#she is the only one to be saved and it takes herculean effort

[overangel]

ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ɢɪʀʟ ᴇᴠɪʟ

❥ This is a yandere batfam x neglected reader story.

act 1, act 2, act 3

You wake up nearly 10 years in the past and reunite with the one person you could truly call family. Your path is diverging into strange new directions as you discover your abilities. Will this be a dream come true? ❥ MDNI 18+, TW: su!c!de mention, death of a parent, depression & anxiety, semi-incest

It’s a struggle to force your eyelids open at first. You confuse squeezing them shut with opening them but finally figure it out as they slowly peel open, breaking the crust that once sealed them shut.

A greasy film obscures your vision, turning the ceiling lights into a blurred haze, and when your mind finally boots up, all of your senses wake at the exact same time and overwhelm you instantly.

“Ack!”

A muffled cry vibrated around the ET tube placed down your throat. Your throat constricted around the tube painfully as you fought the instinct to throw up. 

Thankfully, the air it provided kept you from choking as you forced yourself to calm down and will away the colorful spots that filled your vision.

The vitals monitor once beeped lazily but now your pulse was picking up. The pulse oximeter on your left middle finger felt like it weighed a ton and what once was a pleasant numbness when you were unconscious, became an ache that made your whole right arm tremble. 

Your arm, the arm you would have given to save your mother, was surprisingly in one piece. It was strapped over your chest and a splint set your wrist straight.

This was such a vivid memory. Yeah, you were haunted by nightmares of the storm, the phantom pains of your mother’s weight pulling at your arm. The first day at Wayne Manor, never feeling more alone since middle school, the words, the violence, the isolation, those dreams felt so real then too. It’s just that this dream–

‘Wait…’

You’re not supposed to feel pain in dreams and the pounding behind your eyes, the burning on your left hand and the sharp throb that shook your right arm were all too real. But, you couldn’t be alive!

You felt the cool steel in your hand, and the pressure it took to feel the trigger. That satisfying shift of it's weight before— 

Then, it clicked. 

'Oh, come on.'

Your vision finally cleared after several more blinks.

Raising your left hand was a Herculean effort and you probably would’ve bit your lips until they bled if the ventilator wasn’t keeping them parted. Trembling, involuntarily twitching fingers were gingerly raised to your cheek where you felt a thick bandage beside your left eye. 

Beneath would be a scar that the past you would be ashamed of for the rest of her life. Your thoughts drifted to the you from before. She was so silly, you thought of yourself, so skittish, so insecure.

You had been surrounded by beautiful, interesting people, and you were so young back then. If only you had understood comparison was the thief of joy.

The scar you had didn't take away from your natural looks, and you actually found it cute. If you took care of it like you're supposed to, it would become a small crescent that turned inward towards your left eye and have a silvery cast to it when the light hit it just right.

You carefully turned your left hand and took in the bandage that protected your palm. Beneath these bandages were lacerations that would take months to finally knit themselves closed and stop oozing blood occasionally. 

Your hands… Even hardened fighters like Cassandra had such pretty, graceful hands, but the you from the past felt like yours belonged to a medieval blacksmith. Your hands didn't belong to a privileged heiress, or a former girl next door; the deep scars revealed too much pain and the savagery you survived. 

You dropped your hand and exhaled a shuddering huff that irritated your throat. 

‘I’m 16 again.’ You looked up and gazed at the crown mouldings along the wall nearest to you. Your hospital room looked more like a master’s suite that took up far too much space to share a floor with other rooms.

It was so overwhelming back then. Your real family would’ve never been able to afford this despite loving you more than Bruce and his brood were ever capable of in their twisted little hearts.

Your old self should’ve known to enjoy it while it lasted. Bruce would never show you so much favor after your hospitalization besides a credit card tossed across his desk and that was only after Alfred pestered him about you needing to have your own finances like the others.

The blackout blinds were shut tightly making it impossible to tell what time of day it was and you didn’t see a clock around. You tried to adjust by raising your shoulders but realized the extra weight on your shoulders was a thick neck brace holding your neck in place. 

You don’t remember how deeply the wire cut through your neck in your past life, but you knew it was a miracle that kept you from losing your head and your voice. 

After your injuries were accounted for, the silence set in and your ears started ringing. 

You heard blood rushing in your ears, and felt wet leaves slapping your face. 

Dirt was blown up your nose and stung your eyes. Your clothes were cold and soaking wet, clinging to your body like a second skin. So much noise. There was so much noise from the sirens blaring, to the winds, to the crashing waves and hale that pounded any roof still above water. 

A woman’s voice cut through it all, begging her only child, the only reason she breathed, “Please, let me go..” 

She struggled at first. She tried to make you drop her. She begged at first, and then when she could tell by the look in your eyes that you wouldn’t listen–that this was the one thing you would not obey your mother over–she demanded you let go. 

She hollered as loudly as she could over the winds, begging, pleading, scolding, trying to talk sense into you. “You won't make it!” The gate you clung to couldn’t support both your weights for much longer.

“I've lived my life!” And you haven’t lived any of yours yet, baby.

She was ready to go. She left you when a pipe came soaring through the air as if it was a javelin thrown by Phrastor himself. 

You would like to think she died immediately. You didn’t know how long it took for her fingers to go slack. Maybe seconds, maybe minutes of agony. Still, you just didn’t know how to let go. 

Maybe that was your problem.

All of the noises blended together until it doubled over and became silent again. “Please, mom. Don't go.”

It felt like your ears were filled with water.

You couldn’t ignore the truth. If you had been brought back to this point in time, it meant that they were already gone. 

She was already gone. 

Tears blurred your vision and a thick sob made your throat spasm around the ET tube. Why couldn’t you have gone back further? At least far enough to warn mom and everyone to leave town! A day—even 2 hours—would’ve been enough if you all just hit the road! 

Even with this one in a million, no–one in a trillion chance–you still weren’t allowed to be truly happy.

So many times you wished you could give Bruce Wayne’s life for your mother’s. He was worth billions of dollars, but your mama was worth more than a billion of him.

The only thing you had ever wanted wasn’t their love or even a bit of tolerance. You just wanted to feel your mother’s arms around you one last time. 

You would’ve preferred a moment in her arms instead of a chance at a new life without her. Your actual desires were so simple.

Wealth? You couldn’t touch a single penny. Affluence? No one truly liked you. They liked your new surname, but it didn’t matter if the person attached to it lived or died. Privilege? You weren’t some WASP, and wouldn’t fit in at the country club even if you were invited.

Whatever was out there truly loved fucking with you. 

Tears trailed down your face while thinking of your mother and left drying tracks. You sniffed up the mucus that threatened to drip down your lip and forced your mind to go quiet.

You had to pull yourself out of this slump before you fell into depression. You tried to lean your head back against the suffocatingly plush pillow and thought, willing a thank you to your mom, your friends, family, acquaintances, and everyone you lost. 

“Please guide me.”

You remained slouched against the plush pillows and closed your eyes. You would need any peace you could get before stepping on the battlefield if you really did go back to the past. 

You only shut your eyes for a second when you opened them again to a foreign plane. You stood on a desolate land lightly shrouded in drifting mist, without a single spot of green in sight. The earth you stood on was tightly packed dirt and any grass you saw was yellow and clearly dehydrated by how sharp the blades were against your bare feet when you tried to take a step. 

Once again, you felt pain in what should’ve been a dream. Here, you weren’t wearing your bandages and there weren’t neck or arm braces to restrict you. You flexed your fingers and balled your fists, admiring the dexterity you once took for granted and the healed scars that lined your wrists and palms in an unsymmetrical but captivating tapestry. 

You touched the scars around your neck and cleared your throat, pleased that there was no pain. You spoke a few words and teared up at the sound of your own voice. “Is that me?” 

It was like reuniting with an old friend. 

You braved the pricks and stabs of dead grass and nettles and walked the terrain you could see amid the mist. You were completely alone here, the only sound being the gentle trickle of a black brook that led nowhere. 

Retracing your steps, you came to the only other landmark, a dead tree with skinny twisting branches that reached to the sky as if pleading to some divine figure for mercy. You plopped down against the base and immediately regretted it when pain shot up your tailbone when you landed on a gnarled root.

However, the pain was quickly forgotten when a sheet of parchment paper fell from above and into your lap. 

“One hour in the real world = one day in the pocket dimension”

It looked freshly written in curling violet font. The ink didn’t bleed on the fine archival paper, and when you looked up to see who dropped it all you saw was a grey, cloudy sky. You didn’t like the clouds. It reminded you of before the storm touched ground.

You shook away the thoughts that threatened to sink icy fingers into your heart, and flipped the paper to look for more instructions.

That’s helpful but how will you keep up with time if there’s no–oh. You looked at your forearm and saw that there was periwinkle writing gently ebbing with your pulse. ‘23 min’

Oh. 

Thanks.

You leaned against the tree trunk and sighed. Honestly, you weren’t really this calm and cool. In your past life, you literally lived in a constant state of anxiety from the moment you woke in the morning until the second sleep finally claimed you and the nightmares began.

It got to the point when there wasn’t an anti-anxiety medication on the market you hadn’t tried and fear would root you to the spot and prevent you from physically stepping through your bedroom door for days. 

So, why were you handling this all so well? If you really went back to in time to after the flood, after you recovered you’d be going back to hell. You could recall every humiliating memory in your last life in chronological order and you were going back to the place where your future diverged into darkness. Why were you so calm?

You looked up at the bleak sky of this so-called “pocket dimension” and sighed. 

You willed the memories that haunted every waking moment in your past life to the forefront. Even if it’s a dream, you couldn't shirk this chance if you had time to prepare. You lived with so many regrets until it didn’t feel like living anymore.

You laid out a mental map, In the past, you woke from the coma after 2 months, and remained in the hospital for another 2. In that time, the only person who visited you had been Alfred Pennyworth who tried to keep a concise schedule for you, despite having higher priorities. 

Physical therapy was hell, and you weren’t able to physically speak for 3 months, but didn’t actually speak for 6 because of selective mutism. Living in the manor left you too afraid to speak.

You grumbled in agitation, mostly at yourself.

When Alfred brought you back, you had only been standing in the foyer for a minute before a kick from Damian Wayne swept your feet from under you and on your still injured right wrist. You writhed and cried from the shock and pain, and only Alfred helped you up.

Richard Grayson attempted a half-hearted “You okay there?” with a pitied furrowed brow, and concern that didn’t reach his baby blues. 

Bruce Wayne seemed disgusted and Cassandra Cain lost interest.

No one gets a second chance at a first impression and that was how yours went down.

“I can’t let that happen again.” But how could you avoid an actually trained assassin? Distress was taking root and locking your limbs in place. Your heart stuttered and air didn’t come easily anymore. How could you fight against someone like that?

Then, an expanse of tatami mats appeared over the dried grass and a figure stood motionlessly in the center of it. Naturally, you were startled and scooted back as if you were trying to force yourself as far into the tree as possible. 

You quieted your breath and stared at the figure trying to get a good look from a safe-ish distance. The lone figure was shrouded in darkness, his back facing the source of light in this realm, a source you couldn’t locate behind the grey clouds. Something about it seemed so familiar.

Dread iced your spine, but astonishment spurred you on. It looked like Damian! 

You climbed to your feet and stumbled forward. It looked exactly like he did when you first met when he was just 13 years old. His hair was spiked and his eyes were menacing and hateful. It was like looking at the real thing and you feared it might actually be. What were the odds you shared this place with the demon?

But something else came to mind. You were worried about being attacked on your first day and not being able to do anything about it, and now here were some tatami mats and the Damian you remember from that time. 

When you needed help, a solution appeared. It was just up to you to use the tools provided. 

‘I’ve seen him fight before.’ The double took a fighting stance, ‘I’ve experienced his skills firsthand.’ And had scars and bruises to show for it.

‘I could read him…’ The double kicked out and you stumbled out of the way. The toes of his boot skimmed your shin and pain erupted up the bone. You didn’t get out of the way completely and dropped clutching your leg in pain, but you had seen it coming, and acted!

You looked up at the double who glared down at you disdainfully. You knew his every move and the skills he’d accumulate along the way. If you really tried…

You staggered to your feet and imitated a stance you saw him drop into hundreds of times. Your eyes met the double’s emerald ones. Eyes almost as green and vile as the Lazarus pit, and just as hateful as those of the real deal’s. You unconsciously held your breath. Those eyes were the scariest things about him in your opinion, and you’d have to get used to looking them all in the eye if you were going to change.

“Again.” You commanded and the double attacked.

You opened your eyes after a week of training in the pocket dimension to it only being 7 hours of sleep in the real world. Well, it looked like you had a restful sleep but your mind and spirit had been wide awake for 7 days straight. You had spent that time training with and studying the double that kicked your butt more times than you could count. 

However, you were getting up easier, predicting every move, and your body was reacting faster. You had caught the double off guard a few times, forcing him to rethink his next moves and counterattack.

Unfortunately, there was a tradeoff. You were sore. Even your blood ached. 'I could use some codeine...' You blinked the sleep from your eyes to find a nurse’s ample chest hovering over your face as she reached to refill your medications.

You quietly stared at the welcomed sight until she pulled back on her heels after completing her task. Her eyes dropped down to glance at you before leaving when she saw you staring and screamed.

“Oh! D-doctor, she’s awake!”

And your ears worked, too.

You counted at least 6 different medical professionals in your room at once and distractedly answered questions by tapping your left pointer finger once for yes and twice for no as your eyes flitted from one figure to the next. They reminded you of busy bees buzzing around a hive. 

You had feeling in all of your extremities and although it hurt enough to bring tears to your eyes, you could lift your right hand the slightest centimeter. 

Dazed from the overstimulation, you blinked sheepishly when you felt something in the air change, and in your heart, you knew why. 

Turning your torso to face the door because you couldn’t turn your neck alone, you saw the man who cared for you when you had no one else.

He was as classy as ever, black jacket perfectly tailored, and pressed pants above freshly polished oxfords. 

His posture was straight and shoulders were back but his composure slipped the slightest fraction and his lips trembled when your eyes finally met.

Your breathing hitched and heart rate spiked, the heart monitor beeping rapidly. At this moment, your limbs didn’t feel like they weighed a hundred tons, and you were starting to pull your legs up and twisting to get out of bed. You’d fall if you tried to take a single step out of it but that was far from your mind. What’s a little more pain?

You reached both hands towards Alfred, eyes shimmering with tears, and the sight struck something deep within him. 

You two had never met before and all that he knew of you came from secondhand accounts as he researched your loved ones and helped with funerary arrangements and settlements for those affected by the Wayne Enterprise Flood Disaster.

He didn’t know you, but for some inexplicable reason, he felt like you’d met before. He knew you. And, to his astonishment, he had even loved you. 

He was crossing the suite in strides and at your bedside before you could fall. His hands were gently lowering your own and settling you into bed as if he had done it for you hundreds of times. 

“Careful, dear girl.” 

The last bit of your composure cracked and you threw your arms around his slender waist, the wires patched onto them were a hindrance and tugged the tape on your skin but you squeezed him as tightly as you could in your weakened state. 'I didn't mean to.' You cried your apologies deep in your heart, 'I didn't really want to.'

He was dumbstruck as you sobbed into his suit jacket, but slowly, he lowered his composure and gently embraced you as well.

Nurse Patrice, the nurse you had taken a shine to since you woke up, wiped her eyes quickly and went to make herself scarce. “They’re thinking they can take the ET tube out in a few days. She’s been doing very well breathing on her own.”

Alfred looked up at the nurse, he hadn’t noticed her at all since all of his attention had been devoted to you, and smiled his gentlemanly smile that seemed to set women’s hearts at ease.

“When she’s cleared in a week, she can start PT.”

You hiccupped around the ventilator and Alfred rubbed soothing circles between your shoulder blades. Nurse Patrice gazed at your trembling back and quietly left you two alone. She would make sure no one bothered you for a while. 

Alfred tenderly smoothed down your hair with one hand as your sobs quieted. You hadn’t had a proper shower, much less washed your hair, since the storm over a couple of weeks ago and you wouldn’t be able to care for your hair until your hands were healed. 

He carefully and discreetly untangled small knots at some of your ends, and made a note to do some research on hair care so he could help you take care of yours. 

“Are you feeling better, young Miss?”  

You nodded your head into his vest, suddenly too shy to show your face.

He pulled out a pristine handkerchief and lightly wiped your cheeks. 

