#seeing if he will undermine his precious image just to please her

[satorimachine]

keep your dog on a leash, candle

[crushzone]

Hello my lovely your smut is god tier💞. Could i request a cheeky threesome between ennoshita and akaashi (seeing as they are both next gen captains😘). Reader is a bit of a switch. Thank you and enjoy your day.

Blue Petals ❀ Part 1 (NSFW) -Haikyuu!!-

Character: Ennoshita Chikara x Fem!Reader x Akaashi Keiji

Summary: The pressure of bidding good bye becomes immense, as a manga artist, her editor (Akaashi), and her roommate (Ennoshita), reflects on the nature of their relationship and what they want out of it after their second to last weekly meeting at her apartment.

Word Count: 7,842

Contents: Love triangle, time skip characters, mutual pining (every character is attracted to one another), steamy make out session, slow burn.

Additional Notes:

Carla, I know you didn’t ask for all this love triangle part 1 for this fic, but I can’t help it omg. I promise you, you WILL get ALL the steamy threesome smut action in part 2 haha. 😏

It should be up sometime soon, I’ve already written it, just needs proofreading. The navigation to part 2 will appear with a clickable link when it is up. 👍🏻

Blue Petals, is drawn from my senior thesis short film title that I had to make for my Film major. However, the plot for the short had nothing to do with the one that I came up for Y/n’s manga, I simply drew the name from it.

>>> PART TWO

Please do not repost my work ✨

Characters are aged up.

Water…running through my fingers —This must be the way she felt when it skids down her bare back.

He wishes he can shape shift — to become one with this water and caress your smooth skin with his warm droplets.

Ennoshita leans against the sink, turning the faucet off as he absentmindedly shake his hands mid air, springing droplets off the tip of his digits, as if he’s loosely attempting to rid his fascination of you.

This is wrong. It’s going to complicate things. Just…Irrational.

His large hands brace the corner of your shared marbled counter, mind refusing to shut off as it rebels, sprinting a thousand miles a minute in the direction he is desperately trying avoid.

The drip from the faucet casts a constant rhythm to the, otherwise, silent apartment. He mentally curses as he brings his dampened hand to rotate the knob, droplets growing fainter as it cease.

He loves his job, he really does, and he excels at being a physical therapist. The amount of hours he’s put into acquiring this job, the efforts he put into remembering his patient’s names, and the smile he puts on to encourage them to stay strong, really pays off in the end.

However, today, every second when he was not tending to his patient, and when he was alone in the sea of hustling scrubs, his mind betrayed him; the image of you walking out of the restroom at 5 AM, this morning, in just your soaked towel. The way the droplets on your naked shoulders glisten under the faint kiss of tungsten that peaks from your bedroom, like gold dragon scales, so majestic yet delicate.

He had just tumbled out of his room, half asleep, in just boxers and black t-shirt. His eyes immediately widen when it met yours, a suppressed squeal escapes your throat, as you fumble with the top of your plushy towel. 

However, that didn’t help because by hastily pulling it further up your Décolleté, only revealed your other round asset that peaks from the bottom hem.

“I’m so sorry!” You both muster in great embarrassment, as footsteps spiral down opposite ends of the corridor. When the doors slammed with a bang, Ennoshita slid to the ground with a hand over his heated face.

Oh boy.

This was not his first encounter either, from years of high school together and 2 years of being your roommate, he’s well aware of your clumsiness. But that also makes you so painfully endearing.

Now, back to the sink where he hovers, steadying his breaths as he could feel his member push the sturdy fabric of his trousers taut.

This can’t be happening right now, in a few minutes, you’re going to walk through the door and se-

Click.

His rhythmic breaths hitch when he could hear the click of the lock, and the twist of the knob.

“Chikaraaaa-kun, I’m home! I brought you your favorite pineapple pecan cake from the bakery nearby.” You bump the door open with your hip as you clumsily shuffle through the entrance, arms bracing stack of folders and a laptop. Then you shut the door with your elbow, bumping your hip against the wooden fixture as you rotate the lock.

The fear of getting caught mid-boner should’ve given him the fuel to suppress it, but oddly, it only worsens when he sees you, standing there so effortlessly beautiful and ridiculously oblivious to his fascination of you.

“Thank you, Y/n-san!” He responds, turning his head to offer you a smile while his hips remain glued to the cool sink. “I cooked us some dinner, it’s all in the fridge. I barely saw you this week, so I don’t mind waiting to eat mine after your meeting with Akaashi.”

You were already in the middle of preparing for the meeting with your manga editor, eagerly spreading your portfolios all over the dining table, and clearing any other unnecessary decorations to make room.

“That is so thoughtful, thank you so much! I appreciate ya.” You turn to him with a wide smile, ignoring the warmth that cradles your cheeks.

He makes you so happy, so very happy.

There had always been something that draws you to him, even from the first day he’d introduced himself at Karasuno.

The way his voice is as warm as a cup of hot cocoa, and his gentle eyes scan your face with the most genuine smile. He reminds you of the comfort and warmth of a sweater, a piece of homeliness you get to bring with you, even when you are somewhere unexplored and cold. He’s always had your back at times when you feel like flopping, and likewise, when you would cradle him in your embrace as he falls into quiet tears at moments when he’d undermine himself of his capabilities.

Chikara is a warm sense of familiarity, a sunrise that promises a new day, the fragrance of trustworthiness that you are incredibly drunken on. Every night when you would bid each other sweet dreams, there would always be a subtle moment of hesitation before soft footsteps saunter across the corridor to your respective rooms. When the doors shut, you always curse at the way your feet rebel, how it tear your chances to run the opposite direction and into his arms nightly.

Because he is your roommate. And that would be complicated.

A rational portion in your mind whispers, shining a lone beam of light through your fog of infatuation, as you will your gaze away from his chocolate orbs.

Your admiration for Ennoshita had far exceeded friendship, even before you’ve decided to move in together as roommates. Till this day, you wonder why you were the one to insist on rooming if you knew you had always been in love. Perhaps his homeliness made you wonder what it would be like to come back to his gentle smile after work, or maybe it was because you didn’t want to let go of your muse.

And then there’s Akaashi…If Ennoshita reminds you of the the warm sun, Akaashi is the calmness of the ocean. The cooling sea breeze that kisses your skin with a gentle mist from dancing tides.

At the thought of him, a series of gentle knocks on the door snaps the tension from the air as you scurry to open it.

Meanwhile, Ennoshita remains by the counter, mentally crafting an escape as the thought of seeing Akaashi’s cooling eyes would only worsen his predicament. Using his quick wit, he takes advantage of the commotion to spring himself from the counter, speed-walking across the dining room, then up the stairs.

“I’ll leave you guys to it!” He says cheerily, when he’s already halfway up.

Akaashi had just stepped in and is removing his shoes as you close the door. “Oh, okay! I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

“You don’t have to lea-“ He begins, but is cut short when Ennoshita quickly waves at him.

“Hi Akaashi-san, please make yourself at home.” He says, before immediately disappearing behind his bedroom door.

Had our weekly meetings been inconvenient for him this whole time? If so, maybe the next should be held elsewhere. Akaashi wonders, a little concerned at his strange behavior as he absentmindedly readjusts the small paper bag on his wrist.

“Is he okay?”

“I think so?” But truthfully, you’re not convinced that he is. “He probably just wanted some time alone.” You revise, walking him to the dining table.

“Oh, I brought you and Ennoshita-san some Yaki Tomorokoshi by the way.” He waves the bag gently, its cotton strings left the faintest mark on his slim wrist.

“Akaashi-kun! You really didn’t have to.” You can’t help but smile, grateful that the people in your life had been so kind and thoughtful. “If you’re up for it, maybe we can all watch a movie later so we can enjoy the dinner that Ennoshita-kun cooked, your Yaki Tomorokoshi, and the pineapple pecan cake I bought!”

A soft smile graces his lips as his hooded eyes linger on the wooden ground, a little too shy to meet yours. “That would be nice.”

And you beam at his response, finding warmth radiate your heart as your scalp tingles, nearly exploding at how precious you thought his little smile was.

What started off as a distraction from Ennoshita, only worsened when you and Akaashi grew closer through your line of work. He was there with you from the first chapter of your manga, where you’d meet up weekly to discuss revisions. Your meetings usually take place at restaurants, and you find yourself lingering after, ordering some extra sake and Daifuku as you spend the final hours of the night, chatting

He seats himself in his usual spot across from you, and you do the same after you’ve placed his grilled corn in the fridge, next to your dessert and Ennoshita’s cooking.

His quiet demeanor, professionalism, and calculating eyes were intimidating. but they gradually grow on you overtime, when you learn that he is just as shy as you are, and is also prone to occasional clumsiness as well. It’s really endearing.

One day, as you two were waiting for your checks to return, he’d asked about your manga’s source of inspiration, reasoning that he’d also been in search for his own, so he can write his short novel.

So with some hesitance, you described Ennoshita to him, without the mention of his name, and it got him very fascinated.

“Is this person, who inspired your protagonist, around? I’d love to meet him one day.”

It felt strange, describing your deep-rooted fondness for your crush to the other, but you also felt embraced, both by the thought of Chikara and by Akaashi’s undivided attention for you.

“He is, he’s actually my roommate.” You responded, nervously, taking a sip of your warm water as you try to drown the sudden flutter of nervousness with it.

His brow raised slightly, as he leaned on his palm, never dropping the gentle smile that adorned his soft looking lips.

“I’d love to meet him one day. What’s his name?”

“Ennoshita. Ennoshita Chikara.” Your eyes brightened at the mention of your friend’s name, forgetting for a second that you were talking to Akaashi. But when you linked your gaze to his dusty green orbs, your brows quirked when you realized his smile had widened.

“Oh. I know him.”

Since that day, you began offering your apartment for meetings, and it’s been that way for over two years now. Initially, Ennoshita would lock himself in his room to give you and Akaashi some privacy, but when you both assure that his company is welcomed; after all this is his apartment too, he eased up and fell into the routine of reading a book on the couch, while you work quietly at the dining table behind it.

However, you notice he had been distant lately, and you wonder if it had to do with you spending more time with Akaashi.

Ennoshita is on his bed, head spinning in a cocktail of thoughts. His fingers lightly graze the expanse of his exposed abs as he sighs, pulling his shirt back down and firmly lacing his hands over it.

That was a close one.

He’s lost track of time, it felt like hours since he’d locked himself in his room, taking steady breaths as he slowly glided his fingers over his sensitive skin, a desperate simulation of skin ship, to slowly suppress the urge of pleasuring himself to the thought of you and Akaashi. It was a rough battle as his mind constantly alternates between what it must feel like to plant gentle kisses to your soft skin, then to his calloused hands firmly running across the terrain of Akaashi’s sculpted body. Both souls so beautiful, yet so different in physique.

But what he yearns is beyond physical, he’s known you like the back of his hand, and your presence comforts him. You are like flowers in spring, the sweet smell of honey nectar, and your smile is the reason cloud dances to the wind under the warm presence of the tangerine sun.

He smiles in admiration of your diligence, when he would walk out of his room for water, in the middle of the night, to see you curled up by the dining table, your blue mechanical pencil in hand as you scribbled away at your manga panels. The paper lantern above you casted a cocoon of soft light that protected you from the darkness, and for a moment, it felt like he was watching you under the inky sea, and you are a mythical creature that emitted light.

He truly misses his days in Karasuno, when you would meet him after his practice to bounce story ideas for your manga, underneath the sunset’s performance, sitting side by side on the roof of an academic building.

“Oh!! Maybe Imogen and Habiki grew up in a rural area together, Habiki’s parents run a bakery shop while Imogen’s family owns an alteration store.” You say, waving your voice recorder in excitement, making sure it’s still going.

“I like that! Maybe there’s something special about this rural area. A noteworthy wonder that Habiki would instantly be reminded of when Imogen writes him letters while he is in war.” Ennoshita added, leaning back on his hands as he looked up to the sky in thought.

Screenwriting and storytelling had always interested him, and brainstorming with you inspired him to make his own films one day, maybe after your manga is done, so you can keep staring at the sun while daydreaming together.

You mimicked his stance, but instead of looking to the sky, your gaze shifted to him with a content smile. He is so beautiful: his gentle gaze unwavering as his mellow orbs embraced the splashes of pinkish hue in its glimmer, and the small smile that grazed his lips are kissed by the reflection of the fiery sky. For once, you wished you could turn into the sun, just so you can envelope his smooth skin with your warmth.

Then you were struck with an idea.

“What if…” You began, “What if there are these blue flowers that could only be grown in that area, and Imogen would always harvest and send pressed blue flowers to Habiki. He would then decorate his journal with it, sometimes even using it as a bookmark until it no longer hold its shape. It would remind him of the times when he would sit next to her, after work at his parent’s bakery, in the middle of the blue flower field, just watching sunset draw its curtains. ”

He spent a moment, allowing your imagination to sink in. Sometimes he wishes he could be your Habiki and you could be his Imogen.

You felt warmth blossom your cheeks, unsure if that was from the sun or if it was from embarrassment that you may have potentially given away the fact that Ennoshita had been your inspiration for Habiki all along.

“I like that a lot. Have you ever thought about how you’re going to end your manga? A striking image that summarizes Habiki’s long journey through war and the struggles he went through to try to find his way back home?”

Then your gaze faltered from the sky, as you looked down to your dirty shoes, subsequently tucking your chin between the basin of your knees. “No…I don’t know. All this time, I may have just been day dreaming. I don’t know if I have the talent to-“

“Y/n-san…” His tone grew serious, drawing your eyes to meet his. “There was never a moment when I’ve doubted your talent, and you shouldn’t either. I know this is something you’ve always wanted to do; to make your manga, and if it is truly what you want, I genuinely think you should pursue it.” He reached over to place a firm hand on your shoulder. “And I know starting something from scratch can be scary, but I am here for you.”

“What if no one even bothers to read it?” You sighed, turning away with a frown.

“Then I’m going to buy all 10, no 100, more like 1,000 copies of your manga and read it over and over again.” He chuckled warmheartedly. A strange flutter in your gut, slowly ascended your body at his laugh. “So what if it is a fail, you poured your heart into it, and in the end, you can come out of it knowing that you gave it your best. As long as you never give up and stick with it, even when it feels like the world is against you, is a success in its own.”

Your lips transformed into the largest smile, brows twitching in an attempt to hold back happy tears. He studied you, gaze darting between your lips and glassy eyes, breath hitched as he lost control of his body, slowly leaning towards your awaiting lips. You find yourself doing the same, your beating heart screamed to be free, to follow its will.

However…

“Chikara-kun.” You breathed, verbally forcing yourself to stop, and he did the same. “If we ever end up in the same area after university…will you be my roommate?”

He sat back up, and after a moment, he blinked away his rejection as he lifted his gaze from the concrete floor to your nervous expression with a soft smile. “Of course.”

And just like that, the sun had fully set, raven wings consumed any remaining sprinkle of flames and embers from the sky.

Does she still have the voice recording from that day? Did his facade falter when he said yes to being your roommate? If only he could have some of that audio to relive his memory with.

Like a torch that had been passed on, you no longer come to him for ideas on your manga as often as you did, instead, you would do so with Akaashi. He’s not upset, but simply nostalgic for those special moments he had with you, if anything, he’s more than happy you’ve come this far. Your manga had been selling prolifically with the help of your publisher, and is now a chapter away from being complete.

This meeting that you are having with Akaashi would probably be one of the last few chances he’d get to see him.

He chuckles under his breath, what a small world.

Though he’s never been very close with Fukurodani’s setter, he’s well aware of his existence since training camp at Saitama. The way he was able to maintain his calm demeanor, regardless of how emotional his best friend, Bokuto may be, is very noteworthy. He’d sneak glances at him during lunch and every time they walked by one another in the dorm hallway or during their tournaments, their eyes would automatically lock, followed by a small nod; a silent gesture of acknowledgement, mutual respect, and…admiration?

There’s something irresistibly charming about Akaashi that he could not put a finger on, and it doesn’t help that he only got to view him from a distance.

He’d hooked up with a few women during his time in university, especially on nights when he’s desperately touch starved for you, but he never thought he’d be into men. When he’d met Akaashi, perspective widened, gender and preferences are no longer black and white, as it became fluid, like a string of yarn, dancing care freely in the wind. His charm is beyond gender, it is his own.

However, he’d never thought too much about it because the opportunity to grow closer were slim, training being hectic and all. Until recently, when you would bring him here for weekly meetings.

What started with small glances when he’d enter and politely remove his shoes, perfectly lining it in parallel to the edge of the mud carpet, to the way he looks at you in fascination, leaning on his palm with a soft smile as you ramble vibrantly about your narrative ideas.

He’s not upset, not one bit, if anything, it’s comforting to know someone finds you as special as he does. Someone who could care for you when he couldn’t be there right away. It’s a confusing mix of attraction: your familiar comfort and warmth, like freshly done laundry, so warm and comfy to lay on, versus his exciting, serene, and unexplored presence, like the sweet smell of petrichor as he bikes by a rice field after it’d rained; both equally as attractive and inviting.

Then his phone lights up beside him, intervening his train of thought.

Y/n ☀️ [20:28]

We’re all good!! Ready for din din whenever you are 🐷

He chuckles softly at the endearing way you text.

Chikara [20:28]

Be out in a sec! :)

Then he sets his phone down, takes a deep breath, and palms his bulging member. Quickly realizing:

I guess I’m going to need more than a second…

You shut your folder with a sigh, drawing both knees to your chest, and leaning it against the table, clearly comfortable under his presence to allow your antics to slip. “Thanks again, for coming over, Akaashi. I can’t believe we’re a meeting away from ending this manga, where’d the time go.”

He nods, discreetly fiddling his fingers under the desk while maintaining a calm expression.

“Yeah.” It was all he could say, fearful that his calm facade may slip.

What now, is this it? Should he say farewell next time? Or should he treat it like other meetings, with the excitement to see each other again. Are we more than just acquaintances? Would it be strange if he asks you and Ennoshita to spend more time with him outside work?

Frankly, this had been a reality he never wanted to accept; that the next meeting will potentially be the last time he’ll get to work with you. The industry is so fast moving, he already has another job lined up for the next manga he’ll be editing, and it will be over 50 volumes long, which meant that even if you were to come up with another, he might not even be available for it.

For a moment, the apartment is unusually still, a stark contrast to the lively meeting that had just ended. Silence weighs heavily, but you allow it to sink, too bummed to fight it off. So you’re surprised when Akaashi attempts to dissipate it.

“Have you thought about the ending?”

Your brows furrow, suddenly feeling a lump in your throat, thinking back to the boy who began it all, under the warm presence of the setting sun. “Maybe, I have some ideas…”

You hate being nostalgic, but you realize you no longer designate a time to brainstorm and chat with Chikara, sadly wondering if he’s bothered by it; having Akaashi swoop in and take that away from him. No…he’s always been someone who’d go out of his way to help a stranger without expecting anything in return, he’s probably happy that you’ve come as far as you had.

