanity begin budding back here?)

It's all so, so good -- enough that I could write a whole essay about everything I just wrote here. I'm a starry-eyed kid when it comes to Lloyd's infectious idealism and I'm a sucker for that theme alone. Wading through the wretched history of real-world politics has undoubtedly proven a difficult journey, but I forge ahead in the values he instilled at a young age. If he can prove the impossible, so can I.

-Zelos: “Is he for real?”

...who’s he referring to here?

-OH MAN FINALLY REGAL’S PERSONAL. I've been reserving most of my equipment for customization purposes, so this'll be a big help.

-Aight Regal got his chef costume on. Look at my line-up:

Lloyd: Beach Boy

Colette: Maid

Genis: Katz Katz Katz

Raine: Glamorous Beauty

Sheena: WOW!

Zelos: Pickup Artist

Presea: Dream Traveler

Regal: God of the Kitchen

It's seriously goofy -- if I have time, I'll capture a group shot.

-"Reasons for the Shackles" has gotta be one of my favorites -- just the hypothetical visual of Regal running around clamping shackles on people always has me giggle. lol

-Ever notice how Lloyd acts all distracted when Presea runs off in Ozette? "Huh? Yeah..." What’s up with that?

-Man, Ozette checks all the boxes for my ideal high fantasy village. Houses embedded in a towering majestic tree, winding branches serving as natural staircases, nestled amidst an enchanted forest isolated in the idyllic countryside. Mmm! Talk about coooooooozy.

And how, pray tell, do they ruin it? Good ol' fashioned racism.

Like look at this fucker at the entrance – “THERE’D BE NOT BE ANY HALF-ELVES MIXED IN WITH YOUR GROUP…” like yeah okay creeper way to ruin my dream home

-“I wonder what went wrong in this village…”

me too buddy

-“It seems this village is the birthplace of the Pope”

what a shocker

-“Just so you know, I won’t sell any to half-elves”

jesus. Indoctrinating the kids when they're young. "Tranquility", my ass.

-Rodyle: “Only Presea can retrieve the Sacred Wood.”

...is there a particular reason for that? Hmm.

-Zelos roasting Rodyle, while funny, is random as all hell, lol. Love the banter between him and Genis, though.

-The presea house scene holy shit. Imagine her sleeping in the bed with her father’s skull staring at her

Anyone ever make a fic of this? Prime for horror material.

And the way the music just fades out…

-Colette tripping for no reason lol

-Tabatha: “I DO NOT KNOW IF THAT IS IN HER BEST INTEREST”

but why tho

(No, really, why?)

-“Perhaps it is because she does not engage in respiration.”

regal jesus christ what did you witness in those meltokio prisons

-In the "Use Your Head" skit, Sheena briefly mentions a "tunnel to Moria -- another Tales of Phantasia reference much as it is an obvious Lord of the Rings one.

Y'know, some may've wished for more intimate/elaborated connections to Phantasia, but after two decades I rather prefer Symphonia standing alone as its own thing.

-“Exsphere mines”, how do they work?

No, really, how? I went over some of this before in the Asgard Ranch post, but the whole Exsphere process isn't explained that well. I think we're supposed to understand it as Exspheres being mined in Toize, then shifting hands somehow from Lezareno to...Vharley? The Desians? Cruxis? Whatever the case, it's all over the place, although we can presume the chain of custody goes wrong somewhere -- leading to their interdimensional usage for Desian ranches. (And that's not even getting into the whole "sucking the lifeforce from humans" deal, which...well, let's wait until a certain sidequest before diving into that.)

We're told that human usage of Exspheres isn't common in Tethe'alla, yet we witness its applications to machinery such as the Grand Tethe'alla Bridge -- undoubtedly the work of Lezareno and whatever other megacorps deal in the Exsphere biz. So that makes sense, at least. Maybe. I dunno. If there's ever a remake, this is one of those things they gotta clear up.

-Regal: “The door’s guard system is out of control. Someone must have destroyed it when trying to force their way through.”

Bruh, it’s totally still.

-Lloyd’s Shiden is soooooo cool. Look at that lightning crackle. Shame its usefulness doesn't long.

-Oh god I hate those basilisks ugh look at how they petrify you. Nothing worse than getting caught up in button-mashing only to realize half your party's been turned to stone. Bugger off!

-Y'know, despite sticking out like a sore thumb, it took me forever to realize you can't get past that big metal door. Another Phantasia reference, I'm told.

(Actually, I think I heard you *can* get past that door in DOTNW but, well, who cares about that game)

-AW GODDAMIT I FORGOT TO BUY THE POTION FOR THE GNOME. WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN AUGHHHHHHHH

-“oh yeah sorry I forgot about the Indiana Jones trap lol whoopsie!”

a little much don't you think

-The Bacura from Xevious! I love whenever Tales draws from Namco's history and this is a fun example -- that SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP whenever your poor avatar walks into its patrol zone is some great comedy.

Unlike Xevious, however, it's not indestructable -- cleverly maneuvering around the boulder trap dispatches of it easily, unveiling Colette's Devil Arm in Evil Eye. Interesting implications connotations there!

While we're at it, I always assumed the "Professor Naploosa" was a fun Xevious reference, although apparently that's a name Symphonia made up. Did Raine hear of Professor Naploosa (what a name lol) from her youth? Despite her background, sometimes it feels like she knows a little too much about Tethe'alla's history -- in the aforementioned case of Summon Spirits, that's definitely an oversight -- but it's fun to imagine.

-Zelos: “Oh, please, I’m not going to go through all those boxes! Let’s just blow them all up!”

but then you’d destroy the inhibitor ore tho

-God, that Regal murderer reveal is terrible. Everything wrong with the silent dialogue scenes and then some. - The amateurish overuse of dramatic ellipses. Lloyd's "if you're suffering, it's alright to at least say so" falling completely flat in drawing parallels to Regal. Colette's awkward stammering being exactly that. Aaaaauugh!

It's not just Symphonia's bad habit of conveying vital story beats in complete silence (at least that has the excuse of Gamecube disc limitations) but while the voiced cutscenes have their own fair share of goofiness, the innate production values means they can't get lax with the scriptwriting -- in contrast, a not-so-insignificant number of these unvoiced scenes feel profoundly lazy in everything from unnatural dialogue to weird animation to just...auuuuuguhhhhhghhghghgh. It's a lot.

-On the bright side, "You and I are..." does a much better job in contrasting Genis's struggles and awkwardness with Regal -- an individual he doesn't care much for. I enjoy Regal respecting his boundaries with "I see."

-That snitch in the hat. I hope he died in the fire. Probably deserved it.

-"Loooooong liiiiiive the poooooooooope"

lol what's with that delivery

-Listen to the sound effect when the dragons fly away lol geez

-Ever notice how despite the obvious clues Presea's age isn't what it seems, the cast aren't...exactly consistent with this knowledge? The Wells scene (not to mention some of the other Ozette villagers) explicitly spell this out to the cast and yet barring Regal, they still treat her like she's actually 12.

-Another fun headcanon of mine is imagining Kratos watching over Presea/Regal joining the group and smiling to himself. The band's getting together for his boy!

-Raine: “Internal strife? How pathetic.”

Kratos: “Say what you will"

(Internally: fuck)

-Zelos: "My cute little Presea.”

See what I mean??? Like, he "knows" she's a kid and yet??? Really??? I dunno...

-The Tranquility kid that goes “you’ll play with me, won’t you, Presea!”.😭😭😭😭

Presea, do it now! Or you'll regret it foreverrrrrrrrr!

-Oh hey Presea’s costume just reset to her default. Yeah, it’s a glitch! It was still on the title when she left. Weird.

[freakclique]

Shadows of the Desert

plot summary Just a short blurb about Rango x reader

content 800 words, gender neutral reader, Y/N, fluff, hurt/comfort, G rated wholesome pining

tw Wild West shootout, i blatantly ignore canon

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The sun was setting over the arid landscape of Dirt, casting long shadows across the dusty streets. The town was buzzing with activity, but amidst the chaos, one figure stood out - Rango, the eccentric chameleon sheriff.

Y/N had always admired Rango from afar, their heart fluttering whenever he flashed them a charming smile or cracked a joke. But tonight, their admiration would turn into something deeper, something born from danger and the need for salvation.

As the shootout erupted in the heart of Dirt, Y/N found themselves caught in the crossfire, frozen in fear as bullets whizzed past. Panic surged through their veins, every instinct screaming for them to find cover. But before they could move, a shadow fell over them, and a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

"Y/N! Get down!" Rango's urgent shout snapped them out of their daze, and they dove to the ground just as another volley of bullets sprayed the air.

Heart pounding, Y/N looked up to see Rango standing over them, his eyes fierce with determination as he fired back at the attackers. Despite the danger, there was a sense of calm surrounding him, as if he was born to face the chaos head-on.

With each shot fired, Rango edged closer to Y/N, shielding them with his own body as he fought off their assailants. His presence was both a comfort and a revelation, igniting a spark of courage within Y/N's trembling heart.

When the gunfire finally ceased, Y/N found themselves trembling in Rango's arms, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the night. Relief flooded through them, grateful for his timely intervention and the warmth of his embrace.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" Rango's voice was soft, filled with concern as he gently brushed a stray strand of hair from their face.

Y/N nodded, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through them. In that moment, they felt a connection stronger than ever before, as if the chaos of the shootout had brought them closer together.

"Thank you, Rango," Y/N whispered, their voice barely a breath against the silence of the desert night.

Rango smiled, a mixture of pride and affection shining in his eyes as he helped Y/N to their feet. Together, they stood amidst the wreckage of the shootout, a silent testament to their newfound bond.

As the first light of dawn painted the horizon in hues of gold and amber, Y/N knew that they would never forget this night - the night Rango became their hero, their protector, and perhaps something more.

And as they walked side by side through the deserted streets of Dirt, the promise of a new day dawning in their hearts, Y/N couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay ahead for them in the wild frontier of the desert.

But one thing was certain - no matter what trials they faced, they would face them together, guided by the strength of their love and the unbreakable bond that had been forged amidst the shadows of the desert.

[sarastuss]

WHO ARE YOU REALLY? : GOLDEN SOUL, HAVING SURVIVED, but not entirely without cost. this query, something that the famed warrior of light still struggles with, peace not so easy to make to calm the storm of conflict within. ... having to fight off the calamities of the final days once more, to almost lose all that she has gained. LIKE SHE HAD DONE ALL THOSE CENTAURIES AGO. yet she had walked, forged ahead ; everything of her given for victory. but now that it was gained? peace prospers for the time being, but not within her. not when there was so much to do, not when the hero wanted to save those in the past as well. ... IN SEARCH OF ANSWERS, THAT PART OF HER PAST BURNS SO STRONGLY WITHIN ; to adventure, to travel. &. it has lead her here, a realm wrapped in mystery ; she feels immense power pulsate from somewhere deeper within these caves, ... but before an answer to what that something was, she has been halted. &. EVER THE FIGHTER, golden &. white lance had been summoned, materiliazing from a flash of warm light into her hands ; a response, to being surrounded with sharp tips of the lances pointed at her, a group following this, who she presumed was their leader, surrounding her. ... ( will you unleash the scorching rays of the sun? will you show why your foes refer to your powers as god-like? ) ❝ what are you? ❞ the question falls of her lips instead, before any strike is made. a woman's voice reaches her from behind the mask worn,

@satellitewar + kida you ask what am i, but what are you?

&. THOUGH SARASTUS REMAINS PREPARED, : SHE DOES NOT MAKE A MOVE TO STRIKE. golden irises, glowing slightly more prominently in the darkness of this cave, look forward ; as if she could see beneath the mask worn. seconds feel like eons, as her response is waited. ... that is when she moves, her stance straightening, as she allows the weapon to turn into golden dust. WHAT A FITTING QUESTION THAT HAS BEEN ASKED OF YOU. ❝ my name is sarastus, ❞ she responses. gaze does not waver, nor does the ethereal power that radiates from her very being. the angelic voice neutral, yet it is dipped into certain determined tune. ❝ perhaps better known as the warrior of light. ❞ THOUGH SHE IS NOT CERTAIN HAS THIS TRIBE EVER REACHED A WORD OF THE DEEDS OF THE FAMED CHAMPION OF HYDAELYN, ... something that is perhaps both for the better &. the worse. ❝ but i am not here to seek a battle, but for answers. ❞ though there was no guarantee they would be found here.

[atangledfate]

She was surprised by the sudden hug, but leaned into the embrace and pressed her muzzle against poppys shoulder. She rested her hands against her, and for a moment she just let herself be held. So many thoughts tumbled around in her mind, things she was desperate to tell poppy. But still to fearful to tell her. She clung to her tight and for what seemed an age she refused to let go, just wanting to be in those warm arms. She wanted that support from Poppy and for once in her life she felt as if her world was about to come crashing down--- but she had someone strong enough to help her bare it.

Her eyes closed and she just refused to move for a long time, she just stood there in Poppys arms. But she knew she couldn't hide there forever, but how did she even start to tell Poppy the troubles and woes? She clenched her hands against poppys shirt and just wanted to fall away and forget everything just a moment of peace! Perhaps knuckles was right--- maybe she did just need some time away, but she knew that was impossible.

She whispered in soft tones to Poppy just letting her hold her.

" It... it isn't you... no Poppy ... you are wonderful...supportive... tender... and kind, and so warm... please don't blame yourself for my failings... my imperfections... i don't want to be weak, i don't want to fail my people, my loved ones... i don't want to disappoint mother... so many years and i still feel so unprepared... and these emotions burning me away from the inside... "

She finally pulled herself away from Poppy and rubbed her eyes trying to recompose herself. Twice now she'd nearly fallen apart but she couldn't let herself fall apart. She had to be a bastion for everyone around her! She had to hold up the world, its why she was created! To be this worlds protector, its guardian! its flame!

" Just... be here for me..."

she pulled Poppys hand to her cheek and closed her eyes

" I just need someone ... to hold me when its to much, to support me when i'm faltering... to help me see the mistakes before its to late...to hear the truths i'm to afraid to admit to myself...to stay with me when others would not..."

She nuzzle that paw, against her cheek for a moment as its warmth gave her so much comfort.

" I ... was created for this life... forged from the ashes of 7 great heroes... and given life by mothers flame... it is my destiny, my purpose... i just don't want to fail them... to fail you... i do not know if there is anyway to lesson that burden--- So i shall bare it... because i must... because there is no one else... "

She slowly let Poppys paw go and clasped her hands in front of her, not sure if that was enough for her beloved. But it was all she could do, all she could think to do. She knew there was one more thing but, she wasn't ready to speak to poppy about it. Soon, she promised but now wasn't the time, not when they had so much ahead of them.

" If your mother has advice... i will happily listen..."

She took a deep breath and tried her best to smile, but it was rather difficult when she was trying so hard to be honest with poppy.

" Perhaps her wisdom will take root, and help me through these troubled times..."

"Oh, uh, it's about earlier. I just want to get some advice from my mum first." Poppy wanted to continue to talk about it, though was at a loss of just what to do or even say to Blaze. The opossum felt like she may have screwed up a bit here and there during that talk. "Though I won't go into detail or anything like that. I'll keep it vague." She didn't want the feline to think she was just going to tell her mum about their issues.

Poppy would suddenly pull Blaze into a hug, holding a bit tight as she was nervous they'd try to rush off and leave again. "Just, I've never been the best with relationships. Guess I shouldn't be surprised with how bad all the other one's I've been in. I know you've got a lot of pressure on ya shoulders, I just don't know how to help." The opossum had her own burdens, though nothing like the feline currently has.