He didn’t mean to say it, but he wasn’t entirely himself while he was in your presence. Maybe he was a different version of himself, and maybe he liked this version of him better than the one he was before he met you. 

“You'll never be alone again.”

You finally released Alfred after you were sure he wouldn’t leave your sight. He tried to hide his grin at you not wanting him to go, before politely pulling Nurse Patrice aside for a private chat.

A good cry was really what you needed, but you hadn’t expected that you’d be so overcome by emotion.

Yes, you loved Alfred and honestly he was the only person keeping you going in your past life, other than the fact you knew your mother would want you to live.

You had cut all ties with the living world the last few years of your life. Friends and acquaintances became strangers and you were too ashamed to reach out to your extended family. 

You succumbed to depression, but Alfred was the only earthly tie you truly regretted severing. He was your strength in your mother’s stead. The only thing you regretted was breaking his heart when you ended it all.

Everything felt right with him near. So peaceful that you turned on the mounted flat screen to a telenovela and watched ridiculously attractive people traverse equally ridiculous situations.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Alfred and Nurse Patrice looking at his phone as she showed him something and he nodded his head in understanding. They were hitting it off, you grinned. Such a charmer, Mr. Pennyworth.

You were in a coma for around 2 months in your last life and that was enough time for Bruce Wayne to do most of the damage control he needed. He acted fast, paying for funerals, sending kids to college, paying mortgages and for living arrangements so that the people who lost everything, citizens who were unfairly branded as “refugees” in their own country, could try to live again. 

Influencers, celebrities, and anyone with an opinion continued to drag him but things were dying down smoothly. Wealth and being a good-looking white man was a hell of a cheat code. The world was moving on without you, and 2 months was more than enough time for Batman’s brood to put you out of mind. 

You blinked owlishly at the thought and the apathy it brought. that thought didn’t hurt at all, when it would’ve–actually it had–cut you down before.

When you were an actual teenager without a friend in the world, the thought of being forgotten scared you to death but as a mentally grown woman who had hit her lowest low in one life already, you were at peace. 

In fact, it’d be nice if they never noticed you were there at all. It would make pawning off some of the heirlooms and portraits around the place all too easy. You wondered if you could learn where all the cameras were…Alfred caught the devious glint in your eye and raised his brows. 

He walked to your bedside and took a seat in the armchair beside you. You opened your hand and he took it without having to be asked. 

There were so many things foreign to Alfred. 

Yes, Bruce had adoptive daughters, but that didn’t mean Alfred did. Yet, for some indiscernible reason he felt like you were his. 

Bruce was your father, but you were his daughter, and he'd do everything you deserved like learning how to care for your hair.

Your texture was so different from his own, but the wheels were turning and he was looking forward to starting the routines Nurse Patrice put him on.

Your eyes crinkled in a smile, content in the silence.  

“You gave everyone quite a scare when you were first admitted,” He couldn’t get to the hospital immediately but he knew you had emergency surgery for your neck. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say you were nearly decapitated, and it should’ve been impossible for the doctors to save your life and your voice. Yet, the impossible was made possible and Alfred would make sure that the research institute would never lack funding.

“But you’re recovering even faster than expected.” You had woken up within 2 weeks compared to the 2 months of the past.

By ‘everyone,’ he meant the medical staff. To his horror, Bruce seemed ambivalent to your condition as long as you didn't die. Sticking you in a private room in an exclusive hospital only available to millionaires was partially for the care, but mostly so he could ensure no paparazzi would find you and cause him more trouble.

You tried squeezing his hand with the fingers on your left hand, the hand that despite being wrecked by the barbed wire, retained almost all of its nerve function. You turned back to the tv to watch the telenovela, but Alfred’s eyes rested on your profile, almost studying you and committing every little pore to memory.

His heart was unsettled, there was this growing fear that he could lose you, as if he already had before. But how, when this is your first meeting?

Being near you brought him so much joy, but his hands also trembled as if to anticipate you falling to pieces. He didn't know why this was, but that only made him want to keep you close and protect you.

Turning his thoughts towards more positive things, he knew just what gift to bring you tomorrow, and was already looking forward to the way your face would light up. 

Only the world's greatest detective could notice the way Alfred's left eyebrow was creased the most miniscule bit in disgust. The greatest detective would if he was paying attention. 

“So, how are your classes, Tim?” Bruce spoke from his seat at the head of the table. “Everything's good. Boring, but good.”

‘imagine how bored Young Mistress Y/n is.’ Alfred's expression was perfectly schooled but his eyes were so over it. 

Bruce nodded his head, “And what about you, Damian?” The young boy scowled. “It seems that just anyone can become an educator these days.” He let loose a rant while Alfred’s gaze burned a hole into the wall opposite him. 

He considered these family dinners a much deserved respite from the fighting, but it didn't feel whole after you came into his life. It would never feel like a family dinner to him unless you were seated among them, telling your father how your classes were going and joking with your siblings. His fist tightened beneath the napkin he held, didn't anyone else feel something missing? 

Could they eat any slower? Alfred covertly checked his pocket watch. Visiting hours were over and although you had no trouble with him leaving and waved sweetly before he left, he could imagine fresh tears in your eyes like when you first saw him. You were there all alone, practically hidden away.

It was a good thing he charmed the director and charge nurses so that he'd be able to stay past visiting hours all he wanted. Unfortunately, his duties as a butler still came first, and so, he waited for the clinking of cutlery and meaningless chatter to cease. 

“Alfred?”

The butler's eyes refocused and landed on Bruce's face who was staring at him from his chair at the head of the table in concern. “Is everything alright?”

Was everything alright? Should he be asking him that? Shouldn't he be asking about you? 

Alfred’s countenance doesn't betray a single thought, “I'm more than alright, Master Bruce.” Alfred’s voice was clear and strong and caught everyone's attention. “My young Mistress has woken up from her coma earlier than expected and she's already hitting recovery milestones.” The pride in his voice couldn't be repressed.

Damian frowned and Tim tilted his head. Cassandra looked into space while trying to recall anything about a lady in a coma. 

Duke, bless his heart, didn't know, but tried to be supportive. “That's good!”

Alfred turned to him, “Isn't it, Master Duke? Mobility is limited but she's completely of sound mind and she's quite charming.” He smiled fondly before realizing he had to rein it in.

“Great, but who are you talking about?” Stephanie snorted and looked around the table for an explanation, thinking she was the only one out of the loop. 

“Master Bruce's daughter.”

The room went cold.

You were a topic they all danced around, carefully evading. Your reveal hadn't been a positive thing for the family at all; on the contrary, even thinking of or hearing your name would put Bruce and Tim in the state of fatigue they went through when all hell broke loose. Discovering you would be a bad memory for years to come. 

“Oh.” Duke thought about what he had seen on social media the last couple of weeks. You didn't have an online presence but you had been a hot topic when the flood happened. 

Bruce Wayne's daughter was in a lower income area when Wayne enterprises moved in with plans to raise the town’s textile industry back from the dead. We all know how that ended. 

Old friends and teachers spoke of you fondly, and it was clear that many were furious on your behalf. To many, Bruce was a deadbeat who didn't know shit.

Some social media posts weren't the same as getting to know you, but it laid the groundwork and he was curious about you and felt bad for what you’d gone through. He had a feeling no one else shared his sentiments.

“What? Daughter?” Stephanie gripped the dining chair’s armrests and turned to Bruce, ready to go in on him for being a playboy and falling for another assassin milf when it dawned on her. 

The flood, the media, Tim and Bruce's sleepless nights. ‘Oh, so she's alive.’ she simply thought to herself and lost interest.

“That's the least the medical institute can do after all I'm paying it.”

Alfred felt venom rise up his throat. When had the money mattered? 

“I will be visiting Young Mistress Y/n tomorrow—”

Alfred Pennyworth never stepped above his station as dutiful butler, but he had never been cut off before either. Someone changed the subject, most likely Dick who had an insane ability for shifting attention like it was a meta power.

The topic of interest changed and conversation flowed into the mundane but it was a farce of familial normalcy. Alfred's jaw clenched.

To be continued~

@c4xcocoa , @rythespy

Future installments will have semi-incest so please let me know if you want to be untagged!

[thoughtportal]

Many penguin species huddle together in massive colonies, but pairs of yellow-eyed penguins go out of their way to be alone, nesting deep in New Zealand’s scrublands and forests out of sight of other penguins. When pairs reunite at the nest after one has been away fishing, they greet each other with a piercing cry that Thor Elley, an endangered avian species researcher at the University of Otago with Māori roots, likens to “a whistling tea kettle rolling down a hill.” The species’ Māori name, hoiho, roughly translates to “noise shouter.” 

Screaming and antisocial behavior may not seem like beloved traits, but these penguins are revered in Māori culture as taonga, or treasure, even gracing the country’s $5 bill. They are “protected by sacred origins,” Elley says.

But one of New Zealand’s favorite endemic birds is also one of its rarest. The International Union for Conservation of Nature estimates that only between 2,600 and 3,000 hoiho exist. About a third live on New Zealand’s South Island and nearby Stewart Island. The rest inhabit sub-Antarctic islands some 300 miles to the south. In the past 15 years, the northern population has plummeted by roughly 75 percent, and researchers expect that group could disappear within the next two decades if the trend continues. 

The decline stems from a litany of factors. Red cod, once a pillar of the hoiho diet, has become scarce, and blue cod, although larger, are harder to catch, eat and feed to their chicks than other staple fish. Penguins also drown each year in commercial gillnets. And a pair of diseases, avian diphtheria and, since 2019, a mysterious and fatal respiratory illness, also infect virtually every chick. Janelle Wierenga, a veterinary scientist at the University of Otago and Massey University, says potential vaccines and drugs are likely years away. 

To keep the species afloat, wildlife hospitals and conservation groups have taken the radical step of removing every single hoiho chick on the South Island from its nest and placing it in human care for its first week or so of life. Chicks are treated with antibiotics to heal the mouth sores caused by avian diphtheria. They’re also fed fish smoothies to boost their strength. It’s unclear how, but this extra care prevents chicks from developing the respiratory disease. “I’ve got the feeling that the diseases are a secondary problem, and the primary problem is the penguins don’t get the sustenance they need,” says Thomas Mattern, an ecologist at the University of Otago. 

In 2023, the Dunedin Wildlife Hospital hand-reared 214 hoiho chicks. Without human intervention, 50 to 70 percent of those chicks would have died, Lisa Argilla, the hospital’s senior wildlife veterinarian and director, estimates. But these herculean efforts can only offer a short-term reprieve. “We are trying to buy this population as much time as we can,” she says. “You feel like you’re fighting a losing battle, but we couldn’t live with ourselves if we didn’t fight for these penguins.”

[itsmyfandomandilikeit]

Ok I have gone through all available evidence and I have a prediction.

Look I'm ngl I am watching Arcane for Cait and Vi. I love the show overall but this ship is what I'm most here for, especially after I spent the last 3 years under the assumption that Mel was dead. Glad she isn't. Point is, I really want CaitVi/Violyn/Piltover's Finest to be handled well, and I pay a disproportionate amount of attention to what happens with these two.

After watching the first arc of season 2 the other day, I was trying really hard to ignore the ending to episode 3. I didn't like that Cait hit Vi in the stomach and abandoned her in a pit after being all classist at her, but I thought, this is Arcane. Arcane is the greatest fucking thing I've ever seen, of course they're gonna find a way to make this work. But that made me think of it as a puzzle. How could they possibly make this work?

Option one, Cait sucks now and she and Vi don't get back together. I don't think this makes sense, because of the brand. CaitVi is a popular ship that just about everybody likes. A huge amount of the hype for this season before the trailers came out was building up assurances that don't worry, CaitVi is happening and it's not gonna be ambiguous. Take this teaser from like two weeks after season 1 ended, a couple of Valentine's Day icons, and one million tweets from Amanda Overton. Why the fuck would they make this season be about Cait and Vi not working out? It simply doesn't make logical sense.

Ok, so we're starting from the assumption that Cait and Vi have a happy ending that makes people feel like they should be together, and continue to want to play as them in the games and buy merchandise. That means they either explicitly get back together, or it's so implied there isn't much of a difference. My money is on zero ambiguity. Vi is the main character and Cait is maybe #3 or #4. Ambiguity about their ending would just look like a weak writing choice and they didn't know what they're doing. The Arcane writers don't tend to go for wishy washy.

But here's the problem. Domestic violence is bad. It's about the fastest way to guarantee the majority of your audience doesn't think two characters should be together. It would take a herculean effort on Cait's part to make up for that and honestly I still wouldn't believe it. To me, there isn't any kind of act of service that makes up for hitting your partner. Not even ensuring the independence of the nation of Zaun. Add on top of that the over the top hurtful comments about Vi's blood and class. It makes her look very much like, deep down, she thinks of Vi as beneath her. If she meant those things, a relationship between them is impossible. (Not to mention how many teenaged girls I know are watching this, and I don't want them to think it's ever okay to be treated like that, even in a fantasy series.)

So my prediction is this. The only way to make a relationship between Cait and Vi viable again is to render those comments and the sentiment they carry meaningless. How do the writers do that? Imo it turns out later that Cait intentionally came up with cruel things to say to cut Vi loose. She realized that Vi would never be able to kill Jinx, and this new explosion will make the situation aboveground even worse, and Vi still won't be able to contribute to the hunt after this. Vi has no future as an enforcer against Jinx and will probably get treated like dogshit as a Zaunite, so Cait is "breaking her heart to save her", as Tvtropes would say. In Cait's mind, it's better if she's left down here in Zaun.

What evidence do I have for this? It fits Cait's characterization as a genius who thinks quickly and several steps ahead. It fits the tiny animation details we zero in on of her stiffening her trembling lips and furled eyebrows. It un-ruins the most popular canon relationship in League. It allows act 1 to end on massive shock value but roll it back later to show that Cait actually does love Vi, enough to let her go for her own good.

I'm not arguing this is the best possible solution but it's the one I think they're going to go with. Amanda Overton and some others have repeatedly said that CaitVi fans will be happy with the ending to Arcane. Everything about the show(the opening, Netflix Brazil's Twitter account, the story) points to them being the show's OTP except for this one scene. I think Cait intentionally cut Vi out of her life by pretending to be much crueler than she wanted to be, to protect her and, likely, as a form of self destruction.

[beyondthebcundary]

This is a story from long ago. And the History of one Flandre Scarlet.

When she was human she was a sickly peasant girl in a family of five. Soon she got too sick to work the fields, then she got too sick to work the chores, and sooner still was too weak to even leave bed. During her sixteenth summer her father loaded her up into their cart and told the rest of their family he was taking her into town to see the the local alchemist for treatment.

In the middle of the woods far from home he dumped her in a ditch. Someone who can't work can't eat, and they were already poor and starving so she was just a mouth wanting while giving nothing. There was no way they could afford medicine to treat her. As she watched him ride away she could do nothing but wheeze out cries of lament. The town was days away, surely he'd tell the rest of the family either she died there or on the way.

Weak, sick, cold and alone...in such conditions her health further started to deteriorate. She didn't know how long she laid the drifting in and out of conscious, but she could feel herself slipping away into those final throes of death....and as if sent by fate itself a carriage rode by, came to a stop and out stepped...an elegant lady.

"Oh dear...you poor thing." She was...radiant. Like the angels she'd seen in pictures of scripture. Her voice was like a song, beautiful on her ears. "You...are dying."

She could only stare up at the woman weakly, in tattered peasant garb. Wheezing, every breath a herculean effort.

"Would you like me to save you, girl? One blink for no, two for yes."

Two blinks, weak and meek...and in a movement faster than she could register she was cradled in the woman's arms. A sharp sensation to her neck...and something cold being fed into her mouth and down her throat. "You shall be the second I give a boon such as this...girl. Listen close." Her mind swam, bones once weak creaking with strain as they rapidly strengthened, pale green eyes turning crimson as blood, missing teeth sprouting anew, canines elongating. And a deep, deep vacuous hunger in the pit of her stomach. More than starvation she had felt her eyes locked onto the woman's face with a clarity she'd never known, each work more clear than she'd ever heard "You...are now my daughter, I've shared with you my blood. As I did your new older sister...I expect great things...but first you must feed. Go, go now to those who abandoned you...and feast."

As soon as her feet hit ground, like a ravenous beast in hunt she tore down the path to her home. The moon full, she brought a newly clawed hand to the door...knock. Knock knock. It opened, and a human answered. Voices muffled the only sound rushing in her ears the heavy thudding of four hearts, pulsing life. Pumping food through them. "Come, get in here I'll get your fa-" an invitation, given to a vampire to enter the threshold. Instantly she was on the female human, teeth sinking into her throat and she drank deep the delicious sanguine feast until that heart beat no more, then the other female, then the older one, and then the male who shrieked about some kind of retribution before his head was tore clean from his body and her mouth gluttonous sank over the gapping wound.

"Good...good, you are exceptional my daughter...such a powerful appetite shows great promise...but come." Like an animal caught midmeal her head snapped to look at the lady once more, dropping her prey now but a withered husk sucked dry of all life blood. "You must meet the rest of our family, and then our clan."

Skulking back to that carriage, bloodied rags adorning her she was taken to a great manor. She could smell them from the gate...everyone there was either vampire or thrall...but only one other had the same scent as the L- Her mother. Soon she would meet her elder sister...who was smaller than her, and then would learn the pecking order of this...family.

Unfortunate for her, despite her mother's great promise seen in her she developed no great power like Remilia did, despite being given the blood of a vampire lord on transformation all she did was appear to be quite a bit stronger than a normal vampire, and healing faster than most she was...unremarkable, and this in itself was an insult.

Every failure to do as she asked was met with a harsh punishment....spare the rod, she'd say, though her 'rods' were using her quickened healing to enact cruel tortures only she could withstand. The only solace she had was her sister. Having displeased her mother the rest of the clan jeered and shunned...but not Remilia...not her Remi. She encouraged, told her that she went through the same, that mother's harsh treatment awakened her own abilities.

Then it happened...during one of her punishments. A snap. A split...and suddenly another her holding the clans member carving into her flesh up by the throat, gurgling their own blood.

"Yes!" that angelic voice, euphoric in delight. "Flandre, my dear Flandre! Progress! Finally progress!" she clamored over in a rush, weakly like when she'd first met she stared at her sire, with her sister at her side.

"Mother." Both spoke as one, her twin dropping the other vampire unceremoniously as she remained strapped in place. "I've...done it?"

"Yes, yes my dear...look at you...two of you! With mass! Not an illusion, truly another you! Get her down from there, quickly, and give her blood she must heal!" Since she was changed, this was the second time she was cradled in her mother's arms. Comfort. She felt in the edges of her mind another once did this for her, when she was weak and suffering...but the thought is pushed away as her twin started to fade and melt into shadow. "Starting tomorrow we work anew...how many can you make? Can you coordinate? Do they each have their own thoughts? I must know..."

The comfort...slowly faded the longer she spoke. Released back to her room it was only when Remi visited that she felt that comfort again. Though her big sister was a good four or five inches shorter than her she felt so safe in her presence...another familiar feeling tugging at her mind, fleeting comfort slipping to sleep in her arms, and waking to hell. A cycle continuing until one turned to two, and then two to three. A four of a kind, able to think and act independently...but as her powers grew so did that deep hunger in her stomach, temporarily forgotten by gorging on the thralls, even when reprimanded for drinking too deep too often.

But her mother was pleased. More pleased than she'd ever seen her.

"Flandre, my Flandre...my dear sweet daughter...you deserve a reward." A reward only she could give, a reward all of the clan wished. Her sire, her mother undid her cuff and rolled up her sleeve to reveal her perfectly pristine pale as porcelain wrist. Blood, vampiric lord blood. "Come, my child...partake."

Clawed hands would take the clasp the wrist and forearm...and she'd bite. Suddenly flavors she'd never tasted touched her tongue. She drank, and drank greedily and hungrily the long cooled blood of her sire. "That's enough, dear." Grip tightening as she felt that pit in her stomach start to fill. "Flandre, that's enough." A tug, and a renewed sinking of fang in flesh. "You ungrat-I said ENOUGH!"

A lash of claws across face healing instantly as Flandre bit, and tore. Cold flesh sliding down her throat. A hand on her shoulder being shrugged off as a body is sent into the nearest wall as she felt a heavy blow to her abdomen. "I said enough, wretch! I saved you, brought you into my fami-" She lunged, claws sinking into her mother's torso, ribcage used for leverage as she sank fang into her flank and tore. Snarling, like a rabid beast from hell...but with a face of euphoric bliss as she began to eat her sire faster than she could heal, she screamed, she shrieked. Noises unbefitting of a lady of nobility turned to demonic snarls to match Flandre's own as more and more bone was exposed, the blonde swallowing flesh and entrails, snarls from her sire turning to pleading, pleading to her empathy as she snapped away bone, sucking clean the marrow from within and casually knocking all away that would try to tear her from her feast. Pleading turned to gargles as she tore away her lower jaw, biting clear through bone as she took out a socket along with it's eye. She gorged herself. Trying to fill that pit, but even this luxurious feast never fully filled it. A gurgling, twitching mound of meat and bone beneath her, a loose facsimile of a person's shape as she held the still heart of a vampire lord in her jaws...then swallowed...then silence. Her face was pure bliss as she turned to her sister. She felt too good...too full to understand her expression then...but covered in the gore of their sire, their mother, she rose to her feet...but she'd have no peace yet...but soon. She heard the clattering of feet on stone.

A cacophony of mournful roars from the clan coming to avenge their fallen lord...and as those blissful halflidded eyes turned to meet them...a strange thing caught them. She reached out to touch it...to grasp it...one of the clan erupted into gore, then another as she...like a child trying to hold stars in her hand kept grabbing at those strange symbols...those strange eyes. Until only the Scarlet sister's remained.

"Remi...I'm tired..." Slowly she slunk towards her big sister, and leaned against her. "Sorry...I know I'm bigger but...carry...please..."

She understood her sister's expression when she awoke in darkness. Horror, abject horror. In her coffin...but the lid wouldn't move. Locked in. Sealed in. She'd roar, and struggle, but a vampire cannot willingly destroy their own coffin. She'd wail, she'd plead to no avail. She was so hungry, so scared, she didn't want to be locked here. She was her sister, she'd never hurt her! Release her!

Though those sentiments changed to resentments. Even when dragged with her to Gensokyo, when her coffin's lid would finally open she found herself in a room that looked much like her own...but it's exit sealed with flowing water. Food prepared and always delivered when she wasn't looking. Books, things to entertain herself...but never Remilia. Resentment turned to a complex hatred for the one person she loved most, the one person she'd never wish to harm...but still...even still...with these dishes and blood brought to her she still remained...hungry....but above all else.

She missed her sister. She hated her. She wants to fall asleep in her arms again. She wants to tear out her throat. She wants to go on strolls under the moonlight. She wants to feast on her heart. She wants to see her. She wants to kill her. She loves her. She'll never forgive her.

[scarletwritesshit]

🔥Hyuna x Luka 🔥Ashes To Ashes

Time slowed down to no faster than a standstill.

Three and a half minutes dragged on to become four minutes. Four minutes trudged on even slower to become eight minutes. A lifetime passed by in the time it would take for one to listen to the average song.

Sixty seconds alone had enough events unfold to satisfy the gaps in the history books between then and the end of eternity. Luka had gone from being on top of the world, to somehow climbing even higher, and almost immediately sniped from where he stood tall. His frail body had already taken quite the beating from a wrathful Mizi prior. One time was plenty enough, as he shrugged it off and was promptly fixed up by Heperu so that his beauty would remain untainted. The second time it happened, it felt worse. It hurt far worse. Everything that he would normally bear without a tinge of fear in his eyes seared his body in every way.

His heart felt as if it was going to burst out of his throat at any moment, if it didn’t stop and leave him for the flames, that is. His voice had long since been exhausted; no song of triumph or screams of despair could be forced out. And his legs, too weak to hold his body up, felt weightless and nonexistent from where he sat.

Despite the raging uproar occurring at every angle around him, Luka concerned himself with none of that. Hyuna's body lay before him, lifeless, yet still bleeding from the gunshot wound. Oh, if only he had the knowledge to bring her back on her own feet. If only he had the knowledge to stop her from bleeding, so that she could open her eyes to stare him down so fiercely once again. If only he had the knowledge to figure out how to make her smile again, like those posters he had plastered all over his wall.

Logically, there had to be some way. Luka recalled watching Mizi get shot at, again and again, yet still had it in her to come back pummel him a second time. Hyuna couldn’t have died from a single gunshot wound. He nudged her lifeless body, expecting a response, but tears further rolled down his face upon her silent response.

He was no better than a helpless fawn waiting for its blood-soaked mother to wake up.

Fire was raining down all around him and structural supports were collapsing, stray debris at risk of smashing into his head at any minute. The godawful scene from the panicking segyein and cheering children pierced through his ears, yet nothing felt more improper to bear witness to than the state of Hyuna’s corpse and her dreadful silence. Luka knew nothing, but he still possessed the heart of a human. He just wanted love, and to be loved.

Smoke blew into his eyes and fogged up his already compromised vision, still blurry from the tears caught in his lashes. Leaning downwards, he shakily grabbed ahold of Hyuna’s jacket and pulled it down over her stomach. The weight of her body made it a herculean task for Luka's frail, bruised arms, but he managed to work it down. Her hat had tumbled off when she hit the ground, so Luka lifted up her head to gently fit it back on, straightening her hair in the process.

The stage was collapsing rapidly, and most of the remaining rebellion members had made their exit, save for those who had stayed behind in an attempt to comfort a broken Issac. Though the commotion reached Luka’s ears, none of it managed to reach his conscious. He was focused on the off chance that he would be able to hear her heartbeat, should Hyuna had miraculously clung onto life. But the only thing that had changed about her as a result of his efforts was the ever-growing stain of blood moved further up the jacket.

Her arms were still sprawled out on the ground. Luka dragged them inwards into a somewhat less distressing position. The best that he could manage for her was to rest her arms beside her torso, as his vision was blurry and his arms have been completely deprived of strength.

Lights and panels crashed all around Luka, and the spreading flames only grew more violent. The segyein who have had their fill of the spectacle grabbed ahold of their human pets and loved ones and made for the exit, though a few morbidly curious spectators stood their ground. What was going to happen to their glorious champion, they all wondered. It would be a tragic waste for such a perfect performer to die just like that. Some of them were even tempted to run up on stage and take a shot of grabbing the little prince for themselves.

With the sparks flying and building collapsing, eventually they decided that it was not worth the risk. With as many eyes that were fixated upon Luka for various reasons, he was hardly aware of the attention around him. With what was left of his vision, he only had eyes for Hyuna, as if he was hoping that she would reach out for his hand and assure him that they were both alive.

It was a pathetic display for the prince of the stage. Normally, he would suppress such emotions, and Heperu would have been quick to set him straight if Luka was negligent in maintaining his mental state. Truthfully, there was nothing left for him to suppress. The one and only thing anchoring Luka to reality was taken away right before him. Those who still caught sight of him amidst the chaos wondered, why wasn’t he doing the logical thing and escaping from the collapsing stage? He had it all, so why let his life decay like that? Not to mention, many looked forward to his performances to either see him dominate the stage or be a proud witness to his first and final downfall. To die because of a few pet humans gone feral would he a rather disappointing end to his legacy.

Though, it felt like his legacy died right after Hyuna spoke her final words to him.

And for a sinner like him, hell was his only destination from there on out. The flames around Luka and Hyuna only got more aggressive, engulfing both rubble and remnants of life alike. Still detached from reality and staring at Hyuna, Luka failed to see the underworld creeping up from behind to consume him. No salvation was deserved for a selfish pet like him, and the hand of the devil would reach for him and finish the job.

Heperu was most disappointed by this outcome, to put things plainly. The venue had totally collapsed and burnt to an indistinguishable crisp. No big deal for a construction worker, as the opportunity to make more money was most welcomed, but Heperu’s most prized possession was ruined along with the building. Even when he inquired again and again about the condition of his pet, the only news that he had managed to get was of Luka being turned into an unrecognizable mound of ash, melted into the body of some gutter rat.

Disappointing. Heperu raised Luka to be better than that. Oh well. Not much he could do now.

It was unfortunate events like this that were the reason why he kept backups of his work, just in case.

You wouldn’t keep your proudest work saved in one vulnerable location, now would you?

That was Heperu’s way of thinking ever since he had realized the gold he had struck while raising Luka. He was engineered to such perfection, and his genes weren’t something that he would be pleased about accidentally losing forever. That problem was solved with a couple of backup copies, raised completely out of sight from the Luka that made it on stage. Though his backup of choice could use a little refining, it retained near flawless attributes akin to the champion that Heperu lost in the fire. At the very least, he could start anew with a Luka without an ingrained street rat obsession.

Seeing those words “LUKA’S BACK” on every other billboard in sight made it a worthwhile investment for the first Alien Stage to take place in seven years.

[hayanwulf]

WIP game! How to Kill your Dragon

(WIP game)

Click here for the first and second parts of this WIP.

I did not think that so many people would be interested in the dragon fic, so color me surprised.

If you've read the first part, in it Stephen has recently escaped captivity as a dragon and unintentionally killed the Starks.

Aaand if you've read the second part, Stephen's pack is very much aware that he's a dragon, even if he thinks that they don't know.

Here's a snippet of what happens when he finally manages to get back to his hometown after that event at the prison.

-

Peter slowly broke their embrace, shaking his head at Stephen’s words. “You’re hurt,” he said in that same quivering voice, a tentative hand reaching towards Stephen’s throat.

“I’ll be alright,” Stephen said, stopping Peter’s hand.

“Stephen!”

He flinched at Christine’s voice from afar, already preparing to run again. He tried to get Peter to stop leaning on him.

“Peter! Stop him!”

“What!? What is—”

Stephen had extricated himself from Peter, but as he tried to run, Peter grabbed him by the arm and kept him pinned with impossible ease. How and when did his son get that super strength!? Stephen was a dragon, for crying out loud.

“Wait! What’s going on!?” Peter asked in confusion. “Why are you trying to—”

“Stephen!” Christine growled when she had finally caught up to them, then went on to grab Stephen by the shoulders to inspect him from head to toe. “Vishanti, you’re bleeding!”

Stephen sighed in defeat. “Thank you for the diagnosis. I’m aware.”

“Why is your first instinct to run after seeing me when you’re bleeding all over!?” She nagged as she pulled at him to encourage walking. Stephen took a step forward, and almost keeled over from the herculean effort it took him, only saved by Peter. “By the Vishanti, Stephen, when was the last time you ate?”

“A bite or a full meal?” Stephen said and then immediately bit his tongue.

“A full meal!” Christine said incredulously as she and Peter came to his side to support him.

Stephen pointedly decided to not answer, letting the two of them help him walk and not faceplant himself on the ground. “Running was much easier just a minute ago..” Of course it was, because adrenaline.

Christine continued to nag him throughout the short journey to his home. He deemed it wise to just take it all without complain.

Lancelot barked at him as they neared his house.

When they were in front of his house, Levi leapt out of literal sky, landed near his feet, and started meowing loudly, rubbing herself against Stephen’s legs and almost making him trip thrice in the process.

Stumbling through the doors and halls, Stephen finally let himself fall on his bed, taking a deep sniff of the blankets and pillows that smelled like himself and Peter.

“Peter, can you get me some cotton, and sage and calendula extract?” Christine requested as she sat herself down next to Stephen and started to undo the cloth tied around his throat. “And water for him.”

Peter left to fetch her the things, while Stephen just laughed self-deprecatingly. “It won’t work,” he told her.

“Why?” She frowned, inspecting his gash, no doubt noticing the bleeding persisting through his sutures.

“It’s a week old.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “What!? Stephen..”

“It should have closed. Yes, I know. I’ve tried everything, it won’t even start clotting. It won’t heal at all. It’s placed some kind of curse on me.”

Christine had a conflicted look on her face, until it just melted into sadness, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “Oh, Stephen.” She took one of his hands in hers, gently massaging the scars on its back.

Stephen found himself responding to the calming gesture and wrapped his fingers around hers, before sliding his wrist scent gland against hers. “You’re not going to ask me what happened?”

She pursed her lips, eyebrows still stricken with pain. “Do you want me to?”

Stephen blinked. He hadn’t expected such a reply. “I—I meant, aren’t you curious how I got myself into this?”

She inhaled a shaky breath through nose, exhaled through parted mouth. “It’s not about whether I’m curious. It’s about whether you’re ready to share.”

That, Stephen had not expected to hear at all.

No, he wasn’t ready.

And now, he would never be ready to reveal to anyone close to him, that he was the same dragon that had murdered the Starks.

He averted his gaze and looked away in shame.

[dddragoni-drabbles]

Bitter winds stung the exposed skin around the edges of Paula's goggles as she trudged onward, boots sinking nearly a foot and a half into the still-falling snow. Every step she took was a herculean effort, muscles and lungs screaming for a break she could not afford if she wanted to get out of this alive.

She tightened her grip on the rope tied to the makeshift sledge behind her. Atop it lay the only other survivor of the ill-fated expedition, barely conscious. "I just need a few minutes," Rob mumbled. "Good to go soon..."

Paula ignored what little she could make out over the howling wind. Exhaustion and altitude sickness had rendered Rob almost entirely delirious. She'd had to tie him to the sledge to stop him from tearing his own clothes off, which would have been a surefire death sentence. As tough as he was to handle in this state, it was worse in his rare moments of lucidity.

"Just leave me," he'd murmured weakly as she finished lashing him down. "I'm done for. Save yourself."

Paula had pretended not to hear him. She'd watched too many friends freeze, fall, or vanish into the storm in the last few days. She wasn't about to abandon the only one she had left.

Besides, they were almost to the camp. It was just over this ridge. Or at least the next one. Just one foot in front of the other. That's all it would take.

[ladygoofball]

It might happen again, but call that a Dissonant Whisper. Details for kings only under the cut.

As one of the realest ones that has ever been: I have been gas lit and bullied for a long time. I do appreciate people making Herculean efforts to help me, I am ashamed that I am wasting everyone’s time no matter what I try to do.

Maybe I do need a Superman…but I’m also good to just do that for myself. Thank You Very Much. I had a damned panic attack and ran home to my mom, because I don’t need a new parent. My mom has regularly been the only help I need.

Jim disapproves of the insinuation that he would ever put his daughter on the front lines for danger. Allegedly. I can’t talk to Him anymore, my divine connection broke. I have been crafting my own connection to the divine just fine. Take that as a joke?

I am just scared and tired of being too late to save anything. Every single time I try. I don’t want to waste my time or money on Nothing. I’ve been doing that for months.

Medication and alcohol do not mix well. Especially when I’ve been too anxious to eat because i’m afraid i’ve missed something.

Want a clue? I won’t charge. I swear it on Hyper Reality. Here’s an Oath:

Nobody can hear you much more clearly now.

Oath sworn to secrecy

Call that a cow? I thought it might be a Vow.

I only swear like a fisherman when I feel like I’m being a sow. Pardon that French?

That might just be Fantasy though. Cassandra. Too good to be true.

Signing off for a Psyche break.

Woe is she without Cupid?

Please. You don’t know me.

Yet.

Inanna promises she will never turn Beast against that Beauty (character wise exclusively because fuck all these people right now Your Honor). They make Her sick??

Anonymous submissions welcome. Encouraged. In no explicit terms.

[coolrobotsupremacist]

Over the course of the novel Cosette represents the two groups that are at most risk in society: women and children and the whole through line of the story hangs on saving her and delivering her to a peaceful and happy life. People make jokes “all this for a loaf of bread” but that line in Alladin was making a point about the expense of poverty and a similar point is being made here; all this, all these lives, all these unhappy endings, for one small spark of light. Honestly one of the few times I will accept “think of the women and children” as an argument because a lot of the book is written around it and, yeah, think about the vulnerable, imagine if it didn’t require a 30year+ saga of love, loss and sacrifice to save one small girl from a society that should defend her by default. You go, Mr Hugo, excellent call to action.

[coldbaltblue]

Oh hey, I wrote a fanfic.

Pairing: Leon x Luis (Leon is FTM trans)

Rating: 18+!!! There is SEX, DO NOT TOUCH THIS WITH A TEN FOOT POLE IF YOU ARE NOT 18!!

Themes: Light oral sex, PiV sex, breeding, slight size difference, and implied bromance. I suck at labeling, there’s comedy and a bit of fourth wall breaking.

Terms used to refer to anatomy are based on pornography: Cock, Pussy. If that’s not your thing, I suggest moving along.

A Bit of Bromance on the Road

Continuing his rescue mission in Spain, Leon S. Kennedy stumbled upon a strange man named Luis Serra. Luis was a bit of a cocky asshole, and Leon didn’t trust him at first. However, he is much further along in his journey and has taken a liking to Luis’ softer and more likeable side. Leon reunited with Luis in a mine-shaft below the castle. However, he was becoming too tired to walk.

“Oi Leon, you okay?”, Luis said with concern.

“I’m fine, just gotta hurry up and find Ashley.” Leon replied, eyes fixated on the way ahead. He began to stumble, but was caught by Luis before he fell to his knees. Luis’ hands landed on his firm chest and abdomen, which caused something he’d been keeping down to stir in him. He looked up back at Luis.

“Thank you.” he said with hoarseness in his voice.

“You need to rest, man.” Luis said.

“No, no time for rest.” Leon croaked out.

“Senor, your body clearly isn’t taking your ‘no’.” Luis replied. He helped Leon over to the glowing purple flame nearby. This was always a beacon of hope, a strange man in a trench coat was always there to sell wares, buy Leon’s junk, and fix his weapons. As well, he ran a shooting range that seemed to be some pocket dimension he could just carry with him. Just go with it, trust me bro.

“Got some good things on sale, str- oh my.” The merchant said. Luis nodded at the man as he walked Leon over to the door of the shooting range. There were comfy chairs and food in there, as well as the fact that it was a more comfortable environment. He let Leon down in the elevator with a big huff.

“Oye, *huff* you are one *huff* big Yanqui.” Luis said, catching his breath. He pushed the button and the elevator went down. Leon’s eyes were already getting tired, barely staying open. Luis knew that his state wasn’t a result of the plaga, rather, it was genuine exhaustion from all he had been through. Leon had spent days awake on this campaign, only for his objective to constantly slip out of his grasp. Poor Ashley had been carted around like terrified cattle while he’d moved mountains to try and save her. Once again, she was out of his sight, and that terrified him to no end, however, his body was giving into its natural need for sleep.

Using all the bro power he could muster, Luis hauled Leon’s deadweight into the room and clumsily laid him out like a marionette on one of the loveseats. Leon was fast asleep at this point, drooling and completely limp. Luis sat down in the opposite chair, recovering from his herculean effort. He sat there for a moment and just watched Leon sleep, his silky blonde hair slightly concealing his visage, his normally tight, burly body melting into the surface that held him, and his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Not even a gunshot would wake that man up at this point, but Luis couldn’t help but feel the vulnerability coming off of him. He looked so tender and holdable in that state, which caused Luis to think about his feelings.

After a seemingly indefinite amount of time, sitting in the carnivalesque room which could have been detached from their known plane of existence, Luis stood up and approached Leon. He crouched beside the sleeping man and pushed his hair to the side, gently, so as to not wake him. He now had a full view of Leon’s beautifully sculpted face, complete with perfect cheekbones, cute little moles, deep-set eyes, and a forward pointing nose. Luis had a twinge of guilt in him, but his curiosity was beginning to get the better of him. His fingers moved to touch the soft, plush skin of Leon’s face; it nearly felt like touching velvet. He felt his heart beginning to pick up in pace as well as his breathing get heavier, but the most noticeable thing was that his pants were beginning to feel a bit tight. Not good.

Leon’s eyes began to open, and eventually focused to see Luis sitting in the chair in front of him with his legs crossed.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Luis said with a smirk. Leon sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Wha-how long was I out for?” Leon said in a groggy daze. Luis just shrugged his shoulder, but refused to make eye-contact with Leon. “What?”

“Uhh, nothing? You need a few more moments?” Luis said, a bit of shake in his voice. Leon raised his eyebrows, but began to stand. “W-wait! Don’t you want to shoot a few pirates before we head out?”

“I am on a mission here; I can’t just stop and play games.” Leon said. “Why aren’t you moving?”

Luis knew he was losing this battle, so he uncrossed his legs, made a disappointed face, and gestured to his bulging pants. “There, happy?”

“You seriously don’t want to get moving because you have a boner?” Leon said, staring back motherfuckerly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, not only because Luis was pointing to it, but because he could see it had some size to it. Leon averted his eyes, but his face began to flush a bit.

“Leon?” Luis said. Leon shook his head and turned around, ready to walk into the elevator, but halfway through his walk, he stopped, turned back, and approached Luis, who was also ready to get up. He put his hand on his chest and came closer.

“Fine. We’ll take a break.” Leon said, not looking into Luis’ eyes. “Can I?” he didn’t finish the sentence.

Luis paused for a moment. “Yes.”

Leon then undid the belt and zipper on Luis’ jeans, sliding them down. There was only one more barrier separating him from seeing Luis’s big cock. Precum had already started soaking the fabric at the highest tip. Leon’s breathing began to pick up, his hot breath grazing Luis’ covered member. He then pulled them down to reveal it, and boy was it big. Luis himself was only about half Leon’s size when it came to muscularity, but he was packing some serious heat, and not just in his holster. With desire and nervousness, Leon’s tongue contacted the caramel-coloured shaft. Luis felt an instant jolt of pleasure wave through his body, swelling him up even more.

“Oye, that’s good…” Luis said.

Leon didn’t respond, he simply kept licking up and down the shaft, warming up to the act. He wanted this so badly, but couldn’t have it for obvious reasons. He felt arousal stirring up in himself; he felt his nipples grow hard underneath his spandex shirt, and his blood rushed to all the vital areas in his body. He felt a tingling sensation in his pussy, which is the first indicator that he was getting wet and ready for sex.

He stopped for a moment and started taking off his harnesses and holsters. He pulled off his shirt, pants, and underpants, revealing his large, sculpted body adorned with a swollen, fleshy mound between his legs. Leon was quivering he was so aroused.

“I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with all you’ve got.” Leon said with seriousness.

“But Leon, I don’t have a condom.” Luis replied with worry.

“Just do it. Breed me.” Leon said.

With that, Luis stood up and took his pants off completely. His hard cock was now pointing directly at Leon as he laid back and spread his legs. Luis mounted on top of him and pushed the tip of his cock at Leon’s entrance. Leon let out a small gasp, he was so ready. Luis then pushed inside, sending waves of pleasure shooting up Leon’s spine, causing him to bite his lip.

Luis picked up the pace, fucking him in mating-press position, his wet cock being gripped as it pumped in and out of Leon’s wet, swollen pussy, his balls bouncing up and down. Leon was being absolutely shaken by this, deep, penetrating pulses of pleasure rising and rising as he bottomed out.

“Dios mio, I’m cumming!” Luis exclaimed. Leon then wrapped his strong legs around Luis’ waist and squeezed him with the grip of an anaconda, forcing him to penetrate as deep as possible.

“Nnnhhh, ahhh!!” Leon exclaimed as he came. His entire body quivered, pulsated, and spasmed. Luis’ cock throbbed inside of him as cum began to leak out between the cracks of the contact they’ve made. Luis pulled out, allowing more thick, white cum to pour out of Leon. The men panted as they rode out their orgasms, with Luis collapsing on Leon’s big body.

“Ho.ly. shit.” Leon said. Luis just nodded back at him.

“Ehm, I hate to interrupt your bonding experience, but don’t you two have a lady to save?” a familiar, cockney accent chimed in from the intercom.

With semen still spilling out of him, Leon quickly dressed himself again, running for the elevator.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Luis scrambled through the closing doors as he held up his pants and fumbled with his belt.

[unclevladscorner]

Letting Go of The Boy Who Lived: Moving on from Harry Potter and Why I wish everyone else would, too.

This is going to be a little bit of a long post. We all know JKR has said- and still says- some pretty horrible things about trans people. While I think that's a good enough reason to no interact with her or her work, that's not my main focus here.

If you don't read this whole thing; and haven't read a Harry Potter book or watched a movie, I'd say don't start. There's better out there. The Magicians goes harder, but has similar themes. There's also A Series of Unfortunate Events and the Percy Jackson books, if your looking for a longer YA series from around the same era.

I discovered Harry Potter at a time of big changes in life. It was the end of my senior year of high school, I'd broken up with an abusive boyfriend and I had nowhere to go on my lunch break anymore.

It was also 2002, and only 8 months after 9/11. The world was changing rapidly around me-literally and figuratively- and I needed a little escape. Before I even graduated, I had read the first three books and I was desperate to read the fourth.

There was a lot to like, at first. As a child who grew up in an abusive and neglectful household, I related to Harry's struggles a lot. The desire to just be a normal kid was something he valued much more than anything else, and being a kid who went to a wizard school was just a fun bonus for him. Harry was just a normal kid besides- he is able to come out of his shell and; for the first time in his life, he is able to enjoy his time at school as he is not really considered strange... except for the fact that he's the Boy Who Lived.

As the books go on, the world were given a peek into begins to lose it's shine. There's chattel slavery of humanoid races pretty early with the house elves, then there's the extremist Pure Blood wizards- many of which follow Voldemort- who'd intimidate, harm and kill children to keep them from receiving and education and mixing with the general wizard population.

As Voldemort is resurrected, things become difficult for our heroes, and fascist wizards take over the Ministry of Magic. Other wizards seems oddly content to either live like nothing is happening, or hide until their Chosen One saves them. Adults become unreliable to a fault; and with herculean effort, Harry and the gang finally defeat the evil Voldemort.

But then... nothing really happens. The world goes right back to the way it was- none of our heroes seem to seek any more justice or reform for any of those they saw hurt or abused once their journey is concluded. Everyone falls into their respective places within society and never seem to question the status quo again.

This course of events says two things to me- That JKR believes Social Justice to be a 'young person thing', and that she probably believes that grassroots efforts cannot effect lasting systemic change.

So, what else is there to do except to get on with it?

There's also the pervasive nihilism that grows stronger as the series goes on. Former allies fall in line with the ruling party; begrudgingly or otherwise, abandoning the young people to their fate. Many witches and wizards won't pick a side, and either pretend nothing is happening or go into hiding. There are only a handful of people willing to fight and many of these rebels are brutally killed or imprisoned.

Defeating Voldemort also does not change the structure of wizard society. It does not change that sentient magical humanoids and those born to magical families without powers are forced into a subclass by the rest of magic wielding society. It doesn't seem to change the fact that there are wizards who believe they should control the whole world, and not just the fates and lives of those within the wizarding community.

As I've gotten older and queerer; and JKR has gotten richer and louder, it's made a body of work riddled with covert and overt racism, homophobia, and weirdly pro-slavery bend harder and harder to like.

At the end of the day, there is just no good reason to invest my money in something that inevitably tells kids and young adults to fall in line after their done protesting and questioning authority.

All done with your fun little Social Justice Adventure? Time to be a Real Adult and stop asking questions!

As a queer and transgender person- literal heroes of my time died fighting intentional misinformation, and purposeful governmental mismanagement of the AIDS pandemic (Big Shout out to Ronald Reagan! The Real Villain of our timeline.) They marched while sick, made art, held 'die ins' in churches and government buildings, sued the government, gathered and distributed reliable information on how to combat AIDS through safer sex and safer drug use practices.

There are too many to list here. Many names no one outside the community has even heard. Many more we don't even know. A made up little boy in a book just isn't as important to me as those often nameless people- people who literally fought and died so that I could be The (Trans)Boy Who Lived.

I will not disrespect the memories of those who came before me by putting money in the pocket of someone who actively hates both them and myself. I will not spend any more time thinking about her or the sad little world she's created.

I'm asking you to do the same.

[sticks-and-souls]

Before You Go

aka Rex Coming to Terms With Ahsoka Leaving the 501st After The Wrong Jedi Arc

AO3 link here, full oneshot below:

Rex’s footsteps echoed heavily down the hall as he stormed through their temporary barracks on Coruscant. It was supposed to have been run of the mill. The men get a week or two of down time while General Skywalker and the Commander take care of this bombing investigation for their Council. But now…

Now…

He took a shaky breath and turned down a corner, completely on autopilot. He felt so angry that it was like his heart, his blood, and everything inside him had turned into lava and the only way it wasn’t all spilling out of him was because he was clenching his jaw so tightly. 

The itch burning through him to fucking do something to fix this was completely at odds with the absolute truth that there was nothing to be done. They had cleared her of charges. She was still choosing to leave. With a herculean effort, he reined himself in from slamming his fist dead into the wall of the corridor. 

He couldn’t do anything to fix it because what needed to be done was to turn back the clock and make this entire debacle not have happened in the first place. He closed his eyes as regret bled into the liquid rage coursing through him. How many times in his short life had he wished for a do-over on how something had played out? And now, like all those times, all that was left was to deal with the fallout instead. 

He clenched his teeth harder. And apparently, part of that fallout included him being batshit out of his mind. 

His swirling thoughts were useless. He was thinking and feeling so many things, all pinging off of one another, that he could process none of them. Nor, he realized bitterly, did he want to. He couldn’t fight this and he didn’t even want to pretend to fight this. The firing range was usually the first place he ended up after losing a soldier. Each bolt blazing across the empty space allowed his brain to focus on something else and pretend that this practice would save everyone next time. And in the meantime, his pain and grief and powerlessness could all swirl around in the background until it settled down enough for him to take it one thought at a time. But every time he considered turning back to the range now, his mind violently rejected the idea outright. He didn’t want to know what he was feeling, it wouldn’t matter to realize who all he blamed for this, he wasn’t interested in discovering why he felt nearly as angry about this as he had been on Umbara. 

He swallowed around a renewed surge of lava that boiled up his throat over that realization, but it was true. And to hell if he was going to give that closer inspection right now. If staying angry let him draw a sheet over those mental boxes that he didn’t want to look inside—one of which was to begin grasping the impossible reality of moving forward in this neverending war without her—then he could just stay fucking livid. Forever, if he had to. Sorry General, since I don’t want to deal with even thinking about going back to the front without her, we have to stay here. Sorry Chancellor, the 501st can’t leave Coruscant without Commander Tano, so we’ll just have to press pause on the war effort. Sorry Separatists, no one showed up to fight today, I guess you’ll just have to do yourselves in. Congrats everyone, Captain Rex just ended the fucking war by being fucking angry. 

He had stopped in the middle of a corridor and when he crawled out of his head to actually get his bearings he realized he was standing in front of her closed door. 

He stared at it, not really seeing it, transfixed by the unblemished gray empty surface. This was the last place he should be. He wanted nothing more than to talk to her and had absolutely no idea what he should say. Besides, how could he ask her to worry about taking care of his feelings on top of her own right now. 

The gray door stared back at him. 

What was he supposed to do without her? What were any of them supposed to do? Skywalker had looked like he was going into shock. 

He should knock. 

No, he should leave.

His limbs refused to move towards either action. 

Would he plead her not to go? 

…

…Did he wish he could leave with her?

Abruptly, he felt like he was falling, like the gray void might consume him, and the anger that he had been gripping to so tightly was suddenly slipping through his fingers. 

He lurched himself into motion, back the way he had come. He was in no condition to talk to her. She probably wasn’t even here. Needles pierced through his gut. What if she had left already?

“Rex.” 

He stopped in place. For the first time since the news had broken, silence descended on his thoughts. 

He looked down at the floor—how had he never noticed how completely gray everything was?—

“I was just leaving,” he said. If he didn’t turn to face her now, would he be able to stay frozen in the times before this horrible week?

“You can come in if you’d like,” she replied and her footsteps receded back into her room. 

He turned around and followed her inside. 

Her back was to him and she was looking down at her limited belongings on the bunk. She had a single bag—non-military issue—but it looked mostly empty. Probably just her change of clothes. She was standing tall but there was a slant to her shoulders, like her spine was stiffly holding all of the rest of her up from wanting to sink beneath the floor.

He set his helmet on the small table by the door. Now that he was looking at her, he wanted to be sure he could drink in every detail: the warm sienna of her skin, the bright striping of her montrals that almost matched the blue of the 501st, the colorful beading—

His brain stopped. Her padawan beads were gone. This was really happening. 

And then she turned to look at him and the absolute loneliness in her expression was like a punch to the gut. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

In two steps he had reached her and wrapped her up in a tight embrace. 

How could they have done this to her? This incredible and brave and fierce and compassionate young woman. Wasn’t she everything they claimed to uphold? Hadn’t they seen how much she had sacrificed for them? To be like them? Because she believed in what it was to be a Jedi?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, not seeming to mind that his armor was probably digging into her.

“No,” he shook his head. “No. You deserved so much more than how they treated you.” 

He could actually feel her squeezing back through the rigid strength of the plastoid. She nodded slightly, then with more momentum, then she was trembling and he realized she must be crying. The room lost focus and he realized he was crying, too. 

It was such a strange contradiction to feel like he had lost her and still be able to hold her close. The knowledge that this was the last time he would see her kept rolling over him but it was such a foreign experience to have a warning like this that his arms clung to her in blatant denial, as if to say “can’t you see she’s right here?”. But before today, they were either both going to survive the war or one of them would die in the blink of an eye first. There had never been a third option until now. Was this better? Should he be grateful that, for once, he was actually getting a chance to say goodbye? 

His chest contracted again and he tightened his hold on her as more tears slid down his cheeks. It would seem that saying goodbye didn’t make loss any easier. She was still about to be completely beyond anywhere he could reach her. 

Her breathing was eventually becoming steadier and he began moving his hand up and down her back, realizing the motion was helping to calm him as well. If this really was the last goodbye then he would make sure she left knowing there were still people who loved her, who would always have her back. 

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

At last, she took a step back and dried her face on the back of her hands. Her eyes were puffy and a little glassy when she looked up at him. 

“You can still trust them,” she said, her voice scratchy from crying.

Rex lifted his gaze and looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. It was like she had peered into the swirling thoughts inside his head that he was refusing to identify and easily plucked out the one that mattered the most. She had named his molten anger—accurately—and by doing so, made him powerless to stop it from rising through the cracks that had cooled over the top of it. 

“After this?” he replied, meeting her gaze again. He recognized the rarely-heard defiance in his tone.

A small furrow pinched between her eyebrows. “This war has been so long, and the right course of action is so clouded to see right now. We’re all just trying to do what we think is best.”

And they thought it was best to alienate their own allies? His pulse was rising again. Their own people?

“It’s ok to be angry with them,” she continued, and he barely caught a humorless smile that flickered at one side of her mouth. “But…they are trying to do what is best for the Republic.” 

He sighed. He was starting to think that what was best for the Republic discarded a lot of people in the process. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

She nodded in quiet understanding. “Then maybe… Maybe just trust that you can trust Anakin.” 

Anakin Skywalker. His general. A Jedi, but also…somehow different from them. 

He sighed again but this time more in acceptance. “Ok.” Trusting General Skywalker might be all he could manage right now as far as the Jedi were concerned…but he could manage that. 

“And Rex,” her expression trembled for a second. “It’s also ok for you to be angry at me, too.”

“I’m not. I’m…” he looked down and away, struggling to find the right words. 

“But if sometime later, you find that you are,” her voice began to wobble again, “because you have every right to be—” 

He took a breath to interrupt but she gently put a hand on his vambrace and continued on, in spite of her eyes filling again. “I hope you can remember how very, very sorry I am,” her breath hitched, “because I know you all trusted me to not just leave you.” As her tears spilled over again, he scooped her back into his arms just in time to hear a muffled “And I’m so s-sorry.”

“Shhh…” was all he said, his hand moving soothingly up and down her back again while she cried quietly. Was he angry at her? He didn’t feel like it; there were so many better candidates to assign blame to right now. Her apology echoed through his thoughts. He certainly didn’t want to be angry at her, but did he have a right to be? Beneath all this rage, was he hiding from himself that he was mad at her, too?

Her sobs began to take on a despondent edge that had been absent during their first hug and the answer came easily to him.

“Ok,” he said, leaning his head down closer to her ear. “Ok, I’ll forgive you. Shhhh…” He took a deep breath and felt some of his tension lessen. “I do forgive you.” Because it was easy to. “It’s ok, Ahsoka. We’re gonna be ok.” 

And they could be. For her. They would be extra vigilant knowing she wasn’t there to look out for them on the field. They would remember her strategies, remember her leadership, and look after her general. They could be ok. 

When she sounded like she had regained a bit of control over her emotions, he leaned back slightly so he could look at her without releasing his embrace. “Are you gonna be ok?” he asked, seriously. 

She took a deep, steadying breath while she considered his question, staring at his chestplate without really looking at it. After a moment, she gave a resolute nod. 

He felt another notch of his tension let go and he nodded back, realizing he believed her. He had seen her be independent and strong, but also personable and caring. She would find her path because she had to, and others would help her when she needed it. 

And yet…

“You ever need anything,” he said. “—Anything at all—you comm me. And I’ll…I’ll figure out a way to make it happen. Ok?”

She gave him a wan smile but didn’t say anything.

“Ok?” he said again, with more emphasis and her smile widened. 

“Ok,” she said earnestly, finally reading how sternly he needed her to understand him. After a second, her lips pressed together in a fractional tremor. “You watch your six, ok?”

A half-smile pulled at his mouth, which morphed into a full chuckle when she said “Ok??”

“Ok,” he promised. 

“Be careful,” she whispered. 

“You too,” he said, quietly. 

This was it. He could feel their time was down to seconds left and his thoughts began to scatter at the prospect. Was he supposed to be able to walk away while she was still here and alive? Is that what saying goodbye meant? Leaving when you still actually had time left? How? Why?

What was he supposed to say that would be his last ever words to her? What could possibly encompass everything that she was? That they were to each other?

“May the Force be with you.” He spoke before really realizing it. He’d never said the phrase before, only heard it exchanged, and the words felt funny in his mouth. For a second, he almost regretted it because she looked like she may cry again, but she launched her arms around his neck and he caught her in a final hug. 

“And with you.” She said it with such feeling that he could tell she meant it. She emanated warmth through his gloves and he closed his eyes to commit this feeling to memory.  

He found himself thinking on it later, the smell of ozone crisp as he fired bolt after repetitious bolt into the target at the end of the range. The Force had always been something other—a Jedi thing that didn’t apply to the rest of them—but he found himself hoping her prayer really did extend to him too. He missed her fiercely already, but she didn’t feel gone. If the Force was with them, and she was connected to the Force, did that mean she would still be with them, too? 

The memory of her lonely expression surfaced in his thoughts but it was quickly chased away by the feel of her embrace.

He hoped so.

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

Posting to @officialrexsoka for Rexsoka Week 2022!!! I thought it fit best with Day 3: Exile. Thanks for running the event for us this year and for everyone who participates in this fandom!

[kettouryuujin]

Temporal Static

[Set in @ailingwriter's Post-Rus AU]

Elesa, the Shining Beauty of Nimbasa City (and its Gym Leader), sighed as she plopped on her couch. It had been another long, long day - planning her next fashion shoot, taking on Gym challengers, and of course Emmet.

Just…Emmet.

She’d realized that the Subway Master was…eccentric when she first met him and his brother, Ingo. The eccentricities got even worse when Ingo just up and vanished one day while checking the Unovan subway. It was a Herculean task to keep Emmet from diving headlong into finding his brother, but it’d been a good value for the effort (snrk - effort values). The white-coated man would have likely burnt himself out trying to find his black-coated twin…

Elesa didn’t like thinking about what might have happened in that situation. Not at all.

*Scritchscritch*

UGH, why did she feel so itchy? Her coat had never felt like this before on her, and…ergh. Alright, off it goes for now. Then time to unwind and get ready for the next day.

—-

As the Electric-type specialist arrived at her Gym after a good night's sleep, her thoughts turned back to the Subway Twins.

They’d eventually found out where Ingo had gotten off to - ancient Sinnoh, otherwise known as Hisui. But the history books about that era were… oddly vague. It was probably related to those announcements from the authors about how they had not originally written the content that was currently in the books. The prevailing theory was that something was changing the records after a certain point - likely something on the scale of the Sinnoh Legendaries.

Ironically, this “certain point” being right around when Ingo had apparently shown up hadn’t been Emmet’s biggest concern at the time. Well, it may have been, but him starting to turn into a Galvantua had definitely taken more of their focus.

The only lead they had on these changes was something called “Pokérus.” Not much was known about it: Only that had been introduced into Hisui a few years after Ingo arrived, and that it turned people into giant, feral, overly-aggressive Pokémon.

Fear over what Ingo had gone through had to take a back seat to fear over Emmet’s changes, which were - quite frankly - not pleasant to watch. But thank Arceus, despite the total physical changes Emmet somehow managed to keep his mind. Nobody was exactly sure why or how at the time. The prevailing theory was that he’d managed to get rest, food, and water that may have been harder to get back in Hisui. Which meant, in a way, she’d saved his life by caring for him during those last few moments.

It was either that, or something to do with the fact that he didn’t end up a giant like prior victims. Probably both.

…odd. Was it her, or did it seem like the gym design was slightly different? She couldn’t place a finger on it, but something was…off. Maybe she needed to take a break?

—-

OK, Elesa definitely needed to take a break. As she transitioned from gym duties to model work, she could swear that her stance was off the whole way through. Everyone else claimed she was doing just fine, but their looks and tones belayed their actual opinions. 

It wasn’t easy taking a break on the fly, especially when you had as many duties as she did. Meaning there was one last flurry of activity, making calls and rescheduling events before she could go home. Argh, it was getting a bit tricky to write too…she must’ve been doing really bad. Surprising that it’s all showing up now, though - with all her jobs, she’d gotten pretty good at noticing burnout. It just flaring up like this was something that hadn’t happened since she first started doing double-duty, but then again a lot had been going on lately.

Specifically, since a (normal-sized) Gliscor had been spotted in the train tunnels about a week ago. Reports said that the Gliscor was a bit...weird: Specifically with a nigh-perpetual frown replacing the normal smile, and two strangely familiar bits of fur poking down from behind the ears. That, and the oddly familiar black cap it was wearing. Of course, when Emmet had finally seen the Ground-/Flying-Type, he’d basically glomped the aerial ‘mon because sweet Dragons that was Ingo.

Apparently, the physical changes from the Pokérus were permanent - but the feral mindset had actually been induced by whoever had caused the whole incident in the first place. Some crazed Arceus-obsessed man who wanted to become divinity himself or something? It was weird.

The Legendaries had been more than willing to help the victims adjust, though. For one, the strange rips in space and time that were the actual source of the “disease” still existed in Hisui. But they were far less dangerous, usually only causing stores to lose a few items here and there (usually TMs).

For another, Uxie helped Ingo with the Amnesia he’d suffered since arriving in the past (which everyone agreed was a good idea. It wasn’t like he was getting any stat buffs from it anyways!), while Dialga and Palkia had offered to take him back to his original time.

There was a brief... altercation... when Emmet heard that his brother had originally declined that offer. Emmet’s reaction made sense, though: Ingo had stayed for like a year after the offer had been made! Thankfully, a simple explanation had cleared everything up. Since it was going to be a one-way trip, Ingo hadn’t wanted to leave the Pearl Clan right away. He needed time to settle matters, doubly so since he was a Warden caring for a very important Pokémon - some extinct Sneasel evolution? She hadn’t gotten the details during Emmet’s typed-up summarization.

Still, things had been a bit hectic since Ingo had returned, even ignoring how Gear Station had to close for a couple days for “renovation”. Not only was she helping the twins rearrange their apartment, but she was also busy getting them new coats made. Understandably, there hadn’t been much progression in Pokemon fashion outside of Contests and Performances, where ‘mon like Gliscor and Galvantua didn’t show up often - so that was an uphill battle. At least they’d been able to preserve what had been left of their original coats. 

Anyways. Leave the thinking for tomorrow - she’d gotten home in the time it’d taken to finish those thoughts, so it was time to sleep.

—-

*bzz* *bzz*

“Ugh…I’m awake, I’m awake…” Fumbling with one hand, Elesa picked up her Xtransciever from where she’d left it overnight and checked the screen.

Emmet had messaged her? Huh. More proof that investing in a messaging program for his laptop was worth it (even if it felt like she should sleep for a couple more hours).

‘Elesa! I am Emmet. You need to see the news. Ignore everything else on your schedule until you have.’

Emmet telling her to ignore a schedule? That meant this was huge. Slipping out of bed, the Beauty tugged some clothes on (making sure she looked decent) before turning on the TV. It was already on the news, so that made things easier-

“This is Kevin Brockman for Unova News with a breaking report. Mysteriously, several people have begun changing into Pokémon!”

What.

Slowly the model slid onto the couch, gawking as she processed the anchorman's words. “For more, we take to Katy Jacobs. Katy?”

The scene shifted from the studio to a Pokémon Center lobby filled with worried people. “Thanks, Kevin. I’m here at the Castelia City Pokémon Center, where multiple people have arrived with what are, quite frankly, bizarre changes.”

It went on to show interviews with people sporting feathers, fur, claws, tails, and all sorts of Pokémon parts. The Gym Leader’s mouth slowly opened in shock - how could this be happening? There weren’t any distortions to cause Pokérus, right?!?

As the reporters began to discuss how the changes seemed to be focused along family lines, the couch suddenly decided to push against her butt. Kinda hard. “YOWCH!”

Jumping up and checking said couch, Elesa blinked - there was…nothing different? So how did it…

A gentle swaying sensation was the answer. As she looked behind her, a sense of cold dread washed through her bones because that was undeniably a tail.

“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

—-

Elesa had immediately gone to the hospital after the panic attack ended. OK, she was still frantic and Confused, but she wasn’t going to attack herself.

…that would’ve been funnier if she wasn’t turning into…what seemed to be a Luxray? At least going by what the doctor had said. He was hopeful that she’d be alright, given how well Emmet had turned out, but...

Basically, she had half a week of humanity left. And that was being optimistic.

So here she was, standing at the door to the train twins’ place, acting all fidgety and nervous. Hopefully they’d be able to shed some light on things…or…something. She wasn’t sure. Really she just needed to talk to someone, and who better than her best friends? Who had literally gone through this before?

Gently reaching up with a slightly deformed hand, the probably ex-model rapped at the door. “H-Hello?”

“Gil-so!” A couple seconds later, the door was filled with cap-wearing Gliscor. “Gli?” Yeah, she’d told the brothers there wouldn’t be any discussion about the coats today. And…there really wouldn’t be.

As she lowered her hand, yellow eyes caught it in their gaze. “S-SOR!?" Said eyes darted over the rest of her body, taking in the miscellany of changes the model was already dealt. "GLIS!?”

“Gaaaal.” Emmet scurried nearby, chastising his brother for…something. Probably cursing, given the humorous tone - which fled rather fast when he saw her. “V-VAN! Ga…” The pair backed away, letting their scared friend enter the abode.

Meandering to the couch, Elesa almost sat down before remembering that she had a freaking tail now, so she had to sit sideways. It…wasn’t the most comfortable, but it’d work.

*bzz* went the Xtransciever - right, she needed to mute Emmet. The one drawback to that program she'd gotten them - it’d buzz her even when she was right in front of the duo. She’d rather do something closer to normal conversation when visiting. 

‘I am Emmet. You are changing species tracks, Elesa?!’

“Y-yeah, I am…” A shudder. “A-and…it’s kinda scaring me.”

Ingo nodded, chittering something. ‘Ingo says it was the same for everyone back at the Hisui station. And you surely recall how I felt when I discovered this track switch.” The pair shuddered at the memory.

“So sor.”

 ‘...he says you do have a better track than we did, however.’

Elesa let out a sharp, not-really-funny laugh. “Oh? What’s that? Because I kinda can’t see any!!”

The Gliscor just face-clawed, chittering some more. ‘You know you won’t end up feral like he did. No Volo.’ 

“Volo? Oh, right. He's the butthole who started all this back then, wasn’t he?” Nods and sounds of affirmation were all she needed there. “Ergh. Right. So then…”

Several more hours of chatting later, and it was decided that the changing human would stay the night. Her team would be worried, but they didn’t want her walking when her legs could change at any second.

——

There were two items of note the next morning.

One was that, compared to Emmet and Ingo’s changes, Elesa’s weren’t painful at all.

The other?

Ingo: ‘Elesa, is…this actually working?!’

She stared at the message, then to the Xtransciever-wearing Gilcisor. “Yes, Ingo… this is working…”

“G-Gil? Gil! Gi-scor!” ‘I do not believe this! For such a function to appear overnight is… is as likely as a train falling into Hisui!’

On that, everyone agreed. Since when did Xtranscievers have a voice-to-text function that 1) worked perfectly, and 2) translated Pokéspeech?! Not to mention 3) come in a size that fit a Gliscor?!

Emmet: ‘I am Emmet. This track we have been placed on is growing more and more confounding. www.unovanews.pke/article/XtransDelay’

A tap on the link (with a claw that formed overnight) pulled it up. Wait, when could Xtranscievers pull up links like this?

That question was soon banished upon reading the article. It wasn’t about a delay in a new Xtransciever model. It was about how, for some reason, the Xtransciever had apparently been released in 2012 instead of 2010? The model clearly remembered doing a show for the company as part of a 2011/2013 anniversary special, though. 

Apparently, the company agreed with her. Everyone from executives to line workers were mystified about how this change had taken place. “‘I would call it a hack’, said CEO Mayers, ‘if it wasn’t for the sheer totality of the changes. Even un-networked files are reflecting this new need for accessibility!’”

And that was the apparent reason for the delay - a need to increase how accessible the Xtranscieverwas. Not only that, but to have it function almost like a Pokédex or RotomPhone - not in identifying Pokémon, but in serving as more of a miniature computer. (On a related note, apparently RotomPhones no longer really existed? The phones did still, but not the whole “it’s meant for a Rotom” bit).

I: ‘This is…quite astonishing, brother. Do you have any idea why reality is suddenly switching tracks?’

Em: ‘I am Emmet. I have no idea why this track change is happening, or why it is so verrry drastic.’

Mjfqbse:’Da heck are you guys talking about?’

Em/I/Elesa: EgaR4rha3tHDSw4tgr

I: ‘Who are you and what are you doing in this chat?’

Mjfqbse: ‘...Sis added me? C’mon, you guys remember back when we got these…’

El: ‘Everyone but you, unfortunately. -.-’

Mjfqbse: ‘...Els, this isn’t funny. You have to remember, right?! Back when you had evolved?’

Em: ‘I am Emmet. You are the one not being funny.

…odd. I cannot find any pictures of Elesa as anything but partly changed.’

Mjfqbse: ‘Part- Hey! We hatched from the same egg, thank you very much!’

El: ‘...you…do know I was born human, right? So please, just cut it ou-’

And suddenly a Liepard’s face was filling the screen. Everyone jumped back at the transition to group call as the felid began ranting on who was joking with who (thank you captions). However, when her gaze fell on Elesa, she suddenly stopped.

Familiar eyes locked with the human's own before darting up and down the screen. “...I…Who are you and why do you have Elesa’s Xtrans?!?”

“That is Elesa. Surely if you knew us you could recognize her, even with a different coat of paint,” Ingo chittered.

“No. Nononnono. That can’t be right. That CAN'T be right!” The feline’s wide, panicked eyes went to one corner as she seemed to be flicking through…something. “W-What in the world is up with these pictures! You…I…” One such image was promptly sent to the group, and Elesa recognized it: It was the picture she’d taken to commemorate becoming Nimbasa City’s Gym Leader!

But at the same time, it wasn’t. In the picture before her, Elesa looked about as inhuman as she currently was - spotty blue and black fur, tail, flat paws for feet, sharp claws for nails, and the beginnings of a muzzle. But perhaps more shocking was how a younger-looking Liepard was also in the picture, holding Elesa close as if they’d known each other for…

For…

For as long as the train boys had known each other.

The soon-to-be-ex-human let out a cry of shock, which soon became a sparking yelp as her ankles raised up, moving into a more digitigrade position. Thankfully Ingo was there to catch her, but the shock returned twofold when she looked back at the picture.

The Elesa in the picture was now leaning on the still-human Ingo. Looking near the bottom of the image, she could see that her feet were also propped up in an animalistic position.

“...What the-” 

“Language!”

“-is going on!?” And apparently, this cat had a bit of a pottymouth. Although being censored with a voice clip of pre-Hisui Ingo calling his brother out for cursing was definitely new.

…and honestly made sense. The brothers were well-known enough for that kinda thing.

—-

Like usual, the news had the answers. But it wasn't in a way anyone expected.

“Kevin Brockman here with an update to yesterday’s breaking news. These bizarre transformative phenomena have been confirmed globally. Furthermore, it appears that it is not just people that are changing. Katy Jacobs is on-scene with details. Katy?”

The scene changes to Elesa’s apartment, where the changing Elesa and the Liepard are both standing. The scenery wasn't the same as a normal apartment, looking more suited for a quadrupedal lifestyle than anything. In the background, Elesa’s team is out of their balls, staring suspiciously at the Dark-Type. 

“Thanks, Kevin. I’m here with Nimbasa City Gym Leader Elesa, and the Liepard who is - get this - her twin sister.” The Liepard in question opens their mouth as if to say something but then closes it - all while wearing this confused look. “Miss Elesa, how did you find out about this…twin, of yours?”

“Well, the Subway Masters and I were discussing the changes to the Xtrans when she suddenly just appeared in our group text. Understandably, we freaked out, assuming she was some sort of hacker.”

“And what convinced you she was not?”

“A picture I’d taken when I became Gym Leader.” The picture in question is shown on screen, with an edited version to the right showing what she remembered it looked like.

“Ah, yes. That would be…quite compelling evidence.” The Liepard grumbled something which thankfully wasn’t picked up by the cameras.

“I-it is, yes.”

“So…what has it been like, having your history upended like this?”

Elesa opened her mouth to answer-

—-

Her history upended? History… siblings… family… THAT'S IT! 

“Erm, Miss Elesa?” How long had she been thinking?

“S-Sorry!” she yapped out, chuckling nervously. “Your question just reminded me of something…kinda important. Would you mind waiting a moment please thank you?” She’d taken off before the reporter could reply, leaving Ms. Jacobs to send the broadcast back to the studio.

Her “sister” yowled after her, crying for the Leader to come back the interview wasn’t over! But Elesa paid the cries no mind. If she was right, then that family tree she’d made on a whim a few years ago would pay off…

Bingo! There it is, and one look confirmed what she needed to know. She rushed back to the confused newspeople, sheet of paper in…mouth (Bloody paws - wait, had she run on all 4s?). “Morry mbt mat!”

“M-Miss Elesa! Oh, we can bring the interview back, just - What’s that in your…mouth?” She sounded less disgusted and more confused, and Elesa couldn’t blame her. Dropping the sheet of paper for the interviewer to pick up, one eye noted the cameras were back on her. Showtime.

“You see, not many people know this, but I actually had a couple ancestors back in Hisui. Y’know, ancient Sinnoh.” And Ms. Jacobs was about to ask that question, great. “No, it wasn’t Ingo. We checked as soon as we found out he’d been sent back in time.” One of the drawbacks of the public knowing what had happened.

“I…see.” She really didn’t. “And your point is?” There’s the proof.

“My point is, those ancestors didn’t come to Unova until sometime after the whole Pokérus incident. You know, the thing that transformed Ingo and Emray.” Blink, paw to her mouth. Oh, was her voice going NOW?!

Well, the interview might be over, since the reporter was looking away, one hand to her earpiece. “I…uhh, hang on. Yes…yes, Kevin. That last syllable was a “ray” to me, not a “met”. Yes? You sure? Ok, wow.” She turned back to the hopefully-still-a-Gym-Leader. “Apparently we have live Pokémon-to-human translation now, so… could you elaborate?”

“Erm? Oh, uh, right.” Oh boy. She was having trouble telling what part of that was words and what was Pokéspeech. That live translation came at a good time, huh? “Anyways. Ingo had said that the Pokérus had been caused by these…rifts in space-time some jerk made?” 

“Yes, I remember hearing that in an interview.”

A subtle nod as her sister (no quotes now?) looked on in shock. “I think what may have happened is…well, something to do with how those were rifts in space and time.”

“Are you implying that this…Pokérus… didn’t originally exist?”

“Either that or a cure for it did exist originally.” The cameraman’s mouth made a nice “o”. He got it. But for the rest of the class... “If this is true, then all these changes could be because the cure just…doesn’t exist anymore, or something.”

“That… that is an incredible discovery, Miss Elesa! How did you come to this idea?”

The Liepard chose this time to step over, unannounced and utterly deadpan. “...one of our best friends literally became part of a key time of our world’s history. Even if I…well. Even if I wasn’t here back then, I’m pretty sure the conclusion follows naturally. Yes?”

“I…alright. Erm, some of our researchers are getting in touch with genealogists and changed people now. Get people looking into this theory. If it’s right, then we may finally have an answer to all this.”

“Eh, no sweat. Sis and I…oh.” A blink. “I don’t actually remember what I do for a living… or my name! Guess that says something, huh?” The purple feline laughed, but Elesa could hear pain underneath. See the shock and fear in her eyes.

“Umm. Very well. Thank you very much for your time and insights. It seems like Kevin’s ready to go back to the studio, so yeah. Go ahead, Kevin?”

—-

To say the Unova News website was busy after this would be a gross understatement. It was only thanks to some improved Porygon-made tech that they were still online at all, and the loading times were still unreal.

Ironic how the reason the site was so close to crashing was the same reason it was still up.

Elesa’s family tree theory had borne fruit simply from research alone, but then Cynthia went to Spear Pillar to try and ask Arceus himself.

She didn’t get the Alpha Pokémon, but they did get Celebi (on behalf of Dialga - apparently he was her boss or something). The Time Travel Pokémon confirmed that Elesa had gotten the theory right on the head. For some reason or another, their original timeline - the one where Pokérus had a cure - had collapsed into what the Legendaries had dubbed the “Post-Rus” timeline when Arceus had sent that world’s version of Ingo home. Apparently, some wires got crossed somewhere? Honestly, seemed like a bit of an excuse, but anyways

As a result of the collapse, any Legendary with metaphysical weight to throw around was busy trying to keep things stable for the merger - make sure different versions of the same person didn’t cause a paradox, make sure people who existed in one timeline and not the other didn’t get erased, that sorta thing.

Technically speaking, this Celebi was from the future, a good year or so after the merger had stabilized. Her present self - along with all of her selves from now to that year-after point - were busy dealing with an Ash Ketchum. Apparently, he was so critical he needed a special task force just to make sure the merger didn’t prematurely cause Armageddon or worse. 

And that was when she’d said too much, as Celebi vanished about mid-sentence. The former Champion seemed to be... unsurprised, at this (or was it at this “Ash” being such a big deal?). Still, at least what she'd said was safe to share. Seeing as it hadn’t been censored out like most people assumed it would.

As the article segued into a guide for how to tell which timelines you were originally in, Elesa could hear her twin groan. …Arceus apparently had a sense of humor, giving her a twin in the other timeline. At least they weren’t as in sync as the Subway Masters.

Speaking of, Ingo and Emmet had been overjoyed to find that Gear Station’s trains had been modified so that Pokémon and humans could run them. Which made sense, if in that “Post-Rus” timeline Pokémon were on an even keel with humans…

“...Si-Elesa?”

“Hmm?” The lady in question looked over from her round, pet bed-like couch to the Liepard, who looked... upset. 

“...Do…do you think I’m real?”

“Eh? I mean, of course you’re real, you’re just from the other timelin-”

“That’s the problem!” Oh. “T-that other timeline…my memories…they aren’t real! They shouldn’t exist here!” The feline began choking up. “And if it wasn’t for me you’d still be...y'know...”

Nope. No crying allowed. The almost-a-Luxray wobbled over, proportions slightly out of whack still as they hugged the spotted cat tight. Her sister blinked, shuddering at the contact as the Gym Leader gave a small nuzzle. “...Sis. Please. Don’t worry about it.”

“B-but I-”

One paw reached around, turning the crying cat so her eyes locked with Elesa’s own, increasingly feline ones. “Listen. I don’t know what you think about how our timelines interact or what anyone says about that stuff. What matters is that you exist. You’re here. That’s real enough for me.” A smile. “And honestly? I’d welcome you at the Gym, sister or not. But I’m sure any sibling of mine is great at battles.” Smile evolved into Grin! “Then, maybe I’m just telling a Lie-pard.”

The Liepard blinked once. Twice (pfft). Three times (Snrrk). And then they couldn’t hold back the giggles.

“Oh, please! Not only is that a horrible pun, but you know I don’t need any sort of invitation! Besides, I do it…better…”

“...Sis?” Elesa was worried - the other cat’s eyes had grown wide and her mouth was hanging open. Oh, please don’t let this be another existential crisis…

“...Dragons, I just remembered what I do.” Thank Dragons, it wasn’t another crisis!

So just lean in and smile. “Really?! What is it?”

A very feline grin. “Admittedly? More or less what I was hoping it would be~”

“Alright, now you gotta spill.”The hug was released as Elesa felt her face push out one last time. “Just what do you do?”

—-

It had been about a week since the timelines had merged. The panic had more-or-less calmed down, with the ones still upset being those who either wound up in bad situations (which, thanks to all the recording being done for comparisons, were easy to spot) or were upset they didn’t get the form they wanted. Apparently, there were even a couple of Pokémon who were upset about becoming a different species altogether - or outright human! (The Nimbasa Trio Twins found this hilarious.)

For everyone else, though, the adaptation process was going rather well. For the twin Subway Masters, they were actually ahead of the curve, with being transformed before the timeline shenanigans. Even if people had memories and instincts from another timeline to use, Emmet and Ingo had memories from their FIRST timeline so HAH! (Emmet would not admit that their memories as pokemon were not as long-lasting in either timeline. He was Emmet.).

As for right now, the two were waiting at their usual table at Klink & Klang’s. “...Brother, do you suspect they forgot we were linking up here tonight?”

“I am Emmet. I do not know. I only know they are late.” His pedipalps twitched, already eager for some red meat substitute. He’d lost out on his birthday steak due to his changes, but the other timeline apparently had something similar to red meat that was Galvantua-safe. It would not be a steak, but it would be suitable.

“Hopefully it is just completing safety checks. They are a two-cab train now, much like we are.”

“True! I am Emmet. I hope they were not held up by someone being unsafe.”

“I believe they are more than able to re-route around such an impediment-”

“Sorry we’re late!” Both chitin’d Pokémon looked to the entry, where a pair of poofy coat-wearing felines were strutting in, a package on the larger one’s back.

“Yeah, we had to make a quick stop.” The pair sauntered over to the table, the Liepard taking a seat. Elesa took a bit longer to get seated, using her blue muzzle to nip the string holding her package before setting it on the table in front of the guys.

The train twins laughed. “I am Emmet. I did not expect you to use the same style of dress!”

The Luxray laughed, shaking out a long, black mane from her trademark earwear (Even if it no longer went on her ears). “Nah! Besides, these things have removable cooling packs inside now.”

Her sister nodded. “Yep. Great to beat the heat with. Especially when you’ve got fur.” She smirked, stroking her own silvery coat whilst ears flicked.

“Well, it appears Miss Sable has decided to pull into your station. Regarding fashion choices, at least.” Ingo smirked, dragging the package over towards himself.

“Ha ha ha. Yeah, like you two aren’t copycats yourself.” The train twins sputtered and Elesa chuckled at the joke.  The Liepard waved a paw through the air amidst the reactions, causing the package to pop open before the brothers’ eyes. Gotta love moves. “That’s for you guys by the way. Want us to get the menus while you use the restroom?”

“What do you mean, ‘use the-’” Words died as the battle facility heads looked in the package.

“I am Emmet! You said these wouldn’t be in our terminal for a year!” Well, buried their heads in it in Emmet’s case. If it wasn’t for feline hearing the sisters would’ve only heard “mm mmm m mmm m mmm!” Or something like that.

“Yeah, turns out that when like a quarter to a half the population is Pokémon? Species isn’t a factor in clothing design anymore.” Elesa shrugged and smirked, watching the twins gingerly pull out a pair of Subway Master coats. One white with multiple leg-holes, and the other black with slits for wings. Both sized perfectly for their wearers.

“...We will be returning to this station momentarily. Please wait behind the yellow line.” That was all that was said before the pair scurried off to the restroom, Emmet almost bowling people over in his frantic rush.

“...they do know they don’t have to use the restroom, right?”

“Maybe, but they were originally human in both timelines.”

“Ah, true that.” A snicker as a green-and-tan Sneasal brought menus to the table. “So, what’d you think of my ‘first’ day?”

The Electric-type couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Oh, please! It was so clear it wasn’t your first day dealing with the Gym. You had no mercy with those challengers!”

“Well, they don’t call me ‘The Cruel Beauty’ for nothing, miss ‘Gleaming Beauty’~”

More snickers. “Heh, to think we’re Co-Leaders of the Nimbasa Gym.”

“And both models, right?”

“Y-yeah, that too.” Snrrrk. “I swear, if Arceus knew this timeline stuff was going to happen, he meant for us to be this way.”

“Heh, fair enough.” A purr as Sable slicked back her head-fur some, making sure nothing was poking over her silver-and-black headgear. “By the way, know what you wanna order?”

“Not really, no. My old favorite isn’t that cat-friendly, and I’m not sure this place existed in the other timeline…”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you don’t wanna make a mess of the apartment again.”

“‘Make a mess of the apartment?’ I am Emmet. I would verrry much like to hear about Elesa dirtying her home station.” The Luxray blushed as her sister laughed, the once-identical twins having chosen this moment to return to the table.

“I would apologize for the delay, we had issues with our new garb. However, it appears we were actually right on schedule.” Oh, and Ingo was getting in on it too?

“C’mon, you don’t need to tell them that story!” 

“Oh yes I do!” Sable laughed as Elesa began looking for a way to shut her (new) twin up. “So she’d had this ‘strange’ cough for a while, but figured it wasn’t a big deal.

“I am Emmet. I think that was a failed safety check.”

“Sure was! Even if we use showers, a cat’s gotta groom. And she wasn’t letting any of it back out~” 

“Oh my. Are you saying?”

“Yep! Got so clumped that it was blocking stuff up, and…” As the story rambled on, Elesa was redder than a Tamato, frantically trying to cover up her sibling’s mouth. Unfortunately, Sable was adept at dodging any attempts to stop this embarrassing tale. Oh, was this how Emmet and Ingo felt when one was sharing an embarrassing tale about the other?

“You mean she -”

“Yuuup. Doc had to force the damn hairball outta her to un-clog the pipes.”

“SABLE!” Ergh… 

It was hard to believe it’d only been a bit over a week since Elesa had met her twin. A bit less than that since she’d fully changed into a Luxray. And just a few days since it’d been confirmed that the timelines had merged fully (the guys upstairs were just smoothing over rough patches).

Battling had been surprisingly fun. She could only fight herself if the opposing Trainer did too, but oh was it an exhilarating experience! She could see why Emmet was so eager to try battling after he got the hang of things.

And modeling? Well, the catwalk (Hah!) had adapted for her new species, and she’d already done a couple of rehearsal events with shocking ease. Soon she’d be able to host an actual fashion show - which of course would be focused on felids and humans. 

As her blush grew alongside everyone else’s laughter, Elesa just couldn’t help but think - ‘Yeah. Yeah, I can get used to this. But first, time to Counter.’ “Alright, alright. Well, if you thought THAT was funny, wait until you heard what happened when Sable first got to the gym.”

It was impressive how such a colorful Pokémon could turn snow-white in an instant. “Y-you…you wouldn’t tell them about that, would you?”

Sensing the train boys’ eyes on her, the Luxray just flashed her sibling a predatory grin. “Wouldn’t tell them what? That you didn’t know about the roller coaster, and now we need new cars?”

“You never liked those kinds of things before! How was I to know you’d include them in the Gym?!”

Emmet and Ingo went into hysterics as Elesa regaled them with the most embarrassing tale she had. Yeah, she could definitely get used to this.

[mountainofgoats]

Back in the Saddle

Midvale, a few weeks post-Phantom Zone. In an attempt to remaster the powers Kara spent months without, she and her two most important people make a road trip home to test her flight.

Or, I just want Kara to be able to fly for the joy of it the way Clark did in Man of Steel.

Read with “Flight” by Hans Zimmer playing. You won’t regret it.

/////

Lena knows the moment Kara emerges from the house up on the ridge. Alex’s eyes flick up, back down, then up again in quick succession. An entirely smug grin alights her face before she pointedly looks back down at her tablet.

“We’re going to have to have a talk about your affinity for making my sister new suits at some point, Luthor,” she says.

Lena feels her face heat up. “No idea what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Lena scoffs. “She needed a new one,” she hisses at the smirking elder Danvers. “The one she had was wrecked and there was no fixing it.”

“Agreed,” Alex allows, smile growing. “But this is what? The fourth one you’ve made for her?”

“One other! With upgrades!”

“Mmhmm.” Alex types a few more things into the tablet. Pulls out a USB and plugs it into the side. “Sure.”

Lena feels her face go hot. “What are you insinuating, Alex?”

Alex shrugs. “Not insinuating anything,” she says. She glances back up and smiles some more. “Just thinking you’re making a habit of making suits for Kara and I kind of appreciate it.”

At Lena’s questioning look, Alex elaborates. “Winn made her first one,” she says. “And yeah, it did the job, but it was-“ she waves her hand in a so-so gesture, wincing- “not the best. Prone to wardrobe malfunctions.”

Lena snorts. “Patriarchy.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Alex agrees with a playful two finger salute.

After a shared grin with Lena, her eyes travel back to where Kara must have made it down to the beach. “They’ve all protected her, the suits you’ve made,” Alex says. Her voice has gone quiet. Gone is the light teasing. She holds Lena’s eyes for a moment. “And I... can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Lena’s eyes suddenly mist over, and her throat works against the lump that forms there.

Alex looks pointedly back down at her tablet, where she pulls up a video feed from one of the comm pieces resting on the boulder she’s made her impromptu HQ desk. She clears her throat. “I’ve never made sure you knew that. So. Now I’m telling you.”

Lena absolutely refuses to cry, but fuck if it doesn’t take a Herculean effort. She wrestles with the hot gratitude and affection boiling in her chest as Alex fiddles with the settings on the camera feed.

Alex glances up again, and her smile turns warm in a way Lena knows is reserved only for her sister. “Looking good, sis,” she calls. “Little weird without the cape, though.”

“Thanks! Lena made it!” Kara chirps from behind Lena. “Even has pockets! And yeah, I was going to ask you about that. Is there no cape, Lena?”

She barely dares to turn, but Alex is giving her one hell of a challenging look, and she’s still a Luthor.

And Luthors never back down from a challenge.

She turns her face just enough to look over her shoulder and immediately curses that particular Luthor trait.

Sure, she made the suit. But that in no way prepares her for what it looks like when it’s wrapped around Kara. The dark blue, almost black throws her golden hair, shimmering in the late sun, in sharp relief. The smooth material sweeps over the dips and curves of her shoulders and biceps, the dip in the high collar exposing slightly below the hollow of her throat. She approaches silently on the sand, the soft and supple deep maroon boots smooth and soundless. Lena had left the pants a little loose, a little more comfortable, but that did nothing to hide the muscle that bunches and releases rhythmically as Kara walks across the sand.

And she’s looking quizzically at Lena. Head slightly titled, blue eyes somehow even bluer against the darkness of her suit, the blue and red accents, and the reddish tint of the setting sun.

Lena rips her eyes away from the subtle dips in Kara’s abs and desperately wracks her brain to remember what question was asked of her.

“Cape, Lena?” Alex prompts with a shit eating grin.

“Right,” Lena coughs. She turns fully to meet Kara, hand already pointing to the belt slung diagonally across Kara’s chest. “I figured, since you’re not wanting to be in the limelight just yet, I should make it a bit more understated,” Lena explains. “Did you see the crest on your left shoulder?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “I like that it’s so small.”

“Press it.”

Kara’s eyes dance with curiosity, not leaving Lena’s, as she reaches up to press on the tiny S affixed to the dark brown leather.

At the press of Kara’s fingers, the nanites immediately begin to crawl across the suit, gathering and extending down her back and around her chest in a long, deep maroon cloak. Kara lets out a startled sound of delight, swishing the thick material and stroking at it with near reverence.

“More nanites?” Alex smirks.

Lena shrugs, tossing the elder Danvers a smirk of her own. “I mean, I do have an MO at this point. No sense in ditching it.”

“It’s great!” Kara exclaims. She swishes the cloak again, grinning happily. “I can put it away if I want! This would have saved me so many headaches years ago!”

She bounces over to Lena and wraps her up in a warm hug. “Thank you,” she says quietly. Only for Lena. “I love it.”

Lena squeezes her around the back, hands fisting in the material of the cloak, feeling herself flush with happiness. “I’m glad,” she whispers.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Lena,” Alex says as they break apart. She’s back at the tablet, tapping and looking over some sort of read out. “She was always complaining how the cape got in the way.”

Lena arches an eyebrow at Kara. “What about your cape tricks?”

Kara grimaces. “Much less useful than I was led to believe.”

Alex snorts. “Understatement of the century,” she mutters. “Okay,” she strides over to a Kara and gently fits a comm around her ear. “That has a GPS and camera built in. We’ll be able to see what you see, know where you are, monitor vitals-“

Kara makes a face. “Wait, if you can track me, couldn’t someone else?”

Lena shakes her head. “The crest has signals built in to interfere with radar. Any signal that’s not Alex’s will get scrambled to cloak you.”

Kara surges forward for another hug, and over her shoulder Lena sees Alex smile with an exasperated shake of her head.

“Always protecting,” she mutters.

“What, Alex?” Kara asks as she lets Lena go and takes a step back.

“Nothing,” Alex says. She inputs a few more commands on the tablet, then looks up at Kara. “So. You ready?”

Lena glances over to Kara for what she thinks will be a quick confirmation.

But in those brief seconds, Kara’s easy smile and eager brightness had darkened.

In the red glow of the sun, she stands with her face tilted upward. She gazes at the sky with unfiltered longing, but her hands are trembling. Her whole being quivers, wound tight like a spring, as if she wants nothing more than to hurl herself up to the clouds. But there’s a tightness in her eyes, something there that just... won’t let her. She just stands there, shaking, looking up with haunted eyes.

Alex reaches out, rests a hand on Kara’s forearm. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything crazy. Whatever you’re ready for is all you have to do. The rest will follow.”

Kara nods, but still she hesitates. “But what if- what happens if I can’t- I mean-“

“I caught you floating in your sleep two nights ago,” Lena says gently and Kara’s eyes - desperate, scared eyes - whip to hers. “You can do this. But only if you’re ready to. Okay?”

The near manic desperation in Kara’s eyes cools as they hold each other’s gaze. She squeezes Alex’s hand, takes a breath, and nods resolutely.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, giving her shoulders a shake. “I’m good. I’m okay.”

Alex squeezes her arm, then lets go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Kara has her eyes on the sky again, gives her shoulders one more fortifying shake. She flexes her hands, rubs them on her pants once. She glances over at Lena and seems to brighten at the reassuring smile Lena gives her.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Here goes nothing.”

She stills, closes her eyes. Breathes in deep, then lets it out slow.

She breathes once more, the tense lines of her face relaxing.

Silently, her feet leave the sand.

Alex reaches over for Lena’s arm and grasps it tightly.

Eyes still closed, Kara rises higher in the air, straight up. She turns in gentle circles as she ascends, up and above the ridge.

Alex is looking over the read-outs on the tablet, eyes darting back and forth with near frantic energy. “Looking good so far, Kara,” she says distractedly. “Vitals are good. You’re at a hundred feet now.”

“Feels good,” comes Kara’s voice through the comms. “I’m not even trying.”

Alex’s smile is so proud Lena wants to cry. “That’s good, kid. That’s so good. Two hundred feet now.”

Alex is still gripping Lena’s arm painfully tight, but she’s rocking up on her toes happily, shooting Lena fervent looks of pure joy.

“Knew you could do it, Kara,” Lena says into her own comms, taking Alex’s hand away from her arm but keeping ahold of it. She squeezes as tight as her own bubbling pride allows.

Kara’s finally in the air. She’s flying. It’s one more step closer to conquering the giant mountain they’ve been climbing since she got back.

“How high now, Alex? I’m not looking.”

Alex glances at the screen, then up towards where Kara is becoming a dark dot among the clouds. “A thousand feet. Still feeling good?”

“Yeah. Really good, actually.”

“Have you opened your eyes yet?” Alex’s voice is teasing.

“No. What if I’m suddenly afraid of heights?” Her voice is childishly whiny, drawing a chuckle out of Alex and Lena.

Lena glances down at the video feed from Kara’s earpiece and has to stop herself from gasping.

“Kara, I think you should open your eyes,” she says slightly breathlessly.

“I’m gonna fall if I do,” comes Kara’s tight reply.

Alex is also staring at the camera feed, watching as the view of the water recedes farther toward the bottom of the screen as Kara rises higher and higher. “Kara, you want to see it,” she says. “Trust us.”

Lena knows the exact moment Kara opens her eyes. There’s a tiny gasp through the comms, and the camera arrests in place. Locked on to the brilliance of the shimmering water, the watercolor of the clouds in the light of the setting sun.

For a moment, Kara hangs motionless in the air.

Alex is anxiously tightening and loosening her grip on Lena’s hand. Looking up to where Kara is barely a speck in the sky, back to the camera, then back up again.

“Kara?” she says, a small break in her voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” comes Kara’s breathless voice. “Yeah, no, I’m good.”

There’s another moment of silence, then “It’s breathtaking. I... I’d almost forgotten-“ her voice cracks, and she clears her throat -“How beautiful this planet is.”

Alex squeezes Lena’s hand so tight it hurts, and Lena brings her free hand to grip at Alex’s forearm.

Alex sniffles, swipes her eyes against her shoulder. “It has its moments,” she rasps.

For a few long moments, they three stay silent. Lena and Alex on the ground, clutching at hands and arms in barely restrained joy with the waves lapping nearby.

And Kara, so high they can’t even see her, hanging in midair. Silent save for her gentle, easy breathing and the wind whistling around her.

And then, so suddenly both Lena and Alex flinch, she huffs a breath.

“Wanna see how fast I can get around the world?”

Alex barks a laugh, exchanging a fond and relieved look with Lena. “Your record is what? Thirty four seconds?”

“I can beat that,” comes the cocky reply.

And god, she sounds so happy.

Alex scoffs. “If you say so.”

Lena pulls out her phone and sets up a stopwatch. “On my mark, then?” she says.

“Don’t break anything, Kara,” Alex warns, though there’s no bite in her voice.

“And don’t break that suit,” Lena chimes in.

Kara’s voice has a tiny edge of Supergirl - the first since the Phantom Zone - when she replies. “Nothing’s getting broken here except the sound barrier.”

A shiver shoots down Lena’s spine. She does her best to ignore why.

“In three, two, one-“ she taps her phone- “Go.”

BOOM!

The noise vibrates through Lena’s chest. High above, the sky seems to part for Kara as she rockets towards the sun, leaving a trail in her wake.

Lena and Alex crowd the screen, watching wide-eyed as the ocean zips by far below, clouds whipping past, the camera quivering with the breakneck speed.

“Oh my god,” Lena murmurs almost by accident.

On the screen, a dark line of land rapidly approaches on the horizon as Kara hurtles toward it.

“That’ll be Japan,” Alex mumbles. She checks the read-outs and nods to herself. “Vitals are still good. Heart rate’s a little elevated, but considering-“ she gestures to the screen with a wry smile.

Lena nods, barely holding back happy tears.

On screen, Kara slows just enough for the sound to come back. Air whistles through the comms, her breathing slightly labored, and she ducks her head to watch the cities blink far below.

She won’t break her record by slowing like this, but Lena doesn’t mention that. And neither does Alex. They just watch as Kara picks up speed again, camera angling strangely as she dives.

She shoots west, weaving in huge slalom turns. The camera angles and tilts as she looks across the water, across the trees and grasslands and mountains as she passes them. Cities and towns flash past like street lights on a highway.

On the screen, her GPS tracks her through the rest of Asia, across India and into Africa. It’s a far cry from the speed she’d shot off at, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she dips and rolls through the clouds, hand outstretched as if to catch the swirling vapors.

Once she reaches the distant coast, Kara dips so low her hand reaches out to skim the water. She sails over the waves, fingers dragging, until she finds a pod of dolphins playing in the white water. For a moment, she flies just above the waves with them as they leap and dance.

The camera jerks toward the sky, and Kara gives a loud, delighted whoop as she shoots upwards. Spinning and spinning so fast the camera is blurring with the speed.

And through it all, Kara is laughing. Huge, joyous belly laughs, arms outstretched and head thrown back as she sails back into the clouds.

At 40,000 feet, she slows her ascent. Like a ball tossed in the air, she hovers at a stop for a split second before she starts to plummet. She turns, belly down and arms outstretched as the ocean rushes to meet her.

Still laughing with outrageous joy.

“God I missed that,” Alex murmurs. Her voice quivers and breaks.

Lena doesn’t take her eyes away from the screen. She doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this. But she does give Alex’s hand a squeeze in agreement.

Because hearing that laugh, being here and watching as Kara rolls and dives through the air, is healing pieces of Lena’s heart that she didn’t think would ever even scab over.

Kara’s joy is infectious, like it had always been. And Lena finds that she’s soaking it in like a woman parched.

On screen, Kara shoots off with another mighty BOOM. Her GPS shows her hurtling across the US at breakneck speed.

“Not even close to her record,” Alex laughs wetly. “Guess we’ll have to try again later.”

Lena swipes her hand under her eyes with a chuckle, catching tears that neither of them really acknowledge.

And seconds later, Kara lands with a muffled thump. Sand flies under her feet, and the ground trembles.

But her face is flushed, smile radiant, eyes glistening with tears.

Alex takes a step toward her, but pauses. “You okay?”

Kara gives a sobbing laugh, gestures helplessly with her hands. But her smile is wondrous.

Alex surges forward and wraps her in a tight hug. Kara clutches back, hands buried in her sister’s jacket and face pressed against her shoulder.

After a moment, one hand reaches out, fingers wiggling invitingly.

Lena takes that hand in both of hers and holds on tight. Over Alex’s shoulder, Kara’s eyes crinkle with her smile, sparkling and overwhelmed. She squeezes Lena’s hand, then tucks her eyes against her sister’s shoulder with a huge breath.

In a way, Lena feels as if they’re all breathing that same breath of relief.

“I wanna go again.” Kara’s voice is muffled adorably against Alex’s jacket.

Alex chuckles and rocks Kara back and forth happily. “We can stay out here as long as you want.”

Kara nods. “’Kay,” she says. But she holds on to Alex tighter, fingers digging into her jacket. “But in a minute, okay?”

Alex nods. Presses a kiss to the side of Kara’s head. “In a minute.”

And that seems to suit all three of them just fine. No one’s quite ready to let go yet.

/////

I'm a sucker for the angst just as much as the next nerd but I needed them to just... be happy and together. Just for a moment.

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

RWBY V8E11 - Risk

My main question going into this episode is... why did Ironwood's Ultimatum ask the same thing of Penny as the hack (assuming the Vault is in Atlas Academy)? I mean, in-universe it makes sense, he doesn't know what's going on. But we know. I'm not sure what's the narrative purpose of duplicating Penny's orders. Is it to have both Penny and her hacked self agree in what they need to do? To make her "lose" to the virus only because she agrees, without compromising the possibility of her coming back? Hm.

Anyway, I have no idea what the episode's title could be about so let's do this!

I think not even Palpatine in Star Wars went this hard with the dramatic lighting after his mask came off.

I hadn't considered that the bomb would be the thing to push people to reconsider working under Ironwood but, well, of course. On the other hand these guys saw Ironwood murder a councilman in cold blood without it ever coming up again, so I feel I have a pretty good reason for not thinking "this, this is the thing that breaks their loyalty"

All the light is gone from Ironwood's eyes, I guess the bomb threat finally killed whatever was left of him.

I love how the Ace Ops went from being awesome during their introduction to the slow reveal of how much they actually suck.

Winter just saved Marrow's life and there's no way she didn't know what she's doing.

I'm laughing IRL at their expressions and the situation.

Oscar is reaaally sounding like Ozpin right now

And Ruby finally, finally, got to her breaking point.

There's never going to be enough time for the show to get really into whatever is going on with Nora and Ren but I love the potential.

This is the payoff I've been waiting for almost two volumes and I'm loving it. Give me all the drama.

Nora's VA is killing it. I think I've never heard that particular tone coming from Nora before.

Wait.

What?

Of all the things I expected this is not one of them.

I wish they showed what Ren is seeing with his semblance. But I guess he could always be not using it right now.

Oh no, Jaune made me laugh. I'm getting soft in my old age.

I can't tell if that was a good apology or not. He assumed responsibility for what he said, explained the reason and made it clear that he knows what he is apologizing for.

I wonder if Nora thinks Ren regrets the kiss, since he mentioned Robyn's rally and she very clearly reacted to it.

That tiny flinch from Nora is absolutely wonderful.

The one thing that is distracting me here is Ren's VA. But maybe it's the way Ren in general gets directed which usually works for his character but feels a teensy bit stilted here, in a "ah, an actor is reading these lines" versus "Ren is saying this" way.

Still loving this scene.

Nora backstory!

now I wonder if he can turn off his semblance

If I hadn't been pausing I'd be crying right now, but this definitely got me teary-eyed.

All aboard the murder ironwood train

The most subtle of weapons, a giant Final Fantasy sword.

With that camera angle, he's already gone.

Welp, never mind

On one hand this is a natural continuation of Qrow's character development. A small return into his bad habits before continuing to get better.

On the other hand, I'm just not invested in his storyline. It lost me when Clover got killed and now I just want the writers to speedrun this bit so Qrow can either return to the main group or go do something else away from the show.

Who could it be to cause that reaction? Maybe Winter and Marrow?

lol at Ruby's angst pose.

Oh. We're going right into this.

I 100% thought they had missed the silver eyes or maybe save it for the last episode or something.

Ruby's VA is making a herculean effort to make her sound gravely while still keeping her squeakiness. And it's working.

This is amazing. I never expected the show to acknowledge that Ruby is perfectly capable of doing the same speculation as the fandom once she had the info. And I love how she's speaking.

Also, I think I can hear the fandom's reductive perception of Ruby taking a big hit.

And now I can hear my heart breaking.

I hadn't realized how much I needed this scene. When was the last time they got to be sisters?

aaand, it's gone. It can only be Penny, right? The one remaining issue in the mansion.

aw, c'mon. I don't mind (I do) if she's fully hacked but the internal fighting is destroying me. Just get it over with.

Nuts and Dolts fans: "Not like this... not like this."

This is very tragic but I can't help but find her eyes funny.

Emerald is helping! She's helping!!

Big fan of Jaune's semblance interacting with others'

From an objective point of view, this tracks. She's making a choice while she still can.

From my point of view: AAAAA, why am I watching this.

I'm 99.9% sure that this is not going to happen just because a super powerful main character makes the story harder to write.

And, also, I'm not sure Ruby would be able to do it, even though earlier in the season they talked about how sometimes they have to make hard decisions that they don't necessarily like. They were just talking about being optimistic, there has to be reason for that.

Winter would kill Penny here but Ruby is not there yet, and I doubt she'll ever be. That's just not who she is. I feel she's going to take a risk (ohh, that's why) here but I'm not sure what the plan could be. They can't stop Penny forever.

This episode keeps surprising me with things that make sense and I hadn't even remotely considered before.

That was weirdly anti-climactic.

same Weiss, same

I think I love Emerald.

lol

Okay, now you're just overdoing it with the title drops.

I think this is my favorite episode of this season so far, I liked every single scene. Marrow finally got a spine, Winter is (or seems to be) finally doing something, Nora and Ren finally talked, Ruby finally got to open herself up and reconnect with her sister, Emerald finally acknowledged she's switching sides and Penny finally "dealt" with the virus. All those "finally" are payoffs from things that have been building up for whole seasons in some cases, and all of them worked (for me). If I had to choose, I think Nora and Ren are the highlight of the episode, with Ruby being a close second.

For the first time since Penny got hacked I feel hopeful that she's not going to straight up die or choose to die. I mean, I'm still leaning towards that being the case but the aura thing is making me reconsider my pessimism. It no longer feels inevitable. Which is probably for the worse, since now that there's hope it'll just crush me harder when the writers decide to go ahead with it anyway.

I think that's all for now so, until next time!

[therealvinelle]

Thoughts on Heidi and do u think Aro killing her entire coven was called for?

Heidi is from Hilda’s coven, which means her human life was garbage.

Hilda, for reference, was a vampire in 16th century London with a feminist mission to liberate society’s most oppressed women. In addition to Heidi she created Anne, Victoria’s older sister. Anne had been an impoverished prostitute who worked to keep a roof over Victoria’s head, and Hilda turned her on a night she went to see a john. Hilda also created Mary and Noela, while Anne went back to see her sister and ended up turning her.

Considering Hilda’s mission to save destitute women, Heidi would have been destitute as well. I think most likely she was a prostitute, in fact I think Victoria was the only member in that coven who wasn’t. The fact that Anne was turned on a night she was working means Hilda singled out a lady of the night, and I suspect she found the others that way as well.

And now we enter the realm of speculation, but I suspect Heidi recruits the Volturi secretaries the same way. (And yes, considering the fact that Heidi is the one responsible for bringing in the humans, I do think it’s her who recruits the secretaries.)

We don’t know much about these women, but we know that they’re completely loyal to the Volturi, that the Volturi trust them, and that they don’t appear to have anything else in life.

There’s also the Volturi mission. Explain to these destitute women what vampires are and how the Volturi preserve human society, and offer them a place in all of this, and I imagine Heidi doesn’t need her gift to make them say yes.

As I’ve been over before, I think Chelsea can only do so much. If the secretaries were normal human women with bright futures and friends and family who’d worry when they inevitably go missing, Chelsea would have to use all her talent full force on every single secretary to mindwhammy these women. It’d be cumbersome for Chelsea, and frankly quite unwise of the Volturi to take women whose departures from the human world could attract a lot of notice. Besides, the secretary we do see, Gianna, seems to be quite happy with her job. She admires the vampires she works for, is delighted when Jane greets her, and longs to join them. This does not strike me as the behavior of a woman who had a lot of life options before coming into touch with the Volturi.

So yes, I think Hilda’s directive survives in the form of Heidi singling out these destitute women, empathizing with them even, and bestowing upon them this great honor. Their material needs will be covered, they get to serve the Volturi, and in time they will either give their lives or their mortality. Either way it’s a better life than the one they would have (or so Heidi would certainly think, considering her background).

When it comes to the secretaries’ position within the Volturi (because this has apparently turned into a post on Volturi secretaries), I imagine the fact that they are replaceable does not make them worthless. They do serve the Volturi, and Volturi guard is what Aro calls those who serve his coven. There is too an inherent nobility in the sacrifice they make. I imagine Aro does not disrespect that sacrifice.

We also see that they are treated with respect. Jane shows respect to Gianna. She didn’t have to, in fact Jane does what she wants, but she greeted Gianna all the same.

Going back to Heidi’s coven and what happened to it, I have a lot of thoughts on how the Volturi carry out their justice, but bottom line is I think they’re just. Eclipse was an anomaly.

And I’m not sure that Heidi’s coven was as innocent as Meyer tried to portray them.

Going by the timeline, we know there was Anne, Victoria, and Noela within a short span of years. Anne admittedly had amazing control, being able to turn Victoria when she had only been a vampire for five years, but Anne also loved Victoria so much that she became a prostitute to provide for her (the way the deal she had with her pimp sounds, it sounds like she was working for free in exchange for Victoria getting to live for free in the brothel). That’s love. And the way their meeting is described, Anne struggled at first to be even in physical proximity of Victoria, so her success in turning her sounds like Herculean effort fueled by her all-overpowering need to protect her beloved sister rather than Anne being that great on the regular. I’m not saying I’m not impressed by Anne’s success, my point is that the control she showed around Victoria might not be representative of her control overall. Point being, Hilda had a bleeding heart and a lot of young vampires all living together in a densely populated city as a result.

At its height, the coven consisted of six vampires. The average vampire coven has three or four vampires. The Cullens being seven strong makes them an anomaly. Hilda had a coven twice the size of the norm living in the middle of London, eating at least one person each every fortnight, making it twenty-four dead people in a month, though the number could be higher. 

I’m not surprised that they caught the attention of the Volturi.

Then we have the fact that Anne was allowed to go speak with Victoria in the first place. I totally get why Hilda would okay that, checking up on an impoverished woman to see how she’s doing sounds like something right up Hilda’s alley, but letting a human see her vampified sibling and live to tell the tale is toeing the line of keeping the secret big time. Luca was doing something very similar, and while he got away with it, the Volturi didn’t like it and if it weren’t for Renata he probably would have been executed. Now, Anne going to see her sister is a very minor breach and not something that warrants the slaughter of the whole coven, especially not when said sister was made a vampire, but it does show that Hilda did not rigidly enforce the law within her coven.

Remember also that Aro relieved Renata of Luca and Demetri of Amun without harming either Luca nor Amun. Given Luca’s thing that he had going with Renata’s family, and Amun’s ancient enmity with Aro, he had far more motivation to kill either of them than he did Heidi’s coven, and yet they were spared while these women were not. This, to me, points to Heidi’s coven having actually been guilty.

I question the idea that Aro even knew that Heidi was gifted when he issued the order to have the coven executed. Eleazar wouldn’t be born for another two centuries, and... well, how would Aro know? I suspect he found out when reading Heidi’s mind. Besides, Heidi’s gift is great, but she’s no gamechanger. Would a vampire whose gift is covered by Chelsea really be worth wiping out a whole coven?

As for how Heidi is doing now, I suspect she’s fine. What happened was tragic, but Chelsea loosened her emotional ties to the coven, lessening the trauma. The coven was guilty as charged, and Heidi gets to honor Hilda’s memory with the Volturi secretaries. It’s sad that things turned out the way they did, but they could have been worse.