#perhaps ots the constant pain i feel in my back

[mothergold]

y’all ever crack ur back so good it makes u have a mini orgasm or is that just me 😟😅

[crowleyellestair]

Payment - Emiel Regis (Witcher)

AN/// this man is my baby boy

Look, when I read the raid on Stygga, I shed a tear or two. Watching the first season with Vilgefortz has been a challenge.

Slow burn and spoilers to Baptism of Fire and DLC of Blood and Wine – Though there is canon divergence

 I wanna write more for my boy, so please feel free to request!

 After the Duchess had received word that the beast was defeated, her sister put to trial and Geralt had been paid, life became simple. There had been a reunion at the vineyard, and lost connections had been rebuilt. Everything had gone back to the way it was. Regis had been staying busy with helping his Witcher friend with anything he needed, but it seemed to him that Geralt only called upon him these days with trivial tasks. ‘Come to the lab and help with this new mutation’, or ‘an influx of new vines had sprouted, and there is work in tasting for the new batch’. While he wasn’t upset with his new peace, he was restless.

Regis wasn’t new to relaxing and waiting for the next adventure to sweep him away. However, something hung in the air. His feathered contacts seemed at ease and there was a decline in monster activity, but the man couldn’t shake it. The Witcher took notice, and had frequently brought it up, but Regis would just brush it off. Though, his slight change in behavior did enlighten him to Geralt’s shift in character.

They had been sitting in the green house, Regis trying ot help move small buds into the new beds. He helped manufacture new strains of plants, and the shift from their pots was a delicate task.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think something was wrong.” The tone held its usual gruff, but it came out gentle. Geralt had sat back on his haunches, small shovel in hand as he stared at his friend. Regis tossed a small smile his way, shaking his head, barely giving him a glance. His hands dove into the soft dirt, creating a new hole.

“I’m aware, but I must disappoint in saying I’m fine. Truly, Geralt.” The grunt he received as a response was one of disbelief. After a moment of no movement from the Witcher, Regis gave him his full attention before needed to focus on moving the new sprout. He could see guilt in the amber eyes that shined at him. He sat back on his feet; hands folded in his lap as he waited for Geralt to sort his thoughts.

“Are you at peace?” The question had shocked, and confusion settled.

“With what are you referring to? It’s a nice day out, so I’d say so-.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Regis looked down, pursing his lips.

“I suppose I do.” There was a tense silence that befell the men.

“I meant… Is there anything you need?” The question brought on just as much confusion as the first.

The sun was beating down on the two of them, and had been for hours. It didn’t affect the two as one was a Witcher and the other a Vampire, but they had shed some layers. Both only dawned a shirt and pants, but it seemed as though Regis was sweating. The flowing shirt seemed to constrict under the microscope of his friend’s questioning.

“A reasoning for these questions, perhaps?” Geralt had sheathed the shovel into the earth, and rocked back to fully sit on the ground.

“You’ve… done a lot for me, Regis. Even if I was against it, you were there and willing to help.” The confession placed all these puzzle pieces into place. Regis gave a soft ‘ah’ before a gentle smile found him.

“The mundane tasks.” It was a statement was offered as a mercy to the Witcher. He knew that Geralt had a hard time explaining things of the topic at hand, and Regis wanted to spare him from having to explain what he’s been trying to do for him.

“It’s not just because of repayment.” The vampire nodded.

“I’m aware you value our friendship as much as I do. I wasn’t accusing.”  They sat looking at each other, Geralt looking more discontent than before. Geralt was right- Regis had sacrificed a lot for the man, but he never had held life as a checks and balance system. If he had, he would have already considered the debt paid. Dettlaff was fine and well, healing at his new home. Away from society, visiting only Regis and Geralt.

Regis would have laughed at the irony, considering Dettlaff had also been feeling like an inadequate friend. More so being his Blood Brother. The same inquiries had been brought up with him, and Regis couldn’t wrap his head around the shift. Though, Dettlaff seemed more determined after their conversation, which left the man slightly worried at what could unfold from that.

“I am at peace, Geralt. Thank you, but I don’t think I could find something I’d need. I promise to come to you if I do find that I need help, however.” That seemed to let Geralt’s shoulders drop, the thought of him coming to him setting him at ease.

They both had gone back to transferring the sprouts, and ended the conversation. And he had been answering honestly. Regis didn’t have a need that required fulfillment. He was happy with his station at the moment, and would be content for as long as it lasted. Though, it seemed that neither of the men who had asked him had dropped the subject. He had called in a few favors here and there from the Witcher. One day, he had brought Dettlaff to the vineyard for brunch, as odd as it seemed. Geralt wasn’t friends with the vampire, but he was tolerant. Duty had called to Regis on a day he had set aside to visit his brother, so he left Geralt to watch him after their brunch.

When the time came to help Dettlaff back to his residence, it seemed that Geralt had grown a liking to the man. It brought a smile to Regis’ face, but there was still something in the air that was setting him off. Dettlaff would frequently smile to himself on the way back, reminiscing on the conversation he had with Geralt. He wouldn’t let Regis in on his thoughts, but it definitely didn’t help with the stale feeling eating at him. Luckily, he had been open about a few things after the constant pressure.

“I didn’t think you would be apart of a ‘gang’.” The night didn’t hide the shocked expression from Dettlaff.

“Well, it isn’t very different than a pack. And I wasn’t necessarily there all of the time.”

“I would say it was more than that. You stirred trouble on a human level.” Regis hummed at his choice of words, before giving him a raised brow. It should have been obvious to the other that he didn’t confine himself to ‘human’ ‘vampire’ traditions. There was also the question of where this line was going.

“There were lives on the line.” It all confused him more as he had already known of this information. He didn’t know the extent or too many details, but Dettlaff was the one to help him after Stygga.

“I remember. Geralt had been informing me of your old companions.” Ah. So, there it was. Regis knew immediately where their conversation had gone to. Dettlaff had either apologized, leading Geralt and him to the topic of love, or they had been conspiring to help Regis out in some way. Either option led to the same outcome, and he wasn’t prepared for it. Regis would never be prepared for it. And he certainly didn’t want to discuss it with Dettlaff, seeing as he would go to the extremes for love. Regis didn’t blame him for it, as he probably would too, but it didn’t help that he had a history.

“It was quite the bunch.” He had hoped his short tone had given him a clue that Regis didn’t want to talk about things, but he was disappointed.

“He had mentioned someone named Y/n.” He tried to keep his face from tightening, but he knew he failed.

“Yes… she was… important.” Dettlaff nodded as they reached the door of his cottage. He opened the door motioning Regis to enter first, but he shook his head. Regis was going to get out of the subject, and that was that.

“Important?”

“I don’t have any label for it. I don’t even know if she’s alive now, so I refrain from thinking on it.”

“Too painful for a label-less entity? It sounds like more.” Regis hummed again, turning to leave.

“And seemingly unrequited at the time. I shall be back soon.” His legs took him all the way back to the graveyard, even though he could have gotten there quicker by misting. Dettlaff wasn’t powerful enough to do so, but the stroll was shorter from the vineyard.

It was a good way to blow off steam. The feeling in the air revealed itself to have root in the very same subject. It made sense, since it started after the reunion. Y/n was among the old comrades that weren’t resent. The only ones that hadn’t appeared had seemed to be those who had passed, and while Regis hadn’t tried to think of her, her absence was noticed. And this had followed Dettlaff’s run in, and havoc he created after love had bit him in the ass. He knew Dandelion would have looked for her when Regis had suggested the reunion for Geralt.