"Doubt my mum will be able to offer any advice with the situation, though she's the only person who's helped me through a lot of rough patches in my life." Not to downplay her later father as he was a good guy, though her mum was certainly more active in her life. Poppy just felt like she needed some outside the box thinking and her mum was way more levelheaded than her.

"I just, want to help you, though not sure if I can. I mean, you're clearly going through a lot, and I mean a chuck ton. Stuff I've never even dreamed of dealing with, though you deal with it on the daily. Make's me kinda wondered if Lillianna was right and I ain't cut out for this, but I wanna try." Poppy continued to hold Blaze, still a tad bit nervous she'd teleport away like before when she still had things to say.

[ophelia-writes]

//INAZUMA ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS BELOW!!

a/n: ok so the scaramouche brainrot has been REAL, i’m so glad that i finally got to meet him in game (i joined after 1.1 sobs so i didn’t get to see him in unreconciled stars) but uh basically i’ve been thinking about him nonstop all week. he’s been in my dreams. he will not leave me alone. so i’ve decided to write more self indulgent fanfiction of him adjsjskhgfh enjoy <3

brave or stupid - scaramouche x gn!reader

warnings: slight violence, mentions of death

he had always been like this— callous, unfeeling, and cruel. after all, when you’re created as a toy that’s designed to be discarded, you’re bound to have a bit of bitterness.

but, to be honest, scaramouche wasn’t sure if he was even capable of kindness. sure, he could be polite to people from time to time if he wanted something from them, and he always showed respect towards the tsaritsa. but he would never show kindness for kindness’s sake. that just wasn’t his style.

besides, he wasn’t even human himself, so why should he care for human lives or emotions? they would be dead before he knew it, there was no point in trying to consider their feelings. he was a superior being, above the needs and trials of mortals. he should be able to do as he pleased.

so why, why did you intrigue him so much?

just a lowly, powerless human, with no vision or delusion, no special abilities to set you apart. and yet, you’d put your life on the line for just about anyone, despite not having the power or means to defend yourself, caring not for your own safety. what kind of idiot were you, exactly?

here you were, throwing yourself in front of the merchant scaramouche had been planning to fry for neglecting his debts. you were small, perhaps even smaller than him, with nothing but a stick in your hands. the sight was hardly threatening, and he would have killed you in an instant if it weren’t for the unwavering look of determination in your eyes. there was something different about you, he realized. something he rarely ever had the chance to see.

you weren’t afraid of him.

you, a weak, powerless mortal without even a sword to protect yourself, showed no fear in the presence of the sixth fatui harbinger himself. and scaramouche couldn’t decide if that made you incredibly brave, or incredibly moronic.

probably the latter.

rolling his eyes, scaramouche lowered his electro-infused hands and placed them firmly on his hips. “get lost, rat, before i kill you too,” he ordered, looking you straight in those big, determined eyes. but you refused to back down.

“do it, then,” you replied, gritting your teeth. you gripped the stick tighter in your hands and pulled your scarf down from your head, letting your hair flow freely. if you were going to die today, so be it, but you wouldn’t stand by and let this man terrorize your village.

scaramouche blinked. he had never seen someone with such a blatant disregard for their own life. in a way, you were like the opposite of himself— weak, kind, and selfless. looking at your small, bundled up form, gripping the stick like it was a mystical polearm forged by the gods, glaring daggers at him, he couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“hahaha! ahahahaha! god, i can’t tell if you’re bold or just stupid!” the harbinger took a step forward, the psychotic grin on his face never fading. but you stand your ground. “you know, i really don’t understand why you would risk your life for someone like this. i mean, you’re a pretty little thing,” he began, his violet eyes tracing over your features, “surely you must have more to live for?”

you frowned. “it’s not about me, it’s about the people i’m trying to protect,” you replied, casting a glance to the merchant and his family behind you. out of the corner of your eye, you could see him huddled against the wall, his small daughter gripping his arm while his wife held two other children to her chest. you weren’t about to let him kill these innocent people!

“why bother?” scaramouche asked, waving his hand dismissively. “they’re going to die anyways, it’s not like you can stop me.”

you bit your lip. he was right, of course— you had no vision, no sword. and even if you did… you would be nothing compared to a harbinger. but that wouldn’t stop you from trying. “i won’t leave them,” you finally replied.

scaramouche wasn’t laughing anymore. in fact, he himself wasn’t quite sure when his amusement turned into annoyance, but what he did know was that you were making him angry. “why…. why? this is a pointless waste of life, a worthless sacrifice— you know you can’t stop me, so WHY?” the air around him was now crackling with electro energy, and you could feel it.

still, you showed no fear.

“because, unlike you, i actually care about other people! i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i just stood by and did nothing while those around me are struck down by the tsaritsa’s stupid lapdogs!” you were shouting now. you kind of had to, the electricity in the air making your ears ring and your head fill with static.

that was the last straw.

scaramouche let out an irritated growl, sending a wave of electric shock towards you with a sweeping motion of his hand. the impact threw you backwards, your petite form landing limply in the snow.

the harbinger looked down on you, heaving with rage. how had he let such a stupid mortal get him riled up like this? he should have just killed you when you had first gotten in his way. eyes narrowing, he crouched down and took your wrist to check your pulse.

then your knee collided with his face.

“agh, you—!” scaramouche raised his hand to his jaw, holding the spot where you had struck him. it was definitely going to leave a bruise, and scaramouche did not like looking weak. you quickly picked yourself up out of the snow, scrambling to your feet. you frantically looked around for your stick (not that it would do you much good), but it had flown far out of reach when scaramouche’s attack hit you. “how…. how dare you assault a harbinger?” he asked, his voice laced with anger.

you shrugged. “you assaulted me first.”

scaramouche’s eyes flashed bright violet, another surge of electro gathering in his hands. “alright, enough playing around. it’s time i finish you, for real this time.” your eyes settled on the sadistic smile that had formed on his pale face, likely the last face you would ever see.

still, you showed no fear. “go ahead,” you replied. “i’ll gladly die the hero who managed to kick a harbinger in the face.”

scaramouche narrowed his eyes. you were the most audacious mortal he had ever met.

you raised your head and looked the balladeer right in the face and said one last prayer to the archons. please protect this village when i’m gone.

and with that, a flash of purple filled your vision, casting a brilliant lilac glow over the snowy sneznayan terrain.

ahh! sorry for the cliffhanger/bleak ending but rest assured there will be more parts hehehe <3 hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!!

taglist: @kazuhasbiggestsimp @mrsugawara @xiaos-wife @xiaoslilpogchamp

if you want to be added to my scara taglist or specifically just the taglist for this fic, comment and i’ll make sure to add you <3

[sammywolfgirl]

Got some rough ideas, I’ll probably make more solid designs later buuuut. Costumes!

I might have made descriptions for them to sooo yeah:

Marshmallow Fluff Cookies Ancient Hero Awakened

“Marshmallow Fluff Cookie has truly embraced her magic, making her soul jam as pure as her comrades. now she can truly take her place among them as more than just a spectator, but an equal.

Sometimes she wonders of the possibilities had she embraced this power from the start, but the past cannot be changed, and she has chosen to forge ahead for a brighter future.”

Gummy Bear Cookies Golden Child

“Once upon a time there was a wealthy family. They adored their children dearly, one of these being Gummy Bear Cookie, who was always a little odd. He craved his parents attention and would make them toys or show off his good grades but they never payed him mind. Always overshadowed, he tried to be perfect for them. Until one day he found a dark tome in the library.

He didn’t need to be perfect anymore”

Blueberry Dragon Cookies Knight in Training

“This little dragon was inspired by all the knights she’d see around her, and one day declared ‘I’m going to be a knight when I grow up!’ Hollyberry and Pitaya seemed to love the idea, and are hoping to start training her as soon as she’s strong enough to hold a weapon.

And perhaps she needs to grow into that armor too”

Ivy Dragon Cookies Timeline Historian

“A deal was struck between the TBD and this elusive time dragon, and she now works as a part time employee. Though her travels between timelines she takes note of variations or if she discovers new timelines, and reports back to the tbd. She had to pull back on her destruction of time machines but she seems to find this an acceptable exchange, it’s a whole new type of fun.”

Cinnamon Roll Cookies Ephemeral Progeny

“The isolation of the time pocket has truly taken its tole, this poor cookie became desperate for an escape, the true power of the sonic embroiderer always out of reach.

When she finally unlocked it’s power, it was too late for her. She can truly be considered a worthy successor to the past Ruler now.”

[pillage-and-lute]

Thicker Than Water (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 (here) Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

Finally here, now that I’m feeling a little better.

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Traveling with Geralt, Ciri, and Yennefer was hard. They went slow for Yennefer’s sake, and for that Jaskier was thankful, but his entire body ached.

He’d woken up cold and damp, body sore from lying on the ground in his cheap bedroll, but he didn’t complain. He drank heavily from his water skin to keep his stomach from growling, unwilling to use up precious food for himself. He was being brought along on this journey against Geralt’s -and his own- wishes, but he would not be a burden.

He forged ahead, even, at one point, taking a bag from Yennefer. She didn’t have much to carry but he recognized the full body exhaustion on her face. She didn’t smile at him or thank him, but she nodded gratefully.

Jaskier reflected on that. He had wanted to hate the witch, especially back then, after the djinn, when he’d seen her and Geralt...playing hide the sausage. He found that he couldn’t. He was an artist, he appreciated beauty and pain and the use of words and an excellent storyline. Yennefer checked those boxes. Jaskier felt ashamed to want to dislike her. She’d held back forces at Sodden, she was strong and good with Ciri and cared for Geralt. He appreciated all these things.

It was just...she and Geralt and Ciri were all together. A powerful sorceress, a twice-made Witcher, a hero, and their adopted child with untold power and a regal birthright. It made a family. And just like with his own family, there was no place for Jaskier.

It hurt.

But he wasn’t supposed to be part of the family. He wasn’t there to share in the chatter Ciri directed at Yennefer and Geralt. Geralt even talked back a little, answering in one or two words the stream of questions. He answered them though. Jaskier wished he’d ever answered him.

Then he felt silly. He was jealous of Ciri, who was a child. A brave child, but a child nonetheless, who’d lost her home and her family and everyone she knew in a very short time. Of course Geralt would answer her questions, he was a good man.

He also liked children, Jaskier knew. He let his memory drift to a happier time. 

It had been a summer fair in a tiny, agricultural village, tucked among wheat fields like a lost button beneath a patchwork quilt. The sun had been warm and the whole world was amber. Jaskier was playing music with a scratch band of anyone who wanted to join. Lighthearted jigs and reels had unfurled beneath his hands. He played The Willow Wedding and The Flowers of Fairside and other simple country songs that his fellow musicians might know. All around them people were dancing and laughing. Flower crowns were made. Young women shyly offered them and young men shyly took them to indicate blooming romance, but almost everyone in attendance had one, old and young.

Geralt had been standing, looming without intention, at the edge of the crowd, near Jaskier. In the shadows, in his black outfit (Jaskier had insisted he leave the armor back at the in) he looked out of place, like a thistle in a bouquet.

Then a little girl in a neat yellow pinafore, dyed with weld, probably, and carefully embroidered with little yellow roses at the collar stopped by the musician. She was perhaps four years old, and she looked at the dancers and then just sat down and began to cry.. It had been a sight to bend even the hardest heart and Jaskier had been just about to stop playing when Geralt crouched in front of her.

“What ever is the matter?” Jaskier had heard him say, softly.

“Everybody’s dancin,” sniffled the little girl. “An nobody wants to dance wif me.” She reached up and took the dandelion and daisy flower crown from her dark, bushy hair.

Jaskier’s heart just melted and he wanted to cry in sympathy as one big, blobby tear rolled down a round cheek. She scrubbed it away hastily but more were hanging on lashes all around her big, brown eyes.

“Nobody wants to dance with you?” Geralt said, affecting a wide eyed look of surprise. The girl sniffled again and pointed to the edge of the dancing, where a group of kids, a little older than her, where all wheeling about together.

“Not nobody,” Geralt said, gently putting her flower crown back on her head. “You haven’t asked me if I want to dance, have you?”

She sniffed the last of her sniffles and looked up, a slow smile starting. “Do ya wanna dance wif me?”

“Of course,” Geralt had said, then he’d very carefully lifted her so her tiny feet were safely away from trodding, and he’d set her feet on the tops of his big, black boots. Then Geralt had danced, a little awkwardly, but holding her little hands in his large ones and taking big steps so she bounced on his boots, which resulted in her shrieking with delight. 

Eventually an older girl had pulled her away to go spin about with the others, but the memory lived in a quiet, warm place in Jaskier’s chest. He thought of it often, and the way the little girl had offered a tiny daisy from her flower crown. It had remained in Geralt’s fingers as he returned to his place, brooding in the shadows, spinning it between thumb and forefinger occasionally.

“Dandelion,” Ciri said, pulling him from his reverie. “Jaskier, can you tell me a story?”

Jaskier glanced back to see the look on Geralt’s face, but then wasn’t sure why he had, the witcher’s expression held no answers, it never did. The story that leapt to mind was, of course, Geralt dancing with that child in the sunshine, but he didn’t tell it. Instead he leapt into a tale, a long one, of the son of a king who wanted to marry the lovely daughter of an evil enchanter.

It was a good story, very long with lot’s of parts, so Ciri could ask for more again and again, and there were amazing characters with strange tales and true love and magic and wishes. Everything a good story needed. Jaskier prided himself on doing the voices for each new character.

Ciri traipsed along beside him, hanging on his every word. She was a good audience, making surprised noises or saying ‘oh no!’ at just the right points. Jaskier even noticed Yennefer listening, occasionally smiling to herself at a joke or a good part of the story. 

Geralt walked on ahead. Jaskier had no way of telling if he was listening, but he probably wasn’t. The story was fantastical to the extreme and if Geralt were listening he would probably be scoffing and complaining about how that ‘can’t be done with magic’ and ‘there aren’t river dragons, there’s only water serpents, they’re different species entirely’. 

It was funny, though, when they stopped for dinner-Jaskier picking at the rations offered, reluctant to use up supplies but unwilling to worry Ciri- he continued the story, and Geralt, who had been sharpening his sword, stopped.

Of course, it was probably simply that the blade didn’t need much sharpening, or that Geralt wanted to allow Ciri to listen. Still, Jaskier felt good. He hadn’t complained, he wasn’t eating too much food, and he wasn’t much of a burden.

And Ciri liked the story.

They kept walking after dinner, so long as they still had light, relying on Geralt in the dim twilight to find a spot to camp. Jaskier told more of the story, not even a third of the way through, and occasionally Ciri asked questions.

“Why did the king’s son not want to marry the oldest sister?”

“Because she was too cold,” Jaskier said, inventing, because the story didn’t say. “She was beautiful, but she could not love, so her heart turned to ice and everything she touched froze.”

“And the middle sister?” Ciri asked, wide eyed.

“She was too warm, she was angry, all the time, and so her heart turned to fire and all she touched melted or burned.”

As the story he told progressed, Jaskier used his additions in the story. The king’s son, fleeing with his soon-to-be bride, the youngest sister, had to escape the sorceror’s wrath, but the sisters tried to stop their youngest sister leaving, melting the chains of the drawbridge so that the couple couldn’t escape.