“That’s okay.” Lifting your chin to the sound of his voice, soaring conflict in your mind calms to the sight of his timid smile. “You have some time, hopefully you’ll find something that really inspire your ending. Whatever it is, you have an amazing sense of judgement and I am sure it will be absolutely stunning.” His fiddling worsens, as he hope he had not come off too strong; he just wanted to express his believe in you.

And just like that, his comforting tide washes over your heated shore, soothing the stretch of searing rocks with its cool rhythmic ascension, like the rise and fall of a chest. Your furrowed brows relax and the lump in your throat dissolves, you feel fluid, like fine sand that slips through your fingers and on to bare feet in shy splatters.

With a smile, you respond with a nod. “Thank you, Akaashi.”

Standing up suddenly, before silence could re-materialize, you saunter to the kitchen, turning over your shoulder to smile at his confused expression. “I’m going to start heating up our food, Ennoshita-kun should be out anytime soon.”

He stands and follows you, socked footsteps barely making any sound on the wooden floor as he walks. “I can help.” You hum happily in response as you hand him one of the food containers to heat up.

Punching in the digits to your microwave, he leans against the counter as he watches you rummage through the fridge, occasionally rising to set containers on the marbled surface before kneeling back down to grab more.

Weekly meetings with you had meant so much more to him than he had anticipated, it was the first time he’d ever allowed editing sessions to be as untraditional as it had been; usually only keeping it to offices or restaurants, never at residences. However, your passion and genuine personality made it so easy for him to come out of his shell and converse more openly.

Every night when he’d return home from seeing you, he’d spend countless hours by the balcony, looking to the sparkling stars that scatter the sky like freckles, serenaded by wandering crickets and shy fireflies, with a notebook in hand. He lists the wonderful things he’d noticed about you and Ennoshita, and scribble short poems that he is a little too embarrassed to admit it is one. But just like your passion for drawing and Ennoshita’s interests in making short films in his spare time, writing is his way of encapsulating memory, to tell his own story.

Truthfully, he’s always wanted to work for a literature publication, but he can’t thank fate enough for introducing you and Ennoshita to him through this current job. His passion for literature had been adamant since he was in his adolescence, constantly blabbering attempted eloquence to his parents. As he’s gotten older, a small tree of fear roots his heart, afraid he would never find inspiration to write.

Until recently, that fear had subsided, as he would return from your meeting with a smile, eager to glide his fountain pen on the clean, stark pages of his dark blue leather journal, a present from you on his 24th birthday.

Once all the food had been heated and brought out to the coffee table in front of your small couch, Ennoshita finally emerges from his bedroom in a pair of grey sweatpants. “Sorry I took a while!” He smiles apologetically as he descends the stairs.

“No worries!! Dinner looks amazing, thank you for making it!” You respond, miming a chef kiss gesture at the food in front of you with a bright smile.

Ennoshita stops mid step, brows raised at your sudden burst of energy, slowly settling on a wide smile that gleams through his half lidded eyes. “Of course, Y/n-san. I hope there’s enough for the three of us.”

“I know I’m an unexpected addition, but thank you for letting me have some of your delicious cooking.” Akaashi’s eyes meet Ennoshita’s warm ones for a second, before it falters to the ground. His cheeks warm, and his expression may appear calm, but his fiddling fingers say otherwise.

Ennoshita’s eyes widen, suddenly feeling the urge to explode from the warmth that surfaces his subtly puffed chest. “I’m…I’m happy you enjoy them”.

“Akaashi-kun also brought some Yaki Tomorokoshi, so I think between your food, that, and my cake, we should be pretty good.” You add, hopping on to the center of the couch and bringing your knees to rest against your chest as you look to them, a remote in hand. “Would you be down for The Handmaiden by Park Chan-wook?” (This movie is so good omg, HIGHLY recommend watching it.)

They nod simultaneously, feeling the sofa dip significantly as they wordlessly join you on the couch, Ennoshita to your left and and Akaashi to your right. You giggle at how huge the two of them are in contrast to the tiny loveseat, turning around to unfold the fleece blanket and casting it over the three of you like a bird spreading its wings.

“We’re going to get food on the blanket!” Ennoshita jokes, folding the soft material so it only covers his back. You laugh, knowing full well that he would say that, but you did it anyway.

Meanwhile, Akaashi bundles the front of his blanket around him like a half burrito, silently reaching over for his Yaki Tomorokoshi, and holding it with both hands as he eats, eyes watching you and Ennoshita comfortably: This feels like home, under both your warm presence, and he cannot express his gratitude to finally meet someone that makes him so content.

Halfway through the movie, with all your empty dishes in the sink, the three of you are bundled under the same plushy blanket as the plot grows darker and darker with twists you’d never expect. You can’t help but dig your curled toes a little deeper into the cushion, while Ennoshita shifts toward the edge of his seat, as Akaashi leans further back, head resting against the back cushion. Three set of eyes, trained firmly to the illuminating screen with great intensity.

Then out of nowhere, you are hit with one of the hottest and most beautifully shot sex scenes you’ve ever seen. (Yea, like damn, it got me feeling things when I watched it 👀 If you’ve seen this movie, you know what I’m talking about.) Suddenly, the pressure to stop your eyes from diverging off screen becomes paramount, the three of you scramble to shackle your imagination before it scurries off to other lewd fantasies that extend beyond the movie.

Umm…is this where you joke about it to elevate the awkwardness? But dammit, the scene was too well done, you can’t think of anything silly to say.

You all visibly stiffen, suddenly hyper aware of the way your outer legs and shoulders touch, feeling your respective cores heat and breath hitch at the attempt to steady it. The couch suddenly feels like a bubble, frustratingly suffocating, as it confines the three of you in this tight predicament. But when you try to make yourself smaller, so your bodies are not in contact, your hands accidentally brush theirs, and you could not have pulled them away any faster than you had, mentally cursing at the way electricity courses through your skin like wildfire.

The little hand grazing accident heightened the tension, as Akaashi is no longer able to keep his quirk in check, instantly bringing clammy fingers to fiddle on his lap. Distracted by his movement, you were unaware of Ennoshita’s glance, quickly shifting back to the screen when you turn to him. Gosh, how he wishes he could at least give you a small kiss on your warm cheeks.

Gulping at how the sofa on-screen closely mimics the color of the one you are seated on, you will yourself from overthinking; it’s fine, your activities on it are as different as night and day. Totally fine…Puffing your cheeks like a goldfish, you exhale steadily, but the sound did not go unnoticed by two pair of glimpsing eyes.

In the movie, two characters kneel before one another, intoxicated in their share of yearning kisses for any care in the world. This short sequence drags on because the sexual tension in the air is as dense as hardened concrete.

Here’s the scene from the movie. I censored it out for u LOL.

You wonder…wonder how it would feel to draw them to your lips…Would they resist? Or would it shatter all this tension and bring forth clarity to the complication of your friendship. No…you shouldn’t be thinking these things, it’s wrong, so wrong, and your friendship is as clear as day…right?

But then you realize you may not be the only one with this curiosity.

If your friendship were purely platonic…what’s with the sexual tension?

The two men shift, playing it out as if they were stretching their sore muscles from poor posture, but it was actually a desperate attempt to subtly readjust their growing erections. You noticed, you totally did, and decides to take this opportunity to cross your legs tightly, relying on the soft blanket to shield your flexed inner thighs, sinfully enjoying the friction your denim offers with its thick seams.

Ennoshita’s and Akaashi’s mind are whirling as they try to come up with a solution to the potentiality of you noticing their growing members, thinking of different excuses, only to resurface with none.

Ennoshita debates if an excuse to the restroom would seem too obvious that he’s ridiculously turned on, while Akaashi wonders what Bokuto would do in this situation, since he’s always so up front and unabashed about most things. Then, by sheer accident, their eyes meet, cheeks instantly erupt in flames as they turn away non-subtly.

Is Akaashi also sporting an erection? Ennoshita wonders.

Is Ennoshita…really turned on by this too? Akaashi questions.

Meanwhile, you glance between the two, hand slowly creeping between your legs, pushing a little further into your throbbing crotch as awkwardness transform to heat.

Have you been misreading their signs? Had you been in their way this whole time? But you weren’t upset either, because the image of them, completely nude, in each other’s embrace, kneeling on the couch as their sculpted bodies merge under the soft glow of tungsten, back dimples kissed by the watchful moon, is unbearably, and ridiculously arousing.

You’re turned on by their flustered attempts at subduing their body’s natural response for sex, thankful your anatomy is not as outwardly obvious during arousal. Such gentlemen, refusing to acknowledge their mutual sexual desires.

A sudden craving for physical contact manifests as your eyes train to the television with a degree of intensity. But how should you approach this, and with who?

This is it, don’t think too hard. But were you really the one operating your thoughts? Or was it simply your mind being weary of your hesitance.

It didn’t matter, because your body had decided, hands snaking timidly outward, like a chick, spreading its wings for the first time. The stakes are so high, but you are already in the act, there’s no turning back. When your delicate fingers brush the back of their hands under the blanket, they jump at the sudden sensation of your tenderness, clearly aware that it is not a coincidence this time.

They turn to you simultaneously, lips agape and eyes widened in surprise, but you simply look between them with great curiosity, eyes so round and unintentionally coy, like a fawn meeting its pals for the first time, attempting to study their thoughts when you hesitantly hold them firmly, soft hands curling against their large palms, no longer calloused from the lack of volleyball practice.

Your lips open and shut before you stop it all together with your teeth, chewing nervously. So effortlessly alluring, like bright red rose petals, sinking and reemerging from clear water, so teasing and erratic, you just want to scoop it tenderly with both hands and draw it to your lips to still its motion. Their dark eyes are on you with a gulp, as you try to form words, but the only thing that escapes are short breathes; a cross between a sigh and desperate gasps, dying to hear some sort of response from either or them, feeling so stranded by your boldness.

And your thoughts are heard, when you feel both their large palms tighten around yours: Ennoshita’s a little clammy while Akaashi’s is shaky, but they relax you nevertheless.

“Y/n-san.”

Ennoshita breathes, cheeks incredibly warm as he mentally curses his tongue for slipping your name a little too soon. Then without a word, like the day when he was simply an eager boy trying to kiss you, he leans forward, soft eyes slowly flutter shut with every distance he crosses, relieved to see that you are also doing the same, and when you meet him in the middle, it’s as if your life had been on pause, finally discovering the courage to resume.

He smiles gently, bathing in immense satisfaction when your soft lips finally meets his plush ones in a featherlike kiss. Pressure taps at his hooded lids, tempted to burst in tears as he feels so relieved, so freaking happy to claim your lips. The kiss was so soft, like the legs of dancing butterflies, his broad chest rumbles in a low chuckle at the ticklish sensation that lingers on his smile, bringing his other hand to caress the side of your warm cheeks lovingly. He’s found closure, no longer able to imagine himself thinking back in “what ifs” to that moment, as he interlaces his long fingers with yours.

You pull apart, still drunken in disbelief that this is the same boy you went to high school with, the boy who sparked your career and had always been there for you. Then you’re suddenly overwhelmed by how much he’d grown into a man; jaws much sharper and features more defined, but the soft smiles he share with you had never changed, and that is how you know he’s still the same person you’ve fallen in love with from the very beginning.

He IS your Habiki.

But you snap back to reality when Akaashi’s palm loosens, a second away from slipping through your fingers, like a petal that had been whisked by the wind. Instead, you interlace his finger with yours, turning to look into his eyes intently. He’s caught of guard by your overwhelming attention, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow his thickened saliva from hoarding nervous breathes, heart banging frantically at the bursting blood and vessels that surrounds it.

Did he offend you? Should he leave? Her and Ennoshita are clearly meant to b-

Heat blooms in his cheeks, when you draw the back of his hand to your tender lips for permission, shattering his fragile facade as warmth flows out of his open heart like an erupted volcano, melting his entire being as he is tempted to sink further into your couch. However, his spine refuses to curl as it keeps him erect, helpless to its command like a marionette.

Should he kiss you? Is that what he wants? Or is he misreading your si-

His eyes were blank, as he never registered your face growing closer, and by the time he’d return to the present, he could feel your soft minty breath against his pointy nose, your long lashes cast a shadow over your vibrant eyes, robbing it of any glint as you look to his lips, then back up to his dilating pupils. His thoughts are cut short again when your lips brush his, testing the waves before fully submerging in his cool stretch of seawater, your lips are warm, in comparison to his cool ones, but the juxtaposition in temperature is stimulating.

You pull back a little, staring at his flustered expression that grew hungrier the longer he stares right back, you’ve stirred a tide that’s ready to draw you back with its beckoning dance. Then you’re back at it, harder this time, too drunken for each other’s magnetism to recall who was the first person to lean, as you bring the back of your entwined hand to brush at the area next to his fluttering lashes, so thick and alluring like fine owl feathers. Ennoshita watches you in fascination, thumb grazing the top of your hand; a gesture to remind you of his warm presence.

When you pull apart for breathes, Akaashi felt a surge of confidence as he sits up, green eyes drawing in Ennoshita’s brown ones, as he return his look with a blush, bringing his free hand to nervously rub away the warm tingles at his nape. Akaashi’s eyes falter timidly for a moment, before it returns with greater intensity.

No, he can’t back down, he needs to get this out in the open now.

“Ennoshita-kun…”

His eyes may appear calm, but his voice was merely a whisper that’s been thrusted into the silent atmosphere of the room, barely making it over soft mumbles from the movie that’s been long forgotten. He suddenly feels so small, like a lost kitten wailing for help, but he knows the tension had been slowly melting, and the only way to surpass this fully is by also taking initiative.

“May I kiss you too?” He asks, frankly unsure of how to initiate a kiss with someone that is not seated right beside him.

Both yours and Ennoshita’s eyes widen momentarily at his straightforwardness, before it curls into a small chuckle, finding his shyness endearing; seems like his calm demeanor was a defense mechanism to his awkwardness after all. 🥺

Was that too bold?

He was initially a little embarrassed, but is also relieved the tension in the room is close to gone.

Ennoshita brings his free hand to caress his cheek, gently drawing him over you and towards him with a smile. “I would love that, Akaashi-kun.”

And with his reassurance, they lean to one another in perfect synchronization, flushed lips colliding like the sun’s reunion with the horizon, their passion drizzling onto the water’s rippling surface in bursts of tangerines and scarlets. Someone who they thought were unattainable, no longer a reality as they hold each other firmly, hands coming up to entwine next to their moving heads, lips falling into a rhythm, as their defined jaws dance to their passion.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as your core clenches in arousal at the sight of both your crushes, sharing an intimate moment right in front of you. It is like the fantasy you’ve recently envisioned as you were watching the movie, but this is even better than what the expanse of your mind is capable of picturing. What started as separate admiration, turns out even better when you see that they had also been struggling with the concept of mutual crushing.

They pull apart, but not fully, Akaashi gently tilts his head to lovingly brush the tip of his nose against Ennoshita’s lips, still too enchanted by his warmth to leave. Ennoshita’s heart flutters at his coy gesture, inhaling shakily when Akaashi looks up to his orbs, incredibly fascinated by the way his pupils dilate, consuming steel green rings like a beating heart. Then they simultaneously turn, catching you in the act of lingering gaze as you imprint the beauty of their attraction in mind, wishing that you had your drawing pad to capture this moment on paper.

“Y/n-san…” Akaashi begins, gaze shifting sideways as he scrambles to string words that describe his feelings, however, his own understanding was never fully apparent to begin. To his relief, Ennoshita glances at him before looking back at you, finishing his sentence.

“I like you a lot, Y/n-san. I’ve always had, since Karasuno. I regret not kissing you the week before graduation…but now that I get to be here with you, as someone more than just your roommate, I want to make it clear that I’ve always liked you.” Then he turns to Akaashi.

“Akaashi-kun….I enjoy all the times you’ve spent with us, I may not know you as well as y/n does, but I’ve always been drawn to you since training camp. I like you, and I’d love to get to know you better, no longer from a distance, but right here with you.”

He looks down to your entwined fingers, arms forming a circle, this is the moment he’d always dreamt of. “I still don’t know what’s going to happen after…but I want this kiss to be a start of something, a new beginning to our relationship…if it’s what you want.”

You melt at his genuineness…He always says the right words at the right time, a great trait of a leader, and that is why you never doubted his ability as the team captain after Daichi had graduated. He can hold your hands through the wildest thunderstorm, and you’d feel like he could protect you from the inevitable temperament of nature.

“I like you a lot too, Chikara. I always had.”

“I like you too, Ennoshita-kun” Akaashi responds, eyes widening slightly when he realizes he may have accidentally cut you off, but when he turns to look at you apologetically, you just laugh it of, visibly relaxing his shoulders to the sound of your voice.

Then like a synchronized flock of starlings, you and Akaashi place gentle kisses on Ennoshita’s cheeks, eyeing each other for his consent, before slowly trailing down his defined jaws then to his long neck, now with confessions out of the way, you’re craving something more physical. He resists the urge to scrunch his shoulders, both your breaths tickling him at once, instead, he tilts his chin with shuddery breathes, allowing more room for you to explore; sensation so overwhelming but this is only just the beginning.

“I’ve never been good with words.” You breath coyly, stopping in between kisses to nibble at the bottom of his earlobe where the vertical meets horizontal, earning yourself a gasp as his body tingles. “But let me show you how much I’ve always wanted you, Chikara-kun.” He shivers at the way your voice grow softer, slowly turning to air by the time you say his name; it reminds him of the goosebumps he’d get when wind howls between the cracks of his window, a lullaby so quiet but enchanting.

Instead of responding verbally, his eyes roll to the ceiling before it flutters his shut, exhaling soft shudders as he slowly leans back on the arm rest with the guide of your hand. Meanwhile, Akaashi remains silent, but his gestures speak the opposite; he wants to express the same message through his undivided attention and touches.

Neither of you expected this moment to escalate the way it did, perhaps it was the lingering sexual tension that hung freely for years, or it may be the movie that reminded you of how touch starved you all had been, but whatever brought you here, had happened for a reason.

Because this moment, right here, right now, is where you belong.

Kisses turn to touches, and touches turns to labored breathes when Ennoshita pulls back from his heated kiss with Akaashi, wet lips looking a little bruised from passion, as Akaashi’s eyes are still heavily lidded, gaze glued on his parted lips like it’s an addiction.

Meanwhile, you trail soft kisses down Ennoshita’s neck, lingering momentarily on his bobbing Adams apple, while your other hand slowly finds its way to his crotch.

“Do you want to go to my room?”

He asks between labored breathes, nodding towards the corridor you spent years denying each other’s attraction, feeling your teasing fingers edge dangerously closer to his throbbing member, painfully pressed against the confines of his sweat pants.

>>> PART TWO

Taglist (open): @shhhlikeme @ceo-of-daichi @karasu-hoes @super-noya @nonexistent-social-life​ @scorpiosanssexy @tedwardos

[musicallisto]

without fail tag

THE “WITHOUT FAIL” TAG — List five things that you, WITHOUT FAIL, weave into or explore in your stories, whether it be specific themes or tropes, character archetypes, allusions to other literary works, what have you! It really can be anything that you consistently include in your narratives for whatever reason. Then invite others to share theirs by tagging them!

I was tagged by @deadlymodern - thank you so much for tagging me, this tag is amazing and I loved reading your answers! I can tell you have a very thorough approach to your writing & themes, it’s so cool!

(tagging people at the bottom of the post if you want to skip)

1. flowers, skies & words

grouping them together since they're all related to a wider, general literary device: symbols and allegories in my stories. Without fail, I’ll always use flower symbolism to evoke certain themes, places, characters... withered petals for death, blossoms for youth, you name it, it’s probably been in one of my stories. just consider my main WIP’s title, The Grave of Roses (Le Tombeau des Roses). It’s a little basic, and has been used time and time before in literature, but I still love it.

Other elements that often make it into my stories as symbols are planes (because I love aviation obviously, but also as a symbol of breaking free, independence, of man’s domination on mortality, what with having tamed the skies, but also his frail condition and how everything hangs on a thread). Also, the sky is pretty.

And lastly, words, stories, novels always have their place in my stories, and more often than not one of my characters is a writer, or someone who uses words and stories as some kind of comfort, outlet, or a driving force.

At its [the tombstone] foot, below the name, red roses piled up, enough of them to cover ten graves. A single vermilion bud, a wind-swept poppy, clashed with the rest of the bouquet, and Samuel knew that it was William's children who had placed it there. Only they knew that he didn't even like roses anymore, and that he would come to lay poppies on his father's memorial every time he returned to London...

The tomb was both smaller and prettier than Samuel imagined, less opulent than England would have wanted to give its precious child. The morning sun, like a caress, illuminated the epitaph, a Latin verse that Samuel had known in the past. “Bury me southward,” he heard William say so clearly that he almost turned around, "so that I can look at England and France in the same breath." His name, however, was drenched in full light, facing east, and inexplicably this saddened Samuel.

“And there it is... it's pretty, don't you think? I don't know if he would have liked it... You probably know it better than I do...”

“And why do you care about that, huh? You don't even believe in God.” “He's a writer. He believes in symbols.” “He believes in vanity, alright.”

“I think he would have liked it anyway,” he nodded in agreement, his eyes glued to the lonely poppy. (Translation)

2. parental roughnesses

this was bound to come, because I feel like we were all pretty fucked up at some point in our lives from our upbringing. I didn’t go for straight up “parental issues” because I don’t deal with like, abusive or absent parents or anything, just complicated relationships between parents and their children, but who still love each other. Oftentimes it has to do with one of the children idealizing the heck out of their parent and slowly realizing that they make mistakes and are not a hero at all, and/or unmeetable expectations and parental pressure. but it’s not like I’m projecting or anything lol

“You never knew Father, William,” Grace stopped him immediately [...]. “Don't you dare pretend you know what it's like.”

“Growing up without a father is not necessarily better than losing him in childhood! Everyone here has suffered from his disappearance, Grace. You have no idea how much I miss him, despite never meeting him. But that's all in the past now. And there's no reason for there to be another war.”

“Of course there is!” she retorted ferociously, despite the tears spilling from her eyes. “Of course there is, and they're going to send you there like Father, and you'll want to play hero like Father, and then you'll get shot down like a dog! Where's it going to be this time, huh? Above Luxembourg, just like him, or maybe somewhere in your beloved France?” (Translation)

3. patriotism

One way or another, all my stories always deal with patriotism, nationalism, pride in one’s country and more broadly speaking one’s relationship to it. It questions what it means to belong to a country, to share one culture, one language; does it justify acting in the benefit of one’s country, and where do you draw the line before you intentionnally harm others’; what even is a country, a nationality, and it what sense do you belong to one, and what do you owe it, if you even owe it anything? Is it wrong or right to feel love and attachment to your place of origin? And what does it mean to fight for your country, for its values, for its people? & other things of the like. It probably stems from my own experience as a binational person; growing up, I was always asked stuff like “but who do you root for in a football game” “but are you like really French or not?” “if Spain and France got into a war what would you do?”, and this all lead me to question “am I more French or am I more Spanish - which one am I, and which one would others perceive me to be - do I need to pick a side? And how can I express my affection to these places that raised me both differently, without undermining the other - or others? can I still be proud of my heritage given the horrors my countries have committed in the past?”. I still haven’t found a definitive answer, so my writing is just me throwing trails out to the world and hoping I’ll figure it out someday. that’s why my stories often have a war setting; firstly I just love historical fiction, and secondly it’s the perfect backdrop for all these questions to unfold.

William laughed at the idea - he, a true Frenchman! It was a very silly thought. He may have loved what he had seen of Charlotte's country, but England was not to be ashamed of any other land, for it was the only one he would love until his last breath. (Translation.)

4. just a hint of supernatural

I love me a good ghost story, and I’m a fan of everything spooky, but what’s subtly spooky, and not the gory, in-your-face horror. This particular theme may have increased since I saw The Haunting of Hill House which completely OBLITERATED ME with how it uses the house and its ghosts to tell a story of family and trauma and memories... but I’ve loved ghost stories forever. Another piece that truly resonated with me was One Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad) by Gabriel García Márquez. It was my first dive into the world of magical realism and I didn’t make it out of there the same person I was when I entered. This one is not necessarily included in every piece without fail, because some are just too anchored in reality, but if it’s not a straight-up spirit or an otherworldly creature, I’ll always find a way to include an aspect of superstition, a myth, a legend, a tale from faraway that is neither proved nor disproved throughout the story. It truly adds to the atmosphere of the world, even in a very realistic and gritty setting, I believe.

I hear murmurs of legends among the soldiers. [...] One of those stories caught my attention, I must admit... It is not very special, nothing more than a children's tale, but I thought it was beautiful enough to please your Romantic soul. Some pilots speak of a cemetery, somewhere in the countryside north of London, which has something mystical about it, lost in the flowers that sway as far as the eye can see, in the calm rhythm of the wind, wrapped in the heady scent of eternal spring, and where the bravest warriors would go to rest forever, tired of their exploits and the continual explosions. No one knows exactly where it is or what to do to be buried there, but this beautiful image simply floats like a dream in the minds of many and, I confess, in mine as well since I first heard about it.

It is said that there only flowers dare to disturb the heroes in their sleep... This fragment of silence is called the Grave of the Roses.

So if I were to leave you, if you were to hear that I am gone...

With a bit of luck, that is where you will find me.

5. love

this one is broader and less obvious than you might think. Of course, I’ll always, always implement an element of romance to my story (and more often than not it’s angsty with star-crossed lovers or insurmountable obstacles or forbidden romances and whatnot), but there’s more to it. I don’t think I have ever written a story that is entirely grim and bleak, simply because I do not believe the world is built like that. I’ve said time and time again that love is my favorite thing in the world, and I believe it is the force that drives us all forward and connects us all together; love is, to me, the truest power of humanity, and its inherent purpose. And love covers all subjects and all types of relationships, but my absolute favorite ways to explore and show love in my stories is through long-lasting, rock-solid friendships (because friendships are often overlooked both in fiction and real life), and just a grandiose love letter to humanity as a whole. I’m an optimist, and many people who have suffered more than I have would deem me naive for thinking this - and I cannot blame them -, but as Anne Frank put it more bravely than I ever could, “despite everything, I still think humans are good at heart”. My stories are always born out of love and made for love. For the love of humanity and kindness and literature and love of myself, too, because sometimes I just like rereading the words and thinking, “wow, I’ve made it this far. look at me go.” In a word, yes, I would say that is what it boils down to; my work, but also what I hope my entire life and being will be. An ode to love.

“He admired you and truly loved you, you know. You were a good leader, I'm sure, and a good friend, above all.”

He thought she was going to put her hand on his shoulder, and prepared to bend to avoid it, but instead she came to rest on the polished marble of the tomb, which was already beginning to erode at the corners. The soft light bathed her hand, and Samuel's on the other corner, still resting above William's surname, the only thing he had been proud of from beginning to end.

“And I loved him too. I loved them all. If you only knew...”

well, I got carried away, as I always do when talking about my writing, but it made me miss it so much. I haven’t worked on any of my projects since literally October and I’m feeling the void rn. anyway, thank you again for enabling me to ramble about what I love most, Thais! and I’m tagging @softeninglooks, @lxncelot, @myriadimagines​, @swanimagines & @randomfandomimagine + plus any writer who wants to talk about their marvelous work <3

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and THE GRYPHON’S QUEST! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 17 of 19

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

DARING DO

and

THE GRYPHON’S QUEST!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

and

Carmen Pondiego

Cover art by Aranel the Cyborg, now  Wind the Mama Cat

29584 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 03/29/16

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony.  Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.  

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Chapter 17. The Coward’s Weapon!

Daring Do was pleasantly surprised at just how good her half brother Blendin was at specimen preparation.  There was another surprise for her too.

Friend spent much of her time crooning to her Eagle eggs.  She did frequently leave her nest and lend her green magic to the task, usually greatly simplifying the work.  It was the greatest assistance at particularly difficult or delicate times in the preparation of the failed nymphs that she had loved so dearly and watched over for so many centuries.

Almost any time that they took a break from the arduous task before them, Friend would leave the eggs and nest protected by a nearly invisible glow of green magic.  She would take a place beside Daring Do and purr/croon softly.  Daring Do found real rest and comfort in the love that Friend shared with her.  She often rested her head against the changeling’s horn and shared thought and memory.

It was from that sharing that she learned something surprising about Friend. When her hive was attacked by war equipped and battle ready unicorns, Friend defended the hive’s precious eggs.  

She slaughtered ten of the enemy, literally tearing them to pieces in the defense of those eggs.  When her shared hive mind felt the Queen die, she went briefly berserk.  Four of the ten attacking unicorns that she killed fell in those few moments.

It was duty and love for the eggs that she tended that brought her back to something resembling sanity.  Taking all of the eggs that she could carry, she fled into the night.

The world outside of the hive was a strange and confusing place at first.  By luck alone, she found a long disused road that led to the mountains.  She did the best that she could but it was not enough.  One by one, she felt the spark of returned love die out of each of the eggs.  Her heart was torn asunder by the loss.

Daring Do knew the rest of the story.  What she did not know was the sheer depth of feeling that Friend had developed for her.  She meant it when she said that Daring Do was Matunen,  Hive Queen, in the ancient tongue of Early Middle Equestrian.

Friend was totally contented for the first time in ages.  That in no way interfered with any whit of her egg tending.

Blendin saw his half sister’s serene relaxation around Friend and was glad. The Apprentice Librarian of the Great Library in him was glad too.  He was learning things about conservation of irreplaceable delicate artifacts and relics that would apply to his work in the Great Library.  

Once everything was ready, he stared at the results of their work in wonder.  He had not only helped to prepare the whole foundation for the creation of an entire intelligent species, he had it and all of his half sister’s notes cataloged for the Great Library!

Together, they sent a note of their progress to the Empress.

The door, upon opening, showed the Empress, Grata, and Hisst, the Right Wing of the Imperial Throne.  The hallway was blocked by heavily armed Imperial Guards in full battle armor.

Daring Do was about to ask if such precautions were necessary when a loud, harsh voice from up the hallway demanded, “This is all Blasphemous!  Even if it were the truth and showed our  ancient roots, it would still be blasphemy!  The Holy Legends declare that Faith alone is sufficient and seeking truth beyond its holy pages undermines Faith!

“Whatever is here must be destroyed!”

The Empress responded, “What is about to be destroyed is YOU, Krapper!  You have fifteen seconds to be around the curve and out of OUR sight before I order my troops to open fire!”

“You would not dare!”

“Nine seconds left, Krapper.”

There was a clatter of claws on stone as the speaker retreated!

The Empress drew a deep breath, her crest showing disgust.  “The entire lot of First Creation Idiots want to destroy the only real history that our kind has.”

Friend spoke up, “Your Majesty, they are wrong.  This I/we know.  Before I/we loved the eggs that became the nymphs of your kind, I/we saw changelings.  I/we saw unicorns.  I/we saw Eagles. I/we saw pegassi.

“I/we helped matunen Daring Do and brother Blendin to be sure that these failed nymphs truly show how I/we loved the eggs that became the nymphs that are your kind.”

The Empress, crest showing deep thought, began tracing the development of her kind.  She was reading the placards set by each step of the way. Looking over to the true mother of her whole species, she asked, “Why did you go from pony to big cat for our hindquarters?”

Friend crowded over to point as she spoke.  “Not all big cat.  See how these bones go?  That is from the pegassus.  The head was carnivore, Eagle. The hindquarters had to eat meat too or fail.  I/we did see a lion in mountains once, close enough to feel its insides by loving it.  I/we used what I/we knew.”

Grata, crest rippling in laughter, exclaimed, “We are so lucky that she didn’t see a bear!”

After the fit of laughter passed around the room, the Empress asked, “How will this all be presented, Doctor Do?”

Daring Do sketched rapidly.  “The case, to be portable must be of stout woodwork.  The front viewing window should be made of glass that has been spell strengthened like a Magic Net mirror.”

The Empress nodded, crest showing some concern.  “You mentioned not risking the real relics and that is a good idea.  

“We have General Iron Hooves here with some of his munitions experts.  The team that they are consulting with is known to you, though we know that you do not like them much.

“V.I.L.E. Is here.  They have sent Carmen Pondiego, Baron Von Nighthoof, Marehem Skadefryd, and Kiros Asbhy.  I understand that they have also got a number of Agents here too.”

Crest smiling, the Empress went on, “I was warned to be sure that I still have both mandibles of my beak after dealing with them.  However, they will be absolutely honest with family.

“They have several missions.  One is being worked on now with General Ironhooves and his aides.  Another is to be the agency for creating your cases and making the copies for display.  I will be ordering twenty sets.”

Daring Do, looking doubtful, did agree, “I have to admit that when it comes to museum quality duplication, Mom’s company is unexcelled.”  

An all too familiar voice caroled from the doorway, “So sweet to hear you actually say something nice about my company!  Of course we are honest!  V.I.L.E. has never been caught or proved to be guilty of ANY crime at all!

“Suspicions?  Poof!  Suspicion and a cup of tea will get you anything from a nice Bergamont to bag of Lupton’s Worst!

Carmen Pondiego strutted into the room in her trademark porkpie hat and fire engine red dress.  She called over her shoulder, “General, Dear, would you please come in and see for yourself what my daughter found that is causing all this mess?”

General Ironhooves entered the door.  He was in his simple field uniform.

He tipped his Campaign Hat to the Empress and her Wings.  He approached the study tables, examining the relics with care.  He picked up Daring Do’s voluminous field notes and sketches, seeming to leaf through them, except that once in a while he stopped long enough to separate pages that stuck together.

He put down the books and turned to the Empress.  “Ma'am, you have chosen your battlefield perfectly. Better, you have the enemy in the sights of your artillery.

“I hope that it does not come to armed conflict, but if it does, after consulting with Carmen here, I think that you will have a LOT of surprises for them!”

Daring Do managed to look skeptical.  “Only them?”

Before Carmen could snark back, Marehem wandered in, right past the security detail.  He grinned.  “Helps to be a misfortune changel …”

His eyes bugged out.  It was the first time that Daring Do could remember that her uncle Marehem was caught totally off guard!

“An Egg-tender, HERE?  How did that happen?  How can she live without a hive?”

Friend looked up from serenely turning the eggs in the nest.  She smiled as she said, “Matunen Daring Do.”

Uncle M stopped like he’d hit a brick wall headfirst.  “Adora, Matunen?  A queen?”

The Empress nodded, crest rippling amusement.  “It hit us like that too, when we realized that Friend is OVER two thousand years old.  She was the sole survivor of a destroyed hive.

“Tending eggs kept her sane.  She is the Mother who loved an unstable and fatal hybridization into becoming our strong race.  I gather that for her, loving means something other than a simple feeling.”

Marehem got it together to say, “It sure does.  The eggs a queen lays are sort of neutral.  They will develop as random kinds of changelings.  Give them to an Egg-tender and tell her how many of which sort, worker, other egg-tenders, drones, even a queen, and that is what you will get. Their love is a very complex magic that no other kind can do.”

Daring Do, eyes twinkling, suggested, “Make the order for V.I.L.E. twenty one copies.  We will donate one to the Nightmare Wars Collection of the Royal Museum!”

General Ironhooves grinned hugely.  “You really want to shaft those First Creationists, don’t you?”

Daring Do simply said, “Yes.  They defile and deny the history that I have devoted my life to.”

Carmen pointed to the work tables and said, “Will you take a real compliment from your mother, Adora?  This, notes, restorations, preparation and all is a fantastic piece of work.

V.I.L.E. will duplicate it with the greatest of care.  With your permission, we will keep a copy for our own private museum.”

Mutely, Daring Do nodded.

She saw Uncle M talking to a Magic Net mirror and turning it to show everything.

Carmen pointed to an especially fragile relic and said, “Be especially careful of this one, Baron.”

One by one, the laboriously prepared relics, notes and all quietly vanished. General Ironhooves simply noted, “Handy trick, that!”

Daring Do, Friend, with her nest, and Blendin were brought to a large suite with an open airy feeling.  One Gryphon port was open enough for the Eagles to get in and out but not Gryphons.  The rooms were swarmed with Eagles.

Friend immediately shared that soft green magic of hers to include all of the waiting Eagles.  The way that they crowded close about the nest, it was clear that they had been waiting for Friend’s loving magic.  Several shuffled aside and one reached out a beak and snagged Daring Do’s tunic, making her join or get a torn tunic.  She joined the Eagles in luxuriating in the literal glow of Friend’s shared love.

After a few days of resting up, Rahak came by.  Crest at attention, he requested, “Doctor Do, master Blendin, would you come please?  The display copies are ready for examination.”

They followed the Wing Commander back down to the workroom.  There were twenty one large cases of fine solid woodwork, each faced by stout glass armored by a spell to the toughness of steel.  The contents were beautifully displayed to make the whole progression from hippogriff to Gryphon utterly clear.  Each item of the display had its explanatory placard.

Neatly done on each placard was an exact copy of a reference to the actual original Legend Document, with translation. After that part was a clear, simple note explaining the item.

Central to the whole display was Daring Do’s detailed sketch of the remains of the failed nymphs in place, as they were found.

The whole thing had such an impact that Daring Do’s breath drew in, in a way that she had heard so many times as a child riding her mother’s back in a knapsack, when her mother saw some beautiful thing that she was about to steal.

Turning to an equally awestruck Blendin, Daring Do said, “Tell Carmen that this is the best display preparation that I have ever seen.”