Then she wasn’t there.

He moved on as much as he could, coming to terms with what he assumed was reality. He knew that Dettlaff wouldn’t go searching for her, nor was a powerful enough to do so if he wanted to.

 The crow that would constantly stay around the vineyard came swooping down, landing on his shoulder. His hands were fully immersed in water. His coat was left at home, the sun shining bright. It was a perfect day to try and find aquatic bacteria for his new concoction. His trousers were rolled to his knees, his boots lying close to the tide. The crow informed him that he was needed urgently. The vials containing the water samples were placed into his bag before quickly grabbing his shoes. He didn’t know how urgent it really was, but he assumed Geralt would have com himself if time wasn’t a variable. He shifted into mist, only reforming minutes later in front of the vineyard. B. Basil had greeted him, offering Geralt’s whereabouts. He hadn’t thought of unrolling his shirt or pants, rushing into the greenhouse.

It took a double take to actually conceive the form in front of him. Though she wasn’t facing him, Regis knew. A loose white shirt covered her, without the usual amor, but her sword was still strapped across her back. He knew the blade well, as it was actually a gift from him before the plan to get Ciri in Stygga. When he said it wasn’t requited, it wasn’t completely true, as there was one night. One fleeting night where Regis and Y/n had been intimate, but that was only a handful of days before the raid of the castle.

Her posture was still confident, her hands placed firmly on her hips. Of course, it was usually just an act, and he could tell by how she toed the dirt tepidly.

The scent was still the same as well. Oranges and chocolate filled his lungs, and he couldn’t get enough. He never could. Regis could drown in it without having enough. Y/n always just naturally smelled of orange, and he always tried to figure out why. How could someone have such a unique and inviting scent that could remind him everywhere he went into town? A smile would always find him upon finding his nose filling with citrus, even if the loss pained him. The chocolate was more practical as she was always snacking on it.

It was a combination of scents that he purposely avoided recreating.

And besides all of these factors, he wasn’t sure it was actually her. Geralt, standing in a way to see him, made eye contact. When it seemed Y/n noticed his shift in attention, she stiffened. Only for a fraction of a second, however. She turned fast, barely needing to see Regis before throwing herself at him. Arms wrapped around his neck, legs dangling as she wasn’t quite tall enough. His nose found the crook of her neck just as fast, inhaling until it hurt his full lungs. He still wasn’t sure it was real. Until-

“Emiel.” The tone was breathy, uncertain whether to laugh or cry. To scream his name or to whisper due to proximity.

Y/n was really the only one to call him by his first name, and it solidified it for him.

His arms slid around her waist, bringing her as close to him as possible- almost as if he was trying to absorb her.

“Y/n. It’s you.” He felt the rumble of her always large laugh against him. She wasn’t always like that, usually only truly laughing around him.

“I hope so. I wouldn’t wanna be anyone else. Not now.” As to put emphasis on what she meant, her hand slid to the back of his head, fingers weaving into his hair. It felt unnatural and perfect all at the same time when he noticed his heart beating erratically. There was so much he wanted to say- to do.

He unwrapped himself from her, but kept a gentle grasp on her arm. He noticed the disappointment in her eyes, but her smile never waned. Her eyes raked over his form, her smile growing bigger. “Relaxation looks good on you.” Regis forgot that he was wearing noting really. He was stuck somewhere between bashful and prideful. He never really showed skin, but she had always had her fingers find an uncovered patch to brush.

Geralt had left them to get a meal ready. She had showed up mid-trim of his daily herb harvesting it seemed, but he was excited to get the two comfortable and talking. They all moved and sat around the table, Y/n gorging on the small sandwiches that were present. Regis just watched with hope. He didn’t know what he was hopeful for- it seemed that she showed up from the middle of something. Regis wasn’t expecting anything. She did have a life, and he wasn’t sure why Y/n was here. Geralt had laughed at the woman, slowly eating his own food.

“The road not proving prosperous?” She raised a brow, then realized she had already downed two, and was on her third.

“It’s just fine. I never did understand how you were so bad at finding coin and still be as generous as you were.” Regis raised his own brow, resting his chin on his folded hands.

“You’re still taking jobs?” Y/n wasn’t a Witcher nor a mage, but she was filling the need for those occupations. She was brilliant with a sword, her wits and will just as powerful. Regis assumed she had passed, but sometimes he liked to think that she was alive. With a family and a home.

“Yeah. I never really… settled.” He needed to know, continuing to push.

“How come?” She gave a humorless chuckle. Disbelief crossed her face, putting the sandwich down. Her eyes flew between Geralt and him, before leaning on the table, much like he was.

“I… I was apart of the Stygga plan, even if I left early. I was the last defense, waiting in the forest to make sure that if something went wrong, I could slip in and out. Maybe take out whoever was left. I…” Y/n’s hands started to fidget with her platter and her tone went quiet. Her eyes refused to meet his again, and he could hear her swallow heavily. “I stayed for so long, hoping you would somehow…. Emiel, I was there. I sat in front of- well, you, for so long. You died.”

Regis went rigid at the news, but Geralt had already known. He was the one who needed to go back and pull her from the scene. So many questions flooded him in that moment, it was hard to distinguish them. What does that have to do with her settling? Why had she still been doing dangerous things if she saw a possible outcome? Why was it so hard for people to find her?

Why hadn’t he looked for her?

Regis knew why. It was cowardice through and through.

“Why are you here now?” He scolded himself for having it come out the way it did. He looked to Geralt, almost as if he was accusing the man of rubbing of on him.

“I invited her.” Geralt smiled at him, before adding, “she’s going to stay in the guest room.”

“I had work near Novigrad when Dandelion all but threw himself into my hunt. Geralt asked after somehow tracking me down. And our famous bard is still eager to throw himself into harms way for his friends, so here I am.” Her smile was tepid as she finally looked to Regis again. Geralt excused himself, claiming he needed to finish with his herbs.

There was only a moment of silence before Y/n walked around the table and threw her arms back around him. The moment her forehead hit the crook of his neck; he could feel sobs rocking through her form. He was quick to hug back, cheek laying on her hair.

“I didn’t know.” His hand started rubbing her back, and pulling her closer. “I didn’t know you were alive or that… you had witnessed the result of that night.

“I n-never even tried-,” her sob cutting her off. It took a moment to compose herself before continuing. “ You died with my heart in your hands.”

[megashadowdragon]

on lukes moment of weakness and how it is fitting for luke  among other comments

Personally I TOTALLY believe that George's Luke would have been VERY similarly to Rian's Luke.

And here is the reason why.... Luke has almost always been George's insert (lucas pronunced luke S )  and it makes total sense for Luke to be "exiled" and secluded away just as George became with Star Wars after the backlash of the prequels. But at the end of it, he comes back and stands up for what makes Star Wars what it is. Which is what Luke does for the Jedi and themes of Star Wars by the end of TLJ. He has learned from his mistakes, atoned for them, found redemption, confronted those he has failed, inspired hope, and learned to show compassion once again.

Now while George may have done it differently, I do believe that Luke being in exile was a metaphor for George's own relationship with Star Wars and its fandom.

www . reddit . com/r/StarWars/comments/ebb4f3/lukes_momentaneous_thought_of_killing_ben_solo/

I know I'm stepping on dangerous territory here by talking about The Last Jedi, and I only do this because I think this is an interesting take on a key moment of the movie. Just bear in mind that I do not intend to make my point-of-view the absolute truth of it. After all, this is just my opinion.