Ciri gasped and wrapped one hand in Jaskier’s traveling cloak, hanging on to him as tightly as she held to his words.

Then the eldest sister in the story sent a blizard after the couple, who had escaped the draw bridge just in time. Yennefer, who looked a little better after their meal and short rest, sent a tiny swirl of snow, a miniature blizzard from her finger, letting it play a moment with Ciri’s hair before dissappearing. 

Ciri laughed with delight and Jaskier sent a smile to Yennefer, who nodded at him surprisingly warmly. A good story made everyone happy, he supposed.

They stopped for the night in another clearing. Ciri begged for more of the story before bed. Geralt sat, setting the fire so it could burn through the night, while Yennefer brushed out Ciri’s hair. It was a perfect, domestic little scene, and Jaskier felt odd, seeing it from the outside, but also in the spotlight of Ciri’s focus. 

He plucked his lute quietly as he told the story. In truth, there were many little poems buried in the tale, and he’d long ago made little tunes for each so that they could be sung. When he came to one, though, he didn’t sing it. He just plucked out the tune as he talked, and when the poem passed he continued through the story, letting his music be the background.

Hopefully it was less annoying that way. 

He wasn’t about to offer this perfect family a fillingless pie.

As he finally lay down to sleep though, he quite felt like a fillingless pie himself. Ciri and Yennefer had once again bedded down in the magic tent and Geralt was rolled up in his bedroll in his tent, across the barely glowing fire. Jaskier lay awake.

His bedroll was thin and his ribs fairly ached with hunger, but Geralt had said they were but a day away from a town. Jaskier could buy supplies there, he still had a little coin, and that way he wouldn’t use up the others’ food.

He could play in the town too, earn more coin. They wouldn’t stay there, he knew, not with half the continent searching for a white haired witcher and his child surprise. But the others needed supplies too, and Yennefer said she had enough magic for a small glamor to hide Geralt and Ciri’s hair and her eyes.

Jaskier settled in for the night. Earning coin made him useful, and therefore not a burden, so he would earn coin.

He made a list in his head of things he should buy to prepare for the trek up to Kaer Morhen. Gloves, his only pair had worn out last year. A thicker cloak, his was practically threadbare. Grapeseed and linseed oil. One for the beard he was growing and the other for his lute. New lute strings.

He rolled over on his bedroll, trying to avoid the root digging into his spine. He’d need to make quite a bit of money. He wasn’t sure he’d be able too. It wasn’t safe to sing about the white wolf, not too much, or someone might recognize him as himself, rather than just some bard singing Jaskier’s songs. 

Country ditties then, but they made less money. It wasn’t just his supplies he needed to buy, either. Jaskier didn’t want to just not be a burden, he wanted to help.

They would all need thicker clothes and lots of food to make it to Kaer Morhen. He wasn’t a good hunter so he could really only help by supplying money to buy what they needed. He had little right now, and he felt shame rise in him. He’d had no way of knowing he’d meet up with Geralt and his child surprise, but if he hadn’t drunk so much of his money than he could be a better help. 

He could sell his lute.

The thought came into his mind like a knife, and it turned his stomache. He could sell his lute, but the beautiful girl was the only physical thing he had to remind him of Geralt. Filavandrel’s lute. It would be worth a fortune, of course. Elven made, everyone knew they made the best instruments.

It was just...he couldn’t bear the thought of letting the lute go. He loved how she played, loved the memories he had. He knew the story behind every shallow scratch and scuff, and who could love her the same? And when the danger was passed and Geralt never had to see him again, what would Jaskier have then? A handful of memories, turned bittersweet, then bitter. Nothing concrete. He’d go back to Oxenfurt, maybe even Lettenhove. And there would be nothing for him to hold to remind him.

He couldn’t sell his lute.

The thought ate at him as he tried to sleep though. He had in his hands the means to help them all so much, and he was too selfish to do so.

Sleep eventually claimed him, and he dreamt of a mountain, wind whipping about his ears and carrying words to him.

Shit shoveler. Burden. If life could give me one blessing...

He awoke sore and badly rested, tears dried on his face.

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@frywen-babbles

[lizzie-saltzman]

I’LL CRAWL HOME TO YOU

A Hizzie fanfiction

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman Fandom: Legacies Rating: M Chapters: 1/? Summary:  In many ways, meeting Hope in a different reality had helped Lizzie put things in perspective, and perhaps even understand her in ways she hadn’t before. Understand them, their connection, the palpable animosity that had turned into a reluctant friendship and now something far more tangible. The rest, well, she doesn’t tell Josie. Not about waking up after three weeks away from her real home, tucked under the covers of Hope’s bed with their clothes discarded around the dormitory, with a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and her hair sticking to her cheekbones. There were some things better left unsaid. (Upon her return from an alternate timeline a Malivore monster teleported her to, Lizzie must deal with the aftermath of her time spent away, and her newly doormat feelings for Hope Mikaelson.) READ HERE ON AO3 or under the read more

Chapter 1: The hero thing's not just for the broody, you know?

Professor Saltzman’s office is dimly lit by the lamp on his mahogany desk, wind rustling loudly against the open window that slams against one of the bookshelves incessantly behind Lizzie. Josie, frustrated, silently closes her hand and slams it shut, half startling her twin, who sits perched atop of her dad’s desk, picking grapes out of a yellow bowl. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? It's not every day you’re transported into an alternate timeline by a mud pit monster��. Josie paces, hands crossed over her chest now, worried wrinkles creasing between her eyebrows. 

Lizzie looks behind her, towards the window frame, holding a grape to her mouth.

“I’m fine”. Lizzie says, exhaling, turning, and continuing with a grape halfway in her mouth. “Starving. Out of all the things I could assume dimension traveling does to you –– you know, aside from the crippling motion sickness that you feel when you come through a hell portal –– I would’ve never thought hunger was one of them. Do you think this is what vamps feel when they’re first turned?”

Josie stops, her frown more prominent. “I’m pretty sure the answer’s no”. 

Lizzie shrugs, swinging her legs and hopping off Alaric’s desk, leaving the bowl behind.

“Well, I’m fine”.

“Do you want to talk about what happened? We tried everything to find a way to get you back. Alyssa Chang helped. She felt bad about… Everything, but I don’t think there’s a book about dimension hopping anywhere in this school, so we had to wing it. Unsuccessfully”. 

Lizzie rolls the sleeves of the sweater she’s wearing, an apologetic smile on her lips, whether it's about Alyssa Chang and her attempt to mend things between them or not thanking Josie for trying to save her despite the odds set against them when she had the chance, she doesn’t know. Or maybe it's not about Josie and Alyssa at all…

“It was weird. Different. Everything was. Mystic Falls looked exactly the same except the Salvatore School didn’t exist ––”

“Dad mentioned you said that”. Josie interjects.

“–– And for a while I thought about setting out to find our doppelgängers, or us or whatever, but then I thought about all those movies where the time traveling hunk finds himself in a different timeline and it all goes to hell, and I got a little freaked out so I wandered around town for a while, went to the Mystic Grill and... Saw dad.” 

Josie doesn't have to look at Lizzie to know exactly what her tone means. “Oh?”

Lizzie’s face falls. “Yeah. He was drinking. A lot. I didn’t stay long enough to talk though. How do you explain to him that you’re his daughter in a timeline where fairytale monsters try to kill us like, bi-weekly? So I decided to come here instead”. 

“And that’s when you found out our school didn’t exist?” 

“Another one did. Hope’s”. Lizzie deadpans.

That finally makes Josie quit her pacing, making Lizzie feel less on edge, not having to watch her walk back and forth in the small space of their dad’s office anymore. It's been making her anxious, twiddling with the bowl of grapes that she absentmindedly pulled to the corner of the desk while she was talking. She pushes it away from the edge, waiting for Josie to recover, to give her that look that urges her to continue. 

“The Mikaelson School. That’s how I got back. She helped me make a portal back home, but we spent weeks researching magic that helps you travel through time and space. It felt like I was stuck in an episode of Star Journey ––”

“Trek”. 

“–– But she was different. I mean, she was still Hope but cockier, meaner��” Hotter. Lizzie catches herself, reaching again, for the bowl of grapes just to find something to do with her hands. “Her parents were alive”. 

Somewhere out there, in a world parallel to their own but not quite right, Klaus Mikaelson and Hayley Marshall were still alive. Somewhere out there, in a timeline not too far from this one, Hope had grown up with the care and love that she lost when she was barely fifteen years old. Grief changes people, forges them into unimaginable things; for this Hope, her Hope, it was all about atonement, weighed by the guilt of her family legacy and the isolation of being the only one of her kind. In that world, Hope didn’t carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, didn’t feel the need to isolate herself from her peers or the fear of losing the people she loved every waking day of her life. In many ways, meeting Hope in a different reality had helped Lizzie put things in perspective, and perhaps even understand her in ways she hadn’t before. Understand them, their connection, the palpable animosity that had turned into a reluctant friendship and now something far more tangible. 

The rest, well, she doesn’t tell Josie. Not about waking up after three weeks away from her real home, tucked under the covers of Hope’s bed with their clothes discarded around the dormitory, with a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and her hair sticking to her cheekbones. There were some things better left unsaid. 

“Are you planning on telling her?” Josie asks, breaking Lizzie from her trance. “She might want to know. Maybe”.

She wouldn’t know where to start. She wouldn’t know how to soften the blow. She wouldn’t even know if Hope would take any of it kindly, knowing there was a world where she could have been happy, where no one she loved had to die to save her. Let alone a world where she ends up tangled in her bedspread, sweaty and naked ––

“Lizzie?” 

“Oh, sorry. Yeah. I think I should talk to her”. Finally, she leaves the bowl of grapes alone, picking one last one before stepping forward. “Do you know where she is?” 

“Last I knew she was with MG, they were looking for the monster.” 

“It's been weeks! I thought you guys would’ve killed it by now”. Indignantly, Lizzie crosses her arms.

Josie grimaces. “Lizzie, it's only been two days”. 

Lizzie sets towards the door. 

“Lizzie, wait!” Josie pulls her by the back of her sweater. Lizzie stumbles, but catches her balance. “It's not safe. You could be sucked back in through a portal”. 

“I’m not going to leave Hope and MG fighting that thing alone. At least I know how to make my way back this time”. 

And she shrugs her off, disappearing out the door before Josie has the chance to stop her.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

A piercing, painful hiss echoes through the trees, scattered around the back of The Salvatore School. Hope clutches a sharp, lethal looking knife in her hand as she flies through the linen of maple wood, crashing through the branches and huffing loudly as she rolls through the mud covered ground, leaving tracks in her path and skidding to a stop near a pair of white boots. She groans, rolling over and finding, not the starry night sky and the leaves rustling above her, but Lizzie Saltzman, looking straight ahead at the snake-like monster screeching in the distance. 

There’s no time for pleasantries though, as Hope pushes herself up on her elbows. “Lizzie, watch out!” 

And Lizzie ducks, instinctively; a log flies past her head and crashes against the tree behind her, taking Hope’s hand to help her back on her feet and using it as an opportunity to siphon enough magic to be useful in a fight. When she looks ahead, wiping her dirty hands on her sweats, she spots MG through the branches, face down on the mud and seemingly unconscious. 

“Is MG okay?!” Lizzie shrieks, right as the giant snake creature uses its tail to send another branch flying past their heads. They duck for cover behind a tree and Hope peeks around to get a good look ahead.

“He’s fine. The monster caught us by surprise and snapped his neck. I’ve been keeping it distracted, waiting for him to wake up”. 

“Yeah, he’s doing great, Hope! Way to go!” 

Hope ignores her. The wind picks up pace, looking like a storm is approaching, taking the leaves from the muddy ground with it as clouds line up in the sky and obscure the moonlight. It’s waning; the full moon is only a few days away ––

“Where’d it go?” 

Suddenly, it's eerily quiet; Hope’s shoes make crunching sounds against the leaves below, stepping out from behind the tree with her knife pointed forward. Behind her, Lizzie follows, turning around and walking backwards until she collides with Hope’s back. It doesn’t seem to startle Hope, who momentarily reaches behind her to touch Lizzie’s wrist. 

“This is freaking me out”. 

“Be quiet”. Hope hisses.

And Lizzie presses her lips together; she’s sure Hope can hear her rapidly accelerating heartbeat. The last time her heart raced anywhere near Hope Mikaelson they were in various states of undress, and Hope had grinned triumphantly as she cornered Lizzie against ––

“Uh, Hope? Hope!” Lizzie reaches behind her. Hope must have sensed her tension, because she turns around just in time to see it too. The snake-like creature slithers out through a hazy looking hole, baring its teeth and launching itself through the air. Lizzie puts her hands up, but she’s roughly pushed out of the way as Hope takes a guarded stance on the ground and chants a spell under her breath. 

“Ictus!” It sends the monster flying backwards, into the portal it came out of. Lizzie groans as she scrambles off the ground and the portal closes with a resounding hush. Hope rushes to Lizzie’s side, examining her body for injuries, but she comes out of the collision relatively unscathed, save for a bruise she knows she’ll be feeling well into next week on her left shoulder blade. 

“Are you okay?” Hope sounds genuinely concerned; she knows that worried look in her eyes, she’d seen it, not only on the other side of the portal, but here too. Except this time it’s not Landon that Hope is cradling, it's her, and she’s searching for any signs of distress just like she would’ve in another lifetime. 

Lizzie swallows, nodding. “I’m fine”. 

“You need to go”. 

“Like hell I am!” She protests, pushing Hope away from her. “I’m not letting you fight this thing alone”.

Hope is startled by the whiplashing display of softness and animosity, but she doesn’t have time to question Lizzie’s sudden change of demeanor, because below her, the monster conjures another portal, and his hook-like claws extend to yank Hope’s feet from underneath her, sending her crashing against the ground and tossing the knife at Lizzie’s feet. 

“Hope!” Lizzie launches herself forward, catching Hope’s hand as she’s dragged back a few feet behind her. The monster is strong, strong enough to drag both of them down into a hell dimension, but Lizzie acts quickly –– “Immobilus!” And anchors herself to the ground as Hope attempts to pull herself up and away from the monster’s claw. Lizzie grits her teeth as Hope struggles to get back up –– she yanks and the monster pulls harder. Hope digs her fingers into the dirt and turns to kick the monster’s claw away from her. It hisses, raising it’s razor sharp hook and sinking it down on her arm. 

Lizzie can hear Hope’s breath hitch, the pain making Hope let go of her arm as she’s dragged a few inches down the ground again. She pulls herself up on her hands and knees, crawling towards Hope in an attempt to reach her, but when her fingers slip right through Hope’s when she tries to launch herself forward again, she watches Hope’s foot almost touch the edge of the portal. So Lizzie chants, and the creature shrieks so violently it lets go of Hope’s forearm. When Hope turns, the monster’s claw is bent in two –– Lizzie had broken whatever bone was underneath it as a last minute effort to save her. 

The adrenaline between them is palpable. Hope pushes herself up on her feet in such a graceful way it distracts Lizzie long enough to stay on the ground until Hope holds out her hand. She takes it, pulling herself up and wiping the leaves away from her sweat pants. 

“Thanks for the save”. Hope huffs, making sure Lizzie’s found her footing before letting go of her hand. Lizzie closes it, disappointed by its absence. 

“The hero thing’s not just for the broody, you know?”

Hope laughs, Lizzie grins. The wind picks up pace again, making Hope turn ahead, where another portal appears between the trees. Hope quickly picks up the knife from the ground, ready to strike again, but when the creature fully emerges from the portal, it does nothing but stand there, looking at them with its wings outstretched. 

“Ew! What kind of Harry Potter crap is that?” Lizzie makes a face, already taking a few steps back behind Hope. 

“A snake. We think”. 

“How do we kill it?” 

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure beheading is lethal for all supernatural monsters”. Hope grips the knife harder. The creature hisses, rattling its tongue in Hope’s direction before slithering back through the portal and disappearing into nothingness. 

The wind finally settles and the clouds clear, slowly but surely, making the stars visible in the sky again. Whatever sense of impending doom had made its way through Hope’s body, it's gone now. Lizzie however, frantically looks around, expecting the snake to attack any second. Hope looks at her, at her shaking fingertips, the frantic turning, the way she looks for MG from the corner of her eye, but only lets Lizzie freak out for a few seconds, before she reaches for her wrist. 

Lizzie’s breath hitches. She looks down at Hope’s hand clutching her wrist and urging her to stop. She swallows, looks at her for reassurance. 

“I think it’s gone”. Hope says. “The wind stopped blowing”. 

Lizzie nods. 

Behind them, the leaves blow. They turn at the same time, only to hear MG groaning as he comes to, slowly getting to his feet. He rubs the back of his neck, looks around for the creature, until he spots Hope and Lizzie in the distance. 

“Heeey, guys. Hey. Did we kill it?” 

Hope and Lizzie roll their eyes in unison. They’re standing too close for comfort, enough that Lizzie feels the crevices between her boots wetting, she looks down, blood tinting her white Doc Martens and the leaves below them. When she turns to examine Hope, she notices the gash on her arm, so she reaches for it, frowning. 

“Does it hurt?” 

It’s soft Lizzie once again, Hope notices. With worry in her eyes and a gentleness to her voice she’s a little unfamiliar with. Hope swallows. “A little”. 

“We should patch you up”. Lizzie lets go; for a second she almost takes Hope’s hand, but decides against it. Instead, she tucks them inside the pockets of her sweat pants as they both turn to the direction of the school. 

“Guys?” In the distance, MG calls out. “Wait up. I think I need an aspirin”. 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“MG looked happy to see you”. 

Sitting at the edge of Hope’s bed, Lizzie smiles, carefully wrapping a bandage around Hope’s forearm, where the monster had dug its claws and left a sizable gash on her skin. Rationally, she knows Hope will heal, but finds no reason not to aid the healing process and make Hope’s pain more manageable. Besides, it's an excuse to sit close to her, even if she’s not particularly interested in the direction this conversation was going. She’s more interested in knowing how Hope felt about her return, rather than anyone else’s. 

“I was gone a while”. Lizzie offers, concentrating on the bandage. Hope lets her have her way with her arm, lifting and lowering at her own discrepancy. “Though, Jo told me it was only for a couple of days. It was weeks there”. 

“Really?” Hope asks curiously. 

“Like three weeks, a little more”. She doesn’t give Hope a chance to ask any more questions, continuing. “What was that thing anyway? The monster. Does it have a name?”

Hope looks at Lizzie’s hands as she finishes wrapping the bandage around her. “Wade called it a Dimensional Warper, I guess from one of his games. Dungeons and monsters ––” 

“–– Dragons”. 

“Yeah, that. Anyway, he said that Dimensional Warpers create portals to other timelines and dimensions, and can move freely between them. It warped you to another reality when we were tracking it down, we were closing in on it, or you were. With that tracking spell.”

“Do we know why it's here?” 

Hope shakes her head. A beat. “Probably me”. 

Lizzie says nothing, grimacing and, taping Hope’s bandage together carefully, rattled by the idea that something so gruesome was capable of completely disappearing anyone from their world. But what had been three and a half weeks for Lizzie, had only been two days for Hope. She can’t help but wonder how much time it would’ve taken them to find her –– would they have tortured the monster, would they have found a spell that could warp her back to this reality, would they have never gotten to her at all? What about Hope? What if Lizzie hadn’t run to the woods just in time to help?

“We tried my aunt Freya’s grimoire”. Hope breaks the silence, probably sensing Lizzie’s sudden uneasiness. “We tried everything. Alyssa Chang and your sister read so many books I think they paper-burned their fingerprints off. I’m just glad you’re back, and that you’re okay”. 

“Yeah. Me too”. Lizzie says, plainly, looking at Hope’s arms, the tank top, the twig stuck to her hair that she reaches for and takes between her fingertips. “I had help”. 

“From who?” Its genuine curiosity. Hope’s eyelids flutter, as Lizzie continues to pick the leaves from her hair, distracted suddenly. 

“A very powerful witch”. 

Lizzie offers nothing further, and Hope senses that whatever happened on the other side, Lizzie was not ready to share yet. If she knows anything about Lizzie Saltzman though, is that she will, eventually, when she feels like sharing, even if unprompted. It makes Hope smile for a second, but it drops, when she wonders if Lizzie had actually gone through something horrible somewhere none of her friends or her family could help her. 

She turns to ask, to make sure she’s okay. Their eyes meet; Lizzie lowers Hope’s arm and closes the first aid kit. It’s electric, like a jolt, deja vu, but maybe it's just Lizzie’s wishful thinking. This Hope could never possibly have an interest in her, could she?

Hope clears her throat.

“You should probably get some rest and I should find Kaleb and the rest of the vampires. Make sure we have someone on the lookout, in case the snake decides to make a comeback while we’re sleeping”. Not that Hope is planning on sleeping with an impending threat still lurking around school grounds. “Thanks, for the help and for patching me up”. 

“You’re welcome”. 

They look at each other again, stand up at the same time. There’s little to no space between them and Lizzie takes a sudden step back, losing her footing. Hope grasps her by the arm before she tumbles. “Sorry”. Hope says. 

“Don’t be. Thanks”. 

And Hope lets go, taking the first aid kit from the bed before Lizzie gets a chance to. “I’ll just put this away”. Lizzie nods. 

After Hope puts the first aid kit back in her closet and turns around, Lizzie’s already gone.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Legacy of a Queen (The Mask of Death Part 15)

“You killed them.”

Vader stopped, and for a moment Sabé almost expected him to whirl around and finally snap. She’d expected him to be tougher, had expected to be dead already. Instead, she was bruised and battered from their last encounter - when she had tried and failed to prevent him from tarnishing the tomb of her beloved Queen and friend. Padmé would never have wanted such an oppressive, dark presence of an Empire she would have despised to taint her memory. Still, she had failed and not only that, she had lived despite her will to die an honourable death reclaiming her former mistress’ honour. She had been a handmaiden of Queen Amidala, and above that, a loyal friend. Padmé wanted freedom, Padmé wanted a Republic where every inhabitant of the Galaxy had an equally important voice. Vader represented the Emperor, the dictator whose authoritarian rule they must all succumb to. Palpatine may have been a child of Sabé’s beloved Naboo, but she would never recognize him as her true ruler.

“Why?” she found herself asking, her voice bouncing off of the cavernous stone walls of the cave surrounding them.

She had tracked Vader down. It had been difficult, nigh impossible. She’d bound together the Amidalans, together with Tonra and Typho. All indebted to Padmé, all grateful for her all too brief time in their lives.

Vader didn’t respond, but neither did he move away. Sabé ground her teeth together, ignoring the ache in her side from the broken ribs he had left her with. In fact all of the Amidalans had lived, even Olié who had come closest to meeting with death. Vader had stabbed him, but it was not fatal. Vader had a reputation for killing every enemy, for taking no prisoners. If anyone lived to tell the gruesome tale, it was by design. Vader wanted them to spread the rumours, wanted to build up his image of terror and dread. His sparing her life, especially in this moment when they were alone and no one would find her remains to decipher what had caused her demise, was vexing. It was frustrating.

Sabé hated Vader. Not merely what he stood for, or whom he served. She didn’t even directly hate his ruthless ways, she didn’t resent the blood of the innocents on his hands. She loathed him for destroying Padmé. He ruled Mustafar, Padmé had died in dubious circumstances concerning visiting Mustafar. So had her beloved Anakin Skywalker. Skywalker, a hero, a Jedi, an inspiration. Sabé had known, how could she not? Padmé had never said aloud, but Sabé had seen it, she had figured it out. Skywalker, too, had perished in the same unrecorded event. She blamed Vader, for who else could have bested a fighter and general of Skywalker’s caliber? Who else could have destroyed the pure hearted goodness of Padmé Amidala?

“Ask no more questions,” Vader simply rumbled, his mechanical breathing steady and evenly paced.

Sabé shook her head, taking a couple of hesitant steps towards the large, towering form of the man before her. He did not respond, and all Sabé could truly see in the dim, gloomy darkness was the sunlight beaming through cracks in the rock reflected against his polished domed helmet, and the billowing black cape that wrapped around his broad shoulders. It was cold, and Sabé wasn’t surprised. She had noted the freezing aura of his presence the very first time she ran into him, to lure him with her to Naboo in order to carry out the assassination attempt organized by her fellow Amidalans. Even on the bright, warm, sunny Summer day she had felt chills down her spine. She’d had goosebumps then, as she did now. Her breath came out in condensated puffs, but she would not relent. Keeping her trusty blaster close to her chest, although she knew it was only for show, she remained stubborn.

“I will not. I need to know why you killed them. Why you killed her,” Sabé pressed, hands beginning to tremble as they clung harder to the durasteel in her slender hands.

“You ask for answers you do not wish to hear,” Vader retorted, and to Sabé’s surprise - it was not only a reply, but the monotone conveyed no anger.

Instead, there was a lingering sense of exasperation to the statement, as if Vader himself knew what his reasons were but had refused to come to terms with them as of yet. Loose gravel slid against the damp, slippery rock formation as Sabé approached with caution. The cold radiated off of him, nipping at her rosy cheeks. She tilted her head to the side, peering as much as she dared over the bulk of his shoulder but seeing only darkness ahead. She assumed he had some sort of night vision sensors built into that mask he wore.

“I would not ask for them if I wasn’t desperate to hear them.”

It was the truth. For over twenty years, Sabé and her fellow Amidalans had never stopped asking the question. Why? Why had Padmé died? Why had she travelled to Mustafar alone? Why had she not shared the name of the father of her child? Why had she been so secretive, despite the fact that most of her former court of handmaidens already knew the truth? Now, beholding the man who had taken Padmé’s life, Sabé refused to see him take the cowardly way out and avoid explaining himself. Still, Vader didn’t paint the imposing picture he had the first time she met him. He seemed sullen, withdrawn, perhaps even pained? It made little sense to her.

“I obviously can’t kill you, but I won’t die for lack of trying. Whatever it is you know, tell me. Who else am I supposed to share it with when I’m dead?” Sabé heard herself saying, and she contemplated whether she meant it only for a moment.

The answer was yes. She would die for Padmé, to avenge her death.

“You are mistaken. It is not you who has failed.”

Again, there was an almost melancholy note to Vader’s voice, despite the fact that nothing within its diction or pacing had changed. His voice was still manufactured, inhuman. But behind the mask, there must be something else. Something to unearth, something to discover. Sabé felt equally confused and frustrated with the situation, her agitation shutting out any fear she may be harbouring deep down for the Dark Lord.

“I will have failed if I cannot kill you, and I have come to terms with that. As such, I only need to know why you killed Anakin and Padmé. Were they intruding? Were they out to put you down to cripple the Empire? Did you just feel like it?”

Sabé narrowed her eyes, her gaze burning a hole in Vader’s back as she stared unrelenting at his cloaked form. This man did not deserve to even think of Padmé. Yet, she’d yet to hear him speak of Padmé with anything other than reverence. As if her name was forbidden for him to utter, as if he himself was aware that he was beneath her. Sabé almost gasped, stumbling a couple of steps backwards when Vader finally did turn halfway to face her. The dead lenses of his face plate looked back at her, their stare cold and dead and empty. His hands hung slack at his sides, and swallowing hard; Sabé expected him to kill her. Expected him to reach out with one hand and seize her neck in an invisible chokehold. The way he had done the first time she stood before him on Vendaxa, when he had allowed her to live. When he had mistaken her for Padmé.

“The first time I met you, why did you not kill me?”

There was no reply, but the meaning behind the silence rang loud and clear. Vader had not killed her, because he had assumed she was Padmé. Hadn't he killed her? Shouldn’t he know she was dead? Still, he had hesitated, believing her to be the former Queen. They did possess an uncanny resemblance, it had led her to become one of Padmé’s decoys in the first place. Even their mothers had struggled to tell them apart, which had only furthered their cause in keeping Padmé safe during her time on the throne. Even now, she was alive. Even now, she could breathe freely as she stared death in the eye.

“You believed I was Padmé, didn’t you? But if you killed her, why would you assume such a thing?” she continued, but yet again her only answer was an eerie silence.

A heavy, tense silence. Wearing her thin, dragging the seconds of time passing out into what felt like hours. Sabé sighed, hanging her head. He would never relent, he would never speak. Killing him would offer her no peace, if he would not share the truth. He was the only person who knew what had happened, and if he did not speak, there was no way to resolve her suspicions. He had admitted to killing Padmé, and Skywalker, but not how. Not when. Not why. All of these question marks without a resolution. A riddle that could not be solved.

“The japor snippet found in the Queen’s tomb.”

Vader’s voice cut through the air like a knife, making Sabé wince as it echoed all around her; a multifaceted statement. It did not answer her questions, and she scowled and she attempted to study the unfeeling expression of his mask.

“What are you talking about?” she huffed, but as soon as the words were out; an inquisitive curiosity began to wonder why he had chosen to address that little trinket.

“Was she buried with it?” Vader continued, paying no mind to Sabé’s perplexed expression.

“Yes. Yes, she was. She wore it often, it appears to have meant a great deal to her,” Sabé clarified, still failing to see how it mattered. “I do not know its meaning.”

“I do,” said Vader, and despite Sabé’s instant desire to scoff at the preposterous profession; she found she couldn’t.

Instead, it felt earnest. Vader sounded sincere, and while she refused to believe there was a single scrap of human emotion or empathy in the man; she could feel the solemn sadness of his aura bearing down on her shoulders like a sodden weight. As if she had been unwittingly made to carry his burdens, and his suffering. She blinked, her legs suddenly feeling weak beneath her as they wobbled but she ignored it.

“That’s nonsense,” Sabé spat. “The only other person who would know its meaning---”

“Is the person who forged it,” Vader interrupted.

Sabé blinked, and there was a gnawing unease settling at the pit of her belly. There was a voice at the back of her mind, nagging at her. She ignored it, but the more she tried to force it aside, the more it demanded her attention. Fingers curling tighter around the blaster, she heard her voice wavering as she spoke again.

“Anakin made it for her.”

Sabé needed no response to know it was true. The tiny, hand carved wooden piece of jewelry had been simple and bare bones when compared to Padmé’s impressive wardrobes and her thousands of embezzled necklaces. Still, she often picked the unbecoming, clumsy trinket above her splendid diamond, ruby and sapphire heirlooms. Padmé, who never wore a dress twice. She would not part with the necklace, and so, she had been buried with it. It had been the physical item she’d held highest in regard in life. Skywalker had made it for her, had painstakingly carved it out of the rare pieces of wood he may have found while kept as a slave. It was as if she could visualize the scene, as if she could see the small blonde boy; sitting cross legged in a rugged hut, lining the details meticulously with a small blade. A handmade gift fit for a Queen.

“Yes,” Vader said, but the acknowledgement seemed to be directed more towards her direct thoughts, than her words.

“How would you know? Who are you, really?” Sabé grimaced, raising her voice as the unease grew into full blown dread.

Vader began to turn back away from her, stalking unhindered by the darkness as he continued forward into the deep abyss of the cave. Sabé didn’t know what he was doing, of why he was there. She couldn’t tell what had possessed him to come to Tytloh, and it’s bleary, gray wildlife. Little could survive here, and although the planet was rumoured to have held a grand meaning for Force wielders in the old Republic, it lay in tatters now. Uninhabited, unless you counted lowlife pirates and smugglers. A man of Vader’s power should find little need to come here, and Sabé suspected she would never get an answer to that question either.

“Perhaps, if I had never offered her the piece, she may have lived.”

Sabé felt her legs give out under her own weight, as if all strength had been sucked out of her. As if the will to go on had been torn from her spirit. As she sunk to her knees in the muck and slippery algae covering the cavern’s innards - she gasped. Vader was already gone, vanished in the darkness as if he had never been there at all. As if he were a demon who had returned to the hole from which he came. As if he had been a figment of her imagination, and for a moment Sabé almost second guessed herself, and she almost believed he had.

I, he had said.

Sabé understood.

***

Well, I've been wanting to write something based off of the 2020 Vader comic where Vader visits Padmé's tomb, from Sabé's POV. Hence, this one is very much inspired by that, as a sort of compliant follow up to where they left off. I understand why they left it open, but I would have loved to see Sabé realize the truth about Vader, and who he really is. I found it worked as another installment for this mini series, and thus this chapter was born.

Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049894/chapters/69852816

[transkingoryx]

do it for the quiet, Anxiety.

Virgil irritably poked the “raise volume” button on his headphones. Why, oh why, couldn’t Roman play his music any quieter? As much as he appreciated MCR, he was trying to ignore the aftermath of the last video by drowning his thoughts in listening to music as loud as he could- the video that no one had told him about. The one he was only informed of after Roman stormed into his room in the mind palace, glaring with such dramatic hurt and anger. 

After a few moments of listening to see if anyone was coming down the hallway (hopefully to talk to Roman so Virgil wouldn’t have to), he resigned himself to the bitter conclusion that he’d have to either damage his eardrums to drown out the prince, or do the thing he’d dreaded- talking to him.

With a sigh, he unlocked his door, and stepped out, leaving his headphones abandoned on his bed. Following the increasingly deafening sound of Gerard Way scream-singing, he soon arrived at the imposing door to Roman’s room. The richly colored oak was adorned with a glowing golden star proclaiming Prince Roman, Creativity in ornate script. Virgil hesitated, his hand hovering by the door, ready to knock. Am I sure about this? What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if I’m annoying him? What if I make it worse like I always- 

Virgil cut off the thought before it could go any farther, like Patton and Jan- Deceit had always told him to. Do it for the quiet, Anxiety. 

He knocked.

The music abruptly halted, and Roman opened the door, his normally excited expression twisted into the scowl that came with a kind of rejection Virgil knew all too well. 

“Um- hi,” he forced out. 

“Salutations.” The greeting usually sounded enthusiastic coming from the heroic side, but now it echoed with a bitter sarcasm the other sides equated with Virgil and Deceit. 

Taking the fact that there was a reply at all as a good sign, Virgil forged ahead. “So- I heard you playing music really loud and it was kind of- I mean really different from the way you usually act-” Virgil knew he was rambling, and he hated it. “So I thought I should come check on you.”

Roman’s dejected appearance morphed into disbelief. “Did Patton send you?” 

“No!” Virgil reacted defensively. “I mean- no, he didn’t. Why is that so hard for you to believe?” 

“I thought he might send a different side after I shouted at him the first time.” Hold up- what? No one ever shouted at Patton, least of all Roman. He was too sweet, too well-meaning, too good. 

“Why would you do that?” Virgil asked incredulously. 

“He sided with that- that- reptilian rapscallion!” Roman burst out.

“Deceit?” 

Roman laughed bitterly. “Who else? What other slippery, dishonest side could and would turn all the others against me?” 

“...what exactly happened last episode?” Virgil had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with Roman’s current state. He berated himself for not knowing something was up and not making the connection sooner. Since when does Roman, the Creativity Prince, listen to My Chemical Romance, let alone I’m Not Okay? 

“What happened? What didn’t happen?” Roman laughed again, his eyes welling with tears. This was way past what Virgil had signed up for. He would have been out of there in a second if it was anyone but Roman. “Come on in, I’ll explain.” He led Virgil into the room, draped in tapestries depicting heroic scenes that were something out of a fairy tale. How very Roman. 

----

“And then I said, ‘I thought I was your hero!’ because I was! I was, before that slimy snake destroyed my reputation, ruined Thomas’s life, corrupted Patton, and took everything from me!” 

Virgil nodded, though he was tiring of this. Roman had been ranting for the past hour, recounting the latest video word-for-word, and a headache was steadily building behind his eyes. 

“Thomas said ‘You are!’ and I looked at Janus because he can tell when people are lying, and he nodded. Thomas-” Roman’s voice shook, and Virgil looked at the princely side, surprised to see tears sliding down his face. “Thomas lied. I’m…” he seemed to choke on the words for a minute. “I’m not the hero.” 

Virgil opened his mouth to say something, one of his usual cynical comments perhaps, or something condemning Janus and Patton’s behavior, then realized- that’s not what Roman needed to hear. He hesitantly moved to sit next to Roman, and put an arm around him. 

“Roman…” the princely side glanced up. “You’re my hero.” 

“I- I didn’t tell you something...” Virgil mentally prepared himself for another rant, when Roman spoke again. “Janus… he told me I was… I was like Remus.” 

“You’re not.” Virgil promised. “You’re nothing like Remus- I should know.”

Roman’s energy seemed renewed. He gave a small smile, the first true smile Virgil had seen on him since before Selfishness vs Selflessness. 

“By the way, I heard you listening to My Chemical Romance earlier. Are you finally admitting my music taste is better?” Virgil teased. 

“Never!” Roman’s smile spread across his face. “Wanna go prank Janus?”

“I always thought his hat was kind of stupid, maybe it could have a mysterious accident?” Virgil suggested. 

“Sounds perfect.”

taglist (from @the-taglist-repository): @kieraelieson @somehow-i-got-an-account @a-fandom-trashdump @hekking-happy-nonsense

[land-of-classpects-and-analysis]

Knight of Space

There are so very few people in the world capable of dedicating themselves to lives of pacifism, creativity, and more. So very few are capable of stepping away from all that ails them in order to achieve a state of clarity and internal peace. Some people do not want to live this way at all, for they may see it as a dull and foolish way to live life. Who would want to sit around all day, doing nothing but preach about how much easier life is when one stops worrying about all that is wrong in the world, or how running off into battles will only lead to more harm than good? It is a fight or flight world - there is no option to simply hide away until the winds call one’s own name, finally allowing for them to fight. No one in their right mind would want to live such a life. At least, that’s what the Knight of Space would find themself struggling to believe and wrap their head around. The world is so vast and they are but a small drop of water in a vast, immense ocean. They are a star who shines amongst hundreds - no, millions of others just like them. From a distance, they blend in with all of the others who shine and twinkle much like they do, but it is only a select few who ever truly get to see the swirling, fiery, searing hot galactic internal battle that burns deep inside of the Knight of Space. They are fully equipped with their Aspect - one meant for those who are patient, true-blooded pacifists, creative, adaptive, and ever-expanding, much like the cosmos itself - yet they do not want it. At least, not until they truly realize how truly important they are in the grand scheme of everything. The Knight of Space, as passive and quiet as they may seem, is only doing so to hide and attempt to bury the real wild and ravenous spirit that rests inside of them.

From the start of their life, the Knight of Space is one who knew where to put any and all aggression, anger, and frustration they had inside of them. It just so happened that the outlet in which they chose was that of art, and everyone could see how gifted and talented the Knight of Space was in all that they created. Praise on top of praise on top of praise would be showered onto the Knight, making them out to be like that of a prodigy, a star waiting for its true time to shine. While they may have won many, many awards, or at least caught plenty of love, attention, and admiration from the people in their life, there would often be just as many people who were more than eager to try and tear down the Knight of Space. Because of this, what once seemed like a humble promise and glorious gift from the universe now became like that of a double-edged sword for the Knight of Space. They never fought back when someone would bring confrontation their way, and while this would come to help diffuse a few situations in their life, it would also only come to make them a victim of their own Aspect and the people who took advantage of it. Space-bound are those who don’t avoid and ignore all conflict, but rather they will try their best to pick and choose their battles so that, when the time comes, they are in their most primal state of ferocity during a fight.

As for the Knight of Space, though, they are unfortunately someone who has never been taught when is or isn’t the best time to fight. Instead, they would often find themself becoming a mediator or a punching bag for whoever turned their anger upon the Knight. Sometimes it would be verbally, other times, not so much. Yet the Knight of Space would only go on to continue creating more, and more, and more art, the pieces they write, draw, paint, sing, and build would often be that which reflected how the Knight truly felt. For some people, it may be surprising to see these glimpses into the mindscape of the Knight, but for others, they may be far too quick to dismiss this as actually reflections of who the Knight is. It is because of these dismissals, the brushing off of the Knight’s true agony and pain, that would make them build up their facade even more. Oftentimes, Knights of Space will put on the facade of being quietly obedient people, who do and say and agree with everything and everyone around them. If someone says the Knight of Space is wrong, then they will agree that they are wrong. If something breaks, the Knight of Space will take any and all responsibility for it. If someone tells the Knight of Space to do an extraneous amount of chores and tasks, they’ll do it. All the while, deep inside of the Knight, something is bubbling and brewing inside of them - an egg of volatile emotions waiting to hatch, birthing a supernova of all that the Knight has suppressed inside of them for so long.

Some may look at the Knight and only see a doormat or a rug that is meant to be walked on, so much so that what their original colors were will become unrecognizable. Others will only see a pitiful person who is an immensely tortured soul, yet will also continue to see the promising, brilliant minded and creative artist. Neither of these are entirely correct, though, as this is often only how the Knight of Space wants people to view them; another star amongst the other bright and sparkling people in the same sky as them. Deep within the Knight’s true self, though, is someone so filled with grief, anger, sadness, and loneliness. Grief, for the person they could have been if they had never picked up a pencil, paintbrush, microphone, instrument, or any other means has long since died. Anger, for the fact that anyone only ever seems to care for the Knight when they create something the privileged eyes of the masses see as revolutionary and unique. Sadness, for all of the harm they have brought onto not only themself, but also all the other people who wanted to be where the Knight stands. Finally, loneliness, for as famous and well-loved as the Knight is by their fans and perhaps even family, there are very few people in their life that have ever presented or even offered friendship to the Knight of Space. 

Relationships are not an easy thing for the Knight, as they have more than often become someone left alone. People will often cling onto them like that of leeches, if only to gain their own fame before unlatching themself from the Knight, engorged on their fame and fortune until they no longer need them and the Knight is left dry. Other times, the Knight of Space will become too busy and enveloped within their own projects, and as such, they will forget to even maintain any budding bonds. Relationships are difficult for the Knight of Space, but not many people will ever try to understand. It is because of this disconnect from the people in their life that brings about one of the biggest challenges of the Knight - it is the challenge, the hurdle, of trying to find a reason to even try to learn how to become a true Knight. After all, one of the biggest reasons for Knights to harness their powers is so that they can protect their friends and other loved ones - dedicating themself to the act of becoming a type of guardian to them. When a Knight has no such bonds of friendship, love, or found family, then what would even be the point of seeking out how to use these powers? Personal gain? Perhaps for some Knights, but the Knight of Space could never even bear to think of doing so selfish, especially if it could ruin the structure of their fame and their public image. Rest assured, though, there is still one way in which the Knight of Space will be pushed into taking this action of starting their journey, and it is a start that could quite easily be described as a big bang.

All of the years of being walked on, looked down upon, pressured and pushed to do more, try harder, keeping the flame of creativity alive, pushing past all of the moments of burnout and exhaustion, working themself down to their very molten core - all of it has been accumulating more and more inside of the Knight of Space. All of these years of build-up until, finally, the day comes for their own internal star to become that of a supernova. Canvases will be torn and ripped to shreds and splinters, stacks on top of stacks of paper and books will be cast into the flame, instruments will be smashed to pieces, all the Knight of Space has worked so hard on for so much of their life will all become destroyed by their own hands - and nothing will be spared. The Knight of Space will have had enough of being treated as some jester, some fool, only meant to suffer and bring enrichment to those of a higher privilege. They do not want to simply sit around and create, never getting the chance to fight back against all the wrong that has been brought on by the people in their life and, from what they understand, the universe itself. What the Knight of Space truly wants is to feel alive, and if it means they have to tear apart and raze the ground in which they built their artistic career upon, then so be it. They are tired, but cannot sleep. They are ill, and have no means of healing. They are in pain, but have no one to listen to them. Not anymore, though, no. The Knight of Space is finished with playing the role of the silent victim and tortured artist, and they will instead move on to forge their own path, their own role, as what they are meant to be; a guardian, protector, and hero of all that is, will be, and has been.

The Knight of Space is one who holds a rather interesting journey ahead of them, and, as such, even more interesting powers waiting to be unlocked. An Aspect such as Space is one that can be interpreted in a countless amount of ways, each one having just as much ground to stand on as the others. Whether it is the protection of Space itself - the cosmos and universe as we know it - or perhaps something more akin to protecting one’s own personal space. There is also protecting creativity, as well as the peace amongst a group of people, making sure that no one gets into any pitiful arguments. Although these Knights of Space who choose to protect their Aspect may eventually become capable of juggling all of these responsibilities at once, they must first prove themself worthy of even picking up the shield and protecting their Aspect at its most simplest of forms. Not only that, but they will also have to learn how to protect their own personal instances of Space in order to eventually stretch out and expand their means of protection. For some Knights of Space, having to jump over the first few hurdles of protecting their own personal experiences with their Aspect is one of the hardest things they will have to do.

Oftentimes, this difficulty comes from the fact that the facade of the Knight still plagues them in the most subtle ways possible. One of the ways in which it does so is the fact that they still wish to be that of a people-pleaser, at least to some extent. Specifically, they would mostly struggle with saying no to people and setting up their own boundaries for what they find comfortable. While this may also sound more akin to a Life-bound who has the same struggle, the main difference between the two parties is that the Knight of Space gets little to no joy from constantly helping others and being a doormat. However, now that the Knight of Space has gotten a taste of fighting back and releasing who they really are, even when they do fall back into the facade of being a people pleaser, it will often come swinging back around to the Knight being angered at the fact they allowed for this to happen once more. Not only does the Knight have the obstacle of trying to avoid being a people-pleaser, but they also run the risk of allowing their patience - their pacifism - to be taken advantage of, too, if they do not learn how to protect it from being twisted around and exploited. Although some Knights may still struggle to put in more care as to how they practice self-care and the like, there will be just as many Knights of Space who will be more than eager to step forward, take the time to set the foundation of protection, and slowly regain the fortification they need to make sure no one can exploit their Aspect.