“Thank you, dear,” said a familiar voice.  A khaki colored unicorn mare in a form fitting fire engine red dress stepped out of the shadows.  Daring Do was shocked to see bags under her eyes.

Carmen Pondiego told her, “The General is sleeping now.  I have been working along with every agent that I have available.  I cannot tell you what we have been doing.  Imperial Security is involved.  I only hope that it has been enough to prevent the war.”

Rahak suggested, “Let us all prepare for this evening’s banquet.  That is when you will make your presentation, Doctor Do.”

Daring Do was looking around the Imperial Banquet Hall, at the many war banners that fluttered in the light breeze.  There were also the banners of the provinces of the Empire.  The wood and stonework was outstanding for its solidity and rich carving.

Perched on every place that they could find claw room were hundreds of Eagles, looking expectantly at Friend. Her nest had been placed conveniently close to Daring Do’s place.

The dining tables were all set so that every diner could see the big glass fronted case with its display. There were two  small books by each place.

One was a copy of the original document of the Legends, written some time shortly before 54 Post Nightmare Wars.  It had an exact copy of the document itself, a line by line literal translation and a third line in modern Gryphon with notes to explain the meaning of idioms used when the original was written.  No commentaries.  No editing.  Only a foreword explaining that this was a true copy of the Legends that they all revered and tried to follow.  Commentaries were dispensed with in the hope that the reader could understand what the words said and form their own opinions based on solid fact.

It was signed and sealed by the Empress herself.

The other small book contained copies of Daring Do’s expedition notes and sketches that were relevant to the display showing the origin of their species.

The First Created believers started to scream, “Blasphemy!”

The Empress herself cut them off.  “Silence, Krapper!  These are the Legends that you CLAIM to revere!”

“You have left out the rich and ancient commentaries!”

Her crest rippling with laughter, the Empress exclaimed, “Ancient? Krapper, the FIRST commentary was inserted into a small book like this only thirty five years ago!  It had a note that it WAS NOT HOLY WRIT, only opinion.  That note was removed and further commentaries added. More than half of the mass of your book has been added in just the last five years!

“It must be wonderful to be able to write up whatever you please, insert it into the next edition of your book and have it called HOLY WRIT!”

“Our Book is the true Law!  Holy Word is higher than mere secular law!”

“NO, Krapper!  That is direct sedition!  Guards!  Stand behind Krapper!  If he utters one more word of sedition, cut his wing tendons at once.  He will be given the LONG DROP at sunrise for the crime.”

The Empress paused for effect and added, “Now, we have a banquet laid before us.  Let not Krapper’s ill manners spoil your appetite.  After we have eaten, we will hear from Doctor Daring Do, whose actual facts, well documented and proven may provide you with much food for thought.”

The server placed a plate in front of Daring Do, commenting, “I hope that we got it to your taste.  It is a sauced alfalfa steak.  We don’t eat such fare, so we are not much used to cooking it.”

Daring Do replied with a smile, “I am sure that it will be fine.  You have been doing well the last few days.”

She cut a bite and began to chew.  Numbness spread from her mouth.  She gasped and could draw no air.  Her vision was fading slowly.

She heard, “The Blasphemer has been struck down!  Any means to strike at blasphemy is honorable, the Holy Writ is clear!”

The voice of the Empress cried, “Poison is the Coward’s Weapon!  Seize them!  Do not wait for the Long Drop!  Kill them now!”

The voice of Friend cut across the fading din, “No!  Matunen still has love.  I/we need them!  They will wish for your long drop!  I/we promise …”

Then no sight.  No sound.  No touch.  No taste.  Nothing …

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

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[tingfeiart]

Unloved Tragedy - Chapter 4 - “Not Really, Not Ever”

Chapter 4 of Unloved Tragedy, a Peter Pan x Treasure Planet Fanfiction

Word Count: 2,353

Table of Contents

The excruciating pain of his broken heart wouldn't subside as Peter rested his hard head into his rough hands. He wanted so desperately to run away, no, fly away from this nightmare, because that was all he knew he how to cope with these uncomfortable feelings. But the burden was too heavy to lift him off the ground, forcing him to nurture the misery as it grew.

There really was nothing he could do, but to face the nightmare. But how could he? What good would it do? He already lost - lost his Wendy. And there was no way he could get her back. She had outgrown him.

After using his arm to wipe away the stream of tears flowing down his cheeks, he summoned the will to get up from his seat on the chimney. Carefully, he descended to Wendy's window, which was now dark, which meant Wendy was asleep. He gently pushed the window, and to his astonishment, it wasn't barred. He applied more force to the window, enough that he could just slip right in.

Gently, his feet landed on the ground, albeit clumsily. He didn't want to wake Wendy and the man who shared the bed with her. Startling them would only worsen the distress that was getting stronger within him. Lightly, he tip-toed to their bed. The couple was already in a deep sleep as indicated by their heavy breathing.

Wendy slept on the side closest to the window. The light from the moon diffracted through the window and shined on her face with perfect alignment. Beholding her beauty in the moonlight only made Peter's heart beat faster, causing him to pause and take a snapshot of this image.

He then knelt down so he could stare at her at eye level. The peaceful look on her face as she slept warmed Peter's heart. She truly became more beautiful with time. He ventured a hand to stroke her forehead, but stopped himself, knowing he might wake her.

The only way he could confront his heartbreak was to speak to Wendy. But how could he do that without waking her?

Suddenly, he remembered the last conversation they had, all those years ago.

"You'll come visit me, will you?" Wendy had asked, as Peter was about to depart on the Jolly Roger back to Neverland.

"Of course, Wendy!"

"Shall I leave the window open for you?" she had proposed.

"Sure, Wendy. I'll let you know when I'm coming. Just look out for me... in your dreams."

That's it! He had the ability to talk to Wendy through her dreams.

Gently grabbing her hand that hung over her bed, Peter shut his eyes tightly, and struggled to focus all his energy onto Wendy. His powers were getting weaker, just as his flight was hindered. His heart felt heavier, for it was preparing to protect itself from what he was about to learn.

Peter could only see pitch white, until he stared down at his body. He was the only one in this pitch white room. Or was it really a room?

"Wendy, it's me," he called.

The image of an adult Wendy materialized in front of him, looking confused, until she met eyes with Peter. They gradually grew wider as her mouth dropped. "Peter, is that you?"

Peter gave a weak nod. "Mm-hmm."

"Where am I?" She too had noticed they were in a pitch-white wonderland. They were the only two things to materialize in this dream so far.

"I've entered your dreams, Wendy. I want to talk to you."

Wendy gave a lighthearted gasp. "Oh, Peter! It's been so long. I thought you had forgotten all about me." She walked closer to him with her arms held out, preparing to give Peter a hug. To Peter's dismay, she was now much taller than him.

Peter joined her in an embrace, rather weakly. He still couldn't fully process the fact that Wendy was now this grown woman, and he could barely remember how she was as a child. He sorely wished he could remember her face as a child, as the image brought him back to a less confusing time.

"How long has it been, Wendy, since you came with me to Neverland?"

Wendy broke from the embrace and stared down into Peter's face. "6 years," she answered. "I'm 20 now."

It didn't feel like 6 years to Peter, but then, he never kept track of time. 6 years felt like never to him - an awfully long time.

"Do you remember Neverland, Wendy?" he asked.

"Of course, Peter! How could I forget?" Wendy smiled gleefully down at him. "I could never forget one of the greatest adventures I've ever had!"

Peter wasn't sure how to respond to that. He didn't want to admit that he had forgotten her, and if it had not been for the strange dream with Hook, he wouldn't be here today.

"Why did it take you so long to come see me?" Wendy asked.

Peter shrugged his shoulders and said, "I... I dunno. You know, I never really kept track of time. I guess I just wanted to come once I started to miss ya!"

Wendy's smile initially dropped to a frown at this, but then it seemed she forced herself to smile again. "I understand, Peter. You have the boys to take care of. I know you must be awfully busy. But, I'm very pleased, in fact, flattered, to see you thought of me and wanted to visit! For old time's sake, yes?"

Peter was able to break into a small smile at this. "Uh yeah, sure! I wanted to see how you're doing and stuff." He scratched his head as it hung low. He still wasn't sure how to evoke his true burdens, which was why he was making up things to keep the conversation flowing.

He gave her body another stare down, before deciding to dismiss it. He shouldn't have done this. He didn't want to look at her anymore. "You changed," he said coolly, while turning his entire body away from her.

"Not really," Wendy insisted, before proceeding to turn his chin to face her. "Not ever." She offered him a warm, motherly smile. "I'm still the same."

"Well then..." Peter's tone started to elevate. "Why are you with that man? I saw him in your bed!" he shouted. "Who is he?"

Wendy heaved a deep sigh and cast her gaze downward, before slowly looking back at Peter. "He's my husband."

There was a hint of cheer in her voice as she said "husband". It made Peter's stomach churn with jealous.

"Your... husband? You mean... you're married to him?"

Wendy held out her finger closest to her pinky on her left hand. "You see this ring?" A diamond glistened in the light. "It's an engagement ring. Jim gave it to me the day he proposed to me."

Peter inched closer to get a better look at her ring. The glistening was so strong, he had to rub his eyes to appreciate its beauty. It was truly more remarkable than the treasure he and Hook squabbled over. This thought instantly made Peter more jealous. So this Jim guy was able to find treasure much more valuable than what he could find?! "Where's this diamond from, Wendy?" Peter asked.

Wendy's smile lit up. "Treasure Planet.  Isn’t it lovely? It's one of the Loot of the Thousand Worlds. Jim got it from there, and he carved out one of the diamonds to make it into a ring for me."

Peter snorted at this idea. What an incredibly cheesy idea to buy a girl a diamond. Then, without asking, he yanked the ring off of her finger. He had no good reason for doing it - he just wanted to. Perhaps, he just wanted to get under her skin. "Why'd you marry him, Wendy?"

Wendy, astonished by what he had done, lunged forward to take the ring back. "Peter, give me my ring back!" she roared. She tried to pin down Peter's shoulder but he immediately turned around, cupping the ring in between his palms.

"Answer me, Wendy!" he demanded.

"You wouldn't understand!" Wendy shouted back crossing her arms together.. "And since when did you ever care about whom I choose to marry? You think you could just show up after 6 years, and ask me why I've decided to marry?" She placed her hands firmly on her hips. "If you give me the ring back and sit down like a good boy, I'll tell you." She held out her palm.

But Peter wouldn't have it. Just because she was older than him now, didn't mean she could command him. And Peter did the only thing he knew what to do, and that was to get threaten her. "If you don't tell me... I'll feed this ring to the crocodile!"

Wendy gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, I would!" Peter cackled.

She sighed again, stepping away. Her voice lowered. "Because I love him, Peter. Dearly. And he loves me. I couldn't stop myself from growing up, and finding the one whose love I don't deserve."

Peter scoffed. What a stupid answer. He demanded to know more. "But what about me? I thought you loved me when you gave me the thimble. You said it would belong to me - always!" he cried. "Is Jim more worthy of your thimble than I am?"

To Peter's dismay, Wendy refused to relent. "You're far too tragic to understand!"

"Tragic?!" The anger in Peter's face softened, and he nearly dropped her precious ring. Those were the same words Hook said. "Why do you say I'm tragic?"

Frustrated, Wendy shook her head. "Because you're stuck, Peter! You're stuck in your own world, fighting this war with yourself, refusing to grow up."

Peter sneered at this. "Fighting a war? How can it be a war if I'm winning?!"

Wendy huffed. "All children grow up, Peter. And so I did. I want to love, have children, do more than play pretend! You wouldn't understand, because none of it becomes clear until you've grown up!"

Her words ate Peter inside. How dare she try to undermine all that he stood for, by calling him tragic? How dare she say he couldn't understand! Well, he could, if he wanted to, but he didn't! "Well, you're the real tragedy! Because one day, you'll have to die, and I get to live on forever."

Wendy supported her forehead with her pretty hand, groaning. "You are afraid, Peter. You're afraid to go forward, that's why you're a tragedy. So why torture me, asking me to explain?"

"You don't need to explain anything!" Peter shouted, giving up all his effort to get Wendy to tell him what he was dying to know. "There's nothing marvelous about that Jim guy. I bet you he can't fly, or take you on fun adventures, or give you what I was able to give you. None of it!"

Peter tried with all his might to hold them back, but the tears began to stream down the immortal boy's face. He turned away his face again, embarrassed that Wendy would see him at his weakest. But to his dismay, Wendy immediately knelt before him and cupped his face in her hands. She then locked him in an embrace, the way a mother embraces her child.

"I can't fly anymore, Wendy," Peter choked between his tears. "After seeing you give the thimble to Jim, I can't bring myself to."

Wendy broke away from the embrace to pat Peter on the head. She then dug into her pocket and took out a white handkerchief. "I'm... I'm sorry I said those things, Peter. I was so angry," she apologized. "But I want to help you, Peter. I want to help you fly again." She took the handkerchief and started to wipe away the tears.

"You don't know how!" Peter put up a fight by pushing away her gentle hands. "You're a traitor, Wendy! You lied to me when you said the thimble would always belong to me. You just said that because you wanted me to defeat Hook, so I could take you back to London! You didn't mean a word of it!"

But Wendy did what Peter did not expect her to do. She leaned forward and planted a thimble on his forehead. He felt his face grow warm as her soft lips pressed against his rough skin. Slowly, he could feel the burning rage in him begin to subside.

"Peter, because of you, I was able to find my love for Jim."

"Wh - what do you mean?" Peter sniffled. Didn't she just call him tragic? How could she love someone so tragic when her words were so hurtful?

"His spirit, Peter, reminded me so much of yours. When we met, and began to see each other often, I kept thinking of you. It was like falling in love with you again."

"But... how is Jim like me? He can't fly, and he can't go to Neverland like me!" A part of Peter still refused to listen, but the other part was also very eager to know how he had any role in this.

Finally, Wendy broke into another smile, and even let out a soft giggle. "Oh Peter, that's not what I meant."

"Then, what did you mean?" He wiped away the last of his tears with the handkerchief. While they had reddened due to the amount of strain he placed on his tear ducts, they widened with curiosity. Peter let out a deep breath, telling himself to calm down and listen. "I wanna know."

[gal-liveblogs]

A parting gift from an old flame, it was given to one of my splinters in a distant timeline before ending up in my posession via lots of complicated shit that I don't wanna get into.

O.K. So someone gave some version of Dirk Hussie painting of a quarterback fighting a horse. I have an intense desire to know who.

"Dear Dirk, In memory of our precious time together. When you look at it, think of me, and be reminded that while we breathe, we Hope." -B.O

Oh fuck me, it was Obama. Jesus Christ, I can’t.

O.K., I had been wondering what this stuff in the corner was, but didn’t comment as I couldn’t think of how to describe them. Now, though, we have a bigger picture and that’s a cherub paint set and an old troll horn headband. Probably Calliope’s stuff.

This set of paints and the charred remains of my HORNED HEADBAND are the only surviving relics of the first and last WORLDWIDE INTERSPECIES ROLEPLAYING SESSION we ever attempted on Earth C.

Oh. Not Calliope’s. They are, in fact, Dirk’s. The Interspecies Roleplaying Session was probably orchestrated by Calliope, though.

Calliope got it into their head that dressing up in cosplay would be a fun community activity.

Right on the money!

In other news Dirk’s trollsona has a unicorn horn. So it’s not that the headband was tilted and the other horn was hidden behind the paint set like I thought. Also Dave’s trollsona has dick horns. I am not surprised. Weird how Dirk, Dave, and Rose didn’t bother to give themselves black hair. Rose gave herself yellow scleras, but couldn’t commit to the black hair it seems.

Vantas had some very uncharitable things to say about the idea, and for once in his life I think he was right.

I mean, it’s like when white people dress as Native Americans for Halloween. I can understand his anger. Though even if he didn’t have a good reason Karkat would have still been angry, I’m sure.

Plants are basically the ideal friends. They don't constantly question your decisions, or try and undermine your authority, or suggest that perhaps you should try talking about your feelings every once in a while.

I think Dirk’s issue with Homestuck getting too feelings-y was that he doesn’t like talking about his own feelings.

Wait. Does Terezi have some form of narrative control? She made it clear in one of the Epilogues that she was aware of Dirk’s narration. I’m going to assume that while Terezi herself can’t narrate, she can submit commands.

DIRK: I see you've found the command terminal.

Oh. So she can submit commands not through her own power, but because there’s one of those exile command terminals things on this ship. O.K. They have everything else on this ship, might as well have one of those too.

TEREZI: 1T S33MS TO M3 L1K3 L3TT1NG M3 BOSS YOU 4ROUND FOR 4 F3W M1NUT3S 1S TH3 L34ST YOU COULD DO TO M4K3 UP FOR WH4T PROB4BLY 4MOUNTS TO TH3 MOST BOR1NG 1NT3RG4L4CT1C VOY4G3 1N TH3 H1STORY OF SP4C3 TR4V3L

I don’t know, I think Jade’s voyage after Davesprite and John blew up might be a good contender for that title. Then again Jade had practice not having anyone with a degree of intelligence around to talk to. Then again she still had the internet on her island and could talk to her friends, unlike on the Prospit ship.

TEREZI: 4ND CONS1D3R1NG TH4T ON3 OF MY TWO PR1OR 3XP3R13NC3S 1NVOLV3D SCOUR1NG TH3 FR4CTUR3D, D1S1NT3GR4TING CORPS3 OF P4R4DOX SP4C3 FOR... WH4T F3LT L1K3 4N 3T3RN1TY,

Oh yeah, I guess that would also be a contender too.

DIRK: What, Heart and Mind?

TEREZI: M1ND 4ND H34RT, Y3S

I have a feeling Terezi purposefully switched them around to make her aspect first and to just be a tiny annoyance to Dirk.

Dirk, how dare you use Complacency of the Learned to even out a chair! Does Rose know you’re using her book like that?

> L1B3R4T3 L4LOND14N L1BR4RY

Thank you, Terezi.

TEREZI: DO3S ROS3 KNOW YOUV3 B33N US1NG ON3 OF H3R NOV3LS TO PROP UP TH4T DISGUST1NGLY T4CKY CH41R?

Terezi and I are one.

DIRK: (I captchalogue the book into my MSPA MODUS. Forget HASH MAPS, PICTIONARY, or any of that shit. This thing is where it's at.)

What the FUCK does MSPA Modus entail???

TEREZI: 4W WH4T TH3 H3LL

TEREZI: TH3 CH41R W4S SUPPOS3D TO F4LL OV3R

DIRK: I'm not sure I understand. Why would it? The four legs are all touching the floor.

TEREZI: ...

DIRK: Try not to think about it too hard.

Ha!

TEREZI: FOR SOM3ON3 WHO CL41MS TO KNOW 4 LOT 4BOUT JOK3S YOU SUR3 H4V3 CONT1NU3D TO S4Y B4S1C4LLY NOTH1NG FUNNY 3V3R

Oooh, burn! When I get around to doing my fourth read of Homestuck I’ll have to tally any instances of Dirk telling a funny joke just to see if this holds up.

For a second there I was really confused over what fractal nonsense was happening here, but then I remembered Dirk is controlling the narrative. That includes the pictures, not just the text.

DIRK: Not many really understand that when pleasure is taken seriously enough, it can easily mimic the appearance of business, just as when irony is practiced with enough passion, it becomes indistinguishable from sincerity.

So Dirk’s idea of loosening up and having fun, whether for the irony or sincerity of it, is drawing himself in romantic situations with Jake. Yeah, that pans out.

(Seriously, why is Jake such a heartthrob? John is described as dorky looking and he and Jake are practically carbon copies.)

TEREZI: DO YOU... W4NT TO T4LK 4BOUT 1T...?

DIRK: Absolutely the fuck not.

Terezi, did you seriously expect him to answer with anything else?

This feels like a meme image.

TEREZI: TH4TS TH3 ON3 TH1NG 1 4LW4YS FOUND D1FF1CULT 4BOUT M4K1NG COM1CS W1TH D4V3

TEREZI: YOU H4V3 TO DR4W 333333V3RYTH1NG >:[

God, hard agree. This is why I could never have a comic. As much as I’d like to I just get burnt out with all that tedious drawing.

DIRK: Exactly. But sometimes, visuals are just a more effective way of doing things.

DIRK: So finding the right combination of words and pictures to communicate an idea efficiently is where the artistry lies.

DIRK: And sometimes that means dispensing with one or the other entirely when appropriate.

See, this is why the Homestuck style comic is so interesting. I don’t think other comics combined panels and text like Homestuck did, and now there are so many copies of the style out there!

Woah, I feel like I just got whiplash with the disappearance of the panels!

For the sake of precedent, I'm saying that we can cloak the visuals entirely and continue with narration alone, replacing the panel with a block of text like this, which we can call a “prattle” from now on.

Right, so when we go into a more book-like format it’s a prattle. Got it. Good name, since it’s just Dirk droning on to himself.

So then Dirk narrates Terezi using the command terminal to get him to do a slew of bizarre actions. He says it’s to show how much can be done in a short amount of time (a single block of text as opposed to 50 panels), but I have a feeling the real reason is so that we, the readers, don’t actually get to see him doing any of this stuff. He doesn;t get an audience to such an embarrassing display and he gets to rub our faces in it.

She has me undertake the most intense workout routine paradox space has ever seen, all while whistling the entire discography of the Swedish pop group ABBA, which she's taken a liking to recently for some god forsaken reason.

Terezi likes ABBA? That’s amazing. I need a video of Terezi singing and dancing along with Dancing Queen now.

(... And which coincidentally was a favorite cultural weapon of Her Imperious Condescension back on Earth, centuries ago. Mamma Mia in particular was repurposed as a sugar-coated propagandist piece, calling for worldwide submission to the Batterwitch's dictatorship. "My my, how can I resist ya," as the old saying goes.)

HOLY SHIT. Now I just had a headcanon that all trolls love ABBA.

DIRK: I told you I could have fun.

TEREZI: Y34H YOU SUR3 SHOW3ED M3 1 GU3SS

Dirk, are you saying Terezi purposefully trying to torture you was actually fun? ... Are you secretly a masochist? Do you... Do you like being bossed around and forced to do ridiculous stunts? I am learning so many things about Dirk I never expected.

TEREZI: WH4TS TH1S TH1NG OV3R 1N TH3 CORN3R

TEREZI: UND3RN34TH TH1S B1G SH33T TH1NG

DIRK: Don't look in there.

TEREZI: OH SHHHH 1M ONLY T4K1NG 4 P33K

DIRK: Terezi.

DIRK: Listen to me.

TEREZI: 1M JUST L1FT1NG UP TH3 COV3R 4 L1TTL3 W4YS!!!!

DIRK: Terezi please stop talking right now.

TEREZI: D1RK HOLY SH1T

TEREZI: W

Well that sounds sinister. With Dirk I would think ti was a robot of some kind, but given his new hobby of collecting things from various timelines and his skill in building it could literally be anything.

At first I was confused at the three panels that follow, showing Dirk’s room in disarray, but then I rememebered that Dirk did a whole bunch of shit we didn’t get to see because we were in Book Time.

ROSEBOT: So, I guess today is finally the day everything's been heading towards.

I honestly thought she was going to say “today is finally the day we fuck everything up”. Not sure if the actual line counts as a callback or not now.

ROSEBOT: Instead, it feels like the very notion of fortune is simply out of the question as a means of describing the potential outcome.

ROSEBOT: As though in this moment, luck isn't either strictly real or not real, or somewhere inbetween, but absent of meaning completely.

ROSEBOT: Luck took one look at our itinerary from here on out and said you'll just have to go on without me.

So it’s Schrödinger's Luck of Who Gives a Shit? Been reading so much Dirk I tried to channel my inner Strider there. Moving on I feel like this is a very bad situation for Rose to be in. Her Aspect is luck, so what does it mean for her when she’s in a position like this?

ROSEBOT: You aren't going to believe this, but it turns out that the deranged horny ramblings of a spurned anime-obsessive have essentially no therapeutic properties whatsoever.

Rose is a gift.

I wish I could copy and paste Dirk’s whole spiel about the ocean, both literal and metaphorical, but since it’s Dirk it’s just way too long. Suffice to say I thought it was some lovely writing and really got the the meat of who Dirk is as a character. His loneliness, his fear, his eventual peace, what it means to be an ascended Prince of Heart. Good stuff.

DIRK: What's that noise I'm hearing.

DIRK: It sounds a little bit like a cat being caught in a ventilation fan. A sort of...

DIRK: Inhuman screeching, combined with the grinding of metal.

DIRK: Are we even going to make it to the ground?

ROSEBOT: Oh, no,

ROSEBOT: The ship's fine as far as I can tell.

ROSEBOT: That's just Terezi laughing.

Terezi is also a gift.

Then we end with a rather pretty image of the ship coming in for a crash landing on an Earth-like planet. I would share it, but it’s a tall panel and this post is long enough as it is. Very curious what this planet is. I would guess it might be a Earth, but the landmasses don’t look like any on Earth. Could be artistic license,  but I feel like we have too many Earths as it is. Let’s get some new planets up in here!

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Vol. 5 "True Colors"

This is a re-posting from October 4th, 2018 in an effort to get all my recaps fully on tumblr. Thanks!

Guess who’s back, back again

Clyde is back, tell a friend

How long will my focus and work ethic last? Who knows, but with Volume 6 on the horizon and a fantastic new poster out, I’m feeling like it’s time to dive back into RWBY Recaps. Never too late to guiltily dust off an old project, right?

Right.

We’re back in Volume 5. Yes, I did a bit of Volume 1—extreme illusions of grandeur and productivity there—but we should really round out 5 before 6 comes knocking on the 27th. I’ve got almost a month. Let’s see how well I do, starting with “True Colors.”

We open on an image of Qrow and Ozpin together, notably Ozpin given the prim posture and ever-present coffee mug. Qrow makes the comment that things “aren’t looking good” and really? No shit, bird boy. We’ve gone from “Oh no, Ruby is having trouble becoming a leader!” to “Oh no… Weiss is trying to overcome a racist upbringing…?” and are now firmly in the territory of “OH NO a bunch of our faves are dead and Ozpin is forced to possess a child??” Things haven’t looked good for a while.

Ozpin is ever the optimist though. He points out that yeah, things are bad, but they could also be worse. “Humanity is a resilient force” he says, which oddly enough, sounds a lot like the kind of thing someone not a part of Humanity would say. Jury’s still out on whether Oz was the lowly farmer unfairly cursed by the gods, or a god himself justly punished for some sort of hubris… or something else entirely. It just strikes me as significant that he often distances himself from others in not just actions but speech as well. Could be a glimpse into his true nature, aka someone literally not human. Could also just be the result of spending thousands of years reincarnating while everyone else around you suffers and dies. That’ll make anyone feel subhuman…

Qrow challenges Oz’s happy-go-lucky attitude, reminding us that a huge number of pro huntsmen have been murdered and Salem couldn’t have achieved that on her own. She’s had help—and plenty of it. But Ozpin stands firm that it “doesn’t take a great number of people to cause harm” and there are “far more people in this world willing to prevent it.”

Enter our protagonist.

Subtle!

Ruby is adorable, as always, hesitantly approaching the two of them and awkwardly accepting the invitation to chat. It’s a striking difference in how she acts when it’s just her and Qrow, which is expected. Ozpin remains a much more distant authority figure and now he’s inhabiting the body of a boy her own age. I’d be a little unsure about how to act around him too.

Ruby finally asks what we’ve been worried about since the beginning of this Volume: if Cinder defeated Oz then does that mean Salem now has the Beacon relic? Luckily, no. Oz says he made finding the Beacon relic “a bit more challenging than at the other schools.” So Ruby asks the second question that’s been on our minds…

Ozpin: “No, my cane is not a relic.”

Ruby: “I have no more questions :)”

Okay now wait. I'm calling bullshit lol. That cane is 100% a relic. I mean could I be wrong? Absolutely. But it’s way more fun to be confident so I’m calling Ozpin out on this. For a number of reasons:

1. He’s absolutely the kind of guy to do what no one else expects. “The cane is so obvious!” Yeah, which means everyone will be looking for the relic elsewhere, hidden away like the Haven relic. Who the hell would have it out in the open? Ozpin. He would. Expect the unexpected.

2. He’s alsothe kind of guy who might lie to someone about it. Ozpin has been playing this game a long time and he’s not above a few smiles and carefully placed words if he thinks it’ll keep things on track. The Haven relic is the one currently in danger—no reason to announce the Beacon relic’s location and shift the team’s focus just because a former student asks him for the truth. It’s too dangerous and Ozpin is very adept at, as he says, playing things close to the chest. And I don’t blame him. That’s how you keep humanity alive.

3. The scene doesn’t show us Qrow at all who is a lot less adept at lying, to say nothing of the fact that—if he knows about the relic—he wouldn’t feel good lying specifically to Ruby.

4. Ozpin’s previous comment about how this relic is a “bit more challenging” seems significant. That is, why ONLY make the Beacon relic so difficult to find? All the relics are important so why not give them all the same precautions? Well, the answer is simple if your precaution is something you can only do for one of them: keep the relic with you.

5. Qrow, arguably Ozpin’s closest friend (husband-friend), was entrusted with getting the cane back to him and it’s used as the introduction between Oscar and Qrow. Seems like a pretty damn important object.

6. We’ve seen this cane fend off crazy powerful attacks and it never takes any damage. Granted, all the weapons in RWBY are pretty hearty, but Ozpin’s cane seems particularly indestructible. Almost like there’s something similar to magic surrounding it.

7. We’ve still got those gears. That cane transforms into something…

8. The fact that Ozpin immediately homes in on Ruby’s question, quickly counters it, and then tells her to leave (go gather the others). He’s in charge of the conversation here.

9. The fact that the scene suddenly turns light-hearted and humorous. We’re meant to shrug this moment off and not think too hard about it. Well, too late now.

Granted, Oz has a good explanation here. He states firmly that the cane is indeed precious, though only to him, and that it still “has a few tricks up its sleeve.” Nothing he says counters what we already know, yet it doesn’t reveal any of his cane’s secrets either. We’re still in the dark. So until we’re not I remain suspicious about his claim that it’s totally definitely absolutely not a relic.

(The headmaster doth protest too much.)  

(Edit Feb. 2019: I was so wrong, folks!!) 

But we’re moving on. Qrow gets a call from Lionheart asking them to meet up with him to discuss potentially going on the offensive against the bandits. Ruby is ecstatic and runs off. Ozpin? Not so much. He and Qrow both comment on how strange it is that Lionheart has suddenly changed his tune and the addition of some creepy music all but beats us over the head with, “It’s a trap!!” This time when Qrow says that things aren’t looking good Ozpin’s only response is, “I know.” So much for the pep talk.

We cut to Lionheart himself, having just finished up that call, and as we pull back who should we find but Raven. She makes blunt what we already know, “I never expected that you would be the one with the guts to betray Oz” while we get a nice crane shot so that we can see Raven circling him, standing while he’s seated—a predator stalking prey.

Though of course it’s not actually courage driving their actions here. It’s cowardice. At least Lionheart is willing to admit it. He says straight out that he’s terrified of Salem and doesn’t think anyone can beat her, so why not join the winning side? Raven, meanwhile, is still firmly in denial. “I’m not scared,” she says. “I’m smart.” Please, girl. You’ve spent your whole life running and you don’t know how to stop now. “Man up,” Raven continues (god that’s a terrible phrase). “You did what you needed to do to survive. There’s no shame in that,” which is where we see the divide between their morals and everyone else surrounding Team RWBY. They’re scared, but they fight despite their fear because they know it’s necessary to help both others and themselves. Raven is only out for herself and her selfish actions hurt family (Qrow), children (Yang), friends (her tribe), and allies (Ozpin) in the process.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Lionheart asks her. It's great seeing a villain who knows exactly where the line is even as they can’t help but cross it. RIP the complex ones.

We move back to Menagerie where Ilia and the others are still leading the attack on Blake’s family. Kali if BAMF here, snatching up a tray as both defense and weapon when her gun runs out of ammo. We get to see her clocking Yuma before we catch up with Blake and Ilia—and I enjoy the contrast in colors between these two scenes, from full blown battle (cold) to friends-turned-enemies (warm):

Ilia spouts the same arguments as Raven: she doesn’t have a choice about her actions. Violence is the only way to survive. Despite the rhetoric Blake is willing to let her go, but Ilia has other plans. The fight, while not spectacular, does showcase the clear parallels between them—both in their arguments and the use of long/short range weaponry. When asked why she doesn’t leave Blake responds that she runs away too much. Beyond the obvious theme from our title—everyone showing their “True Colors”—the focus of this episode is quite obviously who’s willing to fight for others and who’s only out for themselves; who’s able to distinguish between when a literal fight is necessary and when another avenue can be taken. We see time and time again that Team RWBY is leagues ahead of others in terms of that kind of maturity.

From a world building perspective I appreciate Ilia’s use of her camouflaging skills. It’s rare that we see the Faunus actually using their animal abilities (beyond Sun swinging around on his tail) and that’s definitely a useful one in battle… though it's undermined somewhat by having a weapon that lights up with electricity. Gotta think that one through…

And then Blake sETS THE HOUSE ON FIRE? Damn, girl! This isn’t even a real battle—at least not between the two of them. Ilia says two seconds later that Blake isn’t taking this seriously, neither of them truly wants to kill the other, so is burning down your house really the best option here? I always knew Blake was secretly the most dramatic of the bunch.

(That’s a lie. I'm sorry. The most dramatic is clearly Weiss, but she’d be proud of Blake’s ridiculously over-the-top strategy here, I’m sure.)

Blake manages to pin Ilia and keeps trying to talk her down. It works. Sort of. Ilia starts to cry as she admits that she doesn’t know what else to do, but at that moment Ghira comes crashing through the wall with another fight at his heels. (This family is rich enough that they don't care about the property damage.) And then we get this,

This is a sharp reminder that though Blake and Ilia might be fighting more with words than fists, the same can’t be said for her parents. They are, notably, in very real danger. The fight picks back up with Ilia clearly torn now between her loyalties. She defends herself though when Sun joins the fray, pausing only when Blake begs the two of them to stop. However, their fighting has already cracked the pillar holding up the second story and Ilia gets caught underneath. Surprisingly, she’s saved by Ghira (which tells us more about his character than all his bickering with Sun ever could) and there’s a nifty bit of teamwork used to get him out—Sun’s copies hold up the balcony; Blake uses her weapon to pull her dad to safety. The brother (Fennec) who tries to attack him from behind is justifiably crushed under the rubble.

Kali is safe and joins the gang. The fight is basically over, but Corsac attacks out of pure grief and rage, allowing Ilia to stun him from behind. Now I’ve got a lot of feelings about Ilia, most of which boil down to just plain not liking her. I already explained in depth my issues with her being the (so far) sole queer character on the show and this is now compounded with her supposed “redemption.” There are problems inherent in making the (again, only) queer character an antagonist, but there are more problems in making them an antagonist and then refusing to stand by that. Rooster Teeth had her as a complex villain and then the moment she was revealed to have feelings for Blake it’s, “Never mind! She’s good now!” in the span of half an episode.

And how does this redemption occur? Ilia attacks Blake and goes after Blake’s parents. She continues to attack them after being given numerous chances to walk away. She turns on her allies… only after the fight is won. If Ilia were a different kind of character her stunning Corsac could have easily been seen as a survival strategy rather than a true change of heart. They’re now outnumbered four to two, so—like Lionheart—why not quickly join the winning side? I honestly wish Ilia was out to double cross Blake if only because that would be consistent with her loyalties up until now. It would make sense.

In the grand scheme of things though these are minor points. What strikes me as far more significant is 1. that Ilia and her allies could have killed Kali and Ghira. I admit that she wasn’t fighting Blake full out, but the purpose of this attack was to assassinate her parents and the fight did lead to at least one death. That’s not just something you bounce back from. Maybe I’m an asshole, but I couldn’t wave that away as a “bad decision” like Blake does. They could have died. And 2. the most important of all, we’ve yet to see any true change in her thinking or ideology! Ilia joins the gang because she lost and she's left standing around awkwardly with Blake—the girl she’s in love with. Would Ilia have second-guessed her actions if they'd succeeded in their mission? I doubt it. In the aftermath of failure she's contrite, but Ilia was pretty damn adamant about killing humans---and the Belladonnas---just a few minutes ago. If her redemption is based on circumstance and her one-sided crush… that’s not a redemption I can get behind.

But it’s what we’re rushed into. Blake gives a rousing speech about how no, they can’t just use humans as a scapegoat for this attack. They can’t allow figureheads like Adam to speak for them. She says that they’re all “looking for simple answers to a very complex problem” and that despite it not being what they want to hear, she doesn’t know how to just “make hate go away.” That’s a huge development from the girl who went to Mountain Glenn and said passionately that she was going to change the world, but without any concrete ideas as to how to do that. Now Blake can admit her own ignorance and knows at the very least what not to do. They’re not going to change the world through violence like this—they won’t change it for the better, anyway.  