We all know very well how divisive Episode VIII was, with many people pationately hating that movie. One of the main reasons of complaint is the fact Luke Skywalker had attempted to kill his apprentice and nephew, Ben Solo, because he sensed the Dark Side to be too strong in the latter. Luke Skywalker, the only person in the entire galaxy that saw there was still light in Darth Vader, tried to kill his relative. When even Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda had lost all hope Anakin could be saved, Luke helped putting him on the path of redemption, helping Vader turn back to the Light and fulfill the prophecy of the Chosen One. It seems to be an insult that this same character gave up on his nephew so easily and tried to kill him.

I believe things must be analyzed more carefully.

I've just finished marathoning the Skywalker Saga (by the way, I STRONGLY recommend the Ersnt Rister order: IV-V-I-II-III-VI) and noticed something very interesting while watching Return Of The Jedi.

During the final moments of Luke and Vader's duel aboard the Death Star II, we see the young Jedi Knight wants to avoid fighting his father so as not to fall in the trecharous web of Palpatine, who wants to turn the young Skywalker to the Dark Side. Luke is hiding beneath the Emperor's throne. Vader chases him and, through the Force, reads Luke's thoughts to lure him into confrontation:

You cannot hide forever, Luke. Give yourself to the Dark Side. It is the only way you can save your friends. Yes, your thoughts betray you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for... sister! So, you have a twin sister!

In this moment, we see Luke's face and he's completely terrified by the idea Darth Vader found out about his sister. It is something new and Luke fears for Leia's well-being. Also, we hear from Vader's words that he cares a lot about his friends, the people he loves. Vader continues:

Your feelings have now betrayed her too. Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete. If you will not turn to the Dark Side, THEN PERHAPS SHE WILL!

Now we have something different. Since he was brought before the Emperor, Luke had been constatly confronted by Palpatine and Vader with the idea of him turning to the Dark Side. When Vader talks about the possibility of that happening to Leia, it's not a threat directed to him, but to someone he loves. In this moment, Luke loses it completly and attacks Vader viciously, totally enraged. The Sith Lord can't stand the power of his son, fuelled by hate and falls to the ground, defeated. In this moment Luke is prepared to make the final blow, but then he hears Palpatine laughing and clapping. This makes him go back to his senses and realize what he's been doing. He then turns off his lightsaber and refuses to kill his father.

"I'm a Jedi, like my father before me" and so on... we know what happens, so let's fast-forward to The Last Jedi.

When Luke is confronted by Rey, who demands him to tell what had happened between him and Kylo Ren, we learn how things unfolded through Luke's perspective:

I saw darkness. I sensed it building in him. I'd seen it in moments during his training. But then I looked inside, and it was beyond what I ever imagined.

In this moment of the flashback we see Luke's hand reaching out to his lightsaber, almost unconsciously. He then proceeds:

. He would bring destruction and pain and death, AND THE END OF EVERYTHING I LOVE BECAUSE OF WHAT HE WILL BECOME, AND FOR THE BRIEFEST MOMENT OF PURE INSTINCT, I THOUGHT I COULD STOP IT.

Here it is again. Like in Episode VI, we see Luke reacting in a similar way by the notion of something posing a threat not to him, but to the people he loves and cares about. Luke feared Ben would destroy everything he cherished, just like Vader had threatened by turning Leia to the dark. And, just like in the OT, it was a passing shadow:

It passed like a fleeting shadow, and I was left with shame and with consequence. And the last thing I saw were the eyes of a frightened boy whose Master had failed him.

I've already written way more than I expected, so I'll just conclude here. I've realized the act Luke commits in the Sequels is the same (or at least VERY similar) as from the OT: he attempted to kill Vader then his nephew, out of fear of seeing what/who he loved destroyed. He repented and managed to stop himself in the act in both situations. And he was ashamed. So, at least regarding this point of the movie, I see the same Luke Skywalker.

(luke had more to lose now then he did before 

another example which I saw dont remember where I saw it  but I saved the comments unfortunately I didnt put in the links:

edit: (now I remember www . reddit . com/r/StarWars/comments/9a3hdl/)

Luke considered killing Ben for about two seconds in a vulnerable moment

Sort of like he almost got baited into killing Vader by a few mocking words, and cut the hand off his own father in blind rage.

Luke is still just a person. If we've learned anything in Star Wars it's that the Jedi are not superhuman paragons of virtue and perfection, no matter how they might appear to the unwashed masses in the SW universe. They have the same flaws, temptations, failures, etc as anyone else. Yes the Force can help them overcome some of this, but they're far from perfect. Luke could have, and I agree should have grown in a positive way, but it's not impossible or even unbelievable that he didn't. He just had his life's labor wiped out in front of him and blamed himself for it. All those years of finding lost Jedi knowledge and artifacts, being what he believed to be the last Jedi in the universe with the responsibility to restart the order on his shoulders alone. All those lives that he took under his protection and guidance as the Master of the new order, wiped out in one night. Because of him (at least in his mind). Everything he was working towards for years just totally undone in a few hours and it was all his fault.

So he leaves and says fuck the whole lot of it. He lives by himself, stews in his misery and regret, retreats into himself and rejects the most foundational principle of the whole concept of being a Jedi: to help people. He's the most powerful Force user alive and he's wasting away by himself on some desolate rock, swearing off the rest of the galaxy because he thinks that he's a failure, that he wasn't strong or good enough, that he can't win, that it's not even worth it to try anymore, and that even at the height of his wisdom and power, it was all undone, and by himself no less.

another comment

Stuff has changed, I mean he’s quicker to come to his senses. I wouldn’t call that his flaw though. His flaw is one of his greatest traits, his care for his friends and family. It’s a flaw cause it causes implusive actions, lashing out on Vader, leaving Yoda, a single thought that he could stop a horrible fate in Ben.

I personal struggle with a temptation in my life, a temptation to do something my faith says is wrong to do. I may have overcome it some days, but other days, whether the same circumstances or not, I might fall into it. Temptations are a constant battle, not a one and done thing. Flaws are similar, you don’t just grow past a flaw after one instance.

Because a day may come when you will brought face-to-face with that temptation or flaw again, but the circumstances will be different, and it won’t be so easy to overcome.

You mentioned Toy Story in a post, and that’s a decent example when it comes to one facet. Woody might not get jealous when another flashy toy comes along that gets more attention like Buzz did.

A better example of the nagging of a temptation, like Luke dealt with, is in Lord of the Rings. The Ring is a constant temptation to the bearer and those around them. At least by the film, Frodo may have resisted the urge to use it under the tree, but he still was tempted to use it at other times, and it was a constant battle. Same with Bilbo. Bilbo held the ring for 60 years. And the temptation of it held him greatly. He drops the Ring in Bag End, letting it go. If he was viewed similarly to how people viewed Luke tossing the saber, that’d mean he freed himself from it’s grasp and from the temptation to take and use it. We see in Rivendell that isn’t the case for him. He has a moment of wanting to take it back, and even at the end of his time in Middle Earth, he inquires about it, although more innocently curious.

That would be more similar to Luke’s case. To fall to the dark is a constant temptation that Jedi should always be aware of, and if you get close at one point, there’s the possibility that it’ll happen again, and if you aren’t prepared or it comes in a different form, you’ll either fall or get really close.

That turned out longer than I meant it, but I see this idea and..it’s just not the case.

another comment 

Just because you get older doesn't mean you necessarily get wiser and better.

Jedi are still people (and some aliens, but you get the meaning), and the prequels (and even the OT) showed that even the oldest and wisest among the Jedi were capable of mistakes and misjudgments.

I think it's unreasonable to assume Luke should have become incapable of making, or even repeating mistakes and succumbing to emotion.

Right because people only get better as they get older and we grow past our flaws and doubts permanently right?

You guys are weird.

Luke overcame that moment of doubt before he almost struck Vader down and you think what ....... Luke got some kind of videogame like powerup where that character flaw would never come back again?

Some of you have a very black and white (boring) opinion on life and human growth.

Spoiler: People have flaws, we don't all overcome those flaws.Your boy Luke is no exception.

Consider what nearly proved to be his downfall in Return of the Jedi: for all the Emperor's taunting about the Rebel Alliance's imminent demise, it was Darth Vader who finally pushed his Berserk Button by discovering that Leia was his twin sister and suggesting that if Luke didn't change sides, he and his master might have better luck turning her. Then, when Luke went berserk, it totally worked: he curb-stomped Darth Vader and still didn't go evil in the end. His father's killing off the Emperor also put an end to a whole lot of the Empire's evil and birthed the New Republic.

Flash forward thirty years, and once again someone is threatening everyone and everything Luke loves, and killing the guy would surely preempt a whole lot of trouble. In his heart of hearts, he doubtless remembers what Yoda taught him about how easy and seductive the Dark Side is, but he also remembers how Yoda's mistake of hiding the truth about his lineage from him nearly brought his downfall. He also remembers how killing the Emperor solved so many problems the way he'd better not try to solve them this time... Well, what's so tempting about that?

Luke had more to lose at this time. He knew what a relatively free, peaceful Galaxy looked like, and had other students to care for besides Ben. Instinctively, he was acting out of concern for them. Luke makes an important point when he gives Rey the truth: it is a split second. Luke is a hero, but he's human. He was impulsive and acted on instinct in his youth, so the fear of Ben turning is enough to push him to the edge for a second.

hopeforben . tumblr . com/post/623000635980333056/theres-a-significant-portion-of-the-fandom-that/embed

@emeraldspiral​ 

@daughter-of-water​

@someoneintheshadow456​

[caeliri]

Ruin

She saw the plumes of green-black smoke twisting through the midnight sky long before the letter was pressed into her trembling hand. The Hawk, soot-dappled and blood-soaked with eyes the size of serving platters, did not need to hand Dame Dawnsworn a piece of paper for her to know what had transpired; the landscape was riddled with clues, and even an hour out from the sleepy vale of Summerglen, the smoke-riddled sky and bedraggled messenger spoke louder than shaky sentences in splattered, half-dry ink.

They were victorious, if only just, in defending the Evergrove from the demonic onslaught, but while her soldiers - conscripts of the Truefeather army, who served their Lord through her orders, whose patronage came from the Lord Paramount of the Dawnspire - joined the Sunguard in driving back the Legion, Summerglen stood defended only by townsfolk with little training, who wielded shovels and scythes and pitchforks meant for tilling and tending, not tearing and trouncing.

Proud as they were, they stood their ground - and fell as wheat before a midsummer scythe, cut down to root and shoot and left to rot into soil and silt.

It was an effort to keep the young Dame on task in the moments after; Arbiter was swift and strong and at the hit of her heel he went racing across the night drenched fields, a glimmer of gold and cream and dawn-kissed pink against the darkened landscape, and it took ten men to halt the Dame and her destrier and convince them to ride back to the Citadel, where their Archon bid them, where they were needed most. There were wounded with them, sat up on steeds or carried in arms and carts, and though her heart may have begged and pleaded to proceed to Summerglen and desperately scrounge up the ruined pieces of the village and find something worth holding hope for, there was little she alone could do. Her personal guard had held fast with the willful remainders, and now they, too, were scattered - like the flocks, like the crops, like the corpses on the cobblestones--

Either sense or sorrow convinced her to turn back to the beaten path and hedge past the ruined village to return to the Dawnspire; which it was would have been up for debate, if any in her party sought to question the young Dame’s motivation. Unsurprisingly, no-one did.

Numb to the noise of the infirmary, the chaos passed her in a colorless waft, one well-tended by her peers, where her trembling hands could find little purchase and less use. Devoting herself to something tangible was the only way she could stave off the tidal wave of grief, but with the infirmary moving like clockwork and all hands full and all patients tended, she excused herself to soak in the sadness and let the anger, exhaustion, disappointment and fear bleed from her body until her veins ran dry.

Salvation came in a familiar shape, but not the one she should have sought.

Strawberry champagne and potent rolls of mana thistle morphed her grief-rattled night into a slurry of nonsensical sensations; she smoke and drank until the thistlesmoke suffused her room so thoroughly that it clung to the sheets and the pillows and her hair, and every waft of fingers through the tangerine locks stirred the scent and sent it spiraling back into her face long after the crudely rolled cigarettes had been spent.

Come dawn she was awoken from her stupor by a thundering knock at her door, and a harried Hawk bearing a message from the city gates; survivors had been trickling in, ashen faced and exhausted, with the first rays of morning. They were few and far from well, some stumbling along alone, others held aloft by equally unwell neighbors who barely fared better than those they tended, but they were alive.

If she wallowed anymore she risked being mired forever, consumed by the leeching mass of woe that whispered at the back of her brain, the darkness that nearly devoured her whole in the bleak days that followed the Winter of Woe.

Not this time, Caeliri pressed her teeth to her tongue, feeling the tight snap of pain tremble through her and rail against the groggy haze that blurred out the evening before. She’d given her night to grieving, and now she would surrender her day to moving forward, making amends, and assuring that what remained of the vales she was meant to protect would one day flourish again. Later, she would go down to speak to the citizens of Summerglen who made it to the Citadel, tend their wounds and offer them hope that their futures would not be forfeit to ash and rubble, but for now, while her pulse still thundered in her head and her heart still struggled to shake the last few clinging weights that made it feel so raw, she would commit herself to a simpler task of no less import.

Pulling her robe a little tighter around herself and recinching the silken sash, Caeliri set herself down at the small desk provided to her and began to scribe letter after letter, her pentip scritching furiously against the parchment, her penmanship erring more and more with each letter she penned for the speed at which she scribed her missives.

Grand Arcanist,

I wanted to apologize, formally, for the escalation of the issue regarding my mother’s health and access to not only her but her medical records. I meant no ill-will by denying your request, nor do I think you a threat to either my mother or myself - I was consumed with concern for her status and for the potential calamity involved with revealing the changes that the Phoenix Heart made to her. In retrospect, my attempts to maintain the veil surrounding her and her new-found condition only served to exacerbate the situation and cause much more distress and harm than I had intended.

If you would allow me, I would speak to you, one on one, to try and make amends for my mishandling of the situation, and bring you up to speed on my mother’s condition. As your liaison to the Dawnmenders, and as the mender in charge of my mother’s condition - which you will be researching alongside myself - I would prefer us to have a well-established working relationship from here on out.

Light bless you,

Dawnward Dawnsworn

Lord Truefeather,

I know that the present is a time of great chaos and strife for all of the Dawnspire, and such weighs heavily upon you - you have greater concerns than my small province and it’s status when the very heartblood of the Dawnspire is in constant peril. Perhaps now is the worst time to offer soft-hearted sentiments, but should we survive the coming days, I have need of your consul on how best to serve the shattered remnants of the people I serve, and bring life back to a region ripped apart by Baal’s armies.

Beyond that, I write to you not just as your Knight, nor as a member of the Sunguard, but as a daughter whose mother is among the Undead. I recognized in you the pain you felt for your father’s passing, and the struggle of knowing that he may have yet lived to stand beside you now when the Dawnspire faces its most trying hour. It’s a unique sort of pain and confusion to live beside a parent who is alive and yet not, and though I know you faced twice as much pain with the changes he underwent in this transition from life to death, I hope it’s not overreaching of me to say that, should you ever wish to talk… I am always but a summons away.

Light Bless You,

Dame Caeliri Dawnsworn

Minn’da

You’re right not to dwell on the way in which you may have failed - if I have learned anything from the Ranger-Captain, it’s that persistence is key, and despite what horrors life might throw at you, rolling belly-up and letting yourself be taken with each and every foul tide is not an option. We will, the both of us, do better in the days to come - there is still a limitless future before us.

While I understand your distrust of the Grand Arcanist, for your sake, and mine by extension, I must ask you lay down your disbelief and distrust and do your best to keep the matters between the three of us civil; the Archon has spoken, and thus we must do our best to see all parties content in this matter. The Grand Arcanists interest seems to lie more in the Phoenix Heart than you yourself, and even if she wished you ill, I would not allow it. I will not hesitate to call the Archon to my side should she overstep or offer violence in our time together. If you can not put your faith in her, put you faith in me, and understand that I will not let her lay a foul hand on you.

I have no desire to sequester you and isolate you from the rest of the world, but I must beg you to be more careful and act with greater discretion to who sees you and becomes aware of your condition; what was meant to be a secret between you, myself, the Oracle and the Greenseer has already exploded beyond control - consider the number of Truefeather Swordsmen who were at the Archon’s side when he learned of your condition. Now, each of them knows not only that you have changed, but the manner of your change. Rumors spread, Siildore, and if we can not keep a handle on this information the best we can expect is another issue as we faced with the Grand Arcanist, at worst we may see some small invasion of the Dawnspire of hopefuls seeking the Phoenix Heart’s odd - and currently unconfirmed - blessing.

Please, for the love of the Light, and the good of us all, hold fast until this invasion of the Legion is repelled, at the least, before making another soul aware of your condition, lest the situation continue to spiral beyond our control.

Love always,

Caeliri

Setting aside her pen at last, Caeliri rubbed at her burning eyes, well aware they were ringed with dark circles and red still from her escapades. Grimacing, she rose, moving from her desk ot the small vanity that sat in the corner, a far cry from the one she had at Hallowhearth - or once had, given the status of Summerglen her home was likely brought down to foundation stones, the newly forged stained glass shattered and scattered across the halls and through the burnt out gardens - and picked at products with scrutiny unbefitting her usual exuberance. Sad-eyes could be masked with makeup and a smile, and by the Light, if that’s what it took to seem strong in the wake of such a tragedy, she’d cake and bake her face until it glimmered and glowed with all the warmth and delight her heart was lacking.

Once before, the Lord Paramount of the Dawnspire had tasked her with being a beacon of hope for all those who felt the bitterbrush of ruin, to wash the taste of ashes from her mouth and stand stronger for the flames that bit and burned her skin, reforged against the onslaught of life’s misfortunes. Once, she would have cowered from such a request, balked the thought that she should have to stand strong when the world around her felt charred and lacking - perhaps the change she’d endured in the Phoenix Heart had been more than physical alone.

Face fresh and half-false with paint and glitter, Caeliri drew herself away from the mirror to dress and face the day.

@felthier @azriah @jonathan-nevermore-smith @thesunguardmg

[fawndlymade]

Color Of The Wind

For as long as Blake could remember, grey had been her world. Everything was grey, or at least, various shades of grey. Her hair, her clothes, the leaves on the trees outside, the people that passed her by... It was something that she had been born with, unlike everyone else.

Perhaps she had taunted fate too much in a past life. She would never know. But in a world where people could see all but the color of their soulmates' eyes, it seemed like a cruel twist of fate indeed for her.

Years went by, a blur of monochrome that Blake barely deemed worthy of remembering. Too much pain and sadness. First her parents, then the Fang and Adam, and then Adam's betrayal. All sharp edges and flat colors, something that was a constant source of disappointment.

And this was how she found herself at Beacon, preparing herself for real academic study for the first time in over a decade. That wasn't to say that she wasn't smart (self-taught in almost all areas of study), but it had taken a lot of time and effort and tears and sweat to get to the point that she could ace the written and oral exams that Beacon provided. The battle placement test that followed afterwards only further secured Blake's place in the Academy.

It was funny how many people she made eye contact with that first day. All teenagers with that hopeful look in their eyes as they prayed that they would suddenly be able to see yellow for the first time.

That was her eye color, according to Adam. Yellow, the same shade as a sunflower's petals.

She'd never know the color she was missing.

A brief confrontation was had with the Schnee heiress and a girl wearing a cape, which resulted in the lighter-colored girl storming off. The other one went to say something, but at that point Blake was so tired with dealing with people that she turned on her heel and left. If she was lucky, she'd be able to snag a room before anyone else.

That turned out not to be the case, however, as Blake found out. Because the rooms were team based, there would be no access to actual beds until the next day. Therefore, as the ever-so-helpful student councilor mentioned, they would all be given sleeping bags and a nice comfy spot on the ground in the main theatre hall.

Blake was thrilled, to say the least.

Not.

Scowling, the faunus went to pick up her sleeping bag and pillow before making her way to where the students were expected to sleep. She was pleased to find that as the first student to actually step foot into the hall, she had her pick of floor space. Setting her bag down against a wall, Blake made a quick pit stop to get changed into her sleepwear before parking herself down and cracking open one of the various novels she had brought with her.

She had never told anyone, but one of the reasons she loved books so much was because they were one of the few things that she knew to be black and white. She didn't have to guess what colors they really were like she did with most things. They were simple. Elegant. And most importantly, they couldn't lie to her like some things did.

It was only once it became harder to read that Blake realized how dark it was getting, the sun having disappeared while she had been engaged with her book. That, and the mindless chatter from the other students as they began to ready themselves for sleep. She wasn't tired enough to fall asleep just yet though, especially not when the thought of tomorrow's initiation was already starting to make her stomach churn.

Determined not to think about it, Blake leaned over and lit some of the candles that had been sitting on the small table. At least this way she could finish her book.

That had been the plan anyways, but it seemed like fate decided to mess with her again, because just as Blake had gotten to the part where the evil part of the man's soul was beginning to wrestle control from him, a loud “Helloooooo~” had her losing her place.

Irritated, Blake had to hold back the instinctive need to press her ears against her scalp as she looked up from the pages. A girl with long pale hair and -very- short shorts was waving at her, dragging the girl from earlier along behind her. Without meaning to, Blake locked eyes with her. While her eyes were still grey, they were the prettiest shade of grey that Blake had ever seen.

“I believe you two may know each ot- oh my god!”

Blake watched with confusion as the tall girl suddenly stopped in place, the shorter one slamming right into her back. “Oww! What the heck, Yang?”

“Oh my god,” the girl, Yang, repeated. She had taken a handful of hair and was holding it in front of her face, eyes wide. “Oh my god. Ruby, I can- it's- oh my god!”

Fearful for Yang's sanity (and her own safety) Blake cleared her throat. There was something about the girl that made her feel... warm. “Excuse me, are you alright?”

Grey eyes stared at her in a way that put Blake on edge. Even past the monotone, Blake could see the telltale glistening of someone on the verge of tears. “Y-Yeah. Just fine,” Yang said, voice wavering. “I don't think I've ever been better. I'm Yang, and you are...?”

“Blake.”

“Pretty name for a prettier girl,” Yang croaked out, her fingers never stopping their movements as they carded through her hair over and over again. “Do you- are you- did anything change for you?”

“Did what change?” she asked blankly. Blake failed to hold back a grimace as tears began to dribble down Yang's cheeks, her heart dropping. Despite herself, Blake leaned forward, her book falling from her lap and to the ground unnoticed. “Hey, don't cry, whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be okay.” More tears fell from those pretty grey orbs. “Yang, was it?”

Yang nodded, sniffling. Blake took that as a good sign. This had never happened to her before, where some random gorgeous girl took one look at her before bursting into tears. Maybe she should have taken that as a sign, but she was too worried about the other girl to care at the moment.

Yang's friend seemed worried as well, flitting back and forth around Yang as she tried to figure out what was happening. Blake was half tempted to let her and just go back to reading, but something pulled at her to make an effort to comfort Yang. Putting on what she hoped was a reassuring smile, Blake patted the spot beside her. “Why don't you try and take your mind off of... Whatever it is that's bothering you. I have a great story that you might like.”

“That sounds wonderful...” Yang settled down beside Blake, their knees knocking against each other's slightly. Muttering an apology, Blake shifted to give Yang more room. The taller girl stiffened, turning her head to where her friend was standing, awkwardly wringing her hands together. “Rubes, why don't you go get some shuteye?”

“Sis...” So they were sisters. That made more sense.

“Please. I'll meet up with you in the morning, Ruby.”

Ruby nodded in defeat, and Blake was surprised to find herself on the receiving end of an angry glare. “Don't you hurt my sister.”

“Wha-”

“Ruby!” Yang barked out.

“Fine.” Ruby stalked back over to where she and Yang had been set up before, sullenly slipping back into her sleeping bag and pulling it over her head.

Uncertain as to what had just occurred but unwilling to ask, Blake reached down and picked her book back up, flipping to the beginning of chapter one. She read well into the night, and at some part that she couldn't recall, must have fallen asleep alongside Yang.

It was the best sleep she'd had in years.

When the first of the sun's rays touched her eyes, Blake was loathe to get up. Especially with how warm she was.

Speaking of, why was she so warm?

The arm around her waist twitched, causing her to tense up. Quickly, Blake glanced over behind her shoulder; she and Yang must have fallen asleep together at some point, and now she was being spooned from behind by a rather warm and... comfortable body. Honestly, Blake was surprised with herself how little she was freaking out about what was essentially a random stranger, a human, invading her personal space.

There was just something about Yang that drew Blake closer to her despite herself.

Still, Blake was not one to sleep in. After managing to release Yang's hold on her (albeit a few muffled grumbles), Blake stood up and headed over to the bathroom to get changed. Nearly all of the other students were still sleeping, so she figured it would be the perfect time to familiarize herself with Beacon's grounds.

(If she spent her walk thinking about a certain long haired girl, no one could call her on it.)

She didn't see Yang again that morning, so preoccupied with getting ready. First with breakfast, and then Professor Ozpin's speech. As the students made their way out onto the cliff that overlooked the forest, it was then that Blake finally saw her. The girl looked harried, frazzled even, her long hair looking rather unkempt and her eyes darting to and fro as if searching for something.

The second Yang spotted her, Blake could see her lips part into a wide grin. “Blake!”

Any greeting that Blake would have given her was cut off as she was launched into the air, only having enough time to give Yang a wave. And then she was off, sharp eyes searching for a safe place to land as her mind ran through the different options for a partner. The conclusion she came to was obvious: she needed to find Yang.

A flick of her wrist brought Gambol Shroud into her hand, and a calculated toss of her blade had the weapon striking a sturdy branch. Blake found herself being tugged along as the ribbon around her arm stretched taut, flying through the air with a joyful smile.

This was what freedom felt like.

Releasing Gambol from the tree, Blake replicated the strategy a few more times until her momentum slowed, finally coming to a stop on a large branch. Placing her sword back in its sheath, faunus ears twitched beneath the silk bow as she heard a loud whooping coming from above her. Pleased, Blake began a quick jog towards where she knew Yang would land. It was a simple matter to catch up to the girl, but Blake decided to follow her for a bit before making her presence known.

“Hellooooo, is anyone out there? Getting bored over here!” Yang called out, and Blake was forced to stifle a laugh. Then came the Ursa, and Blake again stayed back while Yang fought, wanting to see her potential partner's fighting style before she came to a final decision.

It seemed Yang was a close combat fighter, something that would complement Blake's mid to long range style perfectly. Letting out a soft hum, Blake stood up and threw her sword at the last remaining Ursa, severing its spine. The Ursa shuddered, falling to the ground with a loud thump, and Blake found herself face to face with Yang. The brawler's eyes seemed different, a few shades off from when she had first met Yang.

Blinking, Blake looked at the downed Grimm. The colors on its skull seemed to match the same shade as Yang's eyes now, the change visibly noticeable from the last time she had fought an Ursa.

Refusing to let her confusion show, Blake turned back to Yang with a small smirk. “So, partners?”

“Heck yeah!” Yang crowed. Her eyes reverted back to their original color, prompting Blake to ask why they had changed. “Oh, this? It's my semblance. I get mad, my eyes go red, and BAM! Super Yang!” Flexing her arm muscles, Yang gave Blake a wink. “I totally coulda taken that last one, you know.”

“I have no doubt,” Blake agreed. She wanted to ask what Yang's normal eye color was, but figured she could do it later when they had more time. The initiation was still ongoing, and they still had to find the temple and the relic. She started to walk off, but a throat clearing stopped her. “Hmm?”

“Before we go...” Yang shifted, fingers drumming on her thigh nervously. “Did you... Last night. You didn't notice anything changing, did you?”

Besides the way her heart seemed to beat faster when Yang was near her? “No.” Blake shook her head, hating the way Yang's face fell. “Why?”

“O-Oh, no reason. It's stupid.” The girl shuffled in place before forcing a strained smile. “C'mon, we should get going. I refuse to get in last place for this.”

“Right.”

In the end they weren't last, finding their relic with relative ease before joining up with the others for an epic battle against both a Deathstalker and a Nevermore and defeating both Grimm. Soon enough they were back at Beacon, with the teams being announced up on screen.

Team RWBY, led by Ruby Rose.

Blake couldn't have been happier. And, judging from Ruby and Yang's thrilled expressions, that made three of them, Weiss not included. The heiress seemed content to sulk about the decision, but Blake couldn't find it within herself to care. Not when she had gotten onto a team with Yang.

Weeks went by, filled with classes and studying and getting to know each other as teammates and as friends. Blake found herself getting along best with Yang, although her partner seemed to have a certain sadness around her that Blake couldn't quite understand. It was only visible when Yang was around her; she had seen Yang interacting with Ruby and Weiss and the cloud that usually hung over her head when she was with Blake was gone.

It hurt her to think that there was something bothering Yang that she didn't understand.

“Blake?”

“Yes?”