In order to go about this, though, the Knight of Space must first face the grand, daunting task of doing something so many other stars experience after going supernova - do they become that of a Neutron Star, a beacon of hope for a better, new beginning, or do they sink and collapse in on themself, becoming that of a black hole with no promise of a better future, but instead slowly bringing everything around them to a miserable, never-ending fate of terror. Although this may also sound like that of a Prince and/or Bard of Space, the most simple answer to that is, while some Classes may have drastically different morals and powers, there will be just as many who may share more blood with each than is to be expected. Getting back on track, though, the journey of the Knight of Space is one that often will have a mixture of external and internal battles. In regards to their external fights, the Knight of Space, at least in the beginning, would find themself far more capricious in what fights they partake in and which ones they simply laugh off and walk away from. As to be expected, this can lead to some rather dangerous situations, whether it is the Knight of Space snapping, biting, and arguing with their very own friends over something as simple as a disagreement on a creative theory, or the Knight shrugging off the immediate threat of a natural disaster or complete and utter war and fallout in whatever world they inhabit. Of course, it is absolutely promised that these reactions will switch from day to day, making a young fledgling Knight of Space a rather unreliable warrior and protector for their Aspect and the people around them.

As for their more internal fights and struggles, this would, as mentioned earlier, come in the form of trying to learn how to put up their own barriers and boundaries regarding not only their Aspect but also for their own comfort. Many Space-bound are often very quick to allow themself to become stretched too thin for their own liking, with the Knight of Space most definitely being one of them. They have, in a way, become so accustomed to people taking advantage of their creativity and passive, quiet facade that it has become almost a type of second nature for the Knight of Space. However, if they ever wish to become worthy enough to wield and hold up high the shield in which they can use to protect themself and others, then the Knight of Space will first have to learn how they can simultaneously remain a kind and loving person but also not allowing for their Aspect to become exploited. It is during this journey of searching and reflection as to how they will go about this that, although the Knight is free of the life they once knew, they will soon venture into one of the loneliest parts of their journey. Going into a type of self-inflicted exile, they will shut themself away from any and all people, restlessly working day to day on all types of different theories, perspectives, and ways of approaching this issue. While the Knight of Space may yearn for the day they will be able to step out from their cocoon as the beautiful moth they are meant to become, it will be a long time before the Knight will be suitable enough to step out into the world, presenting themself properly enough as to begin to practice their countless theories of socialization in real-time.

There most definitely will be countless moments of heartbreak and grief during this time of the Knight’s journey, whether it is the Knight being hurt or they are the one inflicting it. What the Knight needs to be the most careful about during this period is not becoming stuck in their own ways, beliefs, patterns, and more if they ever wish to become a true protector of their Aspect. Much like the universe itself, the Space Aspect is one that is far more prone to changing, shifting, growing, perhaps even exploding once in a while, but it is always so that new and amazing things can be created and bloom wherever Space manages to reach out and touch. If the Knight of Space were to become stoic and unwilling to budge from whatever opinion or belief they have, then they would ultimately fail at becoming a Knight who is meant to protect any and all instances of their Aspect from being exploited, destroyed, manipulated, or mangled in one way or another. While some Knights of Space may indeed fall for this trap, the ones who do manage to take on a full grasp of their Aspect and its truest meanings, all of its flaws and perfections, will be the Knights to go out and protect everyone else’s very own Space - people’s very own galaxies, milky ways, and more, all waiting to be filled with personally crafted planets, stars, solar systems, etc. That is what the Knight of Space seeks to protect, for it was their initial lack of understanding how to truly protect their Aspect that led them to this point of suffering in the first place. Not again, though, no. As long as the Knight of Space is around, they will do all that they can to protect the Space of everyone else. Who knows, along the way, they may finally be able to pick up a friend or few as their protection spreads and grows.

Now, as for the Knights of Space who choose to instead protect through their Aspect, this is a path which leads to quite a few more peculiar powers. Being able to protect through Space itself, or perhaps simply protecting others through the Knight’s creativity and wisdom on when to fight and when to let something go - these are a few of the powers the Knight of Space can work themself up to. Of course, though, they must first prove themself worthy of even being able to craft and wield the sword that remains so deeply embedded in their heart and soul, as well as build up that pure, solid, and beneficial relationship with their Aspect. The Knight of Space’s journey leans far more towards building that relationship, especially because the creativity and passivity that comes with such a mighty and powerful Aspect can become possibly more of a hindrance than anything else. In regards to the Knight and their status with their Aspect, it would not be entirely untrue to view it like that of an artist experiencing a large period of burn-out. After all, at this point in time, the Knight of Space would most likely have just experienced a moment of pure, unbridled destructive rage, ripping apart and destroying not only all the artwork they have made over the years but also ripping apart a crucial part of their Aspect, as well. Having this burn-out, yet also having the gnawing desire to become and play a better role in life than they were in the beginning, is oftentimes one of the biggest challenges for the Knight of Space to overcome when it comes to their journey.

If the Knight of Space were to try and push themself to continue working hard, even when their body and mind continues to plead and beg for them to rest, then the Knight runs the risk of becoming completely disconnected from their Aspect - exhausting them to the point where even thinking of it makes them ill and overwhelmed. The Space Aspect is one of the most powerful of all twelve Aspects, after all, and as such, it is not an Aspect to be taken lightly nor approach unless one is at their best mental and emotional state. As such, what the Knights of Space who wish to protect others through their Aspect need is only a few things: self-care, patience, and companionship. It is these three seemingly simple yet greatly defining parts of the Knight of Space’s journey that will eventually allow for them to become the Knight who protects through their Aspect, their sword being like that of a beautiful yet horrific mixed display of cosmic beauty and eldritch abominations.

Although any Knight of Space can attempt to go about their journey in any way they want to, chances are that the Knight of Space will drift more towards seeking out ways of companionship and patience before even thinking of discovering any form of self-care. Most of the time, this often is due to the fact that the Knight of Space still has no entire clue how to even go about finding something such as that - at least not without feeling guilty or selfish to their fellow people. As such, it is oftentimes a high probability the Knight of Space will try to begin and approach a few people, all the while hoping no one will recognize them for the star they once were. It can most certainly be a difficult period in the Knight’s life as they try to submerge themself back into living a normal life and trying to gain actual, real friends instead of the toxic users they once associated with. For some Knights of Space walking down this journey, they may even go as far as to change their name once or twice, changing their appearance a few times, going to countless lengths to try and be seen as what they have never been viewed as before: a person - a real, living, breathing person, with feelings, wants, and needs. There is no doubt that the Knight of Space, during this time of socialization, would also come to learn what it does mean to be patient. People are complex beings, after all, and the Knight of Space is most definitely no Mage or Seer of Heart nor Mind - capable of seeing and understanding who someone is and/or why they do the things that they do. A big struggle the Knight of Space will often face when these social situations is that of patience and coming to understand that, much like all the stars in the sky, many people may be built of the same things and have the same cores, but beneath the surface of their atmosphere, someone can be far, far more different than anyone else they’ve met.

There will be countless people who frustrate the Knight of Space, whether it is by the fashion they wear, their opinions on art, a type of theory, or anything of the like. However, as many people as there will be to annoy and perhaps even downright enrage the Knight of Space, there will often be just, if not twice, as many people out there who will inspire and amaze the Knight. These are the people that will help to set the foundation that the Knight of Space needs in order to gain a better relationship with not only people themselves but also with their Aspect. As mentioned before, what the Knight of Space truly needs to realize is that not everyone is the same, even if we are all made of the same stardust that once swirled around in the great, twinkling, void of space, we still are all different in our own little ways - and that isn’t something that should be changed. It could be said that because of the stardust the makes us who we are, it is also why we are so often different from one another, and why we are also so prone to change and shift who we are as a person. The Knight of Space must come to realize that, much like everyone else around them, they, too, are free and capable of changing how they live and approach every aspect of their life. They can change, they can grow, they can shrink, they can do and be whatever they so please to be - all that is stopping them is themself; or rather, the parts of themself that they still have neglected to repair and build-up for far, far too long by now.

At first, the Knight may be envious at how well put-together everyone seems to be - their own little galaxies appear to be perfect and unique, all of their traits and planets spinning and dancing together in an odd harmony. Yet here is the Knight, who has spent so long building up their skills of art, penting up all of their emotions, sacrificing so much of their self to the masses of people who once adored them, for what? When the Knight reflects back on their own galaxy and the milky ways within it, all they see is the rubble of what could have been planets, stars, moons, and suns. All they see is a broken, pointless galaxy that should be all wiped away, scratched out of existence like a name or image someone does not want to see, or more. All the Knight sees is failure in protecting what made the Knight a true Knight. That is why they so often take very little care of themself - instead, all they did was make art, presenting silent pleas and screams for help and support; yet all people ever saw was talent and a brilliant mind. 

To the Knight of Space, all they are good for is creating through their moments of despair and agony than anything else. However, what the Knight of Space does not realize is that as they have grown and nurtured their friend group, filling it with all sorts of different people from different walks of life and identities, they have done something only a true Space-bound could do: they made a new galaxy from the ashes of the old one. The Knight of Space does not need their own, smaller galaxy to worry about and try to fix, for it is their friends, companions, lovers, and found family that will prove themselves to be the Knight’s true universe - their very own solar system, where everyone dances and spins and orbits around each other in perfect harmony. At least, it would remain that way as long as the Sun within their group remains true to its positioning and role within the group. If something were to go wrong, though, and this harmony and become unbalanced, it would be the Knight’s job to protect whoever was involved. For although the Knight of Space can indeed protect through the literal Space, as well as the creative and pacifistic versions of Space, they are also someone who can call upon the people within their social universe, protecting through the instances of Space - or rather the harmony - found within their bonds with others in their group. It is the cluster of stars that we so often think of when we envision space itself, and if not for all of those bright and brilliant pinpoints of hope within the sky, then there would most definitely be no reason for us to even care for the great, dark void that hangs above us. Without the stars, Space is something that would never matter nor be able to show its truest beauty and potential - as horrific and lethal it may be at times.

The Knight of Space is someone who began their life fully equipped with the creative and passive spirit that is so often seen in Space-bound. Although this was viewed as a gift - and perhaps even a miracle - to those who were not the Knight, it would soon become rather obvious that it would be more of a curse and target etched into the back of the Knight. Whether it was being seen as an easy, quiet target by those looking to harm someone so highly praised and favorable to authority, or as someone who was far more creative and had a wild imagination rather than a person expressing their trauma, insecurities, and personal issues through their art. What plagued the Knight of Space’s life was being dehumanized, ignored, belittled, being reminded time and time again that all they are good for is their hands - and what those hands are only meant to do is make more extravagant pieces of art for the privileged, ignorant masses to enjoy. For years they have been told their Aspect is a gift, and that they shouldn’t take it for granted but rather use it to its fullest, most creative extent. That isn’t what the Knight wants, though - most of what they do is never what they truly want but more like that of what will make people happy, make people proud, avoiding any more reprimands and reminders that their existence is only to create, be seen and not heard, and anything else under the sun. For a long time this would go on until, finally, something in the Knight of Space would snap. With their internalized rage finally unleashed, the Knight of Space would become much like that of a supernova, destroying most, if not every last piece of art they’ve created over the years.

As the Knight would sit there amongst the aftermath of their outburst, surely their stardom now being reduced to ash right before their very eyes, the Knight would have to come to a grand decision. Is this where they allow for their story to end - a washed-up person who once had everything they could ever dream of achieving - or do they continue acting in this play that they were so rudely pushed into? For some of the stars that are the Knights of Space, they will only go on to collapse in on themself, becoming like that of a black hole that only would continue moving on in the world to ruin and distort everything else around them, taking away any and all other instances of Space - of harmony and creativity - in their wake. However, for the Knights of Space who would refuse to give in and instead go forth to begin their journey towards becoming more attuned with their Aspect and its powers, they are the ones who prove themselves to be a true and blue Space-bound. Fate may have tried to write them off as a finished role in the grander story of the universe - a star who had lost their shine and was now left to float away into the darkness of space - but the Knight of Space said no. They are not washed up, they are not burnt out for good, they are only that of a caterpillar who has found their way into a cocoon, and from it they will be reborn as something better, brighter, and stronger than they were before. They will become one of the most intimidating Knights of them all.

There will be the Knights of Space who protect their Aspect, though because of how flexible and diverse the definitions for something such as Space is, there are just as many ways these Knights can go about protecting their Aspect. For the first and far more literal perspective of Space - being that of the great, gaping abyss that hangs above all of us - the Knights of Space who protect this from being exploited are the ones with possibly one of the tougher jobs. After all, they would essentially be taking on the role of protecting celestial bodies that float gracefully throughout the cosmos, as well as protect the balance of everything that happens within it. In a way, their role within a game would mostly be that of making sure the meteors destined to rain down upon whichever universe they find themself in would actually stay on route, but would also be the one to protect any planets from being pelted a wide array of space rocks. During the boss battle, they could try to help get their team more time before the bigger meteors come, creating a planet-sized shield that will help to protect not only their friends but also the planet on which their battlefield rests on. As for the other perspectives of Space, you have the more semi-literal perspectives - those of Personal Space, as well as the Space that in which we occupy. These are not as big or amazing powers, but rather more instinctual, secondary powers of the Knight of Space. Which is to say, they most likely are someone who values organization, as well as not having their own little bubble of comfort being popped and invaded. Although this may sound like a power that could only benefit the Knight, that is only partially true, as the Knight could also use this passion for respecting boundaries and keeping things tidy as a way to also protect the balance amongst the group.

By protecting the Personal Space of everyone, there would be very little room for any misunderstandings and conflicts to occur from poorly-timed, wrong-place-wrong-time physical interactions, such as shoving, grabbing, or poking. In more extreme cases, it could also, of course, save someone’s actual life, as well - especially if there is a person in their group who has a weapon not meant to be so hapharzardly gestured and pointed at others. The same would go for protecting the Space being occupied, since, as we all know, with any good game session, things such as miscellaneous alchemized items and weapons, as well things such as the bodies of Doomed Timeline Selves. That’s right - these powers would essentially be that of cleaning up the mess left behind by themself and all the other players involved. In a way, the Knight of Space wouldn’t exactly mind having to do this, especially since it not only plays into their instinctual desire to be a people-pleaser, but they would also see that everyone would benefit it in one way or another. However, if the Knight of Space is not careful with how often they delve into these chores of cleaning things up, then they could quite easily neglect many of the other important duties that come with being a Knight, as well as being Space-bound.

For the final section of Knights who protect their Aspect, the two more metaphysical/metaphorical/what have you-cal perspectives of Space: creativity and pacifism. These may be one of the arguably more important sections of their Aspect and this power of protecting it, as a world without having either of these things would be a world full of misery, war, and melancholy blandness. As dark as the color palette for Space-bound may be, their personalities and views on life are often far more colorful - at least in some way or another. They are creative at their best, capable of restoring what has been broken, making the old into something brand new, and being able to see new beginnings wherever they go. For the Knights of Space who protect this section of their Aspect, they would not only protect their own creative spirit from being twisted and taken advantage of but would go out and protect everyone else’s. They know when enough is enough and when someone is no longer worthy of viewing the beauty in which the Knight can create - chances are that they will also put up hefty prices for their work if anyone were to ever commission them. As such, they would also protect their fellow artists and creators, whether it is by making sure they do not burn themselves out by working too hard or reassuring them that their artwork is incredible and worthy of the attention and love it gets. They are the one who cheers their friends on and celebrates any and all types of creativity that they stumble upon. To make art is to put a piece of yourself into everything you do, and if that is not one of the bravest, most noble things a person could do, then what is?

Then, there are the Knights who will protect pacifism within not only themself but also their friends. They are the Knights who have one of the most important jobs out of many of their friends, and it would be that of keeping the peace within their friend group. Of course, this could very well fall into line for that of a Knight of Hope, as well, or even a Knight of Blood or Rage, but the Knight of Space is one that tends to go a step further than simply mediating between a couple of feuding friends. Oftentimes, they will also take these two people to the side, or even simply one person, and teach them about how to know when is and isn’t the right time to participate in fights. They make sure to not only protect the peace within the group, but also the teachings they have given to their friends they trust the most. Ranging from telling them when to simply let things go or teaching them where to hit their foe so that they go down quicker, the Knight of Space is one who may try to keep everyone on the more pacifistic side of life. However, if the need ever arises for chaos to come raining down on everyone, then the Knight will be more than happy to inform their friends on the best ways to destroy their enemies.

Finally, onto the Knights of Space who protect through their Aspect. While they may not have as many different ways of protecting through their Aspect as the other Knights, their powers are still ones not exactly meant to be trifled with. One of their reasons their powers are only slightly limited is simply because their strength cannot reach itself out that far. Their weapon is that of a sword, and so their capabilities are often not as flexible as the other group’s powers and skills. However, there is a more defining feature for these Knights of Space who so choose to protect through Space achieve than those who follow the other path. To protect through Space, these Knights of Space would be more than capable of launching themself through Space itself, shortening the distance between themself and their target quite easily. Indeed, there is no true way of hiding from these Knights of Space, as once they have pinpointed you as a problem that should be wiped out or dealt with, there is little to nothing you can do to save yourself. If one were to look close enough, it could be seen that, with their sword, the Knight is capable of ripping a perfect hole directly into the fabric of Space - this is how they would manage to jump from point A all the way to Point Z, skipping any and all obstacles along the way.

Another large and exclusive power for these Knights is that of being able to shrink, grow, and overall change the structure of whatever they wish to change. Of course, this would never be as powerful as a Witch or Heir of Space, but by exploiting their Aspect and therefore twisting it to become a beneficiary to the Knight and everyone else, the Knight of Space proves themself to be someone more than capable of changing the volume, stability, and durability of something. Because of this, they could become a rather intimidating threat to have - being able to shrink and grow as they please, easily dodging any and all attacks that they wish to avoid. They could just as easily do the same with their friends and teammates, especially if the threat has simply become far too much for any of them to handle and a retreat is necessary. 

Two of the sectioned perspectives that these Knights of Space share with the first group when it comes to their powers is that of pacifism and creativity. As mentioned earlier, the Knight of Space is one who would be loved and adored by countless fans for their creations of art and for giving a look into the mind of the creator themself. It is because of this admiration and fame that, inevitably, one of the things the Knight of Space may begin to hear is their work, pieces of art, their stories and masterpieces - all of it, or at least one or few pieces of it, was something that gave people hope, it made them feel seen and heard and know. It is an accidental state of protection from the Knight of Space, but it is a power to be used nonetheless. Through their art, whether it is that of a brushstroke or the typing of a keyboard, the Knight of Space can become an idol, a beacon of hope for those around them, and a protector to those who may feel lost, helpless, and unheard - much like how the Knight was, once upon a time. Then, there is the ability to protect through the ways of being perceptive and selective in the battles they partake in - knowing when to fight and raise their blade, and when to allow the petty squabbles of pitiful souls fall upon deaf ears. Once again, though, this is more often than not an accidental power that the Knight of Space stumbles upon, if only because of how truly perplexing and threatening their sword presents itself to be. While many people may have seen the Knight of Space as a passive, easy victim to attack, berate, and make them out to feel terrible for themself and their existence, it is only after the Knight manages to pull their blade out from their own stone that people begin to be wiser in the battles they pick with the Knight. It is highly likely that the Knight is fully aware of this intimidation factor, and as such, it is a factor they are not above exploiting if it means they get to protect those less fortunate than the Knight. If the Knight of Space ever needed themself to become any more threatening and intimidating than they already are, then they most likely would be more than happy to make themself seem far bigger than they originally are - quite literally towering over those who are prone to misbehaving and harassing those they view to be beneath them. If that is the game they wish to play, then the Knight will join them, though there is no promise that the Knight will play fairly.

Now, as mentioned before, Knights are often the ones to help the Space-bound when it comes to frog-breeding. Their protective nature of those of high importance and status is often very befitting to that of the Space-bound, who are the key to creating a brand new, healthy, sparkling universe. However, what does it mean when the Knight is also that of Space-bound? Does the Knight of Space simply do it on their own, no one around to help them make sure it all goes swimmingly and that the Genesis Frog is successfully brought into creation? For some Knights of Space, the obvious answer is yes, of course they do it on their own. The reasoning behind this may range from the Knight simply not wanting to bother or drag someone else into a tedious and laboring task such as Frog Breeding, but it could also be quite the opposite reasoning wherein the Knight believes themself to be too much of a naturally born professional to need anyone’s help or guidance. However, there will also be the crowd of Knights of Space who would quite prefer having someone there to help them along the way, whether it’s just to have the company of a fellow friend or actually have a co-creator of this new universe by their side. After all, Frog Breeding is something that can become quite messy and out of control if not well contained. In general, the Knight of Space is one who would most likely be rather hesitant to begin the process of Frog Breeding, as they may only see it as another art project - another chore - expected of the Knight to participate in and finish. If anything, they might be completely avoidant of their duty of Frog Breeding entirely, seeing it as just another source of stress, anxiety, and trauma. What if they mess it up, and they can’t undo it? What if the universe they create isn’t good enough, or it doesn’t involve everyone else in the group? What if they accidentally hurt any of the frogs, and ruin the entire process? What if, what if, what if - a phrase that would plague the Knight of Space to the point of extreme paralysis. Their relationship with art and creation is complex, for as much as they love and adore it, they also despise it and what it has come to stand for in the eyes of the Knight. Because of this, many Knights may never even begin the first steps to begin Frog Breeding, essentially dooming their session to become lost and unfinished.

For the Knights of Space who do want to at least attempt something of such grand importance, they can still choose to do it alone, but the far more successful Knights of Space are the ones who seek out the assistance and help of one, or more, of their friends. Oftentimes, these Knights of Space will look for someone who can help keep their spirits and hope up, maintain a stable drive to cross the finish line with the Genesis Frog in hand, and is a fiery spirit all on their own. The companion so often found with these Knights of Space is that of a Time-bound person. In regards to the Knight of Space who do manage to do the breeding all on their own, it is something that will most definitely take far, far longer than it should, as the Knight may struggle to keep their morale up and their anxieties down. It would be a long process with a few failures along the way, as well as just as many pauses in Frog Production so that the Knight may rest and recollect themself, but both groups of Knights would be able to keep everything in relatively pristine conditions. Knights of Space are ones who adore organization as much as they despise any mess and clutter, and so it should come of no surprise that both parties would most likely create a type of pattern and regime for the Breeding Process. Whether it is by color-coding the frogs and creating hundreds, if not thousands, of punnet squares, categorizing them in alphabetical order, or breaking them off into groups and simply trying to find the best specimens of each group, the Knight of Space would make sure every last step on the way is methodical and precise, if only to avoid any hiccups, accidents, and unnecessary amounts of excess frogs. It is because of this approach towards Frog Breeding that it would take a very, very long time for the lone-wolf Knights of Space to get things finished and the Genesis Frog to be obtained. While the other group of Knights will most likely have similar approaches to the process, with the help of their Time-bound companion and co-creator, the process is one that will most definitely go much, much faster, if only slightly more chaotic in comparison to the loner group. If things were to ever become too cluttered, though, then the Knight of Space would have no problem with simply shrinking down and keeping a few extra frogs someplace safe and contained.

The role that the Knight of Space is meant to take on may just seem like that of a guardian, or rather that of a protector, but it is a role that often goes far deeper than it may seem on the surface. They are someone who is meant to bring everyone together and keep them in order, making sure that no one’s orbits within the group - this solar system of friendship and care - are misplaced or knocked out of line in the process. Not only that, but the Knight of Space is also meant to protect everyone and everything around them, making sure that the journey they all go on is far more thrilling and comfortable than the majority of the Knight’s life has been. Being an idol to look up to and be inspired by, or simply the friend who sits down and tries their best to break up any conflicts within the team, the Knight of Space is someone who has countless important tasks on their plate. Although some people couldn’t even begin to fathom how to even approach such a complex and extravagant dish that is the life, journey, and role of the Knight of Space, as long as they maintain order and balance within their life and do not allow for themself to fall in the ways of being overwhelmed by every little thing, then this dish of complexity is nothing the Knight can’t handle. 

In general, they are someone who is often loved and adored by countless people, yet will always have this air of mystery to them - even to the people who consider themselves to be extremely close to the Knight of Space. Their words of hope and encouragement stretch out across great lengths of space, yet so very few can ever truly say that they know and understand the Knight and why they do the things they do. For some of the things they do, perhaps even the Knight themself doesn’t understand why they do it. Perhaps they feel as though the universe itself simply told them that this is what they are meant to do - who they are meant to be. As long as doing these things means protecting their friends, and the wonderful, lush, and beautiful solar system they have all built together, then chances are that the Knight will do them with a smile. When all the Knight of Space had worked for during the earlier years of their life came burning and crashing down, that is when Fate tried to say their time as a star had come to an end. Little did anyone know that this was merely the rebirth and cleansing that the Knight of Space needed in order to become someone far better than who they once were. No longer are they someone who sits quietly and suffers in silence, someone who only puts pain and misery into their art, nor are they someone willing to sit by and let others go through what they went through. The Knight of Space could have caved in under the pressure and weight of the world, but they didn’t. Instead, they allowed themself to grow and fester and experience the world - the universe - until they became something far better than what they once were. Although the Knight of Space is still one of the countless stars in the sky, it is often their light - along with all their friends - which shines the brightest.

[thesolitarystripe]

A Strange Meeting

I got ahead of myself in posting Tindyl’s reunion with her guild. Of course, she had a little persuading from an unlikely source.

Some days passed after Tindyl was reunited with her beloved; they went about making plans to continue in their duty to aid Oribos and the rest of the Shadowlands realms. It was a daunting task when done solely as a pair, but, if Tindyl wished it so—the warrior would be steadfast in his promises. Their siege upon Castle Nathria to end the tyranny of Sire Denathrius was plotted delicately and the birth of that mission would occur in the later hours of the day, when the sun hung low and shadows of the dismal trees that littered the courtyard before the castle, stretched thin upon the ground. Hours before, Tindyl kept busy within the markets of Oribos—crafting potions that might give them even the smallest advantage over their foes. She frequented the vendors often, especially with how often she managed to drop her vials and lose them among the hundreds of Alliance feet that tread through those halls.

“Preparing for a battle, young one?”

A voice came from behind the Archdruid, one she could not place to anyone she knew but in its delicate tone, there was an odd familiarity. Tindyl turn on her heel, having concluded her business with the local alchemist and affixed her eyes upon the one that spoke. Another night elf, one whose face was not known to her eyes. It was a female, with shoulder length golden hair, tied tightly up in a large bun upon the top of her head. Two flaming eyes blazed against hers, soft and pale like the color of the moon. The women held one another’s gaze in silence until the older Kaldorei spoke.

“That doesn’t seem like enough to support any army,” her voice was slow and thick, like expensive honey dripping down the side of a golden jar. The woman stepped forward and dared let a single finger poke beneath the leather flap of Tindyl’s satchel, where she had just placed her potions. “Perhaps and army of four,” she shrugged, glowing us flicking up to behold the bewildered expression on the druid’s face. Tindyl knew better than to disrespect her elders but pulled the leather pouch away hurriedly and slapped a palm over the top of it to dissuade the woman from attempting to touch her items again.

“There are many factions within the Alliance, some work in droves—others prefer to work alone.” Tindyl kept her voice steady and smoothed out her features to appear pleasant again.

“Do you prefer it?” One golden eyebrow rose even further up from where it laid across the woman’s brow. “Tindyl, isn’t it?” The female crossed one arm across her body, holding her elbow as her other hand waved upward and tapped a single finger against her lips.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Tindyl pointed out hesitantly, uneasy that this woman knew her name and yet she was sure she had never seen her here or anywhere else upon her travels.

“I assure you; we have been young druid but, please, don’t stray from the question.”

This woman spoke with authority and stood with an aura of arrogance swirling about her. Tindyl could feel the power emanating from her counterpart but dared not take a step back, though her legs urged her to. A mage, no doubt. Swift eyes took notice of the staff that hung from her back, fire lapping at the blade as if it were made of wood—a spell of sorts that made the metal burn and yet it spread nowhere else. Who was this woman?

“Perhaps there was a time I preferred the company of others, but those days have since passed.”

“You were a guild leader, no? Have you left your people? Strayed from the flock?”

“Excuse me?”

“A small but mighty guild, with just enough heroes to make miracles happen and save Azeroth. Archdruid Tindyl, the fearless leader with nearly no experience in battle when she signed the guild charter—yet she found those willing to follow and even better, succeeded. Is that not you?”

Tindyl paused, her mouth ajar as her breath evaded her. “No…well...not anymore—I’ve left, you’re correct.” Now, she did take a step back, her confidence dissolving as it had so many times over the last several months. She felt backed into a corner, the high rising walls of Oribos closing in on her as she admitted openly that she was only a shell of her former self; to a stranger nonetheless.

“Why?” These were the first words the mage asked that did not feel as if they were being pressed into Tindyl’s throat with the point of a dagger. They sounded, caring.

“It’s a long story,” was all she could think to say as that tiresome lump formed in her throat. She had been so easy to cry these recent days and it bothered her so.

Silence fell between them. Tindyl’s eyes fell to the floor, her hands still clutching her leather pouch as her shoulders fell along with her resolve to look composed. Heat spread like wildfire across her chin so suddenly, Tindyl thought perhaps the mage had whispered some incantation upon her but her senses told her that it was only the feeling of skin on skin that touched her face. The druid watched as pale fingers had grasped her face, lifting her eyes back up to meet the warm glowing embers that intimidated her so.

“A story that I know; I only hoped you would tell me.” The mage again seemed soft in the way she spoke now, holding Tindyl’s jaw tenderly.

“News travels quickly,” Tindyl sighed, knowing well that rumors and gossip were not below even a hero within the Alliance. Her business traveled from ear to ear and yet none had bothered to come to her for insight into what had caused her to leave her beloved guild.

“Unfortunately, so,” the mage sighed. “I know it is difficult, young one—to be different. There are many that would seek to harm you for that sole purpose. People, beings, do not think like you do. They are not within these ranks to save the world. As difficult as it is to understand, there are some only here for power, greed, and self-gain. They will allow nothing to stop them from obtaining that end goal even if it means defamation of someone else. Betrayal. Lies, deceit! For every good soul, there are the damned ones. They will seek out the light in you and destroy it.” Her fingers clenched Tindyl’s face almost painfully, pulling her in closer. “You cannot let them win.” This came as a whisper. It was not a threat but between those breathy words, Tindyl felt the challenge within them.

“Why.” It was Tindyl’s turn to inquire. Despite the minor ache in her jaw, she peered up at the mage, eyes glistening as she asked the very question that plagued her mind daily. At this, the mage’s hand loosened and for a moment the druid thought the mage was about to pull her in and embrace her.

“My dear, if you spend you days asking that question, you’ll go mad within these very walls. There are so many petty reasons that drive men to act—it will only hurt you to linger on it.”

“Why are people cruel! Why join a cause so noble if your aim is to harm! Why risk your life if you do not care for the living that surrounds you?” Tindyl yelled, the anger that she fought to keep locked away within her pouring out into the face of this intimate stranger. “I’ve lost so much,” her breath hitched, and she looked up to stop the flow of her tears but they rolled defiantly.

“You are not the first Kaldorei to experience cruelty of the world, dor’elah. Many of us have been wounded over the many years that our lives span—it is what you choose to do with that pain, that will forge you.”

“What if I’m tired,” Tindyl’s voice came weakly, embodying the very words she spoke.

“Tired of what?”

“Being wrong.”

“Who says that it is so?”

“I imagine, everyone.”

“Do not let your imagination speak for you. We live based on evidence and tangible truths—who has said you are wrong? The ones that have left? So be it, let them run along with their thoughts because they are exactly that, thoughts. Just because it exists does not make it truth.” Tindyl’s eyes fell back upon the face of her elder, her jaw still nestled in that all too hot palm.  “A hero would make nothing of themselves if they cared for what others thought of them, you would do best to learn that now at your age. I took was young when I learned that what others want, what they believe, will not always align with what is best for me. That does not make me wrong, does it?”

“No.”

“Then why does it make you wrong? Why have you allowed one treacherous man unravel you? Because his allies follow him blindly and hang off his promises like babes to a teat? Hold your head up Archdruid, remember who you are and where you come from. You were not born of weakness. Have your tears and be done with it. Fight for what you are and what you believe in. Dragons do not heed the opinions of the cattle that they eat.” Finally, she released her hold on Tindyl whose tears had suddenly dried. “So, what will you do then druid? Will you be undone by someone who holds less worth and integrity than an old haggard boot? Or will you rise upon the horizon like your precious Mother Moon?”

The mage took a single step backward as if to take her leave, her eyes hard upon the face of the youth before her; that edge to her voice returned in full. She eyed the druid up and down, taking one last look before she spoke plainly.

“Make your decision Archdruid and remember—” Her hand reached out, her index finger finding the hard ridge of Tindyl’s chin just enough to tilt it back upward. “Head up.”

The golden haired Kaldorei turned then and took her leave within a small part of other mages, their cloaks fluttered behind them, her companions deep in conversation. They were gone around the corner before Tindyl could speak.

“Min’da,” her eyes were fixed forward as the realization washed over her. She had never seen her mother, not in her cognizant years. Her father spoke so little of her and Tindyl never dared broach the subject. That familiarity, the way with which she spoke, the fire in her veins—Tindyl knew. The Druid jumped forward after the small party but as she rounded the wall and stood in the entrance of the hall, they were lost among the crowds. Laurel Moonwillow was a powerful fire mage who worked within the Alliance and even had ties within the Kirin Tor; she had left Tindyl and her father not long after Tindyl’s first birthday. Her appearance had changed from the few stories Bai’len had shared of her—once blue haired with eyes to match, cool toned skin and bright yellow eyes. The fire magic had changed her. That was no surprise, Tindyl’s father had harped on that for years and it was one of the main reasons he had wanted Tindyl to fight only with bow and sword. Even as a babe when her affinity for nature magic and druidism began to blossom—he baulked at the thought of his daughter becoming a user of any magic.

Tindyl’s mind raced with all that had happened. After searching the halls for any signs of her mother, she eventually gave up and retreated to the outer edges of Oribos again.

What will you do then druid?

Deep within her heart, Tindyl knew what she must do—but was her heart strong enough after all it had endured, was what worried her.

[yanderejustforyou]

My Hope ( yandere Deku x reader)

Summary:

you and him were to be the ones with a little piece of true happiness, the ones with a love that can light up the world. Finding a love such as this isn't the reason I agreed to go to hell, I did it because I'm a weirdo freak who wanted to save him, but I asked for love if it was possible. So walk these fiery coals with pride.

Rock bottom. When you hit it, it feels as if you should stay down, but deep within, you find a reason to rise again. It's in those moments of despair and hopelessness that true strength is forged. And perhaps, in the midst of our personal struggles, we can find solace and support in one another.

Meeting you was an amazing experience. Regardless of what lies ahead, I cherish the beginning of our journey together. You bring meaning to my life. It's as if the universe reaches out to me through you, whispering of good things to come.

The day we met changed everything for me. You were a new student, and as you entered the classroom, you were met with the harsh nickname "Deku" directed at a green-haired boy. It bothered you, and you couldn't stand the cruelty. With your fists clenched and a determined glare, you confronted the bully, questioning his actions. The blond bully didn't appreciate your defiance. He tried to strike you with a powerful explosion, but little did he know, you had a special ability of your own. Your natural instinct alerted you to the danger, and in a flash, you evaded his attack, leaving his explosion to fizzle in the air. Both of them stood there, stunned. No one had ever stood up to Katsuki, and no one had dared too before.

In that moment of confrontation, the classroom fell into silence. All eyes were fixed on you and the green-haired boy, who was now known as Deku. It was a bold act, standing up to someone as formidable as Katsuki, and you could feel the weight of everyone's gaze. But you didn't back down. You had a fire within you, fueled by a deep sense of justice, and you refused to let bullying go unchecked. “How can you be so cruel to him?!” you hissed; small hands balled into fists whilst you glared defiantly at the bully. The blonde didn’t like her standing up to him, who was she anyway?

As the tension lingered in the air, the teacher finally arrived, diffusing the situation. The class proceeded as usual, but there was a newfound curiosity surrounding you. You introduced yourself, and then, to the surprise of everyone, you chose to sit next to Deku. It was a small act of solidarity, a way to let him know that he wasn't alone in this battle against injustice.

From that day forward, your friendship with Deku blossomed. You supported his dream of becoming a hero, whether or not he possessed a powerful quirk. You admired his unwavering determination and his willingness to stand up for what was right. Together, you faced the challenges of school life, including the occasional clashes with Katsuki, who still held a grudge against both of you.

After school, you would often find solace in each other's company. Sometimes, tears would flow as you shared your deepest fears and insecurities. You found comfort in Deku's embrace, and he, in turn, found solace in your presence. Through thick and thin, you became each other's pillars of support, providing the strength and encouragement needed to navigate the complexities of their hero-in-training journey.

But then, fate dealt a cruel blow. Deku encountered his idol, a hero he had admired for so long, only to have his dreams crushed. It was a devastating blow to his spirit, and you did everything in your power to lift his spirits. You offered words of encouragement and stood by his side, reminding him of the hero he truly was.

However, the following day, Deku disappeared without a trace. Panic and worry consumed you. Frantically searching every familiar spot, you were left with a sense of helplessness and despair. Tears streamed down your face, and grief engulfed your heart. It was as if a part of you had been ripped away.

"Izuku?! Where are you?!" you cried out; your voice filled with desperation. Every corner had been searched; every hope diminished. Emotions of guilt and regret surged within you, as your knees buckled, you fell to the floor. You’d looked everywhere, if he wasn’t in any of his usual places then he could be anywhere! Emotions of guilt and regret bubbled up within, your tears flow freely. The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down your face. You feel the muscles of your chin tremble like a small child. It takes something out of you, you didn't know you had left to give. Anger in the form of shouts and screams ripped from your throat while you beat on the concrete until your knuckles bled.

And then, unexpectedly, Katsuki found you in that state of anguish. There was a flicker of remorse in his eyes, a rare vulnerability that caught you off guard. He growled, but instead of his usual harsh words, he extended a hand to help you up. Together, in silence, he walked you home, his presence a silent comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions.

Anger coursed through your veins as you grappled with the absence of Deku. He had been the beacon of light in your life, the one who gave you hope and inspired you to become a better person.

With newfound determination, you threw yourself into intense training. Every day, you pushed your limits, honing your physical abilities and sharpening your mental fortitude. You immersed yourself in the study of heroism, absorbing knowledge and techniques that would aid you on your journey. The pain of Deku's absence fueled your desire for growth, driving you to surpass your own limitations. The road to hell is paved with comfort and self-confidence, where one can easily lose sight of their true purpose. But the road to heaven, to true fulfillment and happiness, is often lined with lashings of pain and challenges that test our very limits. It is on this road that we find the opportunity to rise above our circumstances, to become the best versions of ourselves.

Together, we were destined to experience a rare and extraordinary kind of happiness. Our love had the power to illuminate the darkest corners of the world, casting aside the shadows and bringing forth a radiant light that could inspire and uplift others. It was a love that defied logic and surpassed the boundaries of ordinary existence.

I never imagined that finding such a love would lead me to journey through the depths of hell. But I willingly embarked on this path, not because I sought personal gain or validation, but because deep down, I knew I was different. A self-proclaimed weirdo, I had always felt a strong sense of empathy and a burning desire to save others from their own demons.

So, with a heart filled with hope and a willingness to endure the fiery trials that lay ahead, I embarked on this tumultuous journey alongside him. We walked hand in hand, our steps steady and determined, as we braved the scorching coals that threatened to consume us.

My hard work paid off when I received the acceptance letter from U.A. High School, the renowned institution for aspiring heroes. Excitement and anticipation coursed through my veins as I prepared for the next chapter of my journey. Joining Class A-1 meant being surrounded by talented individuals, each with their own unique quirks and aspirations.

You didn't expect to see him standing there, a familiar figure amidst the bustling crowd. It was Izuku, the green-haired boy who had disappeared from your life without a trace. A mix of emotions flooded your heart—surprise, confusion, and a glimmer of hope. How could he be here?

As your eyes locked, time seemed to stand still. The memories of your shared moments, the laughter and tears, flooded back with intensity. It was as if a missing piece of your soul had suddenly returned, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy and relief.

"Is that really you, Izuku?" you whispered, unable to contain your emotions.

Thank you so much for reading Comments are greatly appreciated Have a lovely day:)

It will have a part 2

[matt0044]

Ninja Steel is Fun Actually or How I Learned To Stop Worrying & Love Victor Vincent.

1. The season seems keen on chilling out for most of its run with a dash of goofiness, each episode being its own adventure with the thinnest of Myth arc sown together. The Ninja Rangers themselves don’t have to answer to any higher power aside from the semi-sentient Nexus. No Zordon and especially no Gosei. They feel like high schoolers who choose for themselves to be heroes.

This is honestly my favorite kind of team similar not unlike with Lost Galaxy. They’re not Rangers because they were bestowed these powers by somebody but because the powers deemed them worthy. While Mic plays mentor, he and Redbot are mostly two Alphas working as one. It feel like an unofficial after-school club down to how their base is located in the high school ala Fourze.

Mic Kanic was a fun character, owing to Kelson Henderson’s being able to show his on-screen chops after being on voice-over duty. He’s the one who dispenses the moral of the story not unlike with Keeper, illustrating his points through reverse engineering them not unlike... a mechanic. Damn, that’s good.

Unlike with Keeper, he doesn’t feel as though he’s “there” for the sake of moralizing. He’s the one forging the Ninja Power Stars whenever the Prism displays a new weapon to wield along with Redbot. He doesn’t pretend to be smarter than the others, he’s just helping teens out in his own weird way. Not that his shape-shifting couldn’t have been played with in more episodes IMO.

2. The episodic nature feel far more like a feature than a flaw. In addition to the Rangers being high-schoolers, we have ourselves a light-on-plot format not too dissimilar to Mighty Morphin’ way back when. Now as an anniversary season. this can feel like a problem when many expect it to be “Go big or go home.” I get that yet... I also enjoy how one could go back to any episode in isolation.

That’s not to say that I don’t feel like it can’t feel held back at time in adhering to this format. I can say that giving each Ranger more pronounced character arcs while maintaining this structure wouldn’t have been impossible with a bit more focus on Story Editing. Preston reconciling with his father could’ve been set up if Marcus Tien had more of a presence up to that episode for one thing.

3. Victor and Monty. Where do I even begin with these two goobers? Chris Reid and Caleb Bendit go absolute ham with their characters ever scene they get. The latter is an over enthusiastic nerd who I swear has the hots for Mr. Vincent. The former has such a flare to him in bringing this young Gaston to life with such delicious arrogance.

Now... I get why they’re (charitably speaking) not exactly fan-favorites. Their C-Plot antics can feel divorced from the story compared to a lot of Bulk and Skull’s escapades way back when. To say nothing of some of their... bowel-based comedy routines.

Yet for me, there was just an unabashedly enthusiasm to their wacky hijinks that I could never hate for the life of me. They could be so juvenile yet did it without ever feeling an ounce of shame. Even their fart jokes don’t just settle for less.

One episodes they’re cocooned by a spider monster and float into the sky in their inflated wrappings. Another they try to turn the entire class into one big Dutch Oven to avoid a test they didn’t study for... only for the teacher to pass out gas masks. The cherry on top? They don’t get any.

It leaves me in a sense of “Oh my god,” but in the best way possible. I shouldn’t like them. I really shouldn’t but... I’m too much of a late 00s kid to grow out of it. Go ahead and call out my bad taste, I don’t care.

Now this isn’t to say that there were things that couldn’t have been improved upon from small adjustment to pretty major tweaks that I’ve often pondered.

1. The villains were a tad hit or miss. Odious was a good Star Scream in how she schemed behind the scenes and got the likes of Ripcon to take the fall when her fake Aiden plan didn’t precisely go as planned. Cosmo Royale is a huge ham in the best way as Galaxy Warrior’s host, playing up each monster of the day.

That said, Galvanax and Ripcon were the weaker of the lot. The latter could’ve had more of a rivalry with Brody. Maybe as a former master who gave him the skills his father couldn’t, leading them to clash when out in the field. It would help him stand out as a villain.

The former should’ve been less of a gruff brute like Sledge and more watching from the shadows ala Doctor Claw, stepping in when stuff got real like the season finale. The camera could hide him from view until he stepped into the fray. He could also do with a smooth yet menacing voice so to speak. You know, hype up his final showdown in the end.

2. Brody’s time is space could’ve been expanded upon. Perhaps a few of Galaxy Warriors’ contestants crossed paths with the young ninja and are in a conflict of interests. Be it a noble warrior or a former foe. Again, Ripcon could sort of be the Shadow Weaver to Brody’s She-Ra of sorts.

Wait... does that make Odious Catra?

Um...

Additionally, maybe show how out of touch he is with Earth customs due to living on an alien ship for a bit of comic relief. Think Super Sentai’s comedic Reds but more chill and far less obnoxious, being a good leader even with his eccentricities. You could have him be the ones to weird out Victor and Monty.

3. Sledge’s crew should’ve been a rival to Galaxy Warriors in Super Ninja Steel as they catch onto her ruse and return. You could actually have him bring over the Galactic Ninjas with Fox Bots replacing the Viviks, making them more of a big deal.

Odious would go along with it to boost rating for the show and attract more warriors for her benefit. She could try to play both side leading up to the finale with Badonna as a spy so to speak. She has magic so while not let her shape-shift.

4. I get the sense Dane Romero was meant to be dead but it was deemed a tad dark and brought back since they had three Akaningers to adapt. He could’ve acted as a secondary mentor for the Rangers as he caught up with his sons and taught them more advanced skills.

Despite this, Ninja Steel was a fun ride even if it was a touch mellow. I feel like some of the hate is a touch overblow for the sake of hyperbole but I don’t fault anybody for finding this to not be their cup of tear. The anniversary element is another post entirely so I’ll save that for later.

Alright, guys, tear me apart.