#so I went out to Zenith to get some fun shots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sipsteainanxiety · 2 years ago

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holding out (just for you) [1] || katsuki b.

pairing: dragon!bakugo katsuki x reader

word count: 13.8k+

mentions: female reader, fantasy au, descriptions of injuries + blood (bakugo's), not edited!!, aged up chars (24+), sfw, second pov, denki calls you 'pretty lady', part of the bnha big bang collab!

with art done by the amazing @your-fellow-passerine !!! here is a link to the original post (give it some love!!!!) <3333

masterlist

You were going to fucking kill Denki.

You’d been running low on your stash of Zenith flowers for a while. They were immensely useful for making salves, adding in that extra drop of healing magic to boost the recovery rate of any type of wound. Normally, you would just buy a batch at the village market, but they unfortunately didn’t have a single petal. The shopkeeper had shrugged at you and told you he hadn’t seen any on the usual plateau he went to for harvesting. Zenith flowers required very specific conditions to grow and thrive in, so you weren’t too disappointed about it, but you still needed some. You liked being prepared for any scenario, so to have very little salve or flowers left over in your pantry back at your little cottage made you feel extremely antsy—especially since you were the only healer for miles. Quite a lot of people tended to go to you whenever they were sick or hurt.

You made the mistake of complaining about it to Denki, one of the owners of the small pub nestled in the heart of the village of Yuuei.

“Y’know, there should be Zenith flowers up on Kamino,” he told you smartly once you’d finished speaking, his hands moving as he prepped your order for you. “I saw some growing up there when I went hiking with Hanta the other week.”

“Really?” You perked up, turning your head to look at the mountain looming just beyond the edge of Yuuei through one of the pub’s dainty windows. Mount Kamino was one of the main sources of herbs and food the village used since it was so closeby. You tended to venture along its hiking trails once in a while, in search of particular plants to use for ointments and creams.

“Yeah!” He set down a wrapped pastry in front of you, then gave you a smile. “They’re pretty high up though, so I’d be careful if I were you.”

You waved him off and rummaged around in your pockets for a few gold coins to slap onto the wooden bar between the two of you. “Pfft, I’ll be fine. These arms aren’t just for show, you know.” You winked at him as you flexed, your biceps moving with the motion.

Denki laughed, then shot you a sly smile as he leaned closer to you across the bar. You could practically see the mischievous sparkle in his golden eyes. “We could make it a date, y’know? Go hiking together? Come on, pretty lady, it’ll be fun~” He winked and reached out a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair out of your face.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed his face away with your hand and ignored the way he snickered into your palm. He never relented with his incessant flirting, even after all the years you’ve been friends with him. “No thank you. I’m good. Thanks for the food, I’ve gotta go.”

“You should still consider it!” he called out cheekily after you as you left the pub, getting only a distant laugh and a flap of your hand in response.

The journey back to your little cottage was a bit of a long one. Since you were currently at the center of Yuuei, you had to walk all the way to its northern edge, past bustling families and open booths of food. The paved paths weren’t difficult to navigate, though you constantly had to duck to the side to avoid the people wandering about or to prevent any laughing children from running into you. It was nice to be able to mingle with people like this—hear the gentle murmur of conversation around you and see the bright smiles aimed your way. You weren’t necessarily popular, per se, but well—you waved to what seemed like the seventh person who called out your name cheerfully in greeting—you certainly made a name for yourself here.

It wasn’t long before you were gently picking your way through a slim path in the forest just offset from Yuuei’s perimeter. Canopies of trees rustled overhead, an occasional chirp of the regional teal-feathered birds delicately fluttering by your ears. The sunlight from above was just able to poke its way to the dirt-covered ground, casting everything in a warm, golden light. This part of your journey home was always the nicest, in your opinion. The sounds of bumbling nature were a sharp contrast from those of the village; you found constant peace in it.

A few turns this way and that along the path and you were eventually able to see your quaint cottage nestled comfortably among the green of the shrubs and trees that surrounded it. Before it was a small garden you poured your heart and soul into cultivating. It was organized in a way only you were privy to, a section dedicated to various herbs and magical plants while another was dedicated to consumables like lettuce and berries. You were very proud of it and you couldn’t help but sweep an eye around it to make sure everything was growing well.

The dirt below your feet soon transitioned to a stoned path that led up to your quaint front door. You made sure to take your shoes off outside before stepping in and placing them on the little shoe rack you’d made so long ago. Your home was a bit small yet cozy, with low hanging ceilings made of oak. You had more potted plants scattered about, close to the windows where they could absorb as much sunlight as they could. There were various spices and dried plants hung up on the walls, allowing a fresh, earthy smell to permeate the air. Soft chairs and cushions were arranged neatly around the bricked fireplace to the right, a wooden table laden with small bottles of liquids and creams just off to the left of them. Further beyond that were the crowded cabinets that made up your kitchen, a small hall next to them that led to a tiny bathroom and bedroom. It wasn’t much, but it was yours.

You bustled around, stepping over some books you’d left piled on the floor as you prepared a bag for your trip to Mount Kamino. It was still quite early, so you were sure to be back long before it got dark if you left now—it would only take a few hours or so to walk up, not including the hours you’d no doubtedly spend just looking at all the flora. You stuffed a canteen of water in your bag along with the pastry you got from Denki. A ball of string and a small book with its accompanying ink bottle and quill joined them. After glancing around once more, you donned a thicker pair of leather boots made for hiking along with a light jacket and exited your home.

Your cottage was not too far off from the base of the mountain. You took your time to trek through the winding paths that started to steadily slope uphill, your eyes peeled for any plants you wanted to grab. The canopies overhead were getting increasingly ladened with green leaves the further you walked, blocking out more of that glimmering sunlight. You busied yourself on occasion with stopping to observe certain plants and jotting down details in your little book. You liked to keep track of the different flora around you—your notebook was full of scribbles of various observations and drawings of a multitude of plants.

“Luna flowers,” you murmured at one point to yourself, crouched down near the flat stump of a tree that had small, purple flowers growing in abundance around it. They were good for treating nasty infections. You picked a handful and wrapped their slim stems with a piece of the string you’d brought. Stocking up wouldn’t be a terrible idea—you might as well since you were up on the mountain anyways. Setting the bundle into your bag carefully, you stood up and continued on your way, keeping an eye out for any other flowers you could gather.

You forgot just how dense the paths were on Mount Kamino. You had to be careful of your steps, your gaze steadily trained on the ground beneath you to avoid any tree roots or unstable pieces of rock. You ended up stopping quite a few times to record new plants you’d never seen before on the mountain trails. It wasn’t unusual for the bubbling river along the mountain to carry seeds from other places that eventually latched onto the soil and grew, or for the wind along the leeward side to blow spores down to the dirty ground. In any case, it gave you access to a plethora of material to use for healing. It was your own little treasure trove, in a way.

It always took you a while to jot down small details and sketch realistic drawings of the plants you found. Eventually, you found yourself hoisting a thick bag full of way more plants than what you came for onto your shoulder. You still made sure you had room for Zenith flowers, though. For now, you decided that would be your ultimate goal, so you focused your energy into scaling the side of the mountain. Your thighs were starting to burn from all the climbing as you scrambled over large pieces of rock and shuffled your way up steep inclines. The trees around you thinned out before disappearing, all the dirt being replaced by grey rock covered with slippery moss.

Your eyes darted up to the sky for a moment, finally able to see it clearly instead of all the low-hanging branches heavy with green leaves that made up the forest. There were clouds starting to gather overhead, light grey in color, but still scattered about over the far side of the mountain. It wasn’t anything to be worried about just yet, but you still found yourself picking up the pace. Getting caught out in a storm was not ideal when you were this high up.

Your eyes were peeled for the familiar cerulean of the Zenith flowers, wondering just how far up you would have to go to see them. But finally, finally, you caught a glimpse of them sitting at the edge of a piece of rock that stuck out against the mountain like an odd, upside-down nose. Looked like Denki had been telling the truth—not that you’d doubted him. Flora wasn’t his expertise, was all you were saying. You huffed as you eyed the flowers, already knowing you would have to climb up against the rock carefully if you wanted to make it up there in one piece.

So off you went, slowly picking your way up to the little cliff. Sweat was beading up on your skin, hands getting slippery as you searched for small ledges and holes in the stone wall before you so you could shimmy your way up. It was taxing work, the bag on your back seemingly getting heavier and heavier the longer you wore it. But it would be worth it, you kept telling yourself, once you had a restocked supply of Zenith flowers. They were just too useful and important to pass up.

After what seemed like ages, you managed to hoist yourself over the edge of the little cliff, panting from all the exertion. You crawled forward and sat down on your ass so you could rummage in your bag for your canteen of water. You drained half of it in one large gulp and brought your hand up to wipe your mouth right after. Before you was the wide expanse of the forest, an ocean of green swaying to and fro in the breeze. You were pretty high up, and if you squinted slightly you could see the distant buildings of Yuuei. The wind was starting to pick up and you shivered before wrapping your jacket more snugly around yourself. It was a nice view, even if it was a bit chilly up here.

This was worth it, you told yourself again, sliding your canteen back into your bag. Now all you had to do was gather a bunch of flowers and you could head back down to the warmth of your home.

Standing up, you brushed off your pants before walking over to a patch of blue. You crouched down, intending to pick them quickly, when something caught your eye. Zenith flowers characteristically had heart-shaped leaves with soft edges. But these ones in the ground had jagged, oval-shaped leaves littered with small thorns. Your eyes narrowed.

They weren’t Zenith flowers—they were Nadir flowers, its poisonous opposite.

“Denki, you fucking idiot.” You sighed, hoisting yourself up to glare down at the plants swaying innocently in the wind. Of course he wouldn’t know the difference. The dumbass probably saw the familiar cerulean and assumed they were Zenith. You rolled your eyes and leaned down to carefully pick one of the Nadir flowers and stow it in a pocket within the deepest depths of your bag, away from the other plants you had in there. You’d have to give Denki a lesson on flora—he clearly needed it.

Before you could even begin to stew in disappointment and a low-simmering irritation, a bright flash of light lit up the sky. You paused, eyes widening, as you looked up to see dark, swirling clouds peeking over the tip of the mountain. They were being blown in your direction, finally revealing themselves with a gust of frigid air. One second passed. Then another.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The thunder that erupted following the flash of lightning was so loud your eardrums nearly popped. You had hardly a moment’s time to react before what seemed like a waterfall of rain descended upon you, soaking you in an instant.

“Shit,” you cursed, throwing your hands up over your face as the incoming wind battered you with the force of a thousand basilisks. You hadn’t seen the gathering stormclouds from your position on the mountain; you were too close to its face to see that they’d been cleverly hiding on the opposite side, slowly creeping in your direction. Another flash of lightning cracked through the sky and you realized it was getting absurdly dark. It wouldn’t be long before you’d be blind and at the complete mercy of the mountain. You needed to find shelter, and you needed to find it fast.

So you moved, desperately looking around for a cave of sorts that you could duck into. Maybe even some rocks that could at least partially shield you from the wind. Your boots were starting to slip against the wet rock below you—it would definitely be too dangerous to try to climb down the mountain in this type of weather. You’d likely slip and bust your head right open.

Thunder rocked through the air once more, the wind howling ferociously around you as you scrambled along giant fragments of stone. Your eyes were peeled for any obvious openings in the mountain and it was by pure chance that a quick flash of lightning illuminated the gaping maw of a cave somewhere up higher on the path you were on. You cursed at how far up it was, but pressed on anyway, taking your time to pick your way towards it.

With only a few instances where you almost slipped and tumbled down the watery slope you were on, you finally managed to reach the cave. Puffing from the exertion, you retreated a few feet into it, just so you could get out of the torrential rain and raging wind. You whirled around, shivering, as you looked out at the darkness that had settled over the mountain and surrounding forest. You could hardly see a thing apart from the waves of water that poured down, the wind thunderously raging just beyond your temporary little safe haven.

Which brought you to your current predicament—using Denki as a scapegoat as you cursed him to hell and back for trapping you in a cave for god-knows-how-long.

“Great.” You frowned, plopping your bag onto the cave’s floor. The material was mostly water resistant, thank god, but it still made an odd squelching noise when you pressed your foot against it to see how much water had been repelled and how much absorbed. You shrugged out of your jacket, figuring it wouldn’t be a good idea to be wearing the soaked material. Rubbing your hands along your arms as though that could warm you up a bit, you turned to face the abyss-like darkness of the cave. Maybe there were some dry materials in here you could use to start a fire. It was a long shot, but it wouldn’t hurt to look.

Something glowing in the near distance caught your eye.

It was faint, almost nonexistent, in the deep void that made up the cave. It glimmered in a way that reminded you of shiny metal reflecting dim light. You squinted at it, edging a bit closer so you could make out just what you were seeing.

The glow was gold in color, and as you crept steadily closer, you saw it spanned across quite a bit of the width of the cave. You blinked, trying to force your eyes to adjust to the low lighting. Your eyes moved from one side of the cave to the other until they landed on two glowing, crimson dots. You tilted your head, trying to decipher what those dots could be, when they suddenly slitted vertically. Your eyes widened, watching as the slits rose up and up and up, over your head. It was then that you realized a low growling had erupted around you, dangerously echoing through the cave.

A flash of lightning briefly lit up your surroundings. You swallowed thickly, hands clenching down on your upper arms where they were crossed over your chest.

You were staring at a fucking dragon.

Dragons were not unheard of in this day and age, though they were rare to see. They tended to keep to themselves, living in the mountainous regions to the north. You’d seen them flying overhead the village a total of two times in the course of your life, mere pinpricks in the vast sky. For the most part, they’d disappeared from the masses, staying out of sight and out of mind for many, many years. You often wondered how it was possible for them to stay hidden from the human population for so long, being such large and attention-demanding creatures.

That being said, the dragon before you was stupidly huge, glimmering gold scales covering it from head to tail. You couldn’t be any taller than its shoulder, honestly, just barely able to make out the golden spikes that popped up along its spine from your position. Though, what really stood out to you were the black and orange markings that fluidly spanned its body. Intricate designs started at the crown of its head and traced down its long, golden neck, before ending at the tip of its tail. They were strangely enticing to look at, especially since you’d never seen them before in your life. If you could stare at them some more, you were sure they’d whisper a story to you, but that was neither here nor there.

The dragon’s glowing eyes were still sharply focused on you, the deep growling from its chest making the hairs on your arms stand up. You could see its jaw open, sharp teeth bared at you in a warning as it raised itself higher above you. You were sure if there was enough room, it would have opened its wingspan to appear even larger. It activated your fight or flight response, seeing it act so hostile. You raised your hands up in the universal sign for surrender, slowly backing away until its growling eased down only a tad.

And it was then that you realized it was injured.

You knew that many people envied dragons for their strength, not only physically, but magically as well. They were intelligent creatures, and it was not unusual for particularly thick-headed people to go hunting for them in the hopes of stealing some of their power. With this in mind, you found your gaze trailing to the horrendous wounds scattered around its body. There was a deep, nasty-looking gash on its side stretching from its right shoulder all the way down to its mid-back. Another similar-looking cut was dangerously close to its right eye, gleaming with the fresh ruby red of blood. The way it gingerly tucked its wings close to its body let you know that it was probably injured there too, though you couldn’t really see all too well in the dark. And those were just the wounds you could barely make out on this side.

A bad fight with a hunter? you mused as you stepped back further. Or with something much, much worse?

You didn’t even want to entertain the idea of there being creatures powerful enough to vy against a motherfucking dragon.

The way said dragon was still sharply watching you, hissing lowly all the while, was starting to make you feel nervous. You didn’t really have many options here: stay in the cave and perish on the whim of a magical beast, or brave the storm outside and possibly tumble off the mountain to your death? Neither seemed very appealing to you.

Though, you glanced momentarily back at the dragon’s vicious-looking wounds, you couldn’t just leave it in this condition, could you? You were a healer—you healed things. And those things didn’t stop at people.

You didn’t think the dragon would just let you tend to its wounds, however. Not when it was still watching you with those blazing, slitted eyes, its body poised in a way that told you it was ready to strike at any moment’s notice. Any wrong move and you’d be a mere smear of ash in a small cave. You would need to tread cautiously. Smartly. It wouldn’t do you any good to underestimate the beast’s knowledge and power.

Come on, think! you thought to yourself as you took another small step back to increase the distance between you and the dragon. You had a book of magical creatures sitting in a small, dusty corner of your cottage. You remembered reading it—tracing the small section on dragons that was inscribed within its pages with your fingers. Not much was known about them, but surely there was something that could help you at this moment?

Let’s see, let’s see… If you were remembering correctly, dragons were very noble creatures—easily offended. They demanded respect and recognition of their strength. You eyed the snarling dragon in front of you. What could you do to show it that you meant no harm? That you knew it was powerful and that you were at its mercy and not the other way around?

Biting at your lower lip, you decided on what you would do.

Maintaining eye contact, you sank into a deep bow, keeping your hands raised near your ears. You knew this would make you appear immensely vulnerable to the dragon, your guard lowered as your bare neck was exposed to it. After a few seconds of watching the dragon, you averted your gaze to stare down at the ground instead. Then, you held your position. And waited.

And waited…

...and waited…

Until finally, the dragon chuffed, hot air heavily expelling from its nose like a volcano expelling ash. You almost shivered, feeling the air rush over your neck and back like a running river. You were reminded of how soaked you were, your hair sticking to your head in a coldly uncomfortable way. The growling by now had abated, a tense sort of silence filling the cave as you stared down at the ground and thanked whatever deity above that bowing had worked.

You waited a little bit more, then slowly straightened up, your hands lowering so you could cross them over your chest. From this position, you could see the silent stare of the dragon, its bright, crimson gaze seemingly burning right into you. It was still tense, you noticed, still poised as though ready to fight. A steady drip… drip… drip… echoed faintly around the cave. You could just barely see its rich, burgundy blood dripping onto the wet floor beneath it. You needed to do something.

“You’re hurt,” you spoke, then immediately flinched when the acoustics of the cave made your voice seem much louder than you’d intended. You got sharp teeth bared at you in response, a displeased growl coming from the dragon. You lowered your voice and tried again, purposely ensuring you sounded much gentler and quieter. “You’re hurt. I’m a healer—I can help you.”

A drawn out hiss was all you got as an indication of the dragon’s thoughts. It tensed further, wings fanning out slightly as its eyes slanted at you. You could’ve sworn you saw the spikes along its back bristle, making it seem much more dangerous than before. This really wasn’t going well, you thought, trying to figure out what else you could do.

“Those wounds don’t look too good,” you found yourself saying, your eyes momentarily diverting to the slash near its eye. “I’m sure dragons like yourself aren’t immune to infection. I can help, if you’ll let me.” With just a tiny bit of hesitation, you took the smallest step forward, hands moving back up in a placating manner. If you could properly see just how bad its wounds were—how life-threatening—it could help you decide on what actions to take and how urgently you would need to work. You did your best to relax your tense muscles, trying to seem aloof and calm in front of the dragon in case it thought you were going to attack. Its eyes snapped down to the small motion you made, and you immediately regretted stepping closer when the dragon snapped its jaw at you sharply. You could almost feel the faint brush of air its snapping jaw made as it hovered over you, its hissing escalating back to a growl.

You took a much larger step back. “Okay okay… I’ll leave you alone.” It was clear that the dragon really didn’t want you doing anything—and you didn’t want to take any chances here either. You slowly walked backwards, keeping an eye on the dragon as you aimed for where you’d dropped your bag. The sounds of the rain got louder the closer you got to the cave’s entrance until it was all you could hear. You stopped once your foot came into contact with the wet material and watched as the dragon unwaveringly kept its focus on you. From your position, nearly at the mouth of the cave, you couldn’t really see much of the dragon’s form. Just the faintest gleam of gold and two pinpricks of crimson that let you know it was still watching you.

Well... at least it wasn’t going to attack you for now...

A shiver ran down your spine—from the dragon or the frigid air, you didn’t know.

You chanced a glance back outside, looking at the way the rain harshly pounded at the side of the mountain, thunder rumbling loudly overhead in a way that reminded you of the deep growls of the creature before you. There was no way you were going back out there—you couldn’t take that risk.

Looked like you were going to be camping here for a while.

Huffing slightly through your nose, you crouched down near your bag and opened it up, making sure to keep your front facing the dragon’s direction in case it decided it wanted to eat you after all. You shuffled around inside your bag’s pockets, pulling out various flowers and other flora you’d picked up on your way to the higher points of the mountain. It was really fucking lucky for the dragon that you’d accidentally come packed with so much material to take care of its wounds. Even if it didn’t realize that yet.

You tugged out a bunch of Luna flowers, the purple petals a bit crumpled, but intact nonetheless. Your eyes flickered up in the direction of the dragon, latching onto those two glowing red dots that made up its eyes. Still watching you. You suppressed another shiver.

After laying out all your collected plants in a neat line before you, you picked up the bunches that were good for dealing with infected wounds and incessant bleeding, unraveling the bits of string you’d tied them with to drop in your bag. You didn’t really have anything to wipe up all the blood with though, but—you eyed your wet jacket on the floor—if you really needed to, you wouldn’t mind sacrificing your jacket. You had others anyways.

With your arms full of flowers of purple, pale pink, and cream, along with the occasional batch of these thin, green stalks, you slowly headed back towards the dragon. There was something eerie about walking towards something you knew was… not pleased with your presence. Something eerie about knowing it was there, even if you couldn’t see it all too well. Wasn’t this how people died?

Maybe you were being a fool, maybe you were out of your goddamn mind for daring to approach a fucking dragon. But well, it wouldn’t hurt to try to get on good terms with it. Especially knowing you weren’t sure how long you’d be stuck in the cave for.

You eventually came to a stop near the dragon. Not too far, not too close. Just enough that you could see it and still be out of reach of its long neck and head. It bared its teeth at you, though it didn't start growling as of yet. You counted that as a good thing.