I’m with her through all that, up until Blake agrees to take Ilia to Haven. The guard yells out, “You’re just going to forgive her? After all she’s done?” and Blake says only, “Yes.” You know what that is? It’s a simple answer to a very complex problem. It’s painted as admirable on her part—Ghira says she’s learned the lesson of how powerful forgiveness can be—but I think this is RWBY’s fairy-tale simplicity shining through and it doesn’t fit with the heavy material we've been tackling the last few volumes. There’s a big difference between forgiving someone and making sure that they face consequences for their actions. There’s a difference between forgiving them and thinking practically about whether you can or should trust them with your safety and the safety of others. Hell, forgiveness usually takes more than five minutes and often times doesn’t happen at all! Ilia has done none of the work to justify Blake’s forgiveness and though having forgiveness handed to you might read as a beautiful ideal, it doesn’t work well in the gritty, complicated, racially loaded storyline that Rooster Teeth keeps trying to pull off. It feels cheap in the face of all that Blake suffered through this volume, especially when they turn Ilia’s actions into a literal joke. She stabbed Sun? No big deal! He pinched her and now they’re even! How much of a joke would this be if Ghira had suddenly collapsed from his own wound? Or Kali hadn't casually rejoining them entirely unharmed? Maybe I’m more bitter than I thought, but Ilia’s redemption feels like an unintended smack in the face.

The townspeople buy into the happy picture though and we get a chorus of them agreeing to join Blake in the fight to defend Haven. Plans are made to arm, train, and transport the people of Menagerie in two weeks time. Getting civilians into fighting shape that quickly might be a challenge, but at least Blake knows a ship captain who owes her a favor.

And that’s where we end this episode—forging a path for the future. Stay tuned for the next episode “The More the Merrier” as we count down to the Volume 6 premiere!

Other Details of Note

In that opening shot we have what looks like a pretty generic print on the wall—who doesn’t like sunsets?—except that it also shows a crescent moon without the broken pieces. Artist’s interpretation? Time before the moon’s demise? Animator’s forgetting about it while drawing the random painting that viewers are only going to see for about two seconds? You decide!

I really appreciate that Ozpin praises Ruby for being the first to realize the potential implications of the Beacon relic. She’s praised for her skill with Crescent Rose and for being one of the youngest to attend Beacon, but it’s rare that people comment on Ruby’s intellect. She’s smart as hell with one of the more strategic minds of the group—that’s partly why she makes such a good leader. It’s good to see someone, particularly her headmaster, acknowledging that.

After Qrow gets the call from Lionheart he immediately reaches for his flask… despite still having a steaming drink beside him. Apparently working with this guy was tough even before they knew he was loyal to Salem.  

Edit Feb. 2019: Lionheart says that “I’ve done things Ozpin will never forgive” and that’s one hell of a loaded line after hearing Ozpin’s thoughts on Lionheart in Volume 6.

“Sorry, Dad” Blake says right before she burns down their library. Somehow I don't think 'sorry' cuts it in this situation...

[reginasrandomthoughts]

So I watched Crimes of Grindelwald...

 ...yesterday, opening night (in my country), after a long day, and all I got from it was confusion, a bit of anger and this water bottle:

(and yes, I doctored the image because, just like most of the film, it has dull, dakr colours. I hate it, thanks) Full spoilers beneath because I am just pissed (I think I will think about the positives separately).

So... let’s start with the ladies. Leta Lestrange. 

I will only mention it in passing that here is another Slytherin character getting the shaft, because as much as it bothers me, this is not the point here. By my count there are three black characters named AND with speaking roles and Leta is one of them. (the other female chara is Seraphina Picquery who is gone after the first 4 minutes, the third is Leta’s half brother’s but we’ll talk about him later)

 So anyway: her background story: Leta’s mother, a beautiful black woman of high aristocratic standing was coveted, Imperioed, abducted and raped by Corvus Lestrange, Leta’s father, and I think she died while giving birth to Leta. I think this is the point where someone should have talked to JK about slavery, because if this story is raising redflags for me, a white European, it must be obvious in the US. Gosh. Going on Leta’s father remarries goes on to have another child, that child needs to be taken to America bc Yusuf Karma, Leta’s half brother, swore an unbreakable vow to kill what’s dearest to Lestrange. So now roughly 10 year old Leta is on a boat to the US with a half-elf nanny and the baby that refuses to stop crying and she trades the baby off with another baby boy on the ship (she intended to do it just for a little while) and then the ship sinks and the baby brother drowns. (Sidenote: the switched away baby is Credence). The image of the sinking baby is Leta’s boggart (good luck making that funny). In Hogwarts she was a troublemaking outcast whose only friend was Newt, and as an adult she is described as someone who nobody in the wizarding world loves. Also, she has this thing with Newt where she is totally in love with him but for some reason she is going to marry his brother? She also works at the ministry that is portrayed as one of the bad guys and oh yea, she dies at the end after a fake-out “will she join Grindelwald?” moment. She supposedly dies to protect Newt (Theseus?? I don’t know, her last words are “I love you” and she is looking at where both of them are standing together, so we shall never know).   By the way, remember the time Leta was described as a taker by Queenie? Apparently, her “being a taker” involves her thinking she doesn’t deserve to be loved by Newt because she thinks of herself as a monster. Also, apart from her backstory scenes she doesn’t do much regardless of how her backstory is kind of important for the central mystery of the film and how the final showdown takes place in the Lestrange tomb. 

 Now, next up is Nagini. Remember all the outrage caused by the sudden reveal that Voldemort’s snake used to be an Asian lady who turned into a snake against her own will? Remember how people brought up the submissive Asian woman trope in connection with that? It’s worse in the movie. After Credence and her escape from the circus where she is held she does nothing. She is just there to be Credence’s comfort blanket. She transforms into a snake twice: once in the circus and once when she is attacked but that doesn’t do much and Credence has to save her. (btw, I don’t blame her for it. If i knew that one day I won’t be able to turn back into a human I would, too, try to spend as much time as a human as possible.)  Also, two more things: she and Credence are posed as this couple and we are supposed to be feeling bad for her when Credence goes with Grindelwald to find out about his past rather than build a future with her. But their relationship is already undermined by the fact that Dumbledore says (I think it’s him) that the obscurus grows in absence of companionship and friendship and if Credence were to get it, it would disappear and in the film, Credence still turns into an funky looking angry black smoke bomb so...  REALLY hoping she gets a TON of development in subsequent movies.

 Queenie... Queenie is portrayed as a date rapist here. There is no tiptoeing around it. She enchants Jacob (presumably with a love spell that incapacitates him to the point he cannot cut his own food up) so she can whisk him away so they can get married because Jacob didn’t want to take the risk of marrying her and her being taken to prison for it. Jacob asks her when she planned on releasing him, when they were married with five kids? And Queenie has no answer for it. You know who else did something like this in the HP universe? Merope Guant, the woman who gave birth to Voldemort. Not a company you wanna be in, since it is heavily implied that it was because of the love potion she used that Voldemort became what he was. Also, can we just point out that Jacob already loved Queenie and just wanted to protect her and Queenie’s reaction to this was to take his free will and his ability to disagree away from him?   Queenie ends up joining Grindelwald to create a world where muggles can marry wizards, but Jacob calls her crazy for it and rejects her when she suggests that and she still goes! Her decision costs her the reason why she’s making that decision in the first place! What are you hoping for at this point, Queenie? Another enchantment? 

 I don’t really agree with this sudden shift in character, but oh well. Also, now apparently Queenie also has trouble with her legilimens abilities that can overwhelm her.Don’t know how I’m feeling about that, but how the fuck is a legilimens who can READ PEOPLE’S MINDS gets duped by the bad guys? 

 The other female characters I didn’t see enough of to have an opinion and TIna I mostly liked. She is finally showing bits of the badass auror she could be. Good luck competing with a ghost for Newt’s love though. She and Newt are portrayed as this “we are just getting together” couple but I always felt like Newt would ditch him if Leta wanted him back. Even though Tina is a way better fit. Liked their parallel scenes with the monkey-koi-kitten thingy. 

 Now onto the men. 

Yusuf Karma. Yusuf swore an unbreakable to kill what is dearest to Lestrange after he abducted and raped his mother which resulted in his father going insane. He assumes that most precious son is Credence so he is just going after him and at more than one points he says something along the lines of  “I have to do it, it’s either him or me”. This is not even the proper avenger philosophy because it is literally true, because if he doesn’t kill him the vow will kill Yusuf. Ofc, since a large part of the story is about sympathizing with Credence and wanting to save him Yusuf is portrayed as a villain for a lot of the time.  Also, while I’m throwing stones, isn’t Yusuf’s mother the “woman in the fridge” trope? Put there to create angst for a male character? She isn’t even the one Leta is angsting over. It is literally just Yusuf (and his dad who is never shown). 

 Sidenote: Grindelwald has an Asian henchmen, who is so unimportant that I had to look up his name on Imdb (it’s Krall nolastname) who is the only one of Grindelwald’s followers who dies in the fire (fiendfire??) Grindelwald uses to test the loyalty of his followers. It was foreshadowed but I still don’t get how he betrayed Grindelwald because he wasn’t even on screen long enough to do so. It’s almost like he was only put there to die. BTW, I don’t even think there were any more notable Asian characters apart from him and Nagini. Good representation there JK.

 The other male characters I didn’t have much of a problem with. Newt I liked, Jacob was okay but was better in the first film, Theseus was an asshole but the Leta angst worked and I came to like-pity him a bit, Credence I felt for...  Surprisingly even Grindelwald worked. Even though he always looked like he was just about to fuck whoever he was talking to. I don’t know how I feel about Johnny Depp in the role, but at least it looked like he put in some work. 

 And now the plot.

So many fucking fake-outs. The whole plot is a fucking fake-out. So according to the plot Grindelwald is looking for Credence in Paris and Credence is looking for his birth parents and his true past. And there is this whole confusion because the half-elf servant of the Lestranges’ is the one who signed his adoption papers, and for a while it is thought that Credence is the lost Lestrange baby and Yusuf thus wants to kill him, but then Leta’s backstory is told and it turns out that this whole treasure hunt leading us on was pointless because it turns out that Credence is not a Lestrange and Leta has no idea who he is. At which point Grindelwald offers tot ell Credence who he is and Credence goes with him and BAMM, you’re Aurelius Dumbledore, Credence, Albus is your brother and wants you dead.  HOW???!!! So I read up some theories here but here is the thing, none of the theories that were born so far manage to help this shit make sense. Like, okay, let’s see the flimsy proof for it: Albus Dumbledore says that when in dire need a phoenix will come to a Dumbledore ans Credence finds a little bird and at the end of the film that baby bird turns into a full fledged phoenix. Cool.   But also, this scene ties Credence thematically to Newt, who also was shown nursing a baby bird (although a raven, which is the Lestrange emblem, so please @me any crazy theories about how that foreshadows that Credence is a Lestrange and how Newt will save him or how Credence is a Scamander or even ship things. all three would make more sense than Aurelius Dumbledore does)  So, the first reaction from people seems to be “Grindelwald is lying to get Credence to go after Dumbledore” because we know that he thinks that Credence is the only one who could kill Dumbledore. I am leaning towards this but at the same time I REALLY hope it’s not true. Why? Because then this whole fucking movie is pointless. Credence’s arc throughout the series would just be this shit: Credence you are an unimportant squib, no actually you are a powerful obscurus, no actually you are the lost Lestrange baby, well actually you are Aurelius Dumbledore and then presumably, actually I lied I have no idea who you are, probably just a nobody who just happened to be strong.   I can totally see it go this way, I feel like it will go this way, but can we just lay off the clichés please? Anyway, prime points supporting this conclusion apart from logic is: Grindelwald was looking for a much younger obscurus than Credence, a.k.a. he could not have been looking for a lost Dumbledore, Grindelwald knew about the Dumbledore family legend as well so he could have faked the phoenix (??), thematically this whole “your past is not as important as your future and it does not defy you” theme would play into this. 

 Now there are of course other theories, like “he truly is a Lestrange and the elf-lady had to die to hide that fact and the records were manipulated” but so were Leta’s memories then? Also, the elf-lady had to die so Credence would have no choice but to walk into Grindelwald’s trap for answers.   My favourite one has to be “Credence has Ariana’s obscurus in him” simply because of the how? That goes against HP canon, that goes against obscurus lore and that goes against Fantastic Beasts timeline. So... yea, I hope it is true, because at least that would be interesting. If we gonna go crazy go full crazy.

 Last but not least there were a few elements that mildly annoyed me. Like Yusuf having a weird eye parasite, which I read as a fake-out as to why he needed to kill Credence, but which went nowhere. The “Newt has an assistant at home who is in love with him went nowhere. And the best of all, Grindelwald is going to be brought down because a fucking niffler stole his fucking jewelry that binds him and Dumbledore to not fight each other. What the fuck is up with that. 

 Also, I just remembered it, which is a shame, but Grindelwald was campaigning for a wizard take-over by showing the future a.k.a. World War II to his followers, including the atom bomb, and saying this is what will happen if the muggles are allowed to rule themselves. CAN JK ROWLING PLEASE NOT LEAN INTO THE WORLD WAR II AND NAZI REFERENCES FOR ONCE??? Just once, look at the real world parallels JK and walk away! Fuck. 

[dfroza]

True Justice and peace.

this is what beautiful earth cries out for from its sacred ground.

and we see it in Today’s reading of the Scriptures beginning with chapter #2 of the book of Habakkuk:

I will take my place at the watchtower.

I will stand at my post and watch.

I will watch and see what He says to me.

I need to think about how I should respond to Him

When He gets back to me with His answer.

Eternal One (to Habakkuk): Write down this vision.

Write it clearly on tablets, so that anyone who reads it may run.

For the vision points ahead to a time I have appointed;

it testifies regarding the end, and it will not lie.

Even if there is a delay, wait for it.

It is coming and will come without delay.

“Look at that man, bloated by self-importance—

full of himself but soul-empty.

But the person in right standing before God

through loyal and steady believing

is fully alive, really alive.

“Note well: Money deceives.

The arrogant rich don’t last.

They are more hungry for wealth

than the grave is for cadavers.

Like death, they always want more,

but the ‘more’ they get is dead bodies.

They are cemeteries filled with dead nations,

graveyards filled with corpses.

Don’t give people like this a second thought.

Soon the whole world will be taunting them:

“‘Who do you think you are—

getting rich by stealing and extortion?

How long do you think

you can get away with this?’

Indeed, how long before your victims wake up,

stand up and make you the victim?

You’ve plundered nation after nation.

Now you’ll get a taste of your own medicine.

All the survivors are out to plunder you,

a payback for all your murders and massacres.

“Who do you think you are—

recklessly grabbing and looting,

Living it up, acting like king of the mountain,

acting above it all, above trials and troubles?

You’ve engineered the ruin of your own house.

In ruining others you’ve ruined yourself.

You’ve undermined your foundations,

rotted out your own soul.

The bricks of your house will speak up and accuse you.

The woodwork will step forward with evidence.

“Who do you think you are—

building a town by murder, a city with crime?

Don’t you know that God-of-the-Angel-Armies

makes sure nothing comes of that but ashes,

Makes sure the harder you work

at that kind of thing, the less you are?

Meanwhile the earth fills up

with awareness of God’s glory

as the waters cover the sea.

“Who do you think you are—

inviting your neighbors to your drunken parties,

Giving them too much to drink,

roping them into your sexual orgies?

You thought you were having the time of your life.

Wrong! It’s a time of disgrace.

All the time you were drinking,

you were drinking from the cup of God’s wrath.

You’ll wake up holding your throbbing head, hung over—

hung over from Lebanon violence,

Hung over from animal massacres,

hung over from murder and mayhem,

From multiple violations

of place and people.

What use is an idol shaped by its maker?

It is nothing but an image cast in metal; it teaches deception.

For a foolish idol-maker puts faith in his own creation,

a god that cannot speak.

Woe to him who says to a block of wood, “Wake up!”

or to a silent stone, “Arise!”

Are inanimate objects your teachers?

Look, it may be covered in gold and silver,

But there is no breath of life inside.

But the Eternal One is in His holy temple.

Let all the earth keep silent in His presence.

The Book of Habakkuk, Chapter 2 (The Voice / The Message)

A chapter accompanied by Today’s reading of Proverbs and Psalms for january 3 (Proverbs 3 and Psalm 3) and the 14th day of Winter (Psalm 14)

[Proverbs 3]

My son, always remember what I have taught you; keep my instructions dear to your heart.

If you do, they will be your guide to a long, healthy, prosperous life.

Stay focused; do not lose sight of mercy and truth; engrave them on a pendant, and hang it around your neck; meditate on them so they are written upon your heart.

In this way, you will win the favor of God and others, and they will think well of you.

Place your trust in the Eternal; rely on Him completely; never depend upon your own ideas and inventions.

Give Him the credit for everything you accomplish, and He will smooth out and straighten the road that lies ahead.

And don’t think you can decide on your own what is right and what is wrong. Respect the Eternal; turn and run from evil.

If you depend on Him, your body and mind will be free from the strain of a sinful life, will experience healing and health, and will be strengthened at their core.

Pay tribute to the Eternal in all of your affairs. Honor Him with the best of what you make. That way you will prosper to the fullest and have plenty of food to eat and wine to drink.

My son, do not ignore the Eternal’s instruction or lose heart when He steps in to correct you;

Because the Eternal proves His love by caring enough to discipline you, just as a father does his child, his pride and joy.

How fortunate are those who discover Lady Wisdom and those who understand her ways!

For her worth is greater than the most expensive prize you could win. Her profit is greater than the finest thing you could buy.

No gem is more precious than she is—your most extravagant desire doesn’t come close to her.

She holds the secret of a long life in one hand and riches and fame in her other hand.

Her ways are pleasant; all of her pathways are peaceful.

She is like a tree that produces a satisfied life for anyone who can wrap their arms around her; happiness waits for any who hold her tightly.

It was by wisdom that the Eternal fashioned the earth and by understanding that He designed the heavens.

Through His knowledge, the deep was divided into seas and sky, and the clouds understood when to let down the morning dew.

My son, never lose sight of God’s wisdom and knowledge: make decisions out of true wisdom, guard your good sense,

And they will be life to your soul and fine jewelry around your neck.

Then each one of your steps will land securely on your life’s journey, and you will not trip or fall.

Your mind will be clear, free from fear; when you lie down to rest, you will be refreshed by sweet sleep.

Stay calm; there is no need to be afraid of a sudden disaster or to worry when calamity strikes the wicked,

For the Eternal is always there to protect you. He will safeguard your each and every step.

Do not withhold what is good from those who deserve it; if it is within your power to give it, do it.

Do not send your neighbor away, saying, “Get back with me tomorrow. I can give it to you then,” when what he needs is already in your hand.

Make no plans that could result in injury to your neighbor; after all, he should be more secure because he lives near you.

Avoid fighting with anyone without good reason, especially when no one has hurt you; you have nothing to fight about.

Do not envy someone who profits at the expense of others or copy any of his tyrannical ways,

For crooked people are detestable to the Eternal, but those with integrity receive His counsel.

His curse lingers over the wicked and their families, but He forever favors residence of those who do what is right.

God treats the arrogant as they treat others, mocking the mockers, scorning the scornful, but He pours out His grace on the humble.

In the end, the wise will receive honor, but fools will face humiliation.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 3 (The Voice)

[Psalm 3]

Covered by the Glory

King David’s song when he was forced to flee from Absalom, his own son

[The Humbling of a King]

Lord, I have so many enemies, so many who are against me.

Listen to how they whisper their slander against me, saying:

“Look! He’s hopeless! Even God can’t save him from this!”

Pause in his presence

[The Help of God]

But in the depths of my heart I truly know

that you, Yahweh, have become my Shield;

You take me and surround me with yourself.

Your glory covers me continually.

You lift high my head when I bow low in shame.

I have cried out to you, Yahweh, from your holy presence.

You send me a Father’s help.

Pause in his presence

[The Song of Safety]

So now I’ll lie down and sleep like a baby—

then I’ll awake in safety, for you surround me with your glory.

Even though dark powers prowl around me,

I won’t be afraid.

[The Secret of Strength]

I simply cry out to you:

“Rise up and help me, Lord! Come and save me!”

And you will slap them in the face,

breaking the power of their words to harm me.

My true hero comes to my rescue,

for the Lord alone is my Savior.

What a feast of favor and bliss he gives his people!

Pause in his presence

The Book of Psalms, Poem 3 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 14]

God Looks Down from Heaven

For the Pure and Shining One, by King David

Only the withering soul would say to himself,

“There is no God.”

Anyone who thinks like this is corrupt and callous,

depraved and detestable, devoid of what is good.

The Lord looks down in love,

bending over heaven’s balcony,

looking over all of Adam’s sons and daughters.

He’s looking to see if there is anyone who acts wisely,

any who are searching for God and wanting to please him.

But no, everyone has wandered astray,

walking stubbornly toward evil.

Not one is good; he can’t even find one.

Look how they live in luxury while exploiting my people!

Won’t these workers of wickedness ever learn?

They don’t ever even think of praying to God.

But just look at them now, in panic, trembling with terror.

For the Lord is on the side of the generation of loyal lovers.

The Lord is always the safest place for the poor

when the workers of wickedness oppress them.

How I wish that Israel’s rescue

would arise from the midst of Zion!

When his people are restored,

Jacob’s joy will break forth

and Israel will be glad!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 14 (The Passion Translation)

to be concluded by the paired chapter of the Testaments with Habakkuk 2 as the 7th chapter of Acts that outlines Hebraic History and God’s seed of rebirth for all who will “believe...” as told by Stephen at a time when some people chose to hate him for what he shared, with Stephen ending as a martyr for Love:

[Stephen, Full of the Holy Spirit]

Then the Chief Priest said, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Stephen replied, “Friends, fathers, and brothers, the God of glory

appeared to our father Abraham when he was still in Mesopotamia, before the move to Haran, and told him, ‘Leave your country and family and go to the land I’ll show you.’

“So he left the country of the Chaldees and moved to Haran. After the death of his father, he immigrated to this country where you now live, but God gave him nothing, not so much as a foothold. He did promise to give the country to him and his son later on, even though Abraham had no son at the time. God let him know that his offspring would move to an alien country where they would be enslaved and brutalized for four hundred years. ‘But,’ God said, ‘I will step in and take care of those slaveholders and bring my people out so they can worship me in this place.’

“Then he made a covenant with him and signed it in Abraham’s flesh by circumcision. When Abraham had his son Isaac, within eight days he reproduced the sign of circumcision in him. Isaac became father of Jacob, and Jacob father of twelve ‘fathers,’ each faithfully passing on the covenant sign.

“But then those ‘fathers,’ burning up with jealousy, sent Joseph off to Egypt as a slave. God was right there with him, though—he not only rescued him from all his troubles but brought him to the attention of Pharaoh, king of Egypt. He was so impressed with Joseph that he put him in charge of the whole country, including his own personal affairs.

“Later a famine descended on that entire region, stretching from Egypt to Canaan, bringing terrific hardship. Our hungry fathers looked high and low for food, but the cupboard was bare. Jacob heard there was food in Egypt and sent our fathers to scout it out. Having confirmed the report, they went back to Egypt a second time to get food. On that visit, Joseph revealed his true identity to his brothers and introduced the Jacob family to Pharaoh. Then Joseph sent for his father, Jacob, and everyone else in the family, seventy-five in all. That’s how the Jacob family got to Egypt.

“Jacob died, and our fathers after him. They were taken to Shechem and buried in the tomb for which Abraham paid a good price to the sons of Hamor.

“When the four hundred years were nearly up, the time God promised Abraham for deliverance, the population of our people in Egypt had become very large. And there was now a king over Egypt who had never heard of Joseph. He exploited our race mercilessly. He went so far as forcing us to abandon our newborn infants, exposing them to the elements to die a cruel death.

“In just such a time Moses was born, a most beautiful baby. He was hidden at home for three months. When he could be hidden no longer, he was put outside—and immediately rescued by Pharaoh’s daughter, who mothered him as her own son. Moses was educated in the best schools in Egypt. He was equally impressive as a thinker and an athlete.

“When he was forty years old, he wondered how everything was going with his Hebrew kin and went out to look things over. He saw an Egyptian abusing one of them and stepped in, avenging his underdog brother by knocking the Egyptian flat. He thought his brothers would be glad that he was on their side, and even see him as an instrument of God to deliver them. But they didn’t see it that way. The next day two of them were fighting and he tried to break it up, told them to shake hands and get along with each other: ‘Friends, you are brothers, why are you beating up on each other?’

“The one who had started the fight said, ‘Who put you in charge of us? Are you going to kill me like you killed that Egyptian yesterday?’ When Moses heard that, realizing that the word was out, he ran for his life and lived in exile over in Midian. During the years of exile, two sons were born to him.

“Forty years later, in the wilderness of Mount Sinai, an angel appeared to him in the guise of flames of a burning bush. Moses, not believing his eyes, went up to take a closer look. He heard God’s voice: ‘I am the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.’ Frightened nearly out of his skin, Moses shut his eyes and turned away.

“God said, ‘Kneel and pray. You are in a holy place, on holy ground. I’ve seen the agony of my people in Egypt. I’ve heard their groans. I’ve come to help them. So get yourself ready; I’m sending you back to Egypt.’

“This is the same Moses whom they earlier rejected, saying, ‘Who put you in charge of us?’ This is the Moses that God, using the angel flaming in the burning bush, sent back as ruler and redeemer. He led them out of their slavery. He did wonderful things, setting up God-signs all through Egypt, down at the Red Sea, and out in the wilderness for forty years. This is the Moses who said to his congregation, ‘God will raise up a prophet just like me from your descendants.’ This is the Moses who stood between the angel speaking at Sinai and your fathers assembled in the wilderness and took the life-giving words given to him and handed them over to us, words our fathers would have nothing to do with.

“They craved the old Egyptian ways, whining to Aaron, ‘Make us gods we can see and follow. This Moses who got us out here miles from nowhere—who knows what’s happened to him!’ That was the time when they made a calf-idol, brought sacrifices to it, and congratulated each other on the wonderful religious program they had put together.

“God wasn’t at all pleased; but he let them do it their way, worship every new god that came down the pike—and live with the consequences, consequences described by the prophet Amos:

Did you bring me offerings of animals and grains

those forty wilderness years, O Israel?

Hardly. You were too busy building shrines

to war gods, to sex goddesses,

Worshiping them with all your might.

That’s why I put you in exile in Babylon.

“And all this time our ancestors had a tent shrine for true worship, made to the exact specifications God provided Moses. They had it with them as they followed Joshua, when God cleared the land of pagans, and still had it right down to the time of David. David asked God for a permanent place for worship. But Solomon built it.

“Yet that doesn’t mean that Most High God lives in a building made by carpenters and masons. The prophet Isaiah put it well when he wrote,

“Heaven is my throne room;

I rest my feet on earth.

So what kind of house

will you build me?” says God.

“Where I can get away and relax?

It’s already built, and I built it.”

“And you continue, so bullheaded! Calluses on your hearts, flaps on your ears! Deliberately ignoring the Holy Spirit, you’re just like your ancestors. Was there ever a prophet who didn’t get the same treatment? Your ancestors killed anyone who dared talk about the coming of the Just One. And you’ve kept up the family tradition—traitors and murderers, all of you. You had God’s Law handed to you by angels—gift-wrapped!—and you squandered it!”

At that point they went wild, a rioting mob of catcalls and whistles and invective. But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, hardly noticed—he only had eyes for God, whom he saw in all his glory with Jesus standing at his side. He said, “Oh! I see heaven wide open and the Son of Man standing at God’s side!”

Yelling and hissing, the mob drowned him out. Now in full stampede, they dragged him out of town and pelted him with rocks. The ringleaders took off their coats and asked a young man named Saul to watch them.

As the rocks rained down, Stephen prayed, “Master Jesus, take my life.” Then he knelt down, praying loud enough for everyone to hear, “Master, don’t blame them for this sin”—his last words. Then he died.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 7 (The Message)

[ayatimascd]

Between the stars

Ok, so even though I am absolute shit at it, and English is not my first language, I have decided to start a fanfiction which i most surely will abandon, but here  goes nothing. If anybody reads this you are 100% welcome to correct in the comments any mistake you see as well as criticize anything you see off. 

Summary: She was too strong to let her power go to waste, that's why Snoke sent Kylo and his knights to retrieve her. Now a guest of the First Order, Kylo is entrusted the task of gaining her trust, or at least not make her life a walking hell. But do her calm demeanor and caring hands hide more than she lets on?

Pairings: kyloxOc

word count:  2413

warnings: none

Chapter one: The summoning

Not often was Kylo Ren summoned by his master in an off-schedule transmission, but when he was, it sheldon entrailed superfluous matters.

The summon had reached his mind not two minutes before Kylo Ren made his way to the hollow room destined to the task.

As he awaited in the holo room Kylo rejoiced that, at least, Hux had not been invited to the event. The commander and the General had been quite on edge after he had destroyed some of his computers on one of his latest fits. Well, more than the usual, that is.

After yet another unfructified mission to retrieve the map to find the map to Luke Skywalker, Kylo had taken the edge of his frustration on some of the panels of the General’s precious warship.

A surge of ghost rage washed over Kylo, but it subsided fast as the hologram came to life. He bowed his head in submission.

“I am here, Master” his voice reverberated in the cavernous room.

“Kylo Ren” Said Snoke in his raspy voice “I have a mission for you… it is of upmost importance that you carry it... successfully” Kylo gritted his teeth at the veiled insult in the light of his recent failure. He would please his master and put at ease his doubts at last.

“I will, Master”

Seemingly content with his answer, Snoke leaned forward, staring his apprentice down.

“I have felt a presence in the outer rim, strong with the force. You are to take your knights and find her”

Kylo frowned at the floor. He had taken care of the objectives Supreme Leader Snoke had given him of his own “Master, I am strong enough to end the force user on my own”

Snoke chuckled, darkly, it would have sounded almost like a real laugh had it not been for the wheezing quality of his voice.

“You won’t be killing her, Kylo”

Kylo rose his head, looking at his Master in confusion.

“Master-”

“SILENCE” Kylo’s mouth shut fast and he lowered his head again.

“You are to take your knights and find her” Snoke repeated in an absolute tone. “Bring the force user unharmed. She is too precious, we cannot let her fall in the hands of the rebel scum. You must convince her, but cause her no harm. The force tells me she will be a great asset in the war. One we’d better have on our side”

“Yes, Master”

“Good” Snoke leaned back in his chair “She is in the Quadrant Beta of the outer ring. You will know how to find her. Take as long as you need, but bring her with you”

Nodding, Kylo waited for the Hologram to fade and finally got back on his feet.

He strode with purpose through the walkway and to his quarters.

The time to summon the Knights of Ren.

The following day found Kylo awaiting for the last of his knights to gather in the war room.

He and his knights cut an impressive image on their way towards the hangar, a black cloud of towering figures cutting through the durasteel walls of the corridors, gathering the intranquil looks of the technicians and staff. They knew that the summon of the Knights sheldon implied superfluous affairs.

But not all were dreadful reactions.

On the other side of the Finalizer,  Hux had been more than pleased to hear Kylo would be leaving for an undefined amount of time, just so he wouldn't have to fill more paperwork over some destroyed console for a day.  

Kylo stewed on himself, coming again and again over the words of his master.

Who was she and why was she so important that even his own master was undermining his power? He, the most powerful sith in the galaxy? He should be more than enough for his master.

Kylo clenched his jaw under his helmet, his distorted breaths quickening from his inner turmoil. He would trust his master. He would fetch the woman and then he would see if she was as important as his master thought.

And she was.

Her presence could be felt the same moment they jumped out of hyperspace.

Like a rope to a hidden treasure, it guided them as the ship glided through the quadrant, finally setting in a lush planet on the outer system, Quenya.

Following the presence, they landed in the closest clear to a village in the hills between two mountains. Close enough to observe, far and hidden enough to not be noticed.

The Knights reunited in the small war room of the suttle, observing the holo map of the village.

“Supreme Leader Snoke has entrusted us with the mission to retrieve the force user. Female, race unknown” Said Kylo.

“Will we be raiding the village then, Master?” Asked Bakko.  

“We won’t be raiding no village” It came as a surprise to the knights. Usually they were summoned for more… forceful purposes.  

“Supreme Leader has strictly instructed that the objective is to be retrieved by nonviolent means” Kylo’s stern voice sounded through the modulator of his helmet.

“Jen” Kylo called.

“Master” said the man taking his cue “We will start with observation droids. Getting any closer to the objective would be risking being sensed”

“What guarantee do we have she has not sensed us already? We followed her trail through all the quadrant, she could do the same” Bakko put in.

“The objective is strong, but her force signature is too raw. It is clear she is untrained” Jen answered.

Kylo lowered his gaze to the holo map on the table while the rest of his knights discussed the approaching. It was a small village, a hundred inhabitants at  most. If Snoke had wanted it gone, he would have been enough, but he wanted the girl alive and unharmed.

“We will begin by sending the droids and identifying the force user, Master” finally said Jen, having assumed his usual strategist position.

Kylo nodded his approval, bottled in his own mind.

“Bora, send in the droids at nightfall”  the dark skinned knight nodded.

Kylo straightened and walked off, dismissing the short meeting.

An unmasked Kylo sat on his chambers on the shutter. He straightened his back, trying to get his mind into a proper state for meditation. He quieted his mind, ridding himself of any lingering thought and then  sank into the force.

For a while Kylo waddled in it like a pool, relishing the feeling of the power skimming over him and then, slowly, he searched for the trace of force users around himself.

He found six traces, his knights, and diverted from them, aiming his conscience towards the village, following a string. The farther he went the thicker the string became. Careful not to alert the owner, Kylo followed it, partially coming out of his state and letting his presence walk through the village’s moonlight showered streets. He followed trail after trail, tracing the owner’s usual journey. It seemed that years of routine had engraved her essence in the streets, leaving behind a false trail. Kylo persisted, focused in finding his objective.

A fresher trail diverted him from the village and so he followed, through the outer part of the settlement and though the leafy woods. There, he found too a force trail carved by the routine of repeated visits. Kylo kept on advancing through the trees until he finally came to a clear in the woods.

And there, he found her.

Unperturbed, a woman sat at the shore of a lake. Her long hair so black it fused with the night sky and fell in tight curls down her back like a cape, in contrast with her grey clothes.

He drew closer, wanting to finally identify the reason his Master had sent him to the outer ring of the galaxy. Now he could see part of her white face, so white he wondered if she was as human as she looked. She seemed too enraptured on the stars to notice him, and so Kylo braved to get closer, to finally see the side of her face. He observed her then. Straight nose with a slight perk at the point, her dark pink lips laid slightly parted, creating a double contrast with her hair and her deadly pale skin.

And then her eyes snapped from the sky, to him.

Kylo’s eyes shot open. The silence of the room was just broken by his ragged breaths. The sudden pull to his body had unbalanced him, it was never good to interrupt a meditation, he knew already, but he had risked being discovered.

As he tried to recover his breath, Kylo thought of the eyes of the woman. Although he had just seen them for a moment they were still fresh in his mind. Irises of a light grey like the stones of the village’s houses, crashing with the black lashes that surrounded them. Eyes that had looked right at his own as he stood there between the terrenal plain and the spiritual one.

Eyes that would haunt him for the rest of the night.

She seemed to be readying herself for something, what it was he did not know.

Kylo observed her through the droids as the woman ran her errands, going here and there, villagers coming to what seemed to be her hut, to then come out with her in tow, always smiling.

The people seemed to respect the young woman, bowing to her when she passed by, although she seemed too young to receive such respect. Maybe she was the daughter of the village chef.  

Kylo observed her all through the day, sometimes accompanied by some of his knights, others alone, trying to draw a routine, but she seemed to run from here to there, from one house to the other, always in a hurry, Kylo notized. Maybe she had felt him at the lake after all.

By the second day of observation he realized what she was doing. She came out of her hut with several bags and went to the market, talking to the owners of several stands and selling some of her possessions and receiving a pretty heavy pouch with credits.

Then, she disappeared in the back alleys.

Kylo fumbled with the droids, looking for his objective. He grew more and more frustrated until, at last, he found her before a hut.

The thing was small and rickety, to say the least, a feat it hadn’t collapsed on itself and ended its sorry existence decades ago.

The woman disappeared inside and Kylo expected the thing to finally turn into dust, but it did not.

He waited patiently, but the woman would not emerge until two hours later.  Another woman accompanied her, older and with red, puffy eyes as if she had been crying hard. His objective stepped forward and hugged the woman tightly and after some words he could not hear thanks to the distance the droid had been positioned, she left.  

The rest of the day she spent it on her hut. Kylo analyzed it as the evening and then night drew in. It was too big for a single person, he noted, yet there seemed to be no traces of other tenants.

“Master, would you like me to take over the observation?” Jen’s voice broke the silence in the room.

Kylo turned his covered head to his knight. Of all of his disciples Jen was the most leveled. He was responsible and calm, not often did Kylo relegate his duty in his knights, but when he did they always fell on his most loyal subject.

Kylo nodded and silently exited the room for his quarters, eager to resume his meditation and get some rest.

Master, there is movement.

Kylo instantly came about from his meditated state. Springing to his feet Kylo emerged on the tactic room, packed with the rest of his knights. They parted and let him come to the front.

“She exited the hut this morning and came back with a woman and children. It seems they have moved in” Jen informed him. Kylo nodded and watched her through the screen.

Duffle bag in her shoulder she made her way through the streets of the village, the children gathered around her like the tide with their little hands wrapped around her hands and what part of her forearms they could reach.  The adults  surrounded her, with the palm of their hands aimed at her they bowed as if adoring the figurine of a saint.  The crowd kept advancing until the edge of the village, where they stayed as she left alone and pushed into the forest and out of the drone’s vision.

Kylo straightened again and turned to his knights.

“Get ready, she is coming” They all hurried out of the chamber to their own quarters, fully gearing up on their uniforms and armor.

Kylo waited outside when they all formed up behind him. She could be felt getting closer and closer as the seconds ticked by.

The group tensed as her presence reached the edge of the woods. Although she didn’t give away any kind of aggression, the knights knew better than to lower their shields, the woman had a destructive potential.

The minutes ticked by slowly, adding to the tension on their shoulders until at last she emerged between the foliage.

Taller than he had figured from the screen, she stood not 20 yards from the group. Her clear marble eyes took them in and finally centered in Kylo’s visor. For a moment they stood frozen, observing each other. Then, calmly, she advanced again towards the warriors and stopped right in front of the leader.

The Master then took a second to observe her. She was tall for a human woman, the top of her head came right at the height of his eyes. The ghostly skin from two nights ago retained its paleness, but there was a hint of natural pink in her cheeks and the tip of her nose that dimmed a bit the contrast of her almost red lips, those hints of humanity grounded her to the terrenal realm now that he could see her at the light of the sun.

Snapping free of his thoughts Kylo turned and walked back into the spacecraft, the woman on tow and his knights closing in on the back.

In the silence of the suttle the knights shared an uneasy look from behind their masks. They had supposed she was too untrained to understand the extent of her own powers and now they knew.  

She had been waiting for them.

[coloursinmycanvas-blog]

Chapter 18 - When Dreams Come True

Hello friends, I'm back after a long break to post the penultimate chapter of the fanfic. We are finally getting to the end. Please let me know whether you enjoyed the ride and what your expectations are for the last chapter.

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(972 AD, 23rd year of Gwangjong's reign)

As he watched his mother pacing back and forth, grinding her teeth and seething with anger, Ju thought back to the conversation he had with his father a couple of weeks earlier.

He had agreed to the King’s plan more because of lack of other options and because he was overjoyed to have his father in his corner than with any real expectation that it would actually work.

Queen Daemok stopped pacing, clutched her chest and collapsed into a chair. As the sharp pain in her chest eased, she opened her eyes and looked at her son kneeling before her with concern written all over his face. She forced a smile and told him that she was alright.

Then with steely determination in her eyes and bitterness in her voice, she said, “You have to marry Yoo Seol.”

===========================================================

(Flash back - 2 weeks earlier in the King’s chamber)

“It’s not that simple. Even if I issue a royal decree, Jung will defy me and then I would have no option but to punish him and that will be the end of the already tenuous influence I have over the Yoo clan. Then there is your mother. She will burn down all of Songak before she lets you marry Seol.”

With knit eyebrows, King Gwangjong glanced up at his son. He scowled when he saw the smile spreading across Ju’s face.

King Gwangjong had been trying to drive home the point that Ju’s quest to marry the girl he loved was beyond impossible. However, in doing so, instead of despair, he had given Ju more hope because the very words that were meant to be discouraging had ended up revealing that the King himself was not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Stop grinning. I’m not happy with this situation either. I have always preferred to keep Seol out of the political quagmire that is Songak.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Ju nodded his head and tried to suppress his smile but failed miserably. He had been splashing around in the roaring waters, trying to swim against the current, grasping at straws and coming up empty for so long that even a tentative yes from his father made him feel ecstatic.

He still had a long way to go but with the King of Goryeo on his side, Ju felt that finally he had a real chance.

King Gwanjong let out a deep sigh.

“As I was saying, this is a sticky situation with no easy solution. But if you are willing to trust me and take a long, tortuous path, maybe I can get Queen Daemok and Jung to come up with the proposal themselves and ask that you marry Seol. ”

==========================================================

(Back to the Queen’s chamber to continue the conversation)

 “You have to marry Yoo Seol.”

Even as she said that, Queen Daemok scrunched her brows and wrinkled her nose in distaste, literally spitting out the name of the offspring of her mortal enemy. Ju's eyes grew as wide as saucers. He had not dared to hope for this day despite his father’s supreme confidence in his plan.

“I wish there was another way to get around this situation. Unfortunately, we missed the intent behind your father’s moves and now, we have been checkmated. The Yoos are close to an open revolt and Jung won’t be able to keep them in check much longer. As such, he’s been losing respect with the clan because your father undermines him at every turn. In any case, we have to stabilize the situation and maintain peace until your coronation. A queen each from Silla and Chungju should keep everyone quiet for the time being."

Queen Daemok looked exhausted as she rested her head against the back of the chair. She closed her eyes for a moment before she shook off her lethargy and leaned forward.

"But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Once you become the King, I want you to marry Hwangbo Su. In fact, marry both the Hwangbo girls. That will assure you of the full support of the Hwangbos. My mother knows that the King will never allow it and so she has convinced the Hwangbos to bide their time and stay by your side if you promise to make Hwangbo Su the Queen of Goryeo when you become King."

Ju’s mouth went dry as he heard his mother’s elaborate plan to outmanoeuvre the King.

“Mother, I can’t do that. Even if I do marry her, Su will be my third wife. She cannot be the Queen of Goryeo.”

Queen Daemok gave a short laugh.

“Of course, she can. That girl from Silla intends to become a priestess after the marriage. I don’t have any way of proving it to the Yoo clan but I’m convinced that your father never intended for her to become Queen. That marriage was just a ploy to make Seol the Queen while giving Gyeongsunwang of Silla an opportunity to prance around with self-importance and remind everyone that his family has ruled much of Goryeo for 10 centuries.”

Her eyes blazed with a fire born of hatred as she looked intently at her son.

“Ju, that terrible excuse for a girl can never be the Queen of Goryeo. Jung will convince the King to let him keep his precious daughter in Chunju after the marriage. I have arranged it so that once the wedding ceremony is complete, that girl will never set foot in Songak again.”

She let out a deep sigh and took her son’s hands in hers.

“I know that I don't have much time left and I’m worried that Jung might not be as insistent about keeping his daughter away from the throne if I'm not around anymore. His concern for his daughter's welfare might take a backseat to the furore and greed of the clan elders eventually, especially after I’m gone. I’ve done everything I can but the rest is up to you, son. I need you to grant me my most ardent wish. Don’t let that girl sit on my throne.”

Ju’s eyes were wet with unshed tears as he watched his mother unravel before his eyes with pent up hatred and a quest for revenge.

"Mother, isn't it about time that you let go of the past? The woman's been dead for years and the girl hardly remembers what her mother looked like. Could you not forgive and forget? I wish you could forget all the sorrow and angst of the past and find peace and happiness." 

Queen Daemok was surprised by the sincerity and sadness in her son’s voice as he made the plea. Her face softened as she reached out and caressed his young face and tears of anger and frustration sprung to her eyes. She shook her head to dispel the moment of weakness.

“I can't let go. I won't let go of my hatred and you shouldn’t either. That woman and that girl, they took everything else from us. All of your father’s love that should have been ours by right, they took it away. She was nothing, a nobody and yet she pranced around the throne room like she owned it and enjoyed more privileges than the Queen herself. But that woman, no matter how hard she tried, was never Queen. That was my victory. She died as a court lady that no one will remember while I will go down in history as the Queen consort of King Gwangjong. That was my revenge. My throne – I protected it from her until the very end.”

A small smile flickered across the Queen’ face before it contorted with anger.

“Now she’s back from beyond the grave, to claim the throne through that wretched girl - that girl who is the spitting image of her mother.”

Queen Daemok grabbed her son’s hand and her tone grew more desperate with every word.

“My son, you must protect the throne. It was the only thing she couldn’t take away from me and I can’t lose now. I know that it’s a lot to ask for. I know that it will not be easy but don’t worry. Mother will help you. I will ensure that you have the support of as many clans as possible to see this through. So, please promise me, son. Promise me that she'll never be Queen."

Ju remained silent for a very long time before he nodded his head.

"I promise."

=========================================================== 

 (A month later – Royal wedding of Crown Prince Ju)

  Yoo Seol carefully folded the blue and red ceremonial robe she had worn that day. A shy smile graced her soft mouth and a pink blush spread across her cheeks as she remembered glancing up during the ceremony at the groom and being rewarded with his bright, disarming smile.

He had looked so handsome – her husband. Seol bit her lip and covered her face with her hands. Her husband - those words brought her so much joy. Princess Mun Deok was right - it was truly a dream come true.

That morning while helping Seol with her clothes and make-up, the princess had noticed the red ribbon with gold embroidery in Seol’s hand – the one that Ju gave Seol years ago when they went out to the market place to celebrate the double ninth festival. Seol had wanted to wear the ribbon on her wedding day and the princess had happily incorporated it into a beautiful braid that would support the crown that Seol had worn during the wedding ceremony.

Mun Deok had referred to the ribbon as a reminder of the beautiful memories that they shared together and their unattainable dream that had finally come true.

Setting aside the folded clothes and the elaborate headgear, Seol sat down on the bed still dressed in the shimmering white silk robe that had served as the undergarment for the wedding gown. She placed the dagger that her father had given her under the pillow and looked forlornly at the door which stubbornly remained closed. She fingered the red ribbon as she remembered the conversation that she had that morning with Queen Daemok.

“Be sure to get a good look at the groom during the wedding ceremony because you will never see him again. After today, you will never set foot in Songak again.”

Seol had been taken aback by the depth of the hatred that was gleaming in the Queen’s eyes as she breathed those words. The Queen had followed through on her threat. She had suddenly taken ill soon after the ceremony and as per her request, her son had accompanied her to her brother’s home where the Queen would spend the rest of her days with her mother, Queen Hwangbo.

Seol quickly dried the tears that rolled down her eyes. She contemplated that while her dream did come true, she ended up losing what she truly wanted. The next morning, she would leave Songak and would never return. She could no longer visit the palace with her father as she used to and Ju cannot visit her in Chungju very often; or at all if his mother had her way.

Marrying Ju had meant giving up all opportunities to spend time with him - to talk to him, to laugh with him, to climb trees and jump over the walls with him. That reminded her of something Ju had told her years ago - “You should be careful what you wish for. Might just come true."

She smiled through her tears as she lay her head on the soft pillow and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later, Seol was drifting away in troubled sleep when the sound of the closing door awoke her. It took a moment for Seol to find her bearings. She sat up and her fingers gripped the hilt of the dagger hidden under her pillow. She lifted her hand and held the dagger close to her face as her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness and process the long shadows in the dull moonlight that seeped into the room.

At that moment, the intruder threw his riding cloak across a chair and crossed the room to stand before her bed.

“You are awake”, Ju said with a smile.

“I thought…… I thought you left”, Seol stammered.

“I did but how could I stay away when my wife is all alone and on edge? A dagger? Really? My brave wife was planning to slash the throats of assassins with a dagger?”

With a smile, he sat down close to her and gently pried the dagger off her shaking hand. Drinking in the beauty of her flushed face in soft moonlight, he tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear. As he did, his eyes fell on the red ribbon that snaked around her hair.

“That ribbon suits you. Someone with impeccable taste must have given it to you.”

Seol smiled as she touched the ribbon softly. “Of course, it does. And it matches my wedding robes perfectly.”

Ju raised his brows as he eyed the thin silk robe. “It does?” he asked with a sly smile.

Seol turned her face away blushing profusely. “I meant the one I was wearing this morning.”

“Ah…… so…. If it’s no longer matching, maybe you should take it off”, he said softly as he tucked at the white ribbon and the soft white cloth slid off her pale shoulders.

 =========================================================

[sleepymarmot]

Twilight Mirage liveblog 4/5 (episodes 55-63)

55-56

Ha, Austin rereads the passage I just came back to relisten 

Yeah, this only proves the point that you can't put the wellbeing and infrastructure of an entire society on the shoulders of 300 people with superpowers, and the warmth of their personal relationship with the rest ot the people! Sorry, I can't make myself sad about this system that was ridiculous and inherently unsustainable from the start!

But how about… Not mean humans ~enslaving innocent Divines~ because they're not idealistic enough or too utilitarian or w/e… not the Divines going “Oh no the 30k years of our love weren't real! You only want us for our bodies! Guess we'll die” and flopping over… How about Divines actually step up and sacrifice themselves willingly for the common good, you know, the way countless humans have done in this universe across both arcs?! “They could be made to be what Candidates once were” Oh boo fucking hoo!

I'm just. Thinking of C/w finale and how unnecessarily brutal it was and how many people sacrificed themselves and others for the greater good. And you're telling me that the Divines and the entire Fleet as a society are too precious for that? And I don't mean sacrifice yourself like Belgard, I mean the bigger picture. A utopia that isn't for everyone isn't a utopia, etc, see that post about The Good Place that got a surprising amount of notes lol

Also count me as an Independence kin still. I would absolutely break up with someone over the right to die (then run away and make everyone really upset by my mere presence then behave in such a way they have to kill me, twice. Okay maybe not this part)

Honestly the whole concept of the Fleet sounds so toxic. It's like being fully financially dependent on your beloved parents forever.

Oh wait here's another thing I must rage about: they stopped making new Divines so that they wouldn't be enslaved! Here's a novel idea: how about instead making a Divine that could be turned into a more productive machine… you make that machine in the first place??? You know, how people in real life make machines to use instead of manual labor??

Like, the problem with Divines is a two-sided coin:

Flawed individuals should not possess inordinate amounts of power. They might abuse it, misuse or just use with good intentions but in controversial or questionable ways (see: the Divines in Counter/weight).

As a flip side, making an entire community almost fully dependent on labor of a small group of sentient beings of a separate species is an unfair burden to them, and even if it is provided willingly. The benefitters become dependent on providers, which is exacerbated by the latter's small numbers (the Fleet being thrown into a crisis by the loss of the final Divines and only coming out of it fine because another superpowered being happened to be nearby). The providers are put at risk of exploitation (the Divines of being “enslaved/killed”), especially since they are outnumbered. The benefitters’ genuine love for the providers is undermined and may eventually be corrupted and superseded by their vested interest in maintaining this arrangement -- but at the same time, wanting more resources is a natural thing and people cannot and should not be blamed for it. This relationship may be mutually beneficial (and it was for an astonishingly long time) but carries an inherent risk.

So Divines potentially have too much and too little power at the same time. Both of these problems could have been avoided if “a special kind of synthetic beings” and “algorithms and robots that provide unique services that form the backbone of society” were two separate things in the first place! Fine, you can't undo what happened tens of thousands of years ago under very specific circumstances and specific threat, but you could try to recognize the problem instead of building a community whose structure is bound to bring that problem to the forefront sooner or later. 

Okaaay, so where did the Divines that “didn't make the cut”, other than Independence, go? Is there a club of really bitter superpowered rejects somewhere?

I really don't get why Tender is having such a crisis

Austin and Janine are a pair of sadistic bastards lmao

I can't believe it's only been an hour into the episode, feels like an eternity (in a good way)        

On the one hand, it's nice that at least Anticipation was thinking about the things I wrote above. On the other, “They could be made to be what Candidates once were” becomes even more ridiculous, because Anticipation is using her excerpt like a candidate Right Now! In order to determine whether she and her kin should be used! 

Tender gets her own version of the “Independence makes Grand an offer he can't refuse” scene :D 

Okay, my first objection to “giving it to Sho” was “um, you want to waste that resource on becoming a museum piece?!” but my current one is, unlike the players' “Anticipation would hurt Sho”, is “do you really want to combine this with Sho's high-strung personality?”

Aaand Tender makes the right choice :D I'm glad.

Wow! This second episode has wildly exceeded all my expectations. What a ride

57-59 

No offense, but I wish the three episodes of “everything is Advent's fault somehow, again” didn't stand in my way to the much superior premise of “Grand Magnificent and Waltz Tango Cache rescue Fouteen from a newly arrived rival faction's flagship”. God, I hope this goes in some interesting unexpecting direction asap. 

Wait, was it ever mentioned that Echo's family is also separated onto the two planets? That's new to me, and it would have been relevant to the first post-Miracle arc. 

Gig making a bold move, getting hit with 4 stress at once and gaining a status at the beginning of the mission: 

Blease tell me someone has redrawn that Community gif with Echo entering the completely trashed ship. That's such a good image

The entire throwing maneuver and the rolls they got… Absolutely fucking crazy

I actually yelped out loud when Echo failed a fucking desperate roll inside the light beam

How come Echo's nanites were inactive before but got activated now? How does that work? 

It's strange how suddenly the show got intense again! The missions after the Miracle felt fun but unengaging for me, and I didn't expected it to pick up until the finale. So many ups and downs in this arc! Can't believe how quickly and often it went from “we basically won” to mortal danger in about one turn. The title should have been “Echo Reverie's Terrible, Bad, No Good Day”… Glad to see the theme of the weight of violence back. It feels very natural as a conflict between Even and Echo, but I wonder if later it would involve Grand Magnificent too – the discussion during Even's message for Cascabel reminded me of what I wrote after the holiday special.

60-61 

Being one of the only two party members doesn't suit Waltz, he has to act dumb for the sake of player agency 

I understand why Jack wants to see what the “new job” is about, but not why Fourteen does!

Ending the recap on “Now you're gonna go your separate ways, and everything's gonna fall apart” is, um, nice

Wait, why is Fourteen on their last life? And how would they know that?

Oh, here's the arms dealer Grand Magnificent I was waiting for lmao Although to be honest… That design wasn't that special in terms of military power, right? I remember the disussions of its complex appearance and the difficulty of shaping the material into this multifaceted sculpture, but it didn't have any innovative armor or weaponry, right? It's not like it's the first and only q-glass mech. I mean, setting aside the base problem that it might not be the most wise and ethical idea to give weapons to the amoral people for whom you just delivered a bomb (and are trying to ignore that fact) while they're tearing your friend's body apart, and that they would have settled for less… it's not like he gave them the part of the actual Divine Independence. I guess we'll see what Advent will do…

At some point Jack, I think, said that Grand is acting like Lem and I was like. Please don't. Can you not go into that direction in the future too please. I've already been concerned about his character arc since finishing Winter and this isn't helping!

Anyways today I had enough free time to listen to five episodes and now I'm hungover and also sad. I'm glad Grand Magnificent didn't suddenly become heroic but also this is depressing. Can't wait for everyone (minus him posssibly?) to finally meet and share the wild shit that happened to them recently. Tender is an excerpt! Fourteen is a knight and also on the brink of dying forever for some reason! Echo has fought in a civil war against their brother! Grand sold out to everyone's #1 enemy and left!

I don't really get ending episode on so much exposition… I understand the awkwardness of retelling an event that was intended to happen onscreen, but when Schism attacked, I assumed that fighting it would be the finale. On the other hand, I thought the same about the September Incident, and how happy I was to be wrong!

62-63

The downtime episode was excellent – exactly the thing I like! Two notes:

I can't be the only one bothered by the use of the word “fascist”, right? Greedy cynical bandits and graverobbers, capitalists, terrorists, whatever… but what does fascism do with any of that?

Everyone's plans for the future were pretty vague, but what I really didn't get was the heart of the debate between Signet and the Cadent. It sounded as if they were talking about the same thing with different words sometimes…

The doctor is Jace, correct? Rapid Evening, academic career, stratis, husband and wife, used to be rivals with someone named Rose? I had to relisten to the entire vignette looking for clues and trying to rememer anyone who would fit all of these descriptors.