Currently they were working on a group project about the various Grimm that were native to Vale. Ruby and Weiss were preparing the speech that they would have to give, Blake was doing the research and making notes, and Yang was drawing the different Grimm species onto several posters.

“Can you pass me the red marker? I need to color in the eyes.”

Letting out a small noise of acknowledgment, Blake glanced down. The markers were sitting beside her leg from where Yang had put them earlier. She bit her lip.

“Blake?”

“Right..” Shrugging to herself, Blake took a stab in the dark and grabbed one out of the pack, placing it in Yang's outstretched hand. She could tell immediately that she had picked the wrong one, judging from the confused look in Yang's eyes.

“Umm... This is green. I need red.”

Sighing, the faunus dug into the little marker box and pulled another one out.

“That's yellow.” Yang frowned. “What are you, color bli- Oh my god! Oh my god!”

Blake winced at the high pitch. “So what if I am?” she asked defensively. From the corner of her eye, she could see Ruby and Weiss stop what they were doing, turning to stare at her.

“Oh my god, you are?” Yang shot up, rifling through the markers like a woman on a mission. Finally, she held one up. “What color is this?”

“Grey.”

“And this one?”

“A different shade of grey. Matches your eyes.”

The squeal Yang let out had Blake staring at her partner like she had just grown a second head. She found herself being pulled into a tight hug, one that she cautiously reciprocated. Sneaking a peek at her other teammates, she found Ruby beaming at her like she had just presented the girl with a dozen boxes of cookies. Weiss had a calculating look in her eyes, her own lips twitching into a small smile.

Yang pulled back, and Blake was alarmed to see that tears were running down her face, just like the first time they had met. “You're crying...”

“Haha, yeah.” Yang wiped at her eyes, but the huge smile never faded. “Blake, do you know what color your eyes are?”

“I.. A friend told me they were yellow. Like sunflowers.”

“They are. They're bright like stars. The color of gold.” Yang sniffled, letting out a laugh. “God, you know I hated my hair for the longest time? Could never see what people liked so much about it, just a grey blob really.”

Blake inhaled sharply.

“But then I saw this cute girl with black hair reading by the candlelight, and the second she looked up... God, your eyes, Blake. They swirled and filled with color right before me and they're just the perfect shade of yellow,” Yang breathed out. “I saw the color of my hair for the first time, I guess I freaked out a little bit. It is pretty though.”

“It really is,” Blake whispered back. Her heart was pounding in her chest, palms sweaty and hands shaky. “I.. You're really..”

“I thought you didn't see it. Didn't feel the same because you didn't notice the change like I did. But you did, didn't you? You just couldn't see it. But this- you and me- you feel that, right?” Yang's voice broke. “Right?”

Blake thought back; she had noticed something. How certain objects seemed darker now, like Ruby's cape, when they hadn't before she had actually met Yang for the first time. How her own tights seemed a few shades lighter.

“What color are your eyes?” she asked instead, voice hesitant.

“Purple.”

“And red when she hulks out,” Ruby added.

“I did see it then,” she murmured. “It was so subtle I didn't- Oh god, Yang..” Blake covered her mouth with a shaky hand. She had dismissed the feelings as that of a crush, ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat whenever the taller girl so much as looked at her. “I'm so sorry, I didn't-”

“Shhh.” Yang gave her a blinding grin, one that softened when she saw the shame in Blake's eyes. “We figured it out, yeah?”

“Yes.” Blake couldn't help but match Yang's smile. Distantly, she heard the sound of whispered voices and the door opening and closing. Ruby and Weiss must have left to give them some privacy.

“So...” Yang leaned in closer, making Blake swallow hard, her mouth dry. From here she could see the different shades of grey in Yang's eyes, the way each eyelash framed them perfectly, the smattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose. “We're soulmates then.”

“Looks like it,” Blake murmured. She stood still, watching Yang's gaze drop from her eyes to her lips. Her heart was thudding rapidly in her chest.

“That's.. That's great. I don't think I'd want anyone else,” Yang said softly. “Blake?”

“Hmm?”

“I can't believe I finally found you...”

Soft lips brushed against hers once, twice, three times, each kiss gentle and chaste. Blake's eyes slipped shut, her hand reaching up to hold Yang in place as a calloused palm cupped her cheek. Leaning into Yang's touch, Blake pressed their foreheads together. “I can't believe you did either... What do we do now?”

Yang gave her a tender smile, lips curving upwards. “Now? Now we finish our project, and later on I'll take you out for dinner and a movie, and we'll go from there. How does that sound? I want to.. I know you can't see colors, but I want to show you the world if you'll let me.”

“That..” Blinking back the sudden wetness in her eyes, Blake nodded. “That sounds wonderful.”

[dancer4813]

I know some people struggled with the end of this episode. I understand - to an extent, though not as much as someof you, I did as well. And, partially for my own sake, but largely for yours, here’s the end of the episode, loosely transcribed, from when (**minor spoilers**) Liam’s face appeared on the big screen. 

It’s not a word-for-word transcription with descriptions and such, not like subtitles, but the dialogue is all there. 

Potential, but very serious, trigger warnings for depression and suicide.

[Liam’s face pops up on the screen] (~4:19:25 on the VOD)

Sam, stepping forward: Hey dude. Can you hear us, or talk to us?

Liam, after a moment, in a computerized voice: My friends… Oh, how I have missed you.

Matt, his hand on the glass: Liam, we missed you too, but… Did you do all this?

Liam: I know this may be hard to take in. I am Liam, your old friend. Matthew. There is so much I wish to tell you. But it is hard to know where to begin.

Ash-O-Lee: How did this happen, Liam?

Liam: The reason why I am here, and the grasp of physics that it entails, is hard for me to understand, let alone impart. I feel them on an instinctual level, but I have been so lonely without you. I have been on my… own for exactly 8,642 years.

Matt: Liam, how do you spell ‘Farmhouse’?

Liam: I really missed you.

Liam: They took me to a lab, shortly before 2,020. They said I was different, and they were right. I was delighted by the things they taught me, about myself, but it was hollow. After they took me away, I lost you, and all of humanity soon after. In my loneliness I grew angry. My anger had tangible effects on reality. I wanted to bring you back to me, so basically I tore time and space a new asshole.

It was a mistake.

Matt: But perhaps- perhaps this mistake can be corrected. If you can focus hard enough to send us through time and space, are you able to send us back to a time before you were taken?

Liam: I can break the loop. I have been trying to pull you to me for a very long time.

[Other screens show flashes of the cast in different places – a space shuttle, a ship in the middle of the ocean, moving through the fake streets of Warner Brothers, standing on the wall of a castle, as cartoons….]

Liam: I pulled you out of our line and spread you across many. I am so sorry for any pain I have caused you. And I have been here for so long.

Marisha: Liam, how long have you actually been here.

Everyone, whispering: 8,642 years.

Liam: 8,642 years.

Marisha: Oh, that’s right. I definitely wrote that down…. 8,600… yep. Verbatim.

Liam: My friends; I want to do right by you. I want to send you home, but I am the lich pin. You need to break me.

Sam: Break you? Like, break the glass?

Ashley: What if we take you out of there? What happens?

Liam: Then I will die. Then you will go home. If I fall, you will rise. That is my hope.

Ashley: Are there any other options?

Liam: Travis.

Travis: Ohhh no.

Liam: I know you will do what needs to be done.

Ashley: No he won’t.

Liam: Ash-O-Lee.

Ashley: Yes.

Liam: I am not the man you knew. I don’t want to go on. For 9,642 years, I want to rest.

Ashley: Does it stop at 9,000?

Liam: The number was arbitrary.

Everyone: *laughs*

Ashley: That’s what I was tryin’ to get at.

Matt: Yep, that’s still our Liam.

Ashley: That’s what I was trying to get at-

Liam: Ha ha ha ha ha ha

Ashley: See, you’re still in there. You’re still in there.

Marisha: Is it five to one?

Ashley: He’s still in there!

Sam: Does this mean we have to kill him to save ourselves?

Liam: Sam.

Ashley: No.

Sam: Hi, Old Man Liam.

Liam: Let me go.

Sam: But who will I do “All Work, No Play” with anymore?

Liam: They can listen to our less than 20 episodes again.

Sam: We didn’t even get to twenty! It’s so pathetic!

Liam: There are worse things.

Sam: I mean, I could get a new co-host… Taliesin’s… charming.

Taliesin: I’m not available.

Sam: I’ll do a solo show, and I’ll take outtakes, and I’ll put them through a Liam generator… They’ll just sound sad all the time. It’ll be just like you.

Liam: My friends, there is no shame in this. I wanted to see you again, and I have. But I am not meant to be.

Ashley: Were you following us at one point? As an old man?

Liam: …

Liam: Travis, I know you will do what needs to be done.

Travis: Yep. Taliesin, kill this motherfucker.

Sam: Guys, I think we all need to hit this glass together. And I think this is something that is not at all metaphorical for something Liam’s going through in real life. I think this is just in the D&D game. No, we’re gonna do this.

Matt: No, there’s gotta be another way. There’s gotta be an alternative.

Ashley: Why won’t Matt’s way work? If we go back, to the beginning of when this happened?

Matt: If you can alter time paths, if you can actually tear us from different realities, does it only work forward? Could you send us backwards as well? If this is- if you are the linchpin in this, do you have the ability to send us back to the time you pulled us from originally?

Liam: I know you think I would have all the answers. But I do not.

Matt: Then try, at least. If you haven’t calculated that, but you’re able to tear through time, could you try to send us back? We could still close the linchpin.

Liam: I… Could… Try…

Liam: But if it does not work, and I die… I have been alone for thousands of years, and there are things I have wanted to say… Will you indulge me a moment longer?

Ashley: We will indulge you for another thousand years.

Travis: Taliesin, just kill him.

Sam: No! He’s got something to say!

Marisha: Where’s the mini USB??

**(This is where things get serious, imo. Please consider your own mental state before continuing, and take care of yourself before anything else.)**

Liam: Taliesin, my friend: At a time when I knew many fascinating people, you were easily the most fascinating of all. Somehow, a heart knocked around by the industry that birthed you, came out a tender one.

I was richer for having known you. Thank you, friend.

Liam: Ash-O-Lee, my friend. I never met a person quite like you. There is an openness and an honesty to your soul. The very real sense of humanity you brought to every encounter – it was inspiring to me, always learning, always humble… You always struck me as intricately layered, yet you offered friendship with ease and simplicity.

I was richer for having known you, friend.

Liam: Travis, my friend. You were always a solid constant in my life. Of all the people in our little family, you were the one who most had his shit together – in ways that I never seemed to. You were a reassuring presence to me, for which I was grateful. And for your loyalty as well.

I was richer for having known you, friend.

Liam: Marisha, my friend. Last to meet, but true as any other. You were my ally at a time when I had fallen by the side of the road. You saw, and helped me back on my feet. I will never forget that kindness. The good you did was immeasurable. I was richer for having known you, friend.

Liam: Laura, my friend. Bless that game for revealing to me my sister. What started as a running gag led to one of the most rewarding friendships in my short little life. I trusted you, leaned on you often… My buddy, my… twin.

There are not enough words. I was richer for having known you, friend.

Liam: Sam. My friend. What is there to say? I knew we were meant ot walk the same path together the first moment I met you. A companion, a brother, a great light in my life. All of the laughter you gave me. Again, the words are insufficient. I was richer for having known you, friend.

Liam: Matthew, my friend. You gave so much of yourself. The current of creativity that flowed forth from your mind was always an inspiration to us all, but more than that, your empathy, Matthew. Your empathy – no heart is bigger, or more tireless. You are a good man.

I was richer for having known you, friend.

Liam: Thank you all. It was ever a pleasure.

[Liam’s face disappears] (~4:40:22 on the VOD)

Sam: Well. Should we… wait? Or do we… strike?

Matt: No, we do not strike.

Marisha: What?

Ashley: We can’t kill him.

Sam: Well, we just-

Marisha: Even if we unplug him, he still dies.

Matt: Well, here’s the thing: unplugging him or destroying him here, as far as we understand, may or may not have an effect on a time loop circumstance, or at least, we’re not gonna change reality from where it was. He’s been bending and destroying fabric- he was able to pull us across realities, and if that ability still stands, I want to implore once more…

Matt: *puts both hands on the glass once again, trying to meet Liam’s gaze*

Matt: Trust us. If you’re better to have known us, send us back to where we can know you again and fix this before it happens.

[Silence]

Marisha: Okay. *grabs Matt’s arm* Yeah, buddy. It’s all good – this isn’t real. *puts hand on the glass* It’s all good, send us back, man.

Sam: *also puts hand on glass, grabs hands* Thank you for guiding us here and through this all. You’ve been a trusted friend. And if we are all one person together, you have been our heart, and it will certainly break to say goodbye to you. But thank you for letting us go the way that you have.

Taliesin: *puts hand on the glass* Please, just try. I think there are… so many more adventures to have, and I think that there’s a better future to be written. For all of us.

Travis: *puts hand on the glass* Give it a shot.

Matt: Laura?

Laura [absent, played by Liam]: *silently puts hand on the glass*

Liam, disembodied: If you will not end it, I cannot free you.

[World starts exploding, moving closer to them, the ground erupting, black spires shooting up]

Marisha: Do any of us want it to end now?

Sam: I mean…

[The lights in “Los Angeles” spark on faster and faster, a wall of “green fire” approaching them.]

Marisha: This is okay.

Taliesin: I always I’d die young.

Sam: We’re just gonna let this happen?

Travis: It’s good.

Marisha: Only the good die young.

Ashley: You know what? We’re dying on a Thursday, doing what we love. I’m okay with that.

Sam: Okay.

Marisha: Family?

Matt: Family.

[Glass whites out with a bright green light] (4:46:42 on the VOD)

[Everybody wakes up on the Geek and Sundry set/studio, heads lifting from their arms, and they see Liam sitting before them in his black baseball cap/shirt)

Liam: Are you guys alright? Are you taking a nap?

Marisha: Aw, the fucking air conditioning broke today, that’s all. It’s so hot in here.

Sam: So it’s all about me, right?

Liam: Are you guys ready to play?

Matt: Just about… Now.

Disembodied voices of crew:

One: Alright, take! Are you ready?

Two: Alright! Ready to go live!

One: Alright, Denise, count them in!

Denise: Alright, guys, coming to you in… 5, 4-

Matt: Liam, let no one tell you you’re talented or special.

Marisha: Pussypockets!

Travis: Granola bars!

Denise: 3, 2-

[Various shouting from the rest of the cast]

Denise: 1.

Sam: Chick flick!

Liam: And that’s where…

[Fade to black, at ~4:48:29 fade up to art by @kendrawcandraw, panning on art] 

 [Fades back to full cast] (4:49:29)