Kneeling down, you spread out your bundle of plants before it, arranging them in a neat, little line. After a quick glance at the dragon, you gestured your hands over your haul. “These are plants that can help with your wounds”—you pointed to the Lunas—“These are for protection.” Your finger moved over to point at the pale pink ones—Hiraeth flowers. “These help with easing pain.” Next were the cream-colored Eunoia flowers. “For slowing down bleeding.” Finally, the thin Zephyr stalks. “And for infection.”

You then stood up and backed away, putting enough space between you and the plants on the ground. You didn’t want to seem too overbearing. Laying out your hand was the first step of many that you hoped were to come.

The dragon watched you for a moment, the way you clasped your hands in front of you as you waited a respectful distance away. You held your breath as it lowered its head down to the line of flowers, gently huffing as it inspected them with slitted eyes. You didn’t know what it was looking for, but it spent a bit just nosing at the flowers, before it let out a big chuff of air, sending your poor plants awry as they were scattered all over the floor in your direction. Now that was just fucking rude.

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose with two cold fingers. “Okay, I get it, you don’t want my help.” You walked to the nearest flower and bent down to pick it up, spinning the thin stem idly in your hand. Brandishing the flower in the dragon’s direction, you continued, “But if you don’t get those injuries treated soon, you could risk aggravating them further and prolonging your healing process.” You made eye contact with the dragon for a brief moment, before you looked away to start picking up some more of the other plants scattered about. “Or, y’know. You could die. Up to you.”

You busied yourself with grabbing the remaining flowers while you waited for some sign of sorts from the dragon. It wasn’t until you straightened up, arms full of plants, that you finally got an approval. Or, well, as close to an approval as you were going to get.

The dragon made direct eye contact with you, sharp teeth bared as it let out a little growl. Then it huffed, a stream of smoke exiting its nostrils, before it shifted slightly to expose the large wound along its side to you. Right. Well, you’d take what you could get, at this point.

“Great! Glad you came to your senses,” you said cheerfully as you walked a bit closer to the dragon and set all the plants down on the floor. “You’ll need to come closer to the entrance. I can’t see all too well back there.” While the dragon growled again and shifted, you turned to jog over to your bag once more. You rummaged around in it for your canteen of water, then stood up to look about the cave for some flat stones. It took a bit of time to find, but you managed to settle on two decent ones that looked like they could get the job done.

“Good enough,” you mumbled as you jogged over to the cave’s mouth to run the stones under a steady stream of rainwater that dripped from the edge of the ceiling. After that, you jogged back to your jacket to pick up, and made your way over to the dragon.

Luckily for you, it had heeded what you’d said and shifted closer to the entrance. You still couldn’t see all too well, but it was better than before, at least. The occasional flash of lightning helped as well.

You dropped your canteen on the floor next to the flowers, placing the two stones on top of it as you did your best to wring out your jacket. Streams of water cascaded to the floor, some of them landing on the plants to wet them some more. A quick glance up to the dragon told you it was watching you carefully, eyes still slitted.

“They work best if ground into a paste,” you told it, shaking out your jacket so that you could tear a flat piece off. You plopped onto the floor and laid out the piece of fabric in between you and the dragon. You then grabbed a few of the flowers and placed them neatly onto the cloth. Finally, with the two stones, you started mashing the flowers together, rubbing them occasionally between the stones. Water from your canteen was added once in a while to turn the flowers into a more liquid-y mush. It wasn’t the best, but it was all you could do at the moment.

“Normally I use a special solution to make the paste,” you murmured as you worked, grinding and mashing away. “But water’s all we got right now. I didn’t expect to be treating anyone up here, y’know?”

You looked up at the dragon and it growled at you, its eyes sharply focused on watching your movements. “Yeah, count yourself lucky, buddy.”

You rambled on as you steadily mashed all the flowers together, finding a need to at least try to ease the dragon into trusting you a bit more. But it was obvious it was still wary of you, not relenting with its incessant glaring and occasional growling whenever you moved too fast, or did something it didn’t like. That was fine, you thought as you added another Luna to the mash. While it would be really fucking cool to befriend a dragon, it wasn’t necessary for you if you wanted to treat it. Work was work, healing was healing.

Eventually, after what seemed like ages of mashing, you managed to make a decent amount of a brownish paste from all the flowers you’d picked out. You hummed as you wiped your hands on a clean section of the piece of cloth that held the paste, hoping that it would be enough. You didn’t know what you would do if it turned out you needed more flowers.

“Okay”—you hoisted yourself to your feet, shaking out the cramps from your legs—“this should be enough. I hope.” You took a few steps away from the cloth so that the dragon could inspect the fruits of your labor. It brought its head closer so it could huff and eye the paste. “I’ll have to put on really light layers, depending on how many wounds you have.” After the dragon pulled its head away from the cloth with another chuff—you assumed it had deemed the paste good enough—you walked over and grabbed your jacket. You made quick work out of tearing it to pieces that you could use to apply pressure to staunch the dragon’s bleeding.

“All right”—you hummed, stepping closer to the dragon with the pieces of cloth draped over one of your arms—“first we gotta wipe the blood away.” When the dragon growled at you warningly, you looked up at it, gesturing your free hand to the remnants of your poor jacket. “Relax. I’ll be careful. It’s just cloth. Can’t have you dripping blood all over the cave.”

It huffed out through its nose, smoke battering your face that oddly smelled like burnt caramel. You made a face and waved your hand in the air to get rid of it, stepping closer to the dragon until you were right by the long gash on its side. Grabbing one of the longer pieces of cloth, you folded it up slightly and pressed it gently to the edge of the wound.

At this proximity to the dragon, you could almost feel the low growl that thundered through its chest, its massive torso shifting under your hand that seemed entirely too small pressed against it. The gold of the dragon’s scales were amazing to look at up close, a bright gleam to them that shined with every flash of lightning from outside. You were slow and careful with sopping up the blood that leaked from the gash, making sure it was as clean as possible.

Something you noticed, being so close to the dragon, was how fucking warm it was. Like standing next to your own personal campfire. It made you realize how cold you were, your teeth clenched together involuntarily to prevent them from incessantly chattering. In your haste to tend to the dragon’s wounds, you’d forgotten about how soaked you were, the possibility of getting sick looming ominously over your shoulder.

That didn’t matter now, you decided, as you covered a particularly nasty-looking section of the wound with a cleaner section of the cloth. As long as you were close to the dragon, you could secretly enjoy its body heat.

“I’ve got loads of medicinal plants back at my cottage,” you started quietly, still focusing on the dragon. It was silent, watching you press your ruined jacket to its side. Your eyes traced the black and orange markings you could see, amazed by their swirling intricacies. “Actually, that’s why I was up on the mountain. I was looking for Zenith flowers. They’re really useful for accelerated healing, y’know?” You finished dabbing at the wound and tossed the blood-soaked cloth to the floor. Picking up the paste, you started gently spreading it along the wound with nimble fingers. You didn’t fail to notice how much hotter the dragon’s wound was compared to the rest of its body. That couldn’t be good.

“My friend was the one who told me there were Zeniths up on Kamino,” you continued, “The dumbass saw Nadir flowers and thought they were Zeniths. Idiot. Nadirs are poisonous. I should’ve expected it, honestly”—you sighed, coating your fingers with more of the paste— “and of course there would be a storm on the same day I decide to do a mountain trip. Lucky for me, huh?”

The dragon rumbled and you huffed. “Yeah, maybe I’m the fool for believing him in the first place. Not like he’s a herbalist.” You finished coating the wound and set the paste back on the floor. Grabbing another cloth piece hanging from your arm, you rounded the dragon to check its other side, grimacing at the sight of another nasty gash near its hind leg. Its head swiveled around to follow you, content with carefully watching as you pressed the cloth to the wound. “Would’ve been really helpful if they were actually Zeniths, though. Could’ve boosted your healing process.”

This wound was also really hot, almost searingly so. You picked up the pace, wanting to coat it as soon as possible. Dragon physiology was not your expertise, so you had no idea what the heat meant. Infection? You finished covering the wound in the paste, and stepped back to search for any others.

“You’ll have to stretch out your wings for me,” you said as you walked a safe distance away from the dragon, towards the mouth of the cave. “Can’t reach those”—you pointed to the area of its wings that had vicious tears in them—“Maybe shift your body around?”

With what sounded like an irate huff and a bit of maneuvering, the dragon managed to orient itself sideways in the cave, crouching further in a ball so it could extend its wings down towards you. Giving it a small thanks, you made your way to the edge of its wing, where there were a few nasty tears along the edges and towards the center. You could practically see through them, if not for the crusted blood in the way. You grimaced. The dragon definitely wouldn’t be flying anytime soon with those.

You noticed, your hands rubbing in the paste, that while its wings were gold, as you moved to the tips of them, they faded into a black color in an ombré-esque gradient. It was pretty—just like the black designs on its body that you were so captivated by.

And thus, the process continued, with you idly making a rather one-sided conversation as you cleaned and coated the dragon’s wounds. You would’ve never imagined that you’d have the opportunity to be this close to such a powerful creature. It was oddly exciting, though the way the dragon still watched you sharply made it hard to relax entirely. You really hoped it wouldn’t decide to eat you or something after you tended to its injuries. That would just be rude.

Eventually, you found yourself standing in front of the dragon and gesturing to it to lower its head so you could clean the gash near its eye. With its face hovering around your shoulders, you were quite astounded by how large it was. Its head alone nearly dwarfed your upper body, your hand only a bit smaller than one of its eyes. Darkly, you wondered how easily it would be for the dragon to chomp down on you, bite you in half. But you brushed away the thought and continued to clean and coat the gash, ignoring the way the dragon’s slitted, crimson eye was right in front of your face.

“That should do it.” You nodded your head with a sigh, stepping back from the dragon so it could raise its head up once more. “I had just enough paste to cover everything, I think. We’ll have to let that sit for a few hours until it dissolves.”

You walked over to pick up one of the Zephyr stalks from off the ground. “Then I just gotta cover them with these and hope they fight off any infection.” You’d need to crush them into a paste as well, but for now, you were starting to feel a bit tired. Getting a fire going would be a good idea now that you were no longer close enough to the dragon to feel its body heat.

You busied yourself with wrapping the remaining pieces of cloth from your jacket around the stalks and setting them back into your bag with the stones and your canteen for later use. The blood-soaked ones that you used to clean the dragon’s wounds you also set off to the side of the cave, close to the entrance. You’d have to try to clean them, but they pretty much looked unsalvageable with how stained they were, colored in deep burgundy.

You didn’t really expect to find any dry materials in the cave to build a fire, but you managed to scrounge up a few crumbling, brown leaves. Unfortunately, however, they weren’t really enough to start and maintain a fire. And you then realized you didn’t have anything to make sparks either. Looked like it was going to be a cold night.

Maybe you could sidle up closer to the dragon? Leech off its body heat without it knowing? But a quick glance at it told you it would probably mind, its sharp gaze still trained on you. At least it wasn’t growling. You still didn’t want to risk getting your head bitten off, though, thank you very much.

“You should get some rest,” you told the dragon as you grabbed your bag and retreated into a corner of the cave. Not too close, yet not too far. You plopped onto the floor and curled into a ball, using your bag as a makeshift pillow. Like this, you were facing the dragon, watching it watch you as it settled on the floor. Its head was still raised, though. You wondered if it trusted you enough to sleep first. Probably not. “No use staying awake with this storm.” As though on a cue, thunder rumbled through the sky once more, an agreement to your statement.

You spent a few moments just having an odd staring contest with the dragon, neither of you relenting to your obvious exhaustion. This was ridiculous. You eventually huffed and rolled over to face the cave wall, curling yourself into a tighter ball as though that could stave off the way your teeth chattered and your arms trembled.

You woke up to a particularly loud clap of thunder.

It exploded through the sky like an erupting star, making you shoot up from your balled-up position as though something had shocked you. Your teeth practically rattled in your skull, your gaze darting to the entrance of the cave where an abyss-like darkness greeted your eyes. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed. The darkness of the thunderclouds above, paired with the waterfall of rain, made it difficult to discern what part of the day it was. Probably somewhere close to night, you thought, shifting yourself so that you could clumsily stagger to your feet.

You were ridiculously sore, your muscles aching as you stretched out and rubbed your arms with your hands. Sleeping on the hardass floor was a terrible decision—you could feel muscles that you didn’t even know existed until this moment. Climbing up a mountain probably didn’t help either. Your clothes were also still damp, and the way your nose felt clogged told you that sleeping while sopping wet probably wasn’t a good idea. It wasn’t like you could do anything about it, though.

You shuffled in place, hoping the movement could help you generate a bit of body heat. Glancing over to the dragon, you saw it was awake as well, gaze directed to the rain beating away at the ground outside. It almost looked… forlorn. You watched it for a moment, then decided it wouldn’t hurt to check on its injuries.

The dragon turned to look at you once you’d walked a bit closer; that distant look faded away to be replaced by intimidation. A low growl made you stop a few feet away. You shifted in place, still rubbing your hands along your arms. “Well, good morning to you too. I need to check your wounds.”

When all it did was huff out and rest its head on the ground, you grinned slightly and approached its side. The warmth its body offered was welcoming, and you relished in the way it washed over your body as you inspected the largest gash. By now the paste had dissolved, so you assumed quite a few hours had passed. You’d have to mash the Zephyr stalks now. You hovered your hand over the wound and compared the heat it exuded to the rest of the dragon’s body. It was still worryingly hot. Having a sick dragon on your hands while trapped in a cave was definitely not on your agenda.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know if increased body heat means you’re fighting off infection, would you?” you asked the dragon as you walked over to its head and bent your knees slightly to look down at it. “How do you feel? Sick? Can dragons get sick?”

It huffed out at you, letting out a sound that sounded like a deep click. You tilted your head slightly, then straightened up, a hum escaping your lips. “Hmmm. Well, if you feel like you’re dying, let me know. I just wish I had something that could actually treat that...” With that, you walked over to your bag to pull out the bundle of Zephyr stalks, stones, and canteen. You took a small drink of water before you started mushing the stalks together to make a greenish paste.

It didn’t take too long, thankfully, since you had less material to work with. The rain in the background provided some nice ambience to smush the stems to, though, and you found yourself humming lightly. Your voice was drowned out by the occasional clap of thunder and roaring wind, but you didn’t mind.

“Okay”—you approached the dragon with your bundle of green paste—“let’s just get this on and hope it staves off anything nasty.”

You took your time with applying the mush this time, wanting to warm up some more. You didn’t find the need to fill the air with your rambles, so you settled on continuing your humming from before. The dragon—as per usual—watched you as you worked, keeping an eye on the motions of your hands. You tried not to get too self-conscious, but well, it was hard with the dragon watching you so closely—especially as you were coating the slash on its face. If looks could kill, you’d have been dead a long time ago.

Once you finished up, you wiped your hands and stashed everything back in your bag once more. You walked over to the bundle of blood-soaked cloth sitting at the cave’s entrance and tossed each one outside along with the paste-covered ones, where the rain could batter down on them and hopefully wash away most of the substances stuck to them. You watched, for a moment, as watered-down blood trickled from the pieces of cloth in the rain, slowly running down the slope leading away from the cave. Then, you turned around and made your way over to your bag near the cave’s walls. After thinking for a little bit, you picked it up and headed back over to the dragon, plopping both your bag and yourself down a few meters away from it. Like this, you could feel a bit of the dragon’s warmth—enough to stave away the chills of the cave. You wondered if its body heat was naturally this intense or if it was just a result of its injuries. Either way, it didn’t growl at you or anything, so you counted that as a win.

“Y’know,” you spoke up after a few moments of just staring outside at the rain, your legs stretched out before you and your arms holding you up behind you. “I’m the only healer around here for miles. Lotsa people have come to me asking for help with their illnesses or injuries.” You scratched the side of your face as a brief flash of lightning lit up the darkness of the outside world. “I don’t mind; it’s kind of a duty I’ve taken on. But man, the stories I could tell you…”

You chanced another glance at the dragon; it was gazing at the drumming of the rain beyond the cave’s mouth. Though the way its ears flicked told you it was listening. You turned to look back out at the storm. “One time, this guy walked in—completely normal-looking, not a hair out of place—complaining about how his chest hurt. I do the usual rounds, checking him over and stuff, but I couldn’t find anything wrong. So I asked him some questions, and you know what he was suffering from?” You paused for dramatic effect, rolling your eyes as you recalled the memory. The dragon made a deep rumble, so you continued, “A broken heart. Like bud, I’m a healer, not a miracle worker.” You let out a sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips.

The dragon huffed out in what you would like to assume was an amused manner and you laughed. “That’s what I was like! Long story short, that’s how I met one of my closest friends—the one who mistook Nadirs for Zeniths. He wouldn’t leave me alone after that.”

You didn’t know how long you sat there, just recounting various stories of your healing escapades, but it was nice. You liked to think it was nice for the dragon too, for it didn’t really growl or bare its teeth at you as you talked. It was mostly silent, letting out the occasional huff or rumble at certain things you would say. You liked to think the dragon was slowly warming up to you, but well, did it have any choice with the both of you being stuck in a cave together?

The storm wasn’t showing any signs of letting up.

You found yourself standing at the cave’s entrance, arms crossed over your chest as you frowned out at the battering rain and dark cumulonimbus clouds that stagnated over the mountain. You still had no idea how much time had passed—you’d talked to the dragon and slept for a while, so you were assuming at least the night had gone by. Your clothes, while a bit cold, were thankfully dry from you likely staying close enough to the dragon for its warmth to somewhat dry you.

You sighed and turned around to trudge back to the dragon, its head lifting from the floor to watch as you plopped down next to your bag once more. You were starting to feel hungry; the last time you ate was… a while ago. A piece of bread for breakfast before you’d gone to Yuuei to visit Denki. And who knew how long ago that had been.

You dug around in your bag and pulled out the little wrapped pastry you’d gotten from Denki. Holding it in your hand, however… you knew you couldn’t eat it. A small groan left your lips, your hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose in disappointment.

It was rock hard. You shouldn’t have waited so long before eating it. Or, well, attempting to.

You glanced at the dragon. “You want this? I can’t eat it, it’s gotten too hard for my soft human teeth.” You scooted a bit closer to it so you could place the pastry on the floor near its head, then scooted back next to your bag, turning your body so you could face the dragon with your legs crossed.

The dragon eyed you for a moment then looked down at the solid pastry with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. It glanced briefly back at you, then snorted out some smoke and turned its head away—but not before using one of the claws on its front foot to bat the pastry away. You raised an eyebrow at it, not that it could see.

“What? You don’t want it?” you asked, looking down at the lonely pastry that had rolled a few feet in your direction. It looked fine, other than the fact that it was harder than the very ground you sat on. You reached out and batted the pastry back at the dragon hard enough that it rolled into its front foot. “Come on, you could probably eat it with those sharp teeth of yours. It’ll go to waste otherwise.”

The dragon looked down and let out one of its rumbling growls before batting the pastry back at you. It rolled into your shin and you turned your head to squint your eyes at the dragon.

“I see what’s happening here,” you said suddenly, pointedly looking down at the pastry. You reached out to bat it back towards the dragon, but it let out a growl that only got louder the closer your hand got to the pastry. You sighed and threw your hands up in defeat. “Okay! Fine. I’ll just put it away then.”

You snatched up the pastry and shoved it back into your bag. You’d have to dispose of it later, if anything. The dragon huffed out some smoke as it watched you, then eventually rested its head back on its crossed legs in front of it as it stared out at the darkness of the storm. You observed it for a moment then sighed quietly and stuck your hand in your bag once more so you could rummage around in it and pull out your tiny journal. Might as well do some drawing. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do.

The pages of your journal were cool from being in your bag for so long. You thanked whatever deity above, yet again, that your bag was waterproof and prevented your hard work from getting soaked in all the rainwater. You shuffled some things around in it and eventually pulled out the little ink bottle and quill you’d also packed. Uncorking the bottle, you dipped the quill inside and flipped your journal open to a clean page.

You paused. You… weren’t sure what to draw, really.

But well—you briefly looked up at the dragon that was still watching the ongoing storm—you had a pretty obvious muse in front of you.

It was relaxing just being able to sit and sketch. It was something familiar and it brought you a modicum of peace that you didn’t know you’d needed. At least, drawing allowed you to take your mind off of the pounding rain and occasional burst of thunder. Though, it did prevent you from hearing the almost cathartic scratches your quill made against the paper. You couldn’t see all too well either, but the dim lighting was better than nothing.

Just as you were trying to figure out how to discern the shapes of the dragon’s wings from the shadows that encased them, it turned its head to look at you, ears twitching. You raised an eyebrow, noticing how the dragon huffed out some smoke and stared pointedly down at the journal in your lap. You thought you’d been pretty discreet with your sketching, but it seemed as though the dragon had noticed.

“Hm?” You raised an eyebrow when it let out a low growl and glanced down at your journal. Maybe it was just curious? You looked back up at the dragon, its glowing crimson eyes still looking at your book. “Oh, you wanna see? Sorry, I was bored and started sketching. Here.” You capped your ink bottle and put both it and the quill back in your bag before scooting closer to the dragon. You ignored the way its muscles tensed as you sat yourself close—but not too close—to its front legs. You held up your book slightly so you could show it the drawing. “It’s pretty rough, but I tried. I can’t see all too well either.”

The dragon lowered its head to look at the paper, hovering just above you. You tried not to shiver as its hot breath fanned out over your shoulder. Well, at least you’d be warmer. For now. “I can’t really see the shape of your wings, it’s too dark in here. Maybe if it gets lighter I can try again, I dunno.” You looked at the drawing. It wasn’t bad—at this point it was just a vague shape. You wanted to focus more on the markings that spanned the dragon’s body, but those would have to be saved for later.

You touched the ink on the page lightly to make sure it was dry, then flipped to the beginning of your journal so you could show the dragon the other things you had in it. You pointed to the different flora you’d drawn and explained the notes you’d written next to each. You were kind of surprised it was paying attention, but you supposed it was also pretty bored at this point.

“Oh! These are the Zenith flowers I’d mentioned”—you pointed to the cerulean petals you’d drawn in your book—“Ahh, man, you wouldn’t happen to know about any plateaus with these on them, would you?” You turned your head to look up and over your shoulder at the dragon. It snorted out smoke into your face. “I’ll take that as a no.”

You spent some time flipping through your book, then eventually somehow ended up telling it more stories of things that’d happened to you in the distant past. You scooched away from the dragon a bit so you could properly lay down on the floor with your arms crossed behind your head. If you stared up at the ceiling of the cave long enough, you could almost pretend you were looking up at the night sky, the glistening sheen of the rocks above reminding you faintly of glowing stars.

“You know, I’ve met my fair share of mythicals here and there. There was a time when I accidentally stumbled across a few fairies in the forest at the base of this mountain.” You turned your head to look at the dragon’s head that hovered in the air to your right. Crimson eyes slitted once you made eye contact with them. You continued on, “I uh, I didn’t really know that the fae were pretty… pretty mischievous,” you grimaced, “At that point I was a bit lost, so I was trying to get directions back into the village and they just—they just had me walking around in circles for hours. Hours!”

The dragon snorted at you and you squinted up at it. “Hey, it wasn’t my fault. And for your information, I eventually did find my way back. I just had to give them some of the leftovers I had in my bag and they told me the right way to go.” The dragon only made a low rumble in its chest. You rolled your eyes and yawned, making yourself more comfortable on the ground. You were starting to get a bit tired. “Yeah, whatever. At least they were fairies and not fuckin’, basilisks or some shit.”

You didn’t know how long you lay there, recounting tales, but you eventually turned your head back to look at the dragon only to see it had rested its head on the floor, asleep. You watched it for a moment—the steady rise and fall of its torso as it slept, the glimmer of its scales every time lightning struck, the markings that curved along its neck—then turned your head to look at the ceiling once more.

Man, you thought as you closed your eyes as well, what the fuck am I even doing?

The dragon had been asleep for… a very long time.

Of course, you couldn’t really keep track of just how much time had passed, but you were a bit… worried.

You’d woken up and spent a while just drawing or thinking. There was nothing to do in the cave and it was starting to wear you down mentally. You were growing antsy, and the way your stomach grumbled from time to time just made you grimace. You knew the human body could survive quite a while without food, so you weren’t too concerned unless the storm decided to linger for a few weeks—which you doubted would happen. It just wasn’t typical for this region. And you had water left in your canteen, and though you didn’t necessarily like it, you also had the storm’s rainwater at hand to keep your thirst at bay, so you weren’t worried about dying from dehydration either.

You just wondered how much longer you’d be stuck in the cave for. Sleeping was all you could do to help save energy and prevent yourself from ruminating too much on the hunger gnawing at your stomach. You’d already grabbed the relatively clean pieces of cloth from outside the cave too, wringing them out and folding them neatly to stack in a dry corner on the ground, so it wasn’t like you had anything else to do. The boredom was difficult, and the fact that the dragon was still asleep unfortunately meant that you couldn’t entertain yourself with it.

So you slept, and you drew, and you thought, and you paced, and you slept some more. It seemed like a never-ending cycle, broken only by the few occasions where you would walk up to the cave entrance to stare out at the dark storm. Until you suddenly realized that the dragon had not been awake at all in the times that you were also awake. Which made you wonder if it had been asleep the entire time.

You looked over at it slumbering away with its wings tucked over its long body. There was a slight snarl on its face that you hadn’t noticed before, fangs bared in its sleep. It made you pause and stand up to walk over to its head that rested on the cool floor. You crouched down and reached out a hand to gently touch the furrowed part of its face above its eyes. It felt warm, too warm, its scales gliding smoothly under your palm. You narrowed your eyes and hovered your hand over the wound near its eye.

It was hot.

Much hotter than before.

You cursed at the fact that the dim lighting of the cave didn’t allow you to properly see. The mush of the Zephyr stalks was still there, which wasn’t surprising as it wasn’t something that easily dissolved into the skin. But as you repositioned yourself and peered closer at the wound, you saw that the area around it looked… inflamed. Swollen. It was hard to tell with all the golden scales in the way. Shit. Were the salves ineffective for dragons? Did they only temporarily work? You didn’t know.

You jumped to your feet and ran over to the pile of damp cloth you’d set on the floor what seemed like ages ago. You grabbed a few, then thought it would probably be best to just take it all, so you gathered everything in your arms and rushed back over to the dragon. You plopped it all on the floor near its head, then used one of the pieces of cloth to gently wipe away the Zephyr mush from the dragon’s head wound. The moment it was gone, dark blood started dribbling down, running over your fingers. You cursed as a barely healed injury was revealed. It looked bright red if you squinted at it and inflamed as all hell. You leaned your head closer to it, sniffed, and almost immediately recoiled at the odor it was giving off. The fucking Zephyr stalks hadn’t worked. That, or the infection was just too strong.

“Fuck,” you forced out and scrabbled to press a clean piece of cloth to the dragon’s face to stop it from bleeding. The wounds had looked fine before you’d applied the Zephyr paste! What happened? “Fuck.” You bit your lower lip and piled on more cloth to press to the gash before you let go and reached out a hand to the dragon’s closed eye.

Gently, you pulled at its eyelid until you got it halfway over its eye. You could only see the whites of its sclera. You blew a little on it to see if it would induce a reaction, but it didn’t. You cursed again and let go. This was exactly what you’d been hoping to avoid. You weren’t an expert on dragons—you didn’t know if you should’ve done something differently to prevent this from happening or not. You didn’t know what you could do now to stop the infection—you didn’t have anything on you to deal with it. You’d already used the plants you’d gathered that you believed would’ve helped. Damnit.

You rubbed at your face roughly with your hands. It was likely that all of the dragon’s wounds were infected if its searing body temperature was any indication. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t… You… You swallowed thickly and looked down at your hands, flexing your fingers.

There was… something you could do.

You hadn’t wanted to do it before—it used up a lot of your energy even though it was so goddamn weak—but it seemed… It seemed like you had no choice now. If you didn’t do anything, the infection would only grow worse.

You made sure the wound on the dragon’s face was properly covered before you grabbed the bundle of cloth, stood up, and jogged over to its side that had the worst gash of them all—the one that ran from its shoulder to its mid-back. You worked quickly to wipe away the Zephyr mush, grimacing at the sight of the inflammation and the smell it was omitting, then did your best to staunch the bleeding.

Inhaling deeply, you raised your hands up to the wound, hovering your palms over it. You felt like you were warming your hands next to an open fire, the heat rolling in waves over your palms and your face. You concentrated for a moment before eventually your palms started to glow a warm honey color. It was faint, and flickered out from time to time, but if you focused, you could get it to remain consistent.

So you stood there, with your glowing palms against the dragon’s wound, and waited. And waited. And waited. Time seemed to pass by so slowly, yet so quickly, as you put everything into tending to the gash. You stood there for hours wondering if you were making any difference at all. You were starting to feel the effects of using your magic for so long, an exhaustion settling into your very bones. It pulled at your limbs, weighed heavily on your shoulders. You blinked slowly, wanting nothing more but to sit down and sleep. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t.

You didn’t know how long you concentrated on that wound for, but eventually you forced yourself to stop to observe the progress you’d made. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, and it seemed like some of the swelling had gone down. It was nowhere close to being healed completely, but you had to move on to the other injuries. You rubbed at your eyes as you rounded the dragon to tend to the gash on its other side, by its hind leg. You were quick in wiping off the mush and hovering your palms over it to let the light seep inside.

And thus, the process was restarted. You stood there until your legs started to shake and your arms trembled with the effort to keep them up. Your vision was starting to blur out. You had to blink quite a few times to try to clear it up, but it was still fading in and out. You were almost at your limit. Just a bit more—

Your knees buckled. You fell backwards, eyes fluttering shut as you barely had enough time to twist yourself to the side to prevent yourself from hitting your head. Even so, you’d already crumpled into a heap, blacked out before you’d even fully landed on the ground.

When you woke up again, it took you a few moments to reorient yourself.

You slowly sat up, rubbing at your shoulder as you blinked away the dark spots and looked around. You still felt tired, but at least you weren’t on the verge of passing out again. You shuffled to your feet and walked over to peer at the dragon’s face. It was still sleeping. You sighed. You had a lot of work to do.

You cycled back and forth between sleeping and tending to the dragon’s injuries for what felt like days. The lack of food was hard, and there was only so much energy you could replenish by sleeping, but you did your best. You managed to stop the infection at the hind leg before you moved on to the dragon’s wings. Those were a bit harder to reach since they were gingerly tucked above its body. You had to climb a bit onto the dragon to reach some parts and hoped that it wouldn’t move or wake up anytime soon. You didn’t particularly feel like getting abruptly tossed to the floor.

Once you finished on the wings—which forced you to sleep quite a few times in between—you went back to the deep gash on its side to work on that some more. You started to feel like you had a perpetual burn to your eyes, no matter how much sleep you got. Your stomach hurt from time to time, but you learned to ignore it. There were a few instances where you wondered if stepping out into the rain would help you stay awake, but you figured it wouldn’t be worth the soggy clothes.

As you moved down the gash, nearing the dragon’s mid-back, you felt it shift beneath your hands. You froze and watched as the muscles along its back tensed and rolled. Your head snapped to the side, eyes moving to watch as the dragon raised its head slowly up from the ground. It was awake. Finally.

“Oh good,” you rasped out, then cringed at how dead your voice sounded. You cleared your throat as the dragon swiveled its head around so it could look at you standing by its back. “You’re—”

Before you could even process what was happening, the dragon let out a loud snarl. You jumped as it snapped its jaw dangerously close to you and twisted its body away in a motion that made you cringe due to its tender wounds. You found yourself stumbling forward a bit, eyes wide as you darted them up to look at the dragon in confusion and surprise. It was glaring at your hands, teeth bared at you threateningly as the golden spikes on its back bristled in anger. A low rumble erupted from its chest, mixing with the sounds of rain and thunder from outside.

“Whoa! Easy!” You raised your hands up in the sign for surrender and immediately let the light die out from your palms. “I’m not gonna hurt you I promise!”

When all it did was continue to glare and growl, you tentatively activated your magic again, letting the warm, honey glow light up the space between you. It snarled, but otherwise just watched you. “Look, see?” You waved your hands around and passed it over your arms and stomach. “It’s not hurting me.” You didn’t dare mention the fact that your magic had no effect on you. “It’s healing magic—very weak healing magic. You ah”—you swallowed thickly—“you were out cold for a while. Your wounds were infected. I had to um, use it to help you.”

The dragon let out a low rumble, eyes still narrowed at your hands. You let the light die out once more and tried not to let the exasperation bleed through your voice. “Come on, I’ve been taking care of your wounds all this time. Do you really think I’d harm you after that?”

Maybe it was your words, maybe it was the look on your face—the tone of your voice. But eventually, it stopped its growling and exhaled a plume of smoke. You waved the cloud away with a hand and had to suppress a sigh of relief when the dragon made a deep clicking sound and shifted to resume its previous position near you. “Thank you. Now stay still, I’m trying to stop the infection in this wound.”

Once it settled down, you took in a deep breath and stepped closer, concentrating to get your magic up and running again. You hovered your glowing hands above the wound and focused. As you did, you were acutely aware of the dragon watching you, but eventually it seemed to get tired and turned its head back around so it could rest on the ground. You didn’t blame it—if your body was fighting infections this bad you’d probably get exhausted too.

You started to feel the deep, deep weariness settle in your bones again from using your magic so extensively. You did your best to keep yourself going—you didn’t have much more to work on, after all. You could probably finish this large wound and then tackle the one on its head a bit before you collapsed.

And that you did. You finished up at the dragon’s mid-back, then shuffled around it to its head that was still laying on the ground. It opened its eyes when you got near and started to rise, but you flapped a hand at it. “No, no, it’s fine, keep your head on the floor. It’ll make my life easier.” It did as told with a little huff and you smiled faintly as you sat yourself on the ground to its right and reached your hands out to the wound near its right eye.

Being so close to its face was a bit unnerving, seeing that the dragon did nothing but stare directly at you the entire time. You focused your attention mostly on the wound, but you couldn’t help the goosebumps. It felt like the dragon was trying to bore right through you with its stare, not relenting in any least bit. It made you feel a bit self-conscious—you knew you looked like shit from being in the cave for so long and for using your magic practically nonstop.

You were just so tired. You exhaled and moved your gaze away from the wound so you could look into the dragon’s right eye—the only one you could see from your position. “Are we cool?” The way it had reacted before was still making you feel a bit uneasy. You thought you’d been doing pretty well with getting on good terms with the dragon, but now you weren’t sure anymore. It blinked slowly at you and you continued, “Like, you know I’m here to help you, right? You clearly can’t do it yourself.” It made an aggravated sound that had you rolling your eyes. “Yeah, frustrating, I know, but I’d still appreciate it if, y’know, you didn’t bite my head off for trying to heal you.”

The dragon was quiet for a short moment. Then it snorted out some more smoke and made a rumbling sound at your words. You smiled weakly at it and focused back on healing its wound. You’d take that as a yes.

You were laying on the floor, taking a break between healing sessions, when a sudden thought occurred to you that made you slowly sit up.

“Got a name or do I have to keep calling you ‘the dragon’ in my head?”

The dragon turned its head to look at you, a huff of that caramel-scented smoke leaving its nose that fanned over your head. You looked at it as well, an inquisitive hum caught in your throat. “Well, yeah I guess you can’t really tell me, huh?” Another huff. You waved your hand in the air to dissipate the grey smoke, then used the same hand to rub your chin thoughtfully. You snapped your fingers together. “What if I just give you a nickname? Whaddya think?”

This time it snorted and you grinned as it turned its head to watch the slowly lightening storm outside, the sky turning from an inky black color to a more grey one—a relief, considering the fact that it meant you’d be out of here soon. You couldn’t wait to be back at your little cottage. You really needed something to eat and a good night’s rest in a bed that wasn’t rock hard.

You hummed as you thought up a few names on the spot. “Okay… how about… Goldie?” It let out a huff and looked at you with an almost offended expression on its face. You grinned at it again. “Not a fan? Aurem, maybe? No? Hmm…” You trailed off thoughtfully as you tapped your index finger against your chin. “Saphira? Eragon? Ah, you’re so picky!” The dragon kept huffing out smoke at your face, its teeth bared at you in displeasure. “I’m doing my best here! Okay uh…” You had to suppress a smirk as you said, “Widdol dwagon baby?”

You made a sound between a yelp and a laugh as the dragon snapped its jaw close to your head, making you slide to the side slightly so you could avoid its sharp teeth. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I think I might off myself if I had to call you that all day.” It let out a snort and retreated, which allowed you to resume your previous position. “Let’s see… Hmm…” This was really difficult, actually. It didn’t help that the dragon was so goddamn hard to please. “Smokey? What, you’re always huffing smoke at me, don’t blame me for offering it!” You rolled your eyes when the dragon made a deep clicking sound. “Uhh… Lord Explosion Murder? Bitch that was a joke, I am not calling you that!”

The dragon had cocked its head thoughtfully when you’d said the prior name, but at your admission it huffed again. You threw up your hands in defeat then plopped yourself back down to lay on the cool cave floor. “Well I’m all out of ideas.”

You stared up at the ceiling of the cave as the dragon puffed out smoke that rolled over your body like a wave. There was a moment where all you could hear was the steady pounding of rain from outside and the faint rumbles of thunder. Then, there was a tapping sound—like something sharp clicking against something rough and hard. You blinked when the tapping shifted into a terrible grating noise. You raised your head and curiously watched as the dragon used a claw on its front foot to scratch at the cave floor. Hmm.

You sat up and scooted closer to the dragon so you could peek at what it was doing. It was still pretty dark in the cave, but the lightening clouds at least allowed you to see better than you had when the storm first started. You tilted your head and squinted at the ground as it finished scratching at it and waited for you to read what it wrote.

“Oh!” You blinked and turned your head to look up at the dragon’s face. “Bakugo? That’s your name?” Who knew dragons could read and write…

Bakugo made a deep sound and snorted a puff of smoke directly into your face as though to say well, duh. You waved it away and gave him a grin along with your name. “Nice to officially meet you.

in another universe, he's not a dragon but a....

part two

#mybigbangacademia #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #hojfykb #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #lets fucking GOOOOO #mha x reader #bnha x reader #tw blood #tw injuries #this has been over a year in the making for me #phew!

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maple-writes · 4 years ago

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WHG 14: Boat 2

tagging @concealeddarkness13 (thanks for all Zenith’s team) @ratracechronicler and @pen-of-roses

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Almost as soon as we were one the ship and guilted into sharing one room between the all of us, we were split again. I hadn’t seen where most people had gone, disappearing off to different parts of the ship. Somehow I found myself smack in the middle of the party hall.

I stuck myself right next to one of the tables filled with fancy foods and drinks, trying to look busy and interested in the platters instead of desperately trying to catch my breath and steady my heartbeat. Although… I leaned over the table. Some of these actually looked pretty good, though I had no idea what half of them were supposed to be. Tasting one after another they were good. Tasty. I guess if this stuff was supposed to cost this much it made sense for it to be this good. Would it be weird to take some for later, maybe—

Magic. It crawled up my back as someone passed behind me, the same as whatever Zenith took back with him that day. The same he’d said was laid on him by someone from his old team. I glanced over my shoulder as the person passed by. Dark skin, long braid, capitol regalia. Shit. What was he doing here? Were they all here? If he’d all but cursed Zenith, what would they all do once they realized he was here? I swallowed, the dessert suddenly dry and tasteless in my mouth. This wasn’t good.

He didn’t seem to be going anywhere in particular, walking through the party with a watchful security eye. I followed him, keeping him where I could see him as anger started to build. This was someone who’d gone and hurt Zenith. I grit my teeth. He was going to pay for that.

He slipped into a quiet hallway and I followed, scurrying around a table to stop from loosing him. Almost as soon as I was out of the party hall, the music and the chatter was gone, replaced by my own footsteps against the metal. I quickened my pace, hurrying to catch up with him before he turned somewhere else, somewhere where someone would notice.

Footsteps echoed behind me, stepping out from some unseen crevice.

“Could I see your ticket, sir?”

I froze, heart skipping against my ribs as I whirled, facing the two who’d snuck up one me. One of them, probably the one who spoke, watched me with his arms crossed and a smirk across his freckled face, looking down at me like a cornered prey. The other stood by his side, watching me closely. Dragon-like scales covered her skin, hard and impenetrable. No doubt they were Zenith’s other teammates. No doubt the capitol hired them here. Shit.

“I,” my voice shook. Damn it. “May I ask why?” This was it. This was it.

“You were tailing my friend there. That is suspicious behavior.” He held out his hand, gesturing for me to comply. “Please, your ticket.”

My legs trembled. I couldn’t face all of them. I couldn’t take all of them, not at once, not here, not now. How could I be so stupid, so stupid to run off on my own in a place crawling with peacekeepers and enemies and, and…

I forced my arm to move, finding my ticket and handing it over. “I, I swear I wasn’t.” They weren’t going to believe me. “I thought he was someone else.” No way they were going to believe me.

The one with the freckles, his eyes wandered over the ticket before looked back at me. “Ah. One of Alastair’s special guests. Do you know Zenith?”

Shit. Shit Shit. “Zenith?” I swallowed. Think. Think. Think. “I might have hard that name once or twice.” Weak, what kind, what kind of excuse was that?

The woman with the scales punched him on the arm and rolled her eyes, turning to me. “I promise we’re not working with the Capitol anymore. I don’t know how to prove that, but we’re trying to help. I’m sorry my teammate decided to be all dramatic.”

“Hey!” He rubbed his arm with an injured frown.

“Oh?” I blinked, glancing back and forth between the two of them. They weren’t? “You, you aren’t? But what about what you did to Zenith?” I turned back, facing the one with the magic that Zenith had taken back with him. He’d hurt him. “It was your magic, wasn’t it?”

His eyes grew dark. “Yes. And I don’t regret that. But we figured out how shitty the Capitol is. So, I’ll only punch Zenith in the face once he’s escaped completely from the Capitol.”

The dragon shot him a glare. “That’s not a good way to convince him.” She sighed, and she was right. I wasn’t so sure I should be standing so close to him myself. “But yes, we’ve figured it out. Probably way too late, but we can at least try to help. We had heard whispers of the Capitol worrying about the captured tributes trying to escape, so we had been thinking about trying to help them escape, but now you’re here.”

My shoulders slumped I took a free breath. “Really?” This was better than I thought. They seemed honest enough. “So you can help us?”

The freckled man nodded. “Yes, we’ll graciously help you—” He flinched under the dragon’s glare. ”I mean, yes, we can help.”

The dragon frowned. “Actually, we’ve heard some other whispers from other Peacekeepers. It seems the Capitol is anticipating your interference. We’ve heard they have security measures in place against you, but we don’t know what they are. I’m sorry.”

“Makes sense.” I sighed. Of course they would at least prepare a little for something like that. For us to try something. If our plan were to still work, we might need a bit more confusion on our side. Maybe… A grin spread across my face. “Do you think you can do us a favor then?”

The dragon nodded. “Sure, what do you need?”

Perfect. I smiled wider, sharper. “There’s life rings on this boat right? The ones on the right side of the boat, could you make those disappear?” Time would be critical if someone were to fall off, and if more seconds could pass before safety…

The freckled one matched my smile. “Absolutely. Completely off the boat, or to a certain location?”

“Far enough for someone to be hard to find in the water by the time anyone finds one.”

“It will be done.” He gave a salute and signaled for the others to follow.

I thanked them as they left, then quickly turned and hurried to rejoin the rest of the party before anyone would have noticed I was gone. I had to find Triel, or Elvira, one of them. They’d have to know to send Snow off the right railing. Who knows, maybe by the time they found the rings he’d be long gone, vanished somewhere in the lake. Wouldn’t that be nice?

The hours went on, and if we weren’t here to sabotage an official event it might have been fun. But even with a faked smile on my face and what I hoped sounded like genuine laughter at uncomfortable jokes, I could still feel the nerves around my throat, tight enough my head started to spin. It only got worse, being passed from partner to partner on the dance floor. Each one felt the same, lighthearted joy and drunken excitement passing through my skin, through my hands and up my arms and down my trembling legs. I should have asked Triel for gloves.

Finally a song ended and I had the chance to slip away before someone else asked to dance, skirting the other partygoers as I scurried out one of the doors.

As soon as the door swung shut behind me it was quiet on the outer deck. Quiet and crisp with cool lake air. I took a deep breath, then another, as I strolled along the edge of the walkway. Spare clouds dotted the sky and smaller boats bobbed at their distance like ducks in a pond. Birds flew, flapping just above the glassy water’s surface, soaring high up in the air. Somewhere up in that air Triel’s airship was supposed to be waiting.

I glanced behind me, thankful when I didn’t see anyone else out here. At least, no close enough to pay any kind of attention. I leaned against the railing, sighing and letting my head fall forward. As nice as it was to have Zenith’s team on our side now, how long would it be until we could get out of here? Already I could feel the fatigue starting to pull at my eyes, starting to drag at my legs. I wasn’t used to this kind of life, taking in so much all the time from people all around me. Maybe I would end up actually using our overcrowded room if this went on much longer into the evening…

Wing flaps and the clicking of little feet against the metal railing beside me made me raise my head as two birds came in for a landing barely a couple feet from my elbow. One looked like some kind of loon, sitting and preening the feathers under it’s wing, but the other one… I frowned. It settled down beside the loon, watching me with curious little eyes. Mottled black and white feathers covered it’s little body, smooth and streamline and familiar.

It looked like a murrelet, but what was it doing here?

The murrelet shook out it’s blunt wings, tucking them snug against it’s body. It blinked and raised it’s little pointed beak.

“Are you Cirrus’ friend?”

What.

I stared, dead to the world around me, at the little bird with the words falling unpracticed off it’s tongue. It waited with an expectant tilt of it’s head and I nodded. I, yeah, I was Cirrus’ friend.

The bird stretched it’s neck up tall, peering over the loon and around the near-empty deck. Satisfied at something, she bunched back up. “I am his sister.” Her intonation wavered, as if not sure where inflections should fall on a bird’s voice. “What are you still doing here? Why escape just to return?”

His sister? Right, he’d told me he had sisters before. “We, well,” I took a breath. “Some of our friends, they didn’t make it out with us. It didn’t feel right to just leave them here, so we’re trying to take them with us.”

She tilted her head the other way. “And what did Cirrus think of this whole ordeal? Going back to rescue these captives?”

“I don’t know,” what was she asking for? “He’s here though.”

The murrelet’s eyes closed with contentment, feathers fluffing up across her chest. “Good to hear. You have been a good influence on him I think.” She hopped forward, fluttering up to sit lightly on my shoulder. “My sisters and I are not allowed to contact him, but we have been checking on him where we can. My husband and I will offer our assistance.”

The loon on the railing raised his head in a nod. “The winds will favor you in your flight from here.”

I smiled. “Really? Thank you.” If there were dragons on our side, surely nothing would go wrong, right? We’d be able to get away at the very least, no matter what the capitol sent out after us. “Thank you.”

The murrelet nodded. “Of course. If I may ask however, Cirrus cannot be told about this.”

I sighed, but what could I do. “Okay. I won’t tell him.”

“Good.” The murrelet stretched forward, testing her wings and twitching her tail. “Good luck.”

She leapt from my shoulder, wings whirring as she and her loon husband flew away over the water. I watched them go, squinting until they disappeared in the distance against the lake. Then a smile crept across my face. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. All we had to do was get off this boat and then, between her help and Shine’s engineering, we’d be safe. We’d be safe.

I pushed off the railing, spinning back to get back to the party inside. Pushing the president, finding our friends, that was all we had to do. Easy enough. Doable. Perfect. I pulled open the door and slipped back inside, into the music, into the clamour. This was going to be a fun night after all.

An hour later and I’d collapsed on one of the beds in our room. There’s been too much, too many people, too much to take in from accidentally brushing by strangers and people snatching my arm to pull me into some kind of dance and having to mitigate the constant stream of emotions passing through my skin and into my blood like static fuzz. The magic too, it drifted through the air like stray smoke that no one else seemed to notice. Not just from Zenith’s ex friends. There were others, looking no different from anyone else besides the jolt that ran through my bones at their touch and all but made the hairs across my body stand on end. And, and the drinks. Why hadn’t I known there would have been alcohol? Masked by whatever syrups and fruits mixed in I hadn’t noticed until the boat rocked too much under my feet and everything seemed to be moving so much faster around me and everything felt too soft. Too fuzzy.

It felt good to finally lay down. Lay down, curl up under a blanket and close my eyes.

The light outside had dimmed when the sound of the door opening woke me up. Cirrus slipped in, moving quietly as if trying not to disturb me even if it was too late. He didn’t seem to notice though, ignoring me as he went to lean against the window frame and look out at the lake. The toe of one of his boots tapped against the floor, soft in the quiet. He sighed, dropping his head and rounding his shoulders to stare down at the floor between his feet.

I frowned, sitting up slowly. “Hey, everything okay?”

Cirrus’ head snapped back up and he turned. “I thought you were asleep.” He paused, glancing out the window again. “I’m just, you know.” His shoulders fell. “There’s a lot going on tonight.”

I nodded, swinging my legs around to dangle off the edge of the bed. “I saw you dancing with Nesri earlier.” A cheeky grin spread across my face. “Looked like you had fun.”

“Oh shut up.” He flopped down on the bed beside me. It creaked with his weight, gentle and comforting. “The other guests weren’t going to let us leave without it.”

Sure looked like he had a good time. I slumped over, leaning against his shoulder. “I saw the way you were blushing.”

He huffed. “Maybe.” But then he softened. “Okay, it was nice.”

I smiled, letting my eyes close again for a moment. It was nice to see him starting to meet new people. “You like her?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” I shrugged. “She’s been following you around like a stray dog all week, you may as well keep her.”

His face fell, and for a second stiff worry drifted from him to me. Then he sighed, shaking it off. “Yeah, maybe. How are you holding up?”

“Tired.” I failed to stifle a yawn, sinking deeper into his shoulder. “I didn’t realize there was so much alcohol in those drinks.” I didn’t usually drink at home, and everything still felt just a little off. A little slowed, dampened.

Cirrus snorted. “It’s a capitol yacht party, what did you expect? I’m not going to have to babysit you am I?” He smiled, golden makeup around his eyes glinting as he looked down at me. “There’s still some time before the others get back here to rest.”

I yawned again. Cirrus shrugged me off his shoulder and laid me back down and draped the blanket back over me. He stayed on the bed though, shuffling back to the foot and leaning against the wall. I shifted, curling up on my side and watching him a moment longer. If only I could tell him about his sister, about how they still cared enough to check on him, how they hadn’t forgotten about him. How they were going to help us because of him. Maybe he’d find out someday. Hopefully he would. We’d just have to get out of here first.

#whg 14 #writeblr hunger games #asher

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Toons for Our Times: Ducktales: They Put a Moonlander on the Earth!

At Glomglast, Glomgold Glomturns! Flintheart Hero of Earth Glomgold continues riding his wave of good PR from helping save the earth in the manner you’d expect: With a dangerous attention seeking pr stunt/ferris wheel/half-ased plan to murder scrooge. Naturally Dewey is first in line for it. Meanwhile Webby tries to convince a wound up Penumbra to stay and enjoy earth so she can get a new alien friend who she relates to and her brothers can get a new step mom, while Launchpad is awkward because his coffee with Pennumbra went worse than the one he had with the gas cloud. The Glom Knight Glomturns under the cut.

This one is late for both good reason, I didn’t want to hog the wifi while my nieces were trying to remote school, and not so good I.e.... I entirely forgot an episode was today because I’m not used to the new schedule, as in the past the show’s either aired on saturday like usual for a disney show, or as a cluster of episodes throughout one week, so even if it wasn’t something I was used to, I was tuned to stay in. The new schedule is weird and my brain is stupid is what i’m saying. Now i’ve covered my butt on with the review! This week focuses on Penumbra, and explains exactly what happened to the Moonlanders after Moonvasion. For Penny at least she’s apparently been living in the McDuck hangar, or somewhere near it, and working on rebuilding one of the bigger ships to get her people home. Della, while not missing the opprotunity to point out now Penny’s the one living in HER garage buliding a rocket home, pitches in and we see things have clearly changed. At least with Della, Penny’s let down her guard and now openly considers her her best friend.. and perhaps more because the romantic tension is so thick here you could cut it with a sword. Granted I may have swords on the brain because of this.

Which if your not up to date on your x-men comics, is an event where our Uncanny X-Men, now having their own nation of krakoa where all mutants are welcome, which includes apocalypse so he’s on THEIR SIDE in that shot, must fight ten other mutants in a ritual sword duel with some of the strongest swords in the mighty marvel canon, and loosing means the other mutants, many of whom are the CHILDREN of apocalyspe from centuries ago he thought lost, get to invade earth with a demonic horde. And if NONE of that made you curious, let alone want to read that, I just.. don’t get you.

Back to the gays, yeah the ten sword thick sexual tension is broken by the fact that Penumbra reveals she tried SOME earth culture and did get that coffee with Launchpad, with Della baffled.. I mean look at those abs. Though it’s probably less “Launchpad really?” and more “Why not me first? Is he sexier? Dammit he is. “ It went about as well as you’d expect.. with Penny storming out suddenly saying this is terrible and running off. Eh not the worst first date i’ve seen in animation this year. I’ve seen a woman go on a date with a man conjoined to his ex.. and not like their siblings it’s a medical procedure. Because close enough is pretty fucking insane and let’s keep it that way.

But yeah so Penumbra’s not sold on earth and Della’s attempts to get her to go with the kids, get to that in a minute, fall on deaf ears. But the thing is. her people are. When meeting with gibious and zenith, if you don’t remember the married moon couple we saw back in “The Golden Spear”, Penumbra finds out she’s the only one who wants to go home. Her people like it here...the happy couple even got adorable new outfits, a job with Glomgold in Gibbious’ case, and an adorable new dog named good boy. Look at them.

I would die for either of them. I hope we see Good Boy again. And that the show introduces Bolivar, donald’s dog at some point. Or even his ostrich hortense. I just want the duck to have a pet dammit.

Point is their happy here and while Penny wants to go back to the old routine of them all on the moon and her saving them.. their fine if she wants to go home but.. their staying here. And it’s easy to see WHY they want to: The moon was harsh, filled with monsters and much like us humans right now with earth, they only stayed in their clusterfuck of a home world because they had no way out. It’s probably why Lunaris sold hte invasion so easily: With his pitch they were just taking a nicer world from a bunch of mean asssholes who refused to share it and whose sole representative had seemingly betrayed them. Without any reason to hate the earthlings and, outside of once incident later in the episode, the earthlings accepting them with open arms and forgiveness, why wouldn’t they stay on a nice, sunny world, in a large city willing to house them and give them jobs, with delicious foods and all sorts of fun shit to distract you from the bad parts of living here that the moon lacked.

Penny’s issue is while THEIR lives were miserable.. her’s wasn’t. She was a hero, a super hero really.. I mean she’s dressed like a kree sentry, she protects the helpless and she’s a fearless warrior whose now a fish out of water on a world she never could’ve expected but grows to love. Martian Manhunter, Captain Marvel, the Mar Vell one, Warlock, Adam Warlock and yes their separate characters, Supergirl, not superman because while he is an alien he grew up here.. all aliens who immigrated here and grew to love and protect it and see it as their home. Penny just hasn’t got to the “love and protect it” part yet and while the rest of her people have new purpose, new homes and new lives and still meet once a week to party she finds herself, theri greatest champion an outsider, desperately wanting her old life back but not accepting it’s gone. She can go home but she’d be the one person on a desolate moon clinging to the past. Penny here honestly reminds me of jasper in steven unvierse future: Both are old soldiers who find their empire gone, their entire way of life uprooted and have no way to cope and desperately hoping things will collapse back to THEIR normal, not realizing the new one isn’t going anywhere and is better for their people. They need to move on but their too proud and too scared to try.

However Penny refuses to admit defeat to her people and that she can’t have “earth fun”, and left with no other choices, decides to take the kids up on their offer after all. To explain that we quickly wrap to the top of the episode, where Webby, bored and having trouble finding anyone, finds Penny and after Penny dosen’t want to hang out finds Dewey and Louie. I assume since their absent this episode, Huey is introducing Violet to Gyro, Fenton and Boyd, Beakly is buying groceries, Donald is courting Daisy and Scrooge.. is trying to get fethry’s hands, feet and head out of pickle jars because he thought they’d preserve him and Donald is busy for once so he’s the only one left to do it. Louie and Dewey plan on just laying around and biinging old ottoman empires, I can relate, but the news gives them a better option. A GLOMGOLD OPTION. Oh me mow how i’ve missed this big beautiful man. Seriously Glomgold is easily one of the best parts of the reboot and Keith Fergeuson brings an utterly delightful manic glee to the guy any time he shows up to eat the scenery whole. While I get holding back on him since he had an arc last season, it’s still nice to have him back in all his hammy glory. And naturally being glomgold he has a scheme going: After gifting a rolelrcoaster previously, over water and with sharks because his brand’s nothing if not consistent, he’s now offering the flintferris glomwheel, which is shoddy, dangerous, secretly a plot to kill scrooge, and is very likely to kill a child.. so in other words it’s Glomgold himself roleld into a ferris wheel. Dewey is psyched to go because he let another kid go first for Glomgold’s last PR Stunt/Nightmare and that kid got all the glory and as such is now Dewey’s new nemisis. So after asking his mom “If we can go ride a death wheel so I can get famous’, which of course Della says yes to, our heroes end up taking Penny along. Launchpad drives and gets his subplot for the episode, being awkard around Penny because the date went bad and not sure if this makes then enimies and avoiding her. He tries going to dewey for help, and while Dewey is out of his element, he does actually give good advice to just talk to her.. Launchpad just takes it while he’s driving because it’s launchpad. Thankfully webby can drive. He spends the rest of hte episode getting into shenanigans before, after helping her with the climax, phrasing, being honest and apologizing. And i’m also covering the plot to get her answer out of the way now: Penny admits he’s fine, thery can be fight buds, he’s a good warrior sh’es just “Not interested in an earth..male” her exact words.

I mean.. there’s no real subtly here. Even if she’s not into Della, which all evidence suggests is the case, Penumbra is CLEARLY into women. I mean Frank is basically saying as loudly as his mousey overlords will allow “SHE’S GAY FOR DELLA”. Wether this goes anywhere, I dunno. While Lumity started ramping up this year, that property’s not based on Disney’s classic canon and STILL had to fight tooth and claw to make Luz bisexual and her love intrested a girl. Disney won’t even let this show use Mickey and almost didn’t let them use the rescue rangers, the odds are against them.. but I also never thoguht we’d see violet’s gay dads on screen, or so many previously comics only characters, so frank’s said screw the impossible before. Now probably is no different.

Back to the main plot, and to the return of Glomgold whose great as ever. Glomgold made the moonlanders and some of duckberg think he was soley responsible for saving the world.. how many people besides the non-penny moonlanders think he actually did it is up for debate but he DID genuinely help save the world. Also his scheme to get his company back somehow WORKED despite not being legally binding, as he’s now back in his tower, back to scheming and has an actual assitant instead of a professional career woman he treats like one in a bit that didn’t age all that well even a year later. Gibious is now Glomgold’s sidekick and in a nice contrast to Owlson instead of being fed up with his crap Gibious, buying into Glomgold’s own ego, lavishes praise on his new boss, treats him like the god he thinks he is, and is genuinely sweet and helpful. It’s a nice dynamic giving Glomgold someone who ACTUALLY and genuinely likes him as a person and wants him to suceed and trusts in his insane schemes and leads to some great bits like Gib genuinely calling the safety inspector when Glomgold makes an airquotes remark about it and at the end Glomgold admitting “I can’t stay mad at you” to his new lackey/Best friend. Frankly Glomgold needed a 21 to his Monarch, and i’ts a delight to see it and Paulson and Ferguson have real chemistry. Meanwhile in the A-Plot, Webby tries to get Penny to enjoy earth, first with a street performer she tosses in the water ,as you should, then with a shooting range which ends with her massacering a clownhead to the children minus webby’s horror and tears. We were one more frame away from this really.

Also we get the ducks feeding.. ducks, a gag Frank’s apparently wanted to do for three seasons now, and with Penny being as confused as the audeince. but non of this, including roller skates really works. So while Dewey goes off to get in line to one up his rival, Webby gets honest with Penny about why she’s so invested and this episode goes from good.. to truly fantastic. While webby fangirling over a mighty and gay space warrior makes sense, there’s a personal reason she wants to help here that really tugs at the heart strings: Webby was like her once. Like Penny she spent her whole life honing herself into a weapon, sealed in her own tiny world, For Penny it was her moon village for Webby it was the mansion. And being thrust out into it was .. frightening. We saw webby struggle to adjust in “Daytrip of Doom!” and part of her wanted to plunge back into the mansion and her saftey net at times. But she didn’t.. with the help of her family, and her friends, she found out just how wonderful the world is and how as scary as the world is.. it opened up new parts of her. Duckberg webby was just as great as mansion webby if not better. So Webby wants to do the same for penny and what really clinches the scene is how she does it: a Hamburger, the symbol from the pilot of what webby was deprived of all her life, given to a new friend as a symbol of what the world offers. And it works at first, even without cheese. But then Penny gets a brain freeze, and Glomgold, needing a distraction from the saftey inspector rames her as going beserk because he’s an asshat in every other way let’s add racisim to it.

A chase insues, Penny’s determined to flee.. but she gets a second wind when Dewey, who rushed in to get the first ride and webby get trapped. Sadly dewey’s new enemy gets all the attention, and as we find out is aware he one upped Dewey and brags over it, but Penny has now gone from fish out of water to shark on the hunt, and with Launchpad’s help to get past Glom and Gib, and the roller skates from earlier finally has some earth fun by skating into the air, climbing the Ferris wheel and saving the kids. Penny FINALLY found something she likes about earth; That she can Still protect people, including her people and do what she loved there and the danger here is WAY more intresting.. I mean on hte moon itw as just the usual monsters she was used to. Here she had to rocket into the air, and climb an megalomainics cannon armed ferris wheel to save two adorable children. In short she’s become a super hero and like those I mentioned, has grown to care about earth. So basically this is like captain marvel was an episode of Steven Universe. I likes it. But it’s a nice character arc, as Penny realizes the outside world, and her new friends/future stepchildren, have b eauty and worth. And she will protect their kind, she will protect them. I mean duckberg already has about 4 other superheroes if you count lena, which with that outfit last time I dooo, but frankly with how much disaster it faces on a daily basis, and how much Fenton needed a goddamn break, and with Darkwing leaving for st canard soon, they could probably use her.

So the day is saved, Glomgold is buired in fines but has a new minon, Dewey is dewfeated and Penny is happy again. We end on Penny recounting everything to Gibious and wife, and Good Boy obviously, along with Della who casually admits she really shoduln’t of let her child go but sooths him anyway over his loss. Penny is happy and deciding to stay, and her and her new best buddy laucnhpad are going to go tear the ship apart with her carrying della along. I swear when they finally do do it she’s just going to.. carry a willing della to her bedroom and throw her down on that thing.. everything after is up to you Id ont’ write porn here. Nothing wrong with it just not my bidness. So with a hopeful new future and a neat t-shirt, Penny finally finds her place in the world.

Final Thoughts: A very good, very gay episode that’s just as good as last weeks and gives penumbra a hell of a character arc, while also being an utterly hilaroius episode, from penumbra’s destruction, to glomgold’s hilarious as always antics to dewey’s attention whoring reaching self endagering heights of stupidity and ego, this was a great one and keeps up Season 3′s quality streak. While the plot progression may be slow for now, everything else is at an alltime goddamn high.

Next week, it’s the HALLOWEEN EPISODE BITCHES. Nuff Said. Until then you can check my blog for more reviews, as we have some halloween stuff coming up. Sadly with Loud House going silent, it seems this is our only weekly coverage but expect more reviews of various shows, and some very spooky ooky ones coming very soon including some brucie bonus episodes and until we meet again, go team venture! Play us out glomgold....

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#ducktales #they put a moonlander on the earth!#penumbra #della duck #dellumbra #webby vanderquack #dewey duck #louie duck #Flintheart Glomgold #gibious #reviews #ducktales spoilers

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fae-fucker · 4 years ago

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Zenith: Chapter 56-59

Chapter 56

We’re in Andi’s POV. She’s angsting, as usual, about how she’s a bad person and all that stuff, but now that she and Valen have exchanged apologies and everyone else is partying down, she will allow herself to get wasted and dance for real, which is significant because she only pretends to dance. With ghosts. Yeah, remember that bit? I wish I didn’t.

Andi finds herself looking for Dex Dogtective and thinking about how they used to bone good, but she’s acting all tsundere about it:

The two of them together were like Griss and Rigna. They just didn’t mix well.

We still don’t know what Griss and Rigna is, and I bet we never will! I’m assuming it’s some sort of booze, in which case ... I mean I’m no expert but some specific types of Earth booze go together. We don’t exactly know the effects of neither Griss nor Rigna or how they interact in the same system to have this comparison make sense to us.

But sure, uuh, deep sci-fi worldbuilding, I guess.

Andi asks Valen if he’s ready and that this isn’t one of their military balls and they can just “live,” and Valen is like “how does one live” and Andi’s like “lets find out together” and it’s very deep, trust me, I promise.

They see the Unified Systems flag and Valen makes a comment about “them” not deserving to be on the flag. Andi assumes he’s talking about the Olen System, where Xen Pterra is, and we get yet another exposition dump about how Xen Pterra was running out of resources and attacked the other systems for not helping. Which, and forgive me if I’ve said this before, doesn’t make any sense? Wars are expensive, resources spent in armed conflict could have been used to help out the planet instead. I dunno if Shinsay are trying to make a Statement about people in power caring more about warfare than their own populations, but I’d be very surprised if they went that route and didn’t play this as straight as they seem to be.

Shinsay introduce yet another type of booze. Andi and Valen drink it. It’s good shit. They go dancing.

She felt weightless.

Like a starship made of glass.

... but with metal shields that pop out when it needs extra protection. See, this metaphor could’ve been good if any thought went into it beyond “does this make me sound deep?”

Chapter 57

Dex is already tipsy and he’s thinking about how hot Andi is in ... interesting terms.

Andi, with her “stab you in the balls and laugh at you as you scream” eyes.

I ... What?

Pro tip: When having a character describe someone they find desirable and you want to convey that to the reader, avoid using the word “balls” anywhere in that description.

Just some advice<3 xoxo love u

Anyway, Dex watches Andi have fun with Valen and the crew and decides he wants in on that. He approaches Andi and it’s all supposedly very sexy. He notes that she’s drunk and he’s also tipsy I guess but even though she’s “not thinking straight” his “body” wants this so they go in for a smooch when

DUN DUN DUUN

Something explodes and the chapter ends.

Riveting.

Chapter 58

The Xen Pterrans are attacking. Lon gets instantly wounded because drama. Dex pulls Andi to the ground and covers her with his body. It would’ve been exciting and/or touching if I cared. Alas.

Chapter 59

We’re in Valen’s POV. He’s having flashbacks to his torture. He’s about to get shot by a Xen Pterran when:

“No!” Valen shouted. “No! Not me!” He closed his eyes and waited for the shot. But instead, a body brushed past his. Valen opened his eyes, and the soldier was gone.

Valen tries to hide and sees Andi and the rest of the crew being all badass. He’s starting to have a severe flashback and is about to lose his grip on reality when Andi snaps him out of it with a smack to the head (don’t do this IRL) and says they have to run. Valen sees the Xen Pterran ships overhead (???) and the crest on them (?????), which is the Solis family crest. It reminds him of Nor and we get this:

A queen of death and darkness, seated upon a throne of the galaxy’s bones.

I didn’t italicize this because this entire sentence was italicized in the book. No idea why. To make it more epic, I guess?

This post is a bit on the short side because the chapters are on the short side and nothing really happens in them despite there being plenty of potential for interesting character development, so I figured I’d take this opportunity to make some observations.

The multiple POV shit is so, so bad, if you guys hadn’t noticed. I’m sparing you a lot of trouble by recapping with minimal quotes. So why don’t I think it works here?

To pull off good multiple POVs, you need strong character voices. Dex is the only character who has anything close to a character voice at all, which isn’t saying much. Lira would be next, then Andi/Nor, whose narrations sound almost identical and I’m pretty sure that’s not intentional, and then we have Valen, who has literally nothing going for him. When all of the characters sound the same and make similar observations using similar thought processes about the same events, there’s no reason for them to have their own POV.

The POV flipping takes you out of the action. I understand that Shinsay are trying to show us how the same event affects different characters, but they forget that they’re showing the same event over and over, though we don’t stay long enough with any of the characters for us to actually see how they’re affected. It ends up becoming a disjointed mess of different people describing the same event. This is not necessary and doesn’t add anything to the story, rather it removes any well-needed tension and excitement by breaking up the action.

Building off the last point, we don’t stay long enough with anyone to really get a good feel for who they are as people. We just jump around fanfic-like from different heads just so Shinsay can have their OCs jerk each other off about how cool their moves are. It’s extremely pointless. Multiple POVs isn’t just about getting a new angle on the same cool action shot the hero does, it’s about getting us closer to the character whose head we’re in.

Back on the topic of the “plot”: Did nobody, like, look up, at this festival? How would the Xen Pterran fleet already be not only in position, but close enough to the surface where Valen can see their crests? Did nobody notice the strange ships hovering above their heads? On a planet that supposedly doesn’t have a significant starfleet? Surely that’d be something people would find at least alarming?

Also, why did Xen Pterra attack the one planet that posed no threat to them in a military sense? It sounds like my question answers itself but think about it. Now Arcardia, which is famously military, will have time to prepare and launch a counter-attack. Surely you’d want to focus your surprise attack on the strongest opponent to hopefully take them out of the fight quickly and then pick off the rest? Or, in this case, hope to brainwash them into submission and then use their resources on the other allies? If I remember correctly, this was supposed to be a “test run” to see if Zenith works, but is that really a risk they can take by alerting the enemy to their new cool superweapon?

Well, except I’m pretty sure Arcardia doesn’t launch any counter-attack and barely even prepares for war at all, so I guess I’m expecting too much of ... well, all of it.

Really need to stop doing that.

When will I learn!

#eff reads: zenith

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letterboxd · 5 years ago

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The Circle of Live (Action).

“The effort here was to keep the filmmaking tradition. I think there’s a balance between innovation and tradition.” —The Lion King director Jon Favreau and cast chat with us about the visually stunning new Disney film.

Disney’s recent proclivity for making live-action films based on its animated classics reaches its technical zenith with Jon Favreau’s The Lion King (whose animated predecessor holds an impressive 4.3 out of 5 stars). Building on methods he first explored in the 2016 live-action version of The Jungle Book, Favreau has constructed a digital world comprised of the most photo-realistic animals ever rendered.

The irony is, of course, that although it’s often referred to as such, the new Lion King isn’t live action at all. Save for one individual shot, it was created entirely inside a computer. But you probably wouldn’t know that if the animals didn’t talk.

That talking is provided by a new voice cast that now better reflects the story’s setting by featuring many actors from across the African diaspora.

JD McCrary (Little) and Donald Glover (a.k.a. Childish Gambino) voice the youthful and adult versions of Simba the lion, respectively, opposite Shahadi Wright Joseph (the daughter from Us) and Beyoncé as Simba’s best friend Nala. Joseph played the same role in the long-running Broadway adaptation of The Lion King, from which the new film takes some musical and aesthetic cues.

Oscar nominee Chiwetel Ejiofor (Doctor Strange) replaces Jeremy Irons in the role of Scar, and James Earl Jones (Darth Vader himself) returns to the role of Mufasa.

Ugandan-born, German-raised actor Florence Kasumba (Black Panther)—who also appeared in the stage version of The Lion King—plays head hyena Shenzi, alongside Keegan-Michael Key (The Predator) and Eric André (Rough Night) as bickering hyena minons Kamari and Azizi.

Key and André are pretty great, but the comedic pairing in the film that is getting talked about a lot is Seth Rogen and Billy Eichner as warthog Pumba and meerkat Timon. Both are utterly hilarious.

Favreau recently got together with most of the cast (no Beyoncé, sadly) and some select press in Beverly Hills to discuss the making of the film.

On how working on The Jungle Book flowed into The Lion King: Jon Favreau (director/producer): I’ve been working on both these movies back to back for about six years. All the new technology that was available, I had finally learned how to use it by the end of Jungle Book. And at that point, with the team that we had assembled for it, all the artists. Because a lot of attention is paid to the technology, but really, these are handmade films. There are animators working on every shot, every environment that you see in the film—actually, there’s one shot that’s a real photographic shot—but everything else is built from scratch by artists. And we had a great team assembled. And then the idea of using what we learned on that and the new technologies that were available to make a story like Lion King with its great music, great characters, and great story, it seemed like a wonderful, logical conclusion. And so that was something we set out to do.

On how digital production evolved in the new film: JF: In Jungle Book, we were essentially using the same motion-capture technology for performers and cameras as had been developed ten years prior for Avatar. But towards the end of that, there was a whole slew of consumer-facing VR products that were hitting the scene. We started experimenting with it at the end of Jungle Book and realized that we could build this really cool system of filmmaking using game-engine technology. That way I could bring in people who don’t have any background in visual effects. We would design the entire environments. We took all the recordings that we had from the actors. We would animate within the game engine, in this case, it was Unity. And the crew would be able to put on the headsets, go in, scout, and actually set cameras within VR.

The effort here was to keep not just the tradition of the film and stage production that came before us, but the filmmaking tradition. Oftentimes when new technology comes online, it disrupts an industry. But with just a little bit of effort, we were able to build around the way filmmakers and film crews work. So a guy like Caleb Deschanel, a fantastic cinematographer who I’ve always wanted to work with, inviting him to do a very technically advanced film without any prior background in visual effects and just saying: hey, we’ll make it so that you could just make a movie as you would have made The Black Stallion. We would actually have cameras driven in VR space by a film crew with dollies and cranes and assistant directors, script supervisors, set dressers. So we kept the same film culture and planted it using this technology into the VR realm.

Although the film was completely animated as far as performances went, it allowed a live-action film crew to go in and use the tools they were used to. Part of what’s so beautiful about the lighting, the camera work, the shots of the film, was that we were able to inherit a whole career of experience and artistry from our fantastic team. I think that it’s nice to look at technology as an invitation for things to progress and not always something that’s going to change the way everything came before it. I think there’s a balance between innovation and tradition.

The cast of the new ‘The Lion King’.

On what excited him about the story: Donald Glover (adult Simba): Jon was really good about the circle of life having a major hand in it. I really feel that it’s good to make movies that are global and metropolitan in the sense [that we are] the citizens of the world. Like, making sure that we talk about how connected we are right now. Because it’s the first time we’ve really been able to talk to everybody at the same time. It was just, like, a necessary thing.

On getting into Scar’s head: Chiwetel Ejiofor (Scar): I felt that it was just really interesting to go into that psychology, to really try and uncover that and to look at it. I’m a huge fan of what was done before, obviously, like everybody else—Jeremy Irons—and just going back in and exploring that character again from a slightly different perspective and seeing what was there.

It’s such an incredible part to play; so complex and all of that. Having empathy—not sympathy—but empathizing with the character and trying to understand them and trying to get underneath that. And such a rich, villainous character to play. In a way as much as I—absolutely with everybody else—loved the original, you kind of make it your own and you create the sort of individuality to it in that way.

On finding a loose comedic rhythm in a digital context: Seth Rogen (Pumba): It was a lot of improvisation with Billy. We were actually together every time we recorded, which is a very rare gift to have as someone who is trying to be funny in an animated film, of which I’ve done a lot, and you’re often just alone in there. I think you can really tell that we’re playing off of each other. It’s an incredibly naturalistic feeling. They really captured Billy. That is what is amazing, I would say. He essentially played himself on a TV show for years, and this character is more Billy than that character somehow. It’s remarkable to me how his character specifically makes me laugh so hard.

Billy Eichner (Timon): I wish I was as cute in real life as I am in the movie. The Timon they designed is so adorable, and I think the juxtaposition of my personality in that little Timon body really works. And yeah. I agree with everything that Seth was saying. I can’t imagine now, looking back, not being in the room together. Being able to riff off each other and really discover our chemistry together in the same moment. You can feel it when you’re watching the movie. I had not seen the finished movie until last night and I was shocked by how much of the riffing actually ended up in the movie. I think it works. I think it feels very unique to other movies in this genre, which can often feel a bit canned.

SR: The fact that it has a looseness applied to probably the most technologically incredible movie ever made is an amazing contrast. It feels like people in a room just talking, and then it’s refined to a degree that is inconceivable in a lot of ways. That mixture is what I think is so incredible and that’s what Jon really captured in an amazing way.

On how Favreau guided their tone: Eric André (Kamari): He’s incredibly talented and really, really easy to work off of. And he is a selfless altruistic talent, which is rare. So I was in great hands with Jon. It was just a very nurturing environment and made it very easy, because I’m very, very sensitive. So the slightest wind of anything will make me tear up.

Keegan-Michael Key (Azizi): I think Jon is a great student, has an encyclopaedic knowledge of all different types of comedy. One of those pieces of knowledge is about comedic duos and the dynamic that exists between them. We had a very similar experience to Billy and Seth where we were allowed to walk around the room. It was as if we were being directed in a scene in the play. And as you said, we were all mic’d, and so everything was captured.

It was the subsequent rounds that I thought [were] interesting. Jon would get a little more technical, when I would be actually by myself. The refinement is also very fun, because we would sit there and I would have the headphones on. I would say to Jon, “We’re looking for Fibber McGee and Molly here or Abbott and Costello. What are you looking for?” He goes, “I’m actually looking for a little bit of Laurel and Hardy with an explosion at the end, but then back it up into little Apatowian for me.”

EA: With a sprinkle of Beavis and Butthead.

On the experience of going from the stage version to the film version: Florence Kasumba (Shenzi): I was lucky that I got to play the part already in Germany for more than a year. We played like eight shows a week. So Shenzi is like muscle memory, because I got to play her every day. But this Shenzi is so different. I remember in the musical, we had sometimes shows where I was embarrassed because the hyenas are so dumb and funny. They are entertaining, but this is so different, this experience, because when I listen to the dialogue, when I read them, I realized that this is way more dangerous and more serious.

I was lucky [on] my first day that I was in a black box and I was working with Eric André, and with JD. We were very physical, because the guys were so strong, it was easy for me to just be big. Because everybody is very confident, we could just really try out things. We could walk around each other. We could scare each other. We could scream, be loud, be big, be small. It’s like working in the theater, which I love. Having that freedom just made me… I was allowed to do whatever I wanted to.

‘The Lion King’ is in theaters now. Comments have been edited for clarity and length.

#the lion king #disney #circle of life #donald glover #beyonce #seth rogen #jon favreau #letterboxd

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jswdmb1 · 6 years ago

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Up On Cripple Creek

“Good luck had just stung me,

to the race track I did go.

She bet on one horse to win

and I bet on another to show”

- The Band

I am an enormous fan of horse racing and have been for a long time. I chuckled a bit at the recent “controversy” at the Kentucky Derby and at those who suggested the result was unfair. Anyone who knows anything about the sport knows that was an easy call and we have all had winners taken down for that reason (on one glorious afternoon at Arlington a couple of summers ago I had TWO winners taken down after inquiries). It’s part of a sport that needs to be carefully regulated due to the gambling involved and the danger recklessness can bring to the jockeys and horses involved. So, while the decision was clear cut, I recognize how difficult it was for the judges to do what they did in front of millions of people who probably didn’t know much more about racing than the fancy hats and mint juleps. I’m also grateful we are not talking about a catastrophe that was adverted by some skillful moves by the jockeys on the horses that were affected by the interference. All-in-all, it was the best result possible given the circumstances.

But last week’s race is not what I want to talk about today. Rather, why it is that I am such a big fan of a sport that is frankly not all that popular anymore. The truth is that there was one very special person who help me develop the bug and who I thought of immediately when the Churchill Downs objection sign went up in that race. You are probably thinking you know who it is, but I’ll give you 10-1 odds you can’t guess.....no, it’s not my dad, or an uncle or grandfather. It was a quiet woman I knew named Rita Hendren.

Rita was, and still is to the day, one of the most interesting people I have ever met. Born in 1920 to a Southern Illinois coal miner, she was the fourth child of fifteen. That is not a typo. I met thirteen of them and can vouch that it was true (two passed away as infants as unfortunately was quite common at that time). Unlike today, where coal miners are men of great wealth, it was a tough living back then (before you write me a note, that was a joke). They lived in a small house with no indoor plumbing. Then, the depression hit and things really got rough. The story I was told was that when dinner time was called you ran to the table because the competition was fierce and there wasn’t always enough for everyone. Still, Rita would talk fondly of a childhood that seemed to have plenty of good times. I know better now that she likely sugarcoated some of the details, but generally she seemed to appreciate what she had.

She also appreciated her education and graduated high school in the late 30′s. That may not impress many people these days, but a high school diploma was not an easy thing to obtain in that era, especially for a woman. I’m certain that now she would have been offered free rides to the college of her choice as she was well-read on many subjects and could speak intelligently on them all But for a career, she did what she had to do to make money and moved to Chicago where the jobs were. She eventually landed at the Sunbeam factory in Cicero where she worked for many years as a quality control inspector. But despite the blue-collar nature of her life, she spent whatever free time she had reading books and watching whatever was on WTTW. In addition, she read the Sun-Times cover to cover every day and also enjoyed music. She had this great old Zenith console stereo (her sister worked there) and played 45s all day long (lots of big band and country music). She also made the best fried chicken I have ever tasted and rarely eat it to this day because nothing I have had since then can cut it (including me trying her recipe once - I just can’t figure it out!).

While she would be reading the paper, I noticed she would linger in the sports section. Then, one day when I was at her house, she made a point to turn the TV to the old channel 26 to watch Phil Georgeff on his Hawthorne recap show. I asked her why the interest in such an odd thing. She just said that she loved watching the horses and had all her life. As I got older, I found out there was a guy at Sunbeam who booked bets (this was well before OTB’s on every corner) and she had some money down on a hot tip she got in one of the races. This did not shock or surprise me. I had been watching her rake in huge pots for years at the Christmas poker games with her brothers and she always talked about how she loved the excitement of Las Vegas the one time she had been there. I was awfully curious about how she got so good at handicapping races, but I hit my teen years and got distracted.

Then, I found out at around the age of 18 that I could bet myself on the races. I went a time or two and was pretty timid about the experience with limited success. At one point, I mentioned my trips to the track to Rita and she suggested we go together sometime. So, we planned for a nice day that spring when the Hawthorne meet started and I scraped up $20 to see what I could do with a real expert at my side. I don’t remember the exact results that day (let’s just say I didn’t get rich), but I do remember learning every in and out of how to read a race program that you would ever want to know. I came to appreciate the joy of the sport and getting to be an active participant. I know it sounds insincere, but the money doesn’t really matter. When I go to the track now, I don’t bet much more than I did then and still have tons of fun. I was given a gift of analysis that could be used in a really fun way. More importantly, it gave me insight into how this woman’s brilliant mind worked. There were times I felt bad that she was just a factory worker and didn’t get a real opportunity in life, but I realized that she was a pretty happy person despite a tough life (lots of sorrow for her came in many ways, but those stories are not for public consumption). Being around her taught me what it means to be tough and use what you’ve got and not to worry about what you don’t have.

I doubt it is much surprise that I’m talking about my grandmother (on my mom’s side). Eventually, she developed a form of dementia and the last decade or so of her life was a real struggle. That hurt me more than anything as I knew (along with many others) just how beautiful her mind was and it was tough to see her unable to use it. I never forgot, however, the lessons she taught me and the countless hours we spent talking about the news, listening to old records, or the time she talked me into ditching a class in college to meet her at old Sportsman’s Park. And, as bad as I felt for her not getting more opportunity in life, I was selfishly grateful that she didn’t. It enabled her to spend so much time with me and give me wonderful gifts like appreciating how to handicap a horse race. I look forward someday to sitting with one of my own grandkids and sharing whatever quirky knowledge I have that may be of interest. Until then, I’ll keep plugging away at my two or three times a year visit to the track and I’ll never forget who got me there in the first place.

So on this Mother’s Day, in addition to wishing my beautiful wife and wonderful Mom the most joyful of days, I want to send a special thanks to my Grandma, who I just know had a bet on the long shot Country House and was slyly smiling when he was put on top at 30-1 odds. I’m sure right now, she is using that bankroll to bluff her brothers out of another pot with a pair of fours with a glimmer in her eyes the whole time. And while I miss her a lot, it warms my heart greatly to know that she can be back doing what she loved best.

And, for all of you out there who are Moms, thank you for the special talents you have that sometimes may be overlooked, but make such a huge difference on your children’s and grandchildren’s lives. It is now more important ever that kids have strong female role models in their lives, and I was incredibly lucky to have several. You are now providing that to a new generation, and I hope you had a wonderful day with those you love and they were able to show you the appreciation you deserve.

Happy Mother’s Day,

Jim

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ylincorporations2 · 2 years ago

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trinity 22

Now I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that Trinity may have just been our best term yet. The complete and utter lack of work and the place where we got ourselves to in our relationship made for a much improved term. Dropping the fanciness, I had so much fun this term. We ended up doing so many lovely things so often that it's actually been hard for me to summarise them all. Alas, I'm gonna give it my best shot :)

A running theme throughout trinity was the weekly date night. The activities which were chosen by the host on any given night were vastly varied, but each and every one provided a lot of entertainment. At the start of term, we had the long-awaited trip out to the arboretum, where you looked absolutely stunning. Around a similar time, we decorated some gingerbread shapes and even took up the brush to emulate Bob Ross. As the gingerbread grew staler we went to the pictures, had many a meal out or in, and generally spent most, if not all, of our time together. As before, every single one of these dates were absolutely brilliant and I feel like they really made the term that extra bit special.

Talking about Trinity would be incomplete without the mention of the main event: the college ball the cheerleading cuppers. No no no before I get ahead myself I think a word on the ball is essential for a true Trinity recap. Whilst the ball itself may not have been our greatest highlight, how you looked that evening certainly was for me. You were drop dead, fantastically gorgeous and believe me when I say that I truly am the luckiest man alive. And hey, you're pretty lucky too as not many girls can say their man won her and her friends fidget spinners.

Now onto the main event; or should I say events plural! I think the 'sporting' aspect of this term was magnificent. Taking up Cheer and participating in a Cuppers tournement was genuinely so much fun. Besides the cheer, we also tried our hand at badminton. Tensions flared and tears were shed, but at the end of the day our nights up at the Brookes sports hall forged some of my fondest memories this year.

You may be thinking, whats this pretty girl (more like little terrorist) doing here? I think the best little anecdote of this term is the birth, Barberic purchase, and naming of Pippa (formerly Luna). Its carzy how much shes grown and how naughty shes become in such a short time!

At the end of term, we were fortunate enough to cheat the system and stay in Oxford for the best part of an extra week again. Included in this week was an action-packed London trip that will most likely be our craziest ever. A trip to the aquarium, a ride on the London eye, and a snippet of Priti Patel's xenophobia were all the menu for this day - what more could you possibly want! The joy of cooking a couple of nice meals for ourselves was perhaps superceded by some amazing meals out at the ramen place and, who'd have guessed it, Chiang Mai Kitchen. This final week was the cherry on top, the Zenith of an amazing term spent by your side. Once we'd gone our separate ways, I couldn't wait to see you again Treecko, lucky for us we had an equally amazing summer in store...

#Spotify

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keldae · 6 years ago

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Drastic Measures (Chapter Twenty-Two)

The sound of an incoming freighter made Sorand squint up into Tatooine’s clear blue skies, shading his eyes against the fierce burn of the twin suns. At present distance, with the freighter backlit against the horizon, he couldn’t make out any identifying features. It was only as it approached that he could make out faded green paint, accented in dark red. He frowned — that ship was familiar, as were the markings. He’d spent enough time among Shara’s clan to recognize the Mandalorian symbols adorning the hull.

With a low grunt, the young Sith turned and re-entered the caves. He blinked several times as his vision readjusted to the dim interior. Over his comms, he could already hear the crackle of the cell’s agents communicating with the pilot of the incoming freighter. Brushing his hands over his lightsaber hilt and his blaster pistol as if to make sure he still had them, Sorand decided it was time to greet the newcomer.

He arrived at the designated landing zone just as the freighter touched down softly, sign of a deft hand at the controls. While waiting for the ramp to lower, he looked over at his brother, who leaned back against the wall. The sandy-haired smuggler twirled a spare hydrospanner in his hand. “You call him?” Sorand asked.

“Nah. Maybe Lana did.” Korin frowned in thought. “I don’t think I’ve pissed him off recently… I hope…”

“Considering the last I heard of him, he was in Imperial Space,” Sorand muttered as the ramp finally lowered and a figure clad in red beskar’gam descended to the cave floor, “I don’t think he’s here for a chat with you.”

“… Great.” Korin sighed and straightened up as the Mandalorian approached. “I hope you’re right, otherwise I got some explaining to do about a pazaak match and a not-insubstantial amount of credits.”

“Why do I claim to be related to you again?” the Sith groused before turning back to the Mandalorian. “Su’cuy gar! Been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A few months, yeah.” The Mandalorian -- known to the Taerichs as Corey Black -- removed his helmet, revealing a face peppered by scars, each of varying length, depth, and age. His solemn, angular features broke into a grin behind a thick, auburn beard. “Too busy planning a rebellion to socialize, Sor’ika? I’m wounded.”

“Sorry.” Sorand shrugged. “Revolts don’t plan themselves, and the other option was leaving that twit in charge.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating a very indignant Korin.

At this, Black smirked. “The entire thing would implode on itself in a week. Or turn into a professional crime ring, hard to say.”

“I hate you both,” Korin muttered.

Sorand grinned at his brother, then looked back at Corey. “So, what brings you out this way?”

“Oh, not much. Just Acina wants me to haul your sorry shebs back to Dromund Kaas. Seems she wants a new throw rug to decorate her apartments.” Corey lazily shrugged. “Something about embezzlement, something something sheltering a Jedi and a Republic spy, something…”

“A throw rug?” The Sith frowned. “I’m a little insulted. I would have thought I at least deserve to be a tapestry.”

An impish grin played across Corey’s features. “I would have suggested a flag,” he teased. “Then they can use your hair to secure you to the pole.” He swatted at the nerftail with an armoured hand.

Sorand actually growled at that, a hand flying up to protectively guard his long hair. “She can touch my hair over my cold, dead body.”

“I think that’s her plan, actually.”

“Ah.”

There was a long moment as Sith and bounty hunter regarded each other before Corey finally clapped Sorand’s shoulder. “Room in your rebellion for one more?”

“If we didn’t, we’d make room for you.” Sorand grinned and stepped back. “C’mon; if Lana finds out you arrived and I didn’t tell her immediately, Acina won’t get the chance to turn me into a throw rug.”

“Lana’s here?” Something in Corey’s posture seemed to relax. “That’s good. Was worried about her when she went off the radar and Acina put a hit out for her.” He fell into step behind Sorand as both men approached the entrance into the rest of the base. As they passed Korin, he took advantage of the opportunity to slug the spacer in the face.

“Ow!” Korin dropped like a sack of bricks, holding the left side of his face and glaring up at the Mandalorian. “What the kriff did I do this time?!”

“I dunno. I just assume you’ve either done something I don’t know about, or I’m getting a hit in early before you pull some other stupid osik. Again.” Corey grinned as he kept walking; behind him, Sorand rolled his eyes and went to haul his brother back to his feet.

“I have to ask, vod’ika,” the Mandalorian said as the trio continued into the base, “the rumour about your Jedi sister -- was it true? What in haran happened?”

The Sith scrubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. “I swear, I should just write the entire damn story and put it up on the HoloNet so people get caught up. Remember that Jedi I was working with during the Ziost crisis…?”

The Red Light sector of Nar Shaddaa had a rough reputation, even by the standards of the city-moon. Such a reputation seemed to keep most Zakuulans at a safe distance from the deeper, darker areas of the sector. Despite this, rumours circulated wildly that the Eternal Throne was planning a purge of it, Quesh, and the several other more crime-ridden areas of the galaxy, such as the Black Sun and Justicar Sectors on Coruscant. Good luck to them, Reanden thought with a derisive snort. The Hutts would fight with the proverbial tooth and nail to protect their own interests.

Still, he cast a glance toward the sky as he and Kothe made their way down a narrow alleyway, both spies trying to not breathe too deeply. “Mind your step,” Kothe warned as he picked his way through the rubble. “They haven’t fully cleaned up down here from the sewage backup a few weeks ago.”

“Delightful,” Reanden sarcastically muttered. “The Hutts gave up on this sector entirely?”

“Not quite. That backup was deliberate.” Kothe glanced back at Reanden as he kept walking. “Did its job in keeping the Zaks from poking their noses in too deep.”

The former Imperial spy grimaced. “Which dumbass came up with that idea?”

“Korin.” The former Jedi looked back again, a grin pulling at his face. “The kid’s insane, Legate. Definitely yours.”

Reanden sighed as he followed Kothe down the alley. “Great. I’m so proud of him,” he deadpanned.

The two spies made their way down to a rusty door, flanked by flickering holo signs advertising stims of questionable repute. Kothe tapped a sharp code against the door, waited a few seconds, then tapped a second code. Moments later, the door cracked open. “Did you bring drinks? I’m surprisingly not picky after this week.”

“Sorry, Gault. Didn’t exactly have time to stop by the cantina after picking up this moron.” Ignoring Reanden’s glare, Kothe waved his hand, using the Force to open the door enough for entry. “Kaliyo and Vette are probably going to be late.”

“So, who’d you piss off, old timer?” The Devaronian currently going by the name of Gault Rennow grinned as he stepped back, allowing the two spies into the hideout.

“A bunch of envious Zakuulans who know a good ship when they see one.” Reanden shot Gault a warning look. “You’re still not allowed to touch my baby, Tyresius.”

“The name is Gault. And you’re no fun,” Gault complained as he closed the door. “Hylo’s been waitin’ for you two. Seems she’s had an update from the storm system about that Jedi and Spy-Boy Junior.”

“You’ve saved your remaining horn from being busted off,” Reanden muttered as he hurried down the corridor, Kothe a step behind him. In truth, while Gault could get under his skin masterfully, the possibility of an update on his daughter made him anxious for the news. He’d been in contact with the Nar Shaddaa resistance cell enough to know his way through the hideout. Still, he frowned as he walked through the condemned apartment. “I thought Zenith was still here.”

“He was -- until he decided to leave off with Korin for Tatooine. After what happened to the Balmorra cell, Zenith’s understandably paranoid — keeps moving almost as much as the Shan kid does. Or your daughter.” Kothe paused to raise an eyebrow at Reanden. “You sure Xaja Taerich’s your kid? Times I’ve encountered her, she’s been too nice and friendly to be related to you.”

Reanden just made a rude gesture at Kothe as the two spies entered the centre of the hideout and earned a grin for his trouble. Their footsteps drew the attention of the middle-aged Mirialan woman bending over a computer terminal. She straightened with an audible sigh of relief. “I was beginning to wonder if you two old bastards would ever show up. You get lost, Kothe?”

“That happened once,” Kothe growled as Reanden smirked. “What do you have for us?”

“Just got off a call with the cell contacts and Thunder,” Hylo answered as she flopped down. The worn chair creaked under what was a minimal strain. “You might wanna take a seat, this could take a while.”

“Then give us the short version,” Reanden said as he mirrored her action. “What the Hells is going on? I’ve been out of contact for the last day and a half, and Kothe doesn’t have all the information I want.”

“Even the short version’s gonna take a while, Agent.” Hylo ran a hand through her hair as she leaned back, balancing precariously on the back two legs of the chair. “Zaks are gettin’ more snoopy than usual, as you just found out. Imperius —”

The rumble of a furious Wookiee made Reanden twist in his chair, eyebrows rising to his hairline. “Oh yeah,” Hylo said as heavy footsteps approached the room, “we got a new pair in. They said they know you and Master Taerich; figured you’d wanna verify ‘em anyway.”

“That would be—” Reanden blinked as the Wookiee lumbered into the meeting room. The first impression of the shadowy silhouette gave the illusion that he had two extra, remarkably hairless arms. When the Wookiee stepped into clearer vision, however, Reanden could recognize the half-assembled droid attached to the furry chest. “Dee-Four,” the old agent said, surprise colouring his voice. “You’re looking remarkably more intact.”

“This barbarian has been making me earn my limbs back!” the droid furiously exclaimed. “And then taking them away again! I was almost complete a couple of months ago!”

“You karked up translating on purpose!” the Wookiee retorted. “And got us shot at!”

“I I had my legs, I would assuredly kick you,” C2-D4 complained. “Queen Lina of Onderon would never have taunted me like this!”

“Of course not,” Reanden smoothly interjected, inwardly wondering if the illustrious Queen Lina wouldn’t have disassembled the droid on her own. She had a reputation for being direct and impatient, herself. “Jakarro, I didn’t know you two were involved with the resistance.”

“Where else would we be? We haven’t had a good adventure since the Revanites!” Jakarro took a seat on a table that creaked precariously under his and Dee-Four’s combined weights. “Besides, the Zakuulans interfere too much with our shipping enterprises.”

“And the Skytroopers,” Dee-Four added. “Ugh. So unnatural, and with less personality than a loader droid. The galaxy will be better off without them. Is it true they killed Master Xaja?”

“No, but they came damn close,” Reanden muttered. He turned and nodded at Hylo. “Yes, I know them.”

“Is there anyone in the galaxy you don’t know?” Kothe asked with a raised eyebrow.

Reanden had to think about that. “There’s probably some little street urchin or two in this system I haven’t met yet…”

“Spies are social flutterplumes. Got it.” Hylo looked down at her datapad. “Hookay. Imperius is on Tatooine, joined forces with Cap’n Korin after he took down the Star Fortress bunker tower there.”

Kothe’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s no small feat.” He glanced over at Reanden. “I have to admit, your boys are impressive.”

“Damn straight they are,” Reanden beamed a bit before looking at Hylo. He leaned against the table. “Any word on Master Taerich or Agent Shan?”

“Reports indicate they’re safe and sound for now, having landed on Dantooine with Master Shan,” Hylo answered. A knot of tension in Reanden’s chest loosened as the smuggler continued talking. “That cell’s on high alert, though, and from the sounds of it they aren’t going to be staying around long. Right now they’re—”

“With the Jedi?” Kaliyo strolled into the room, Vette and Gault right behind her. “I’d almost rather still be on the run.” She nodded at Reanden. “Your baby’s fine. SCORPIO has her sealed up like a vault. I’d be careful though — the Zaks are still crawling around the spaceport looking for you.”

“I’ve never sympathized more with paparazzi-hounded celebrities in my life,” the former Imperial muttered. “Good seeing you two alive and intact after all that.”

“You too, old timer.” Vette hopped up on another table and gave Jakarro an affectionate nudge with her shoulder. “What are we missing?”

Hylo scowled up at the ceiling. “Okay, one more time, from the top without anyone else interrupting: Master Taerich and Agent Shan are on Dantooine. Darth Imperius is on the run from the Empire, and last update puts him on Tatooine. Captain Korin attacked and took down the Star Fortress tower there, but the Zaks haven’t retaliated yet. Doc Kimble’s safe on Alderaan, and so’s Supreme Commander Malcom after he quit his job —”

Kothe’s jaw dropped. “Malcom did what?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what Thunder said. Apparently he’s Agent Shan’s biological dad, or so he’s claiming.” Hylo shrugged. “Seems the sly old fox found a stray Zak Knight who made friends with Master Shan. She’s cooperating with the cell there, while Lord Beniko arrived on Tatooine with another Zak defector and his buddies. Uhhhh, think that’s about it?”

“That’s it, she says,” Reanden muttered as he shook his head. He would have to try reaching out to SIS headquarters through back channels and see what Marcus Trant knew about these developments. “Trivial, really.”

“So the other cells are actively doing things,” Jakarro growled. “Why are we sitting around?”

“Because you pissed off half the Zakuulan garrison in the Star Fortress,” Hylo snapped at the Wookiee, “and the old man over here pissed off the other half! Thunder’s orders are recon only for the Star Fortress bunker here, and that’s provided we can find the stupid thing.”

“A bunker like that has to have its own independent power supply off the Nar Shaddaa grid,” Reanden mused. “Do we have a ballpark area of where it might be?”

“As far as my agents can determine, it’s somewhere in this sector,” Kothe spoke up. “Let’s see if we can figure out a way to knock it out of commission without the Zaks getting up our asses or killing people. If Zakuul is distracted by Tatooine, we might have a shot at this.”

It was some time later when Xaja and Kira returned to the main parts of the Enclave. A pretty human Jedi with a long braid of auburn hair directed them to a chamber where Master Satele was waiting, along with Theron and a handful of other people milling about. Xaja spared a glance and a smile to the Nautolan male who bowed in her direction, frustrated that she could not remember his name. He was Master Orgus’ Padawan before me, she thought. Why the Hells can’t I remember his name? Next to him was a tall Zabrak in armour that was once bronze, the surface marred with deep scrapes and gauges. She acknowledged him with a nod before her eyes settled on the tall, muscular human male beside Theron, capped with dreadlocks. He wore a long duster that stopped just below the top of his boots, a blaster rifle strapped to his back. A grin settled over her features with recognition. “Good to see you, Corso.”

“Nice seein’ you too, Master T.” Corso Riggs, first mate and friend to the scandalous Captain Korin Taerich, still managed to blush when Xaja talked to him. “It’s good havin’ you back around. Ain’t that right, Guss?”

“You betcha!” The Mon Calamari a couple of paces off waved. “Galaxy’s been a darker an’ colder place without you around, Master Xaja.”

Can’t have been darker and colder than carbonite, Xaja thought to herself, and shuddered at the memory of being thrown into the chamber before slipping her hand into Theron’s. She took comfort in his warmth, and the way he gently nuzzled her hair and squeezed her fingers. Leaning into his shoulder and looking around, she blinked at a familiar pair of montrals visible over everyone else’s heads. “Ashara?” she softly asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Kira nodded. “Apparently after the siege over Dromund Kaas lifted, a few Imps decided the ‘impurity’ of the Empire was to blame for their loss, so they started going after everyone who wasn’t human or Sith. Your brother sent Ashara here after folks tried to kill her twice — and I’m not sure how his other apprentice didn’t get murdered.”

“Because Xalek is straight-up terrifying,” Theron muttered, and Xaja smirked as she nodded in agreement.

Kira grinned. “Yeah, point. Ashara’s a good kid though, even with that Sith influence. Your brother pretty much let her keep her Jedi traditions intact.” Her expression grew slightly more sombre and she inclined her head as Master Satele approached the trio. “Master.”

Satele nodded at Kira and offered a small smile before her attention shifted back to Theron and Xaja. “Come. We need to discuss your options moving forward.”

“You think we’re not safe here?” Xaja asked, frowning worriedly.

“I fear you’re not safe anywhere,” Satele murmured as she lead them to an alcove in the cave wall. Kira accompanied them, never more than a couple of feet from Xaja’s side; Corso and Ashara made their way over moments later.

Once everyone was settled down, Satele spoke again, bypassing formalities and pleasantries entirely. “What are the latest updates from the Storm network?”

“Got a report that the cell on Tatooine landed a good hit against the Zaks by attackin’ the Star Fortress tower there,” Corso spoke up. “Cap’n Korin reported in — all systems are good, although he’s a little spooked that the Zaks haven’t tried retaliatin’ yet.”

“Probably because the Zakuulans are too focused on us to look anywhere else,” Theron muttered. He slipped an arm around Xaja’s thin shoulders. “On one hand, it sucks being the galaxy’s most wanted. On the other, I guess it’s good for the resistance to get stuff done.”

Corso nodded. “Word on the street is that Imperius made contact with the Tatooine cell an’ is hiding from the Empire, along with Shara Verhayc. Acina wants his head for stealin’ a ton a’ credits from the Empire an’ pullin’ a runner. Cipher Nine’s reported to have made it to another cell too, but no data on where he is, just that he obviously ain’t here with you.”

“Does the resistance know where we are?” Xaja asked.

“Yep. And Thunder’s the happiest we’ve ever seen ‘em about it, Master T.” The former farmboy gave a knowing smile. “We also picked up a couple of stray Zaks who apparently ain’t too fond of their Emperor, either.”

“Defector Zakuulans?” Ashara blinked. “Aren’t the Zaks supposed to be fervently loyal to the Eternal Throne?”

Corso shrugged. “Dunno. Apparently there’s an entire crew of Zak soldiers who jumped ship, an’ their captain’s runnin’ around with Lana —”

“Wait.” Theron straightened up. “Lana Beniko?”

“Unless there’s another scary-lookin’ blonde Sith lady who’d admit to bein’ friends with a Jedi, yep.” Corso looked back to Master Satele. “An’ that’s all that’s come in on the network.”

Satele nodded as she absorbed in the information. “Thank you, Corso.” She sat back, looking around the small council. “While Agent Theron and Master Xaja have friends scattered across the galaxy, both as independent agents and formally with the resistance, there’s more people seeking them for their own reasons. I assume everyone knows of the bounty on their heads?”

“Half a million credits each, just for information.” Kira shook her head. “Arcann really wants you two back, apparently.”

“Arcann needs to get used to rejection,” Xaja muttered, and was rewarded with a couple of smirks.

“There have already been some serious -- and close -- attempts to collect on those bounties,” Satele continued. “Half of Raider’s Cove on Rishi, and possibly someone on Dromund Kaas.”

“Got confirmation about the traitor in Kaas City,” Corso interjected. “Verhayc commed in privately to say one of her crew figured out Doc Kimble was there, then put two an’ two together, calling in the Zaks for the credits. Good news is that Skadge didn’t live long enough to regret that.”

“Did she kill him?” Ashara asked. The Force flickered around her with something cold and dark that hinted at an old, deeply-ingrained hatred for the named person.

“Imperius took care of it on his way out.” Corso suddenly frowned. “Which reminds me: Old Man Nine put out a warnin’ on another channel couple of days back that the Wrath might be in on the hunt too, for unnamed personal reasons. We’ll all have to keep an eye out for that nutjob.”

“Calling the Wrath a nutjob is an insult to nutjobs everywhere,” Ashara muttered, shuddering. “And sells his brand of crazy far too short.”

“Enough,” Satele interjected. “When I spoke to him, Cipher Nine seemed to think that the Wrath would be looking for him or Imperius more than he would for Theron and Xaja, which only leaves us with the problem of Arcann and every bounty hunter in the galaxy.”

“Trifling problems,” Kira dryly said.

“Trifling problems with the entire Eternal Fleet involved.” Satele steepled her fingers in front of her, frowning. “I don’t think that we were followed from Voss — Cipher Nine was attempting to keep the Zakuulan ships away from me, and their attention focused on him as we were escaping. But I’m hardly an expert in tracking ships, and the Zakuulans seem to be much more advanced in that regard.” She looked over at Theron and Xaja, a note of clear pity in her eyes. “For your safety, it’s best if you keep moving -- stay one step ahead of the Zakuulans, if you can.”

Xaja had already suspected that would be the answer, but it didn’t mean she wanted to hear it. She sighed, feeling Theron's arm around her shoulder tighten. “We know,” she quietly acknowledged. “Any good options for us to go next?”

“I wouldn’t recommend Corellia,” Kira said. “Not only is it too close to Coruscant, but Saresh has agents all through Coronet, and the Corellian rebels keep the Zaks stirred into a constant swarm. The Green Jedi might protect you if you can get to the Enclave, but they’ve already got their hands full.”

Corso nodded in agreement. “Alderaan might work for ya though. It’s still Republic, but with the Supreme Commander going way back with the Organas, the ol’ green witch hasn’t been able to manage too tight a hold there.”

Theron went alert at that. “Wait, if Malcom’s there, doesn’t that mean Saresh has people there?”

“Oh, ya didn’t hear?” Corso grinned. “Guess ya have been outta touch for a while,” he said. “Seems Malcom told Saresh to kriff a Hutt and quit. He’s been hangin’ around Organa Castle, and a bunch of his folks followed. Now there’s a whole lot of ‘em there, all loyal to him instead of Saresh. She’d probably be goin’ after him, but the Organas won’t let her people onto their territory.” His grin widened. “Been fun to watch.”

“Malcom told Saresh off and quit?” A streak of pure, almost-childish glee tore through Theron’s Force-signature before he could temper it. “That is the best news I’ve heard all day.” To his right, Satele appeared a little bit surprised by Corso’s news, although she kept her reaction limited to a widening of her eyes.

“Him an’ all of Havoc Squad, among others.” Corso grinned. “Dunno if he’s joined the resistance yet, himself, but he’s been encouragin’ his troops to join up, from what I’m hearin’.”

“Alderaan might be a good option then,” Xaja mused as she looked up at Theron. The feeling of delighted glee had toned itself down, although she could still sense some sort of emotional turbulence within him. It was clearly connected to Commander Malcom. Malcom? she silently asked through the bond.

Theron hesitated before responding, pursing his lips, a crease between his brows. He gave a heavy sigh. Father.

Xaja blinked. Father? she echoed. The Supreme Commander was too… too rough, too burly, too grizzled of a war veteran and soldier; the idea of him as a father --

Her mind screeched to a halt. Wait, that means… Her gaze darted over to Satele, then back at Theron, working through what she knew of the biological connections. The Supreme Commander and the Grand Master …? No wonder Theron had never identified his birth father — he developed enough insecurities as the son of one legendary parent, forget two. Even if you don’t need to be a legend for me, she silently thought as she slipped her arm around Theron’s waist and lightly squeezed. A soft burst of relief swept through her, and Theron lightly leaned against her.

The conversation had gone on while Xaja had processed the information of Theron’s connection to Malcom. “I can get in contact with the cell leader on Alderaan,” Corso was saying. “He’s Imperial, but a good person; got no issues with Jedi or Republic folks. Think he used to be a diplomat, back in the day.”

“Do that,” Satele said with a nod. “If he doesn’t answer, I’ll simply take Theron and Xaja to Alderaan with me in the morning. Otherwise, we’ll coordinate with him and —”

A deafening crash overhead brought the revered Jedi to an abrupt stop. Ominous booms eched through the caverns,a phenomenon with which the Jedi were already too familiar. Anticipation mingled with fear around her as Xaja jumped to her feet, looking up in the direction of the surface. Cries began to reverberate against the solid walls and she frowned as she spoke: “I don’t think we have until morning, Master.”

#drastic measures #theron/xaja #cliffhanger #DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUN #showing off Corey's true colours #he's totally known Clan Taerich for YEARS at this point #and totally set him up with Shara #Reanden and Kothe wound up being friends of a sort #and they bond over picking on each other #entering Jakarro and DeeFour!#you know they should have been in KOTFE #and the truth about Theron's parentage comes out #Xaja just realized who her future FIL is #noooooo pressure #shit's getting REAL #mwahahahahaha #also you know Theron is GLEEFUL that his dad told off Saresh and quit

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dallasareaopinion · 4 years ago

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Billy, we did start the fire

And yes specifically the ones burning down our country right now.

Decades of greed, indifference, pretentiousness, ignorance, selfishness, hypocrisy all add up over time.

I say I want to be positive, but quite frankly since the 1950′s we just haven’t cut muster. And the current fire didn’t get started over night. We have been adding fuel during this whole time.

Racism is a byproduct of ignorance. And ignorance is a by product of indifference. And indifference is a by product of selfishness, so you can begin to comprehend how we evolved into this mess. Throw in a dash of wealth inequality, income inequality, deteriorating morals, apathy, disenfranchisement, elitism, and the recipe for disaster grows.

We didn’t have to be burning down this country. We had every opportunity to actually be the country we always say we are. In the 1960′s we put a man on the moon. In the 1950′s we simultaneously began integration and a whole new batch of racism. We liked Ike. We liked rock n roll. We hated communism. We loved cars. And people loved making money from oil.

We chose to let the military industrial complex take over, even though we were warned, well barely.

And the older generation of the 1950′s just wanted to rest and who is to blame them. They had been through two world wars and a depression. Most people’s life expectancy was still in the 60′s. The generation that came to retirement in the 1950′s were ready to retire and then they passed away. The next generation was the first generation to have it all, but they didn’t.

The middle class or the white middle class of the 50′s then 60′s reached a zenith no other culture had in the history of the world. The middle class was truly something to be reckoned with and somehow or another things went south. It took 60 years, but now we see the cracks opening up and laying bare where we let ourselves lose what we once had.

The working class now is service industry minimum wage plus earners with no future, no education, no healthcare, no way to build wealth, living less than paycheck to paycheck, and being used and abused by people who have absolutely no respect for the human race or condition, sometimes referred to as the one percenters. Yet, it isn’t just the uber rich that destroyed the working and middle class in America.

The two political parties have danced around a myriad of promises that never materialize acting like they are the only ones that can solve their problems all the while adding to them year after year.

Take for example the food stamp program. In some ways this should be a Christian led public policy initiative. Instead it is a handout by Democrats acting like they are fighting a war on poverty. This is one big sham. The Democrats do not have a clue on how to fight a war on poverty no matter what they say. If they had a clue inner cities wouldn’t be war zones, people wouldn’t be obese and starving at the same time. Diabetes and other health problems wouldn’t dominate medicaid spending. There is no program to help the poor, there is only crumbs thrown at them to buy their votes. And the concept of opportunity for them is so far removed it isn’t even a concept.

And then there is the lie of the American Dream the previous version of the Republican party use to sell. The American Dream was burnt down in the 1970′s as corporations began running our government. Over time the dream has been held up as a carrot, yet while the middle class chased it they didn’t realize the infrastructure of stability was eroding around the edges till now you can fall off a precipice if one event goes wrong such as cancer or extended job loss. Yet people kept chasing the dream until Fox News came along and sold the fear of losing it. It was already lost, but now we get prepackaged hate sold alongside pillows all the while the elites are taking every last vestige of the American soul and sending us all to hell.

So with a blind eye we, the people, wonder what happened. Every problem we have is manufactured by someone else taking advantage of large swaths of the country’s inability to think critically. I looked it up and in many studies we have one of the greatest education systems in the world, yet we are 38th in math scores and 24th in science as of 2018. The same article I got this information from didn’t even touch reading comprehension. So how can we make practical decisions if we cannot get practical learning? How does a country with the greatest or second greatest education system fall so far down the rankings?

Or how about wealth? One article I read said by 2021 the one percent would own 70% of the wealth. And in case you haven’t noticed that is 6 months away. What gives? And that follows that just a few short years ago, the one percent and the middle class had about the same amount of wealth. How can this devolve in less than five years? And first of all it shouldn’t have been that close.

And healthcare? That is so mixed up you cannot find any consistency in articles about where that stands for most Americans. It is expensive, no one understands what is happening, and worst of all, now some healthcare workers are being denied benefits even though they are getting Covid 19 while on the job. Yea, corporate profits sure look good, but forget about the workers that got it for them. In the late 1800s workers were being shot for fighting for basic rights in a job. Now workers cannot even do their job without being exposed to insults, crazed people that somehow think their rights are taken away when asked to show common courtesy, being shot by their customers for trying to help them, how far exactly have we come.

Yet for all this madness above we will wake up tomorrow and we are still the United States of America. The vast majority of people are hard working, caring, fun loving, want some sense of a moral compass and would love leadership that has a clue about what to do for tomorrow. And this has nothing to do with race, creed, color or political affiliation. This is something all Americans want. So why is the country burning and why cannot we find Americans to step up.

Occasionally we have someone like William McRaven who says that our greatest national security threat is our education system. He is right, but what follow up is there. He is retired. And even though the Federal government is not the primary source for education, federal spending on education is going down about 3% a year. Add that to local budgets are strapped even before 2020 so where does the difference come from? And how can you improve with the financial decline?

And most news articles report what he says and then move on. And the press is going to move on, it is part of what they do. It is up to us to read this and do something, yet instead of more follow up about what he said we crave to hear more and more about some couple in Missouri who posed for the cameras with their guns on their front lawn. Why, because we consume the crazy. The rational is boring even for all those fun loving, caring, hard working people who need it. What benefits us the most, we ignore. And yet again, we are the United States and can still turn this around and continue to be something special on the world stage. Right now we have a bit of work cut out for us so we need to act, but if we do, then life will get better. Hopefully after this fire, when we clean out the ashes and embers, when the scorched earth is laid bare, we replant with more care and grow a stronger and more vibrant country that is more inclusive, more generous, more understanding that we all share this country and this world.

So many people do so many wonderful things on a day in day out basis, but why that doesn’t filter up I do not know.

There is no one “ism” that is the problem, the problem is when we let the “isms” define us. We need to define what we do. We need to tear down our inhibitions and reach out and then work to find the best solution to whatever the problem of the day happens to be. Once the people redefine the priorities the whole of the country benefits. The rich, the poor, the middle, the sick, the healthy, the old, the young, all the colors, etc are all people. And all the people should benefit. This isn’t rocket science, it is straight forward respect for each other. And that respect is what can take us galactic distances.

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drabblemeister · 7 years ago

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Carnival Confessions

Pairing: JayTim Event: JayTimWeek Summer 2017 Summary: Wherein Jason is a nervous, lovesick mess and Tim is clueless. Notes: I’M A WEEK LATE; forgive me ;__;

“Tonight is perfect,” Jason admitted, just as the ferris wheel carriage reached its zenith. After all, the moon was full and the stars were bright, and the neon haze below made him feel giddy. His gaze slid to the other side of the cart and he shoved forward a drooping bouquet of wildflowers, wilted from the motorcycle ride.

Against his ribs, his heart jack-hammered.

“It’s perfect...because of you,” he breathed, swallowing thickly right after the confession. It was a moment of truth. His palms were sticky. His throat had gone dry. He ached...and then he groaned just before unceremoniously crumpling backwards, causing the carriage to tip sideways and creak under the sudden shift of weight.

The bench across from him was, of course, empty.

Had Timothy Jackson Drake actually been sitting there, Jason would have undoubtedly taken a swan-dive from the cart and disappeared into the crowds below. A man’s pride could only take so much in a ten minute period, and confessing to someone like Tim seemed like a surefire way to throw your heart into a blender.

After all, Tim was calm. Streamlined. Kind of nerdy, but that I’ve-got-my-shit-together type, which spoke to Jason’s nerdiness on an elevated level. But also, Tim was unaccessible.

Always working.

Always on patrol.

Always texting.

“Well?” he asked, eyeing the bouquet in his hand for advice. “What do you think? He loves me, he loves me not?”

They stared at him. Jason stared back.

One daisy wilted further.

“Uggggggh,” Jason dropped his hand, unintentionally letting the flowers slap against the seat.

When the ride ended and the cart door opened, the elderly attendant stepped forward to help only to pause abruptly.

“Sir?” he asked.

From his collapsed position on the bench, Jason simply lifted his wrist. The flowers made a sad sound. Jason sighed.

He felt pathetic and he hadn’t even been rejected yet.

Jason thought about giving up. Trying a different time. Trying a different person. But the attendant’s hand came forward as he took a step inside the carriage; he saw the weeping flowers, the far-away, love-lost look in Jason’s eyes.

Maybe he sees himself, Jason thought. Did he once try to woo a lover in a ferris wheel?

The old man said, very seriously, “Son. You need to get off.”

Jason sighed.

The carnival was a fun and terrible place, both swathed in neon lights and swarming with children. The smell of cotton candy tangled with the gritty scent of charred meat. A sign listing Deep Fried Oreos made Jason question the future of humanity. A man dangling upside-down from a bungee cord reminded him of Bruce.

Standing in the middle of it all, he felt like a still-image lost in the frenetic energy.

This was such a stupid idea, he thought.

From behind him, Tim asked, “Jason?”

Startled cats in Youtube videos had more grace than Jason; spooked kittens springing five feet high and into a wall, more finesse. Jason didn’t clear five feet, but he did stumble into a trash can; he managed to catch its rim with his hand before it went tumbling over and in a last ditch effort to look cool, attempted to lean against it. His hand slipped however, and he would have gone toppling if Tim hadn’t caught his arm and righted him.

“Wow,” Tim asked, amused, just before wrapping his lips around a straw and taking a swig of something that smelled profoundly of lemon. “Are you okay?”

Jason was not okay, a point further proven by the fact he replied, “Now that you’re here.”

The straw fell from Tim’s mouth and he folded his lips together and it was the type of look that clearly asked, is that so?

“I mean,” Jason pointed out, “you obviously just saved me from throwing myself in the trash.”

At that, Tim did laugh and he dragged a hand back through his hair, the cool condensation from his drink clumping his bangs together with damp. His eyes had a way of catching light, and he looked effortlessly casual – with an emphasis on no effort. A too-big t-shirt hung loose over his torso, boasting a collage of video game controllers with a line of text that read Choose Your Weapon. His jeans were old, worn, and tight. Smudged canvas sneakers and a denim pack completed the look, which Jason wondered, briefly, was a disguise for Timothy Drake-Wayne.

No one would ever put two-and-two together.

“How would you bring me to my knees?” Tim asked, and for a moment, Jason thought he’d died and ended up in some alternate universe where his deepest, darkest fantasies could be brought to life.

But when Tim held out his shirt with his free hand, stared down at it and added, “Maybe you could beat me at SNES…” Jason felt a small well of despair.

He said, “You already know my weapon of choice.”

And Tim, pausing only for a beat, ducked his head and delivered a smooth smile. When he lifted his hand, he did so to poke a finger gun against Jason’s shirt, right above his heart.

“Bam,” Tim said, his lips rolling the B.

For a moment, Jason thought his heart might actually stop.

Then, “Why are you holding a bunch of weeds?”

It took a moment to process the question.

Why was Jason holding a bunch of weeds? He looked down and saw that he was still clutching the bouquet he’d finagled, only most of the flowers had lost their zest for life trying to co-exist with his secondhand embarrassment.

Abruptly, Jason whirled around and jammed them into the trash can he’d offended earlier and wished upon a shooting satellite.

Throw me a freaking bone…!

“Are you okay?” Tim asked, coming around to stand in front of him. His eyes darted to the weeds and back up, until a sudden seriousness invaded his otherwise laid-back appearance. “Is this an Ivy thing? Is that why –”

“What?” Jason asked, trying to connect the dots.

The flowers. Well, flower stems. Him running into trash cans. The fact he probably looked like he was going into cardiac arrest every two minutes.

For a moment, Jason thought about taking the excuse and running with it.

Ivy, he thought. Yes. A toxin. That’s exactly what’s going on.

How easy would it be to just pretend?

“I’ve got some triamcinolone,” Tim said, attention darting towards the front gate, eyes searching the parking lot beyond.

Jason frowned. “...you keep Kenalog shots in your car.”

Tim gave him a look like that was the least incriminating item anyone could hope to find.

“It’s not an Ivy thing,” Jason stated. He sighed, somewhat dejected. No ploy was worth one of those shots, especially when there was nothing wrong with him.

Tim looked suspicious.

“It’s just been a long day.”

Tim’s eyes darted to the ‘weeds’ once again and Jason simply shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

And really, it was.

“Long days, long stories…” Tim said to him, eyes squinting playfully as his gaze wandered the area, taking in the sights around them. When he glanced back, he seemed resolved. “Wanna make it a long night?”

The alternate reality speaks again, Jason thought.

The crowd was a tangled mess, and as Tim took a few steps backwards and into the fray, Jason marveled at how much come hither radiated from those eyes.

“I’ll kick your butt at the ring toss,” Tim promised.

“Like hell,” Jason said, and before he knew it, he was Tim’s shadow, trailing him through the colorful throng, chasing him beneath tapered flags and string lights, the sound of the world one big hushed lull of roller coaster shouts, bubbling laughter, and carousel chords that somehow echoed.

Tim wasn’t very good at the ring toss.

Jason wasn’t much better.

Jason was a better loser, though. Tim approached everything like a math problem, lips pursed like there was a formula, like the guy handing them the rings hadn’t rigged it. Everything was rigged at carnivals – didn’t Tim know?

They went on a ride that spun high and in circles and tripped over their feet trying to get to the exit. For all their jumping and rappelling off buildings, they weren’t used to the twirling. Tim laughed and braced himself against gate, looking flushed.

“My parents hated carnivals,” he admitted. “They always thought the rides would break. That I’d die on the teacups.”

Jason thought that was funny.

The next game involved Tim and Jason sharp-shooting water guns, teeth grit and eyes glued to chipped, plastic racehorses that made short, staccato jolts towards the finish line. Jason said he was a shoe-in, given his occupation. Tim said it was about water pressure, not experience.

An eight year old girl beat them both.

The basketball booths were open, and Jason and Tim played until they beat the high scores on each of their machines. It wasn’t that much work, but they both were damp with sweat. It was a hot night and exhaust plumed from food vendors.

They decided to get lost in the House of Mirrors. Tim asked Jason five times, “Does this mirror make me look fat?”

Jason’s answer, each time, was, “Yes.”

As they wandered the lot, they passed a dart-throwing booth. A man was arguing with the worker, saying it was rigged.

All the games are rigged, Jason thought.

“I bet you could do it,” Tim said, and it was startling in that it wasn’t a challenge. When Jason glanced at Tim, he was eyeing the board, probably calculating the distance, the arcs, anything math could piece together in his head.

It was weird how the intensity in Tim’s eyes made Jason feel that yeah, he totally could.

So he did.

He noticed little things between shots; minor details that made it apparent that whatever this was, it went deeper than a crush. Like the way Tim stood, completely relaxed, head tilted sideways as he watched the worker collect darts from the board. He kept his hands in his pockets, one leg kicked up behind him, and when he noticed Jason staring he simply grinned.

No doubt.

None.

Not that Jason doubted himself; hell, he was a king at darts, and this was pie.

Afterwards, the worker looked grateful. The man who’d been bugging him sauntered off after tossing a red solo cup into a trash can.

Jason felt smug.

And then Tim asked if they could go on the ferris wheel.

The moon was full and the stars were bright and the old man attendant gave Jason a wry, disapproving look. It probably had less to do with recognizing Jason from before and more to do with the fact it took all three of them – the old man, Tim, and Jason, to wedge the six foot tall teddy bear Jason’d won at the dart booth into the carriage.

When the ferris wheel finally moved, the cart crooned as it rocked back and forth.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked, because Tim was practically radiating.

“Snapchat,” Tim replied, holding his phone up to take a picture. The bear took up the entire bench, and it’s head was half-squashed by the canopy.

Tim’s knee bumped Jason’s and he held his phone out to share the picture.

It was ridiculous.

Tim typed out a caption and arched forward so that he could jam his phone into his back pocket, which caused his and Jason’s arms to brush. When he got seated again, he sighed.

“Tonight is perfect,” he said, sounding content.

The sentiment sounded familiar.

It was late; most of the families had left, ushering the younger kids home to sleep. The ferris wheel seemed empty and quiet, and Jason watched Tim look longingly over the park, wondering if he’d ever been on a ferris wheel before.

Jason snorted. The thought itself was sacrilege.

“I was really excited when you invited me out,” Tim said, though he kept his eyes on the carnival lights, which flickered and flashed below. “It’s times like this that I think...is this what it feels like to be normal?”

For a moment, Jason saw Tim in a different light. It was a split second of time, caught between blinks, when he imagined Tim and normalcy; a Tim who hadn’t idolized Robin as a kid, who hadn’t taken on a cape, who had simply grown up; and maybe they would have met, and maybe Jason would have offered to sneak him in – dared him, because rich kids don’t take offers from teenagers that steal tires; what it would have been like to take Timon the teacups, to have swindled some cotton candy, to have abandoned Tim in the House of Mirrors, arms crossed outside, grinning smugly while looking at his watch.

He could almost imagine Tim’s face in that moment, lips pursed and fuming, and it was something else; Jason was sure he would have fallen for Tim then, too.

“What?” Tim asked. He was looking at Jason, an eyebrow raised. He even wiped at his face, as though he might have something smeared on his cheek.

“I’m just trying to imagine what it’s like going your whole life not having gone to a carnival.”

“Depressing,” Tim supplied.

Jason leaned backward, stretching his arms back, letting them rest along the rim of the carriage. “You’re not allowed to be depressed when someone’s won you a giant teddy bear.”

At that, Tim laughed. Then he realized Jason was serious.

“No. No way. Jason, it won’t fit in my car.”

“Did you just call Mr. Fuzzlesworth an it? Oh my god,” Jason glanced up at the bear, who had no visible eyes because they were wedged up against the ceiling. “Don’t listen to him,” he advised.

“Jason!” Tim said. “I’m being serious!”

“Well, I drove my bike, so…”

“So…?”

“Do you hear that, Mr. Fuzzlesworth? His first trip to the carnival and he doesn’t even want you. Room for Kenalog shots, but not for –”

“Jason,” Tim elbowed him in the side, and Jason laughed.

“He won’t fit!” Tim argued.

Jason shook his head solemnly.

“Also, where would he go in my apartment?”

Jason turned to give him a look.

Tim grinned and it was obvious he was just trying to start something.

Jason kissed him.

It was quick.

Chaste.

Unexpected.

But he wasn’t lost to his heartbeat anymore, didn’t find it hard to breathe. Tim blinked wide eyes at him, and Jason let him, because he wanted to remember this moment.

The moment where Tim looked lost: cannot compute written across his pretty face, reflected in his bright blue eyes.

Jason turned his gaze to the bear. “It was fun while it lasted, Mr. Fuzzlesworth.”

The ride was coming to an end, and Jason turned back to Tim – Tim, who was blinking at him, as if trying to access whether or not the kiss had indeed occurred.

Jason said, “When the old man opens the door, we bolt.”

Tim frowned. “Did you just kiss me?”

“All right sirs,” the old attendant said, and Jason was up and moving, dragging Tim behind him. They left to shouts, a croaking voice yelling at them from behind.

The crowd was thin and Jason felt young.

He pulled Tim behind him and they wove through the park’s fabric until they were out of the gate, in the barely lit parking lot. They were both panting and nearly out of breath. An adrenaline rush for something as silly as abandoning a stuffed toy.

“You kissed me,” Tim breathed.

Jason scrunched his nose. “Well, I mean, if you call that a kiss –”

“You kissed me?”

Jason paused, closed his mouth. He nodded.

Tim looked lost in thought. Putting pieces together. Analytical. It was insanely attractive.

“I like you,” Jason admitted.

Tim eyed him. Then he relaxed. He looked nonchalant when he asked, “Was this a date, Jason Peter Todd?”

Jason thought carefully about his answer.

Tim said, “I hope it was.”

Jason felt his pulse stumble.

“Next time, win me something I can fit in my car?”

Jason laughed. It was a reasonable request.

#jaytim #jaytimweek #jaytimweeksum2017 #ladelle writes

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wineanddinosaur · 5 years ago

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The 10 Best Drinks Movies of All Time (and What to Sip While Watching)

Relaxing with a great drink in your hand and an excellent movie cued up on your screen is one of life’s great, simple pleasures. It’s also something many of us have more time to do now than ever before.

Perhaps it’s no coincidence that many of the best movies of all time include a heavy focus on imbibing, from ongoing thematic references to entire booze-soaked plots: The night of excess and its regrettable decisions; the plot hatched in the bar’s back booth; the frat house party; the alcohol-fortified hero.

If discovering the perfect match between a glass of wine and a bite of cheese amplifies the pleasure of both, then why not do the same by finding the just-right drinks to pair with the best drinks movies?

Of course, even if you’re stuck Netflix-and-chilling by yourself, there are now ways to get friends in on the fun virtually. For instance, with Netflix Party, you can synchronize playback through Google Chrome while participating in a group chat through the same interface.

From iconic films to debauched comedies, here’s what to watch — and what to drink while you do.

10. The 007 James Bond Franchise

Few movie characters are as inclined to imbibe as James Bond. Author Ian Fleming both giveth and taketh away, though. While he’s responsible for the creation of the Vesper, his words haven’t always been to the betterment of booze: Some say that “shaken not stirred” stunted the advancement of cocktails for decades. (Hate-mail disclaimer: Martinis are a personal matter, so make them as you please).

As you’re working your way through the anthology and arrive at “GoldenEye,” switch up your drink to the cocktail of the same name. It’s the house cocktail at the GoldenEye Resort in Jamaica, and was concocted by Chris Blackwell, Rock & Roll Hall of Famer, creator of Blackwell Rum, and owner of the estate since the mid- 1970s.

According to Blackwell, the drink, which fittingly is a visual match for its name, was a creation of convenience. “I simply put equal amounts of pineapple juice and rum in the cocktail shaker and took a sip,” he says. “It was too sweet, so I added some fresh-squeezed lime to taste. And there it was.”

It’s a welcome drink for his guests, and a new drink for you to sip on while watching Brosnan-era Bond. Blackwell is even collaborating on a 007 Limited Edition of his rum, which will be released this fall in conjunction with the franchise’s 25th effort, “No Time To Die.”

9. Wine Country

The newest edition to the list of best drinks movies is 2019’s “Wine Country.” Directed by Amy Poehler, and starring a six-strong cast of female comedic heavyweights, the movie is centered on a 50th birthday weekend getaway in Napa Valley.

When you can’t head out for a weekend of in-person wine tasting, bring the wine into your living room. A number of Napa Valley wineries are currently offering virtual tastings. The list includes AXR Winery, B Cellars, Clos du Val, Round Pond Estate, and St. Supéry Estate Vineyards & Winery.

Sign up for one, do the tasting, then start the movie and polish off all those bottles you just opened. Or pair with any Napa Valley wine to feel the “Wine Country” vibe.

8. Cocktail

“Cocktail” stands tall 32 years later as the zenith of bad 1980s cocktail culture. Neon lights, flair bartending, and cringeworthy shot names — it’s all there, now with some measure of nostalgic appeal (who doesn’t want to sidle up to a beachfront bar these days?).

Of course, there’s no shortage of options for what you should be imbibing while watching. One needs only to pull up the “The Last Barman Poet” scene, in which Tom Cruise mentions a dozen different concoctions: “The Sex on the Beach, the Schnapps made from peach, the Velvet Hammer, the Alabama Slammer. I make things with juice and froth. The Pink Squirrel, the 3-Toed Sloth. I make drinks so sweet and snazzy. The Iced Tea, the Kamikaze, the Orgasm, the Death Spasm, the Singapore Sling, the Ding-a-ling.”

Thankfully, if you can’t quite settle on any of the above, Cruise’s character has mercy on us at the end of his recital: “America you’re just devoted to every flavor I got. But if you want to get loaded, why don’t you just order a shot?”

7. The Frat Party: Animal House and Old School

“Old School” and “Animal House” together represent the classic new and, well, old school takes on the frat movie. You’re probably never going to agree with your dad on which is better, either. It’s a generational preference whether you lean into the John Belushi-powered 1978 film, or the 2003 flick with Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn, and Luke Wilson.

What everyone can agree on is that you’re drinking beer for this movie-drinks pairing; there’s no way around that. And not a 4-pack of your favorite triple dry-hopped, semi-naturally fermented, seasonal farmhouse hazy IPA, either. This calls for a case of your cheap, collegiate, macro beer standby. Maybe it’s Schlitz, maybe it’s PBR. You do you.

6. The Hangover (Three-Part Series)

We’ve all been there. A night gets a little out of hand. Memories are foggy. Everything hurts. Of course, this doesn’t usually involve tigers, Mike Tyson, potential kidnappings, and hastily arranged marriages. The antics only continue in later films, from Tyson-style face tattoos in Thailand to hasty trips to Tijuana. That’s what makes “The Hangover” great: It’s hilarious and relatable while still letting you off the hook, in an “at least my friends and I aren’t that bad” kind of way.

The truth is, you’re most likely watching this while nursing your own hangover. So mix up a Bloody Mary or something low-ABV with fresh juice to bring yourself back up to speed.

5. Swingers

“Swingers” sports the classic scene of Jon Favreau ordering a Scotch, “A Scotch on the rocks, please. Any Scotch will do, as long as it’s not a blend, of course. A single malt. Glenlivet, Glenfiddich perhaps. Maybe a Glengow… any Glen.”

The movie is also a favorite of the drinks industry today. “I love the movie ‘Swingers,'” says Elayne Duff, a consultant and strategist with Duff On The Rocks. For her, the 1996 movie brings back memories of the era. “We had a very cool version of this secret bar with a swing band [in the Lower East Side of New York]. I went there almost every Saturday night and drank Cosmopolitans; it was the ’90s, after all. This movie was money, as they like to say, so many great lines and Vince Vaughn was at his best.”

“Maybe I’ve been incepted by all the movie posters I’ve seen with Vince Vaughn, Martini in hand, or maybe it’s the way I can relate to both Mike and Trent at different times in my life, but I don’t think I’ve ever watched that movie without some form of drink in hand,” says Trevor Frye, the president of Wash Line LLC, who has also been running the B.A.R.E. SolidariT-shirt fundraising project, selling shirts and stickers to provide donations to hospitality professionals.

So drink a Cosmo, a Martini, any Glen you can find, or, in Frye’s case, just the whiskey of your choice. “I’d sip on a whiskey with some bite to it. E.H. Taylor Barrel Proof and Noah’s Mill are currently open on my desk, and either would do just fine,” Frye says. “And water; like a deli quart’s worth of water.”

4. Casablanca

If you asked any film buff to name the most famous movies, “Casablanca” would likely be on the list. This Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman vehicle happened to be set, predominantly, in a nightclub and casino, Rick’s Café Américain. (Word to wise: Don’t bother if you and when you find yourself in Morocco; the actual establishment may fall short of what you’ve envisioned).

There’s plenty of drinking in the movie, as you’d expect, and much of it is centered around Champagne. You’ll want to drink some bubbles yourself while watching, ideally out of a coupe glass to match the stylish, classic vibes. Intersperse that with the occasional French 75 or Champagne Cocktail, both of which are mentioned, to keep the mood going all night long.

3. Lost in Translation

What does Bill Murray whisper to Scarlett Johansson in the final scene of “Lost in Translation”? We may never know. What we do know is the line he says over and over again while filming his character’s television commercial, “For relaxing times, make it Suntory time.”

Unless you’re sitting on a secret cache of Yamazaki 18 year-old or Hakushu 18 year-old — in which case, we’ll be right over — a Highball is the way to go here, deploying a blended whisky like Suntory Toki and your favorite high-carbonation soda water.

2. Sideways

We all remember Paul Giamatti’s infamous quote: “I am NOT drinking any f*cking Merlot!” So devastating was the impact, that a decade and a half after the release of “Sideways,” California Merlot is only recently rebounding in the mind of consumers.

When you watch, consider doing the opposite of Giamatti and finding an excellent bottle of Merlot to accompany the film. There’s no shortage of serious, truly delicious Merlots coming out of California right now.

1. The Big Lebowski

The Dude and a White Russian. Name a more iconic duo; we’ll wait. The comedy classic from the Coen brothers is the perfect excuse to wear your pajamas all day long while steadfastly maintaining a drink in one hand.

The cocktail is easy to make, too: Just pour two ounces vodka and one ounce coffee liqueur over ice in a rocks glass. Top with an ounce of heavy cream. A flick of your wrist is the only stirring you really need. Up for an epic drinking-game challenge? Drink not only when The Dude drinks, but when the word “dude,” is spoken, which is apparently 160 times. Good luck!

The article The 10 Best Drinks Movies of All Time (and What to Sip While Watching) appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/10-best-drinks-movies/

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isaiahrippinus · 5 years ago

Text

The 10 Best Drinks Movies of All Time (and What to Sip While Watching)

From iconic films to debauched comedies, here’s what to watch — and what to drink while you do.

10. The 007 James Bond Franchise

9. Wine Country

Sign up for one, do the tasting, then start the movie and polish off all those bottles you just opened. Or pair with any Napa Valley wine to feel the “Wine Country” vibe.

8. Cocktail

7. The Frat Party: Animal House and Old School

6. The Hangover (Three-Part Series)

The truth is, you’re most likely watching this while nursing your own hangover. So mix up a Bloody Mary or something low-ABV with fresh juice to bring yourself back up to speed.

5. Swingers

The movie is also a favorite of the drinks industry today. “I love the movie ‘Swingers,‘” says Elayne Duff, a consultant and strategist with Duff On The Rocks. For her, the 1996 movie brings back memories of the era. “We had a very cool version of this secret bar with a swing band [in the Lower East Side of New York]. I went there almost every Saturday night and drank Cosmopolitans; it was the ’90s, after all. This movie was money, as they like to say, so many great lines and Vince Vaughn was at his best.”

4. Casablanca

3. Lost in Translation

2. Sideways

1. The Big Lebowski

The article The 10 Best Drinks Movies of All Time (and What to Sip While Watching) appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/10-best-drinks-movies/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/618095375287517184

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maple-writes · 4 years ago

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WHG 14: Day 3 (Cirrus)

whg tag list: @ratracechronicler @concealeddarkness13 , @nightskywriter , @rhikasa , @the-moving-finger-writes , @aeslin-writes (Thanks for Vincent, he was fun to write with!) @knmartinshouldbewriting , @pen-of-roses @timefirewrites

###

Never had I missed having curtains so much as when dawn came and it was too bright to go back to sleep too early in the morning. I grumbled to myself as I’d gotten up but quieted down when some of the others gave me a disapproving look. I might have already gotten on Zenith’s bad side yesterday and it might be a good idea to stop doing that if everything as going to go well. He and I hadn’t spoken much since we got here and while he seemed to trust Asher well enough I wasn’t so sure he felt the same way about me.

The cold air on my face made it easy enough to wake up a little more, the sunlight still morning weak and blue-toned. I yawned and stretched. Something down the mountain slope caught my eye and I paused. A thin ribbon of smoke and the faint orange flicker of a campfire. I squinted, but couldn’t make out much more. Looked like I could make it there and back in a couple hours most though. Maybe I could get there and back before anyone noticed I was gone.

Carefully navigating the drops and crevices of the side of the mountain, I slowly made my way closer to where I’d seen the fire. A sharp wind brought chill and I swore under my breath. This better turn out to be worth it.

I slowed when I reached the trees and the fire appeared a little further into the forest. As I got closer, thankfully there only seemed to be one tribute seated next to the fire. If he turned out to be hostile I could probably get away from one person, but if there had been more… Probably should have thought about that before climbing down a mountain.

After making up my mind to talk to him, I stepped out from the trees. “Hello.” He tensed, looking me over cautiously, but seemed to relax at least a little when I held out empty hands. “I’m Cirrus. You?”

“Vincent.”

Awkward silence built as neither of us seemed to know what to say, filled with the sporadic crackle of Vincent’s fire. I really hadn’t thought this through, had I? At least he didn’t seem like he were about to stab me or anything. He’d probably have stood up by now if he wanted to hurt me.

I approached, as casually as I could make myself appear, and sat down beside Vincent’s fire. Not too far, but not to close to him either. He watched me, not quiet meeting my face and not quite seeming to know whether or not I was a threat.

“What,” Vincent frowned. “What are you doing?”

That was a very good question. This was harder than I’d thought.

I shrugged. “Warming up.” I held a hand out to the campfire’s heat. “You make this yourself?” I paused as he nodded. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

More silence. I switched hands, turning it over in front of the low flames. The quiet didn’t feel as awkward this time, both of us more focused on the fire than each other. At least, pretending to be, stealing curious and wary glances at each other when we thought the other wasn’t looking. I frowned. Why was this so hard? How in the hell had Asher managed to make two separate allies in training? What did they even talk about?

“Hey,” I glanced towards him again. “How long you think it’ll be before they throw something fucked up at us?” Out loud that didn’t sound as nonthreatening a conversation starter as I’d hoped.

Vincent returned my look. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” I huffed. “It’s been quiet, nothing disastrous seems to have happened yet. No mass slaughter, nothing like that.” He still looked confused, eyebrows furrowing. “Have you been living under a rock or something?” My jaw tightened. I was supposed to be friendly damn it.

He didn’t answer right away, slowly focusing back on the fire. “No, I, I’m just not from around here.”

That would explain it. “Neither am I, really.” I frowned again. Maybe I was oversharing, but at least it would fill the quiet. “Though at this point its not likely I’ll be going back home any time soon.”

Curiosity started to replace the quiet caution on Vincent’s face. “Where’s that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.” I half-smiled. No one seemed to believe me when I told them. “But I lived above the Pacific until my mother turned me into a human and put me here.”

Vincent didn’t seem at least immediately sceptical. “I ended up in district 4 by accident. Someone made a mistake, and me and a couple others were teleported over. We might not even be in the same world.” He grinned, glancing my way. “How’s that for unbelievable?”

Slowly, we started to talk more, sharing stories about our homes under the gentle creak of snow-laden branches. Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation, and this time the silence was almost comfortable. What time was it now? I yawned and my stomach growled. Probably should have eaten before I left, but I hadn’t expected to be gone so long.

Vincent reached into the bag by his side.

“Here,” he leaned over, holding out something carefully wrapped in clean cloth.

I got up and closed the distance between us, taking it as I sat back down. Pulling back the cloth, it was some kind of food, one I didn’t recognize but looked appetizing enough. This was a good sign, inviting me so close, giving me something like this, showing this kind of care. In a place like this, it was vulnerable move.

I smiled. “Thanks.” I started to eat, chewing thoughtfully. Seemed I could trust him after all. “Hey,” I looked up, catching his attention again and dropping to a whisper, hopefully soft enough not to be overheard by any nearby mics. “I’m not sure if you heard anything in training, but there’s a bunch of us planning a way to escape, alive. You want to join us?” I nodded towards the slopes. “We’re camped out on the mountain. I can bring you there. I figured even if the others couldn’t pull of the break out it’s at least warmer at night.”

“I, there’s someone else here that I want to find too. Unless she’s there already, Cass.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know that name, but I’m sure the other’s wouldn’t mind helping you find her.”

Vincent thought for a moment, glancing between me and the mountainside. “Okay. You may have sold me on the warmth.” He stood, dusting snow and foliage off his clothes. “Finish eating and I’ll pack up.”

If I had been paying more attention yesterday I might have remembered the nice route that Zenith took us on instead of the rocky, uneven path Vincent and I picked our way across. It wasn’t long before I’d given up trying to avoid complaining, grumbling and swearing every time a rock shifted or I slipped on a patch of ice. Vincent laughed, joking and teasing as we made the least graceful ascent.

The slope steepened and I went first, gripping onto whatever I could to try and clamber up the hill of rock and snow and ice. My grip slipped and I swore as I fell. Pain shot through my arm as it scraped against a sharp-edged rock. I landed at the bottom of the slope and hissed, clutching at the already-bleeding wound.

“What happened?” Vincent rushed over, staring at my arm with wide eyes. “You’re hurt, are you okay? That’s bleeding, we have to, to clean it or s-something.” He stiffened, like a deer caught in the middle of the road, or Asher when he was starting to slip. “If it get, gets infected th-then, it—”

“Hey, look at me,” I spoke loud enough to bring his attention back to me. “Slow down, one thing at a time, alright?” He nodded, and I pointed at his bag. “We can wrap in in something and someone can look at it later.”

I pulled my arm out of my jacket sleeve and pushed the shirt out of the way, wincing whenever I had to move the arm. It didn’t look too deep though, enough to bleed and maybe enough to need stiches at some point, but not as bad as it could be. Vincent returned with some bandaging, probably found from sometime after the bloodbath, and I held my arm as still as I could for him.

He took my arm and his face scrunched. “What’s this?”

“Huh?” I twisted my neck to try and see what he was looking at.

A small, shiny thing sat half-embedded in the tissue. Too smooth to be a rock, and too shiny and metallic to be a bone, or anything organic.

“I, I’m going to take it out.” Vincent looked up, waiting until I gave a nod. “I’ll try to be quick.”

He dug into the smaller pouch on what looked to be a first aid kit, producing a pair of tweezers. I watched as he got a grip on the object and gently pulled it out of the wound.

A cannon fired, echoing through the arena.

That wasn’t for me, was it? When I looked back at Vincent he seemed to be wondering the same thing.

“I’m going to keep this,” He said, tucking it away in a pocket. “It looks familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

As soon as my arm was hastily bandaged, we found a better route and continued our way up the mountain. This time though, Vincent was quiet. He turned the little thing around in his hands, squinting it and holding it in different positions to get the best light. The sun was already overhead, at least noon.

Vincent gasped. “The trackers!”

I paused, turning to face him. “Trackers?”

He nodded, holding out the little object in his hand. “That’s what this is. It looks like some kind of chip, something to track location and vital signs.” He stared down at it, flat in his palm. “Maybe it lost signal when it dislodged.”

I blinked. “So it thinks I’m dead?”

“Maybe.” He pocketed the tracker again. “I can’t be sure though.”

“I mean, if my picture gets projected tonight that would be pretty damning.” I waited for him to catch up before starting to walk again. “We’ll have to tell the others, this could be something.”

After Asher and the others chew my head off for disappearing all morning anyway.

#whg 14 #writeblr hunger games #i did not mean for this to be as long as it ended up but I was vibing with it so yeah

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ibmiller · 7 years ago

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Steph meta, a large chunk of it

(This essay was originally going to be a reblog of @secretlystephaniebrown’s post but the tale, as they say, grew in the telling, so I’ve posted it here instead). In my experience, there are general trends among fans whose favorite character is Steph. Many of these trends flow from which version of Steph is normative to your experience of her history. There are those who have loved Steph since her first appearance in Detective Comics and through Dixon’s 100 issues of Robin. A strong contingent loves Jon Lewis’s quiet, weird run on Robin as “peak Steph” (you can always spot these fans because they love mashed potatoes and eggplant). And, of course, there is my own subsect - those who truly fell in love with her as Batgirl.

I’d been aware of Steph for some time. I remember reading about her brave handling of her pregnancy in the library’s copy of the DC character guide in the early 2000s. Batgirl #27 gave me a fairly negative opinion of her as a whiner (a large part of why I really dislike that comic after going back and reading all of Steph’s history, despite the lovely Phil Noto art). And then I read Steph’s tragic, idiotic death and aftermath as the trades of War Games and War Crimes came out in Books-a-Million while I was at university, far from home. Years passed. I embraced the Birds of Prey under Gail Simone (thanks again to my local library), caught the mentions of Steph’s death in Dinah’s inner monologues. I was aware of Steph’s return in the back of my head - I distinctly remember reading the Robin/Spoiler Special in the comic store when it came out, and then the following issues where Steph struggled with the fallout of Batman RIP.

When I picked up the first issue of Batgirl, and read that Steph was taking on the cowl, I felt a real but still muted sense of “finally, she’s arrived.” As the series went along, and I started following it more and more closely, I was hooked. Steph was now my very favorite character - so much so that when the new 52 hit, erasing Steph from existence with no explanation for three long and bitter years, I pretty much left most of comics fandom completely, only to return along with Steph when Batman Eternal hit the stands.

Obviously, someone like me, who came to Steph’s early appearances in Robin at first piecemeal, and then in a burst, but only after her zenith in her own solo series, will have a very different idea of what Steph’s normative traits are than someone whose Steph was set by Dixon or Lewis. Bryan Q. Miller is (or at least was at that stage in his career, as his Smallville episodes and comics show) very much in the cheerful, heartfelt storytelling mode, whereas Dixon drew much more from the noir tradition, and Lewis from a strange blend of YA and new weird-esque scifi. I especially

I have great respect for Steph fans who were privileged to meet her early. Who loved her from the start, grew up alongside her. But just like fans are rightly offended when instead of being welcomed, their enthusiasm is questioned or mocked because it is nascent and not full grown, I don’t think fans like myself, who see Steph’s career as a trajectory leading to Batgirl, are lesser than those who see her golden age at a different spot - or vice versa. What’s more, to say that Steph’s run as Batgirl strips her of all that makes her interesting rubs me really wrong - to say that the character I fell in love with is uninteresting just doesn’t square with my experience. Though Steph has a great supporting cast, with Babs, Wendy, and Detective Gage, and fantastic guest roles in Damian, Klarion, and Squire, unlike many solo series, Steph is definitely the most engaging figure in her own series.

(Side note: There are plenty of critics and fans who make comments like, “I wish Black Mask could meet Steph again.” This essay is not for them. If you didn’t like Steph in the past, and don’t like her now, the conversation I would have with you would be completely different. And likely very short.)

The most consistent theme I see with those who dispute Steph’s run as Batgirl as being normative for her character is that Steph has lost her anger that was so prominent in her early appearances. To some extent, there is justice in this claim. Steph is a cheery, upbeat, optimistic character as Batgirl, prefiguring later successes like Kamala Khan, and she doesn’t have nearly as many prominent displays of the kind of rage that led her to almost kill her father, or later visit him in prison, dolled up to the nines just to beat the ever living daylights out of him. However, my response to this claim is twofold: 1) I do not think that Steph is an angry person, but rather a person in very rough circumstances, who had a temper, but was generally a cheerful and upbeat person; 2) to say that Steph’s anger NEVER shows up in Batgirl is simply factually incorrect. To take these in reverse order (since the second is a lesser claim that hinges upon the assumption that Steph’s anger is fundamental to her character rather than largely circumstantial):

As Batgirl, Steph expresses varying levels of anger towards four people - Damian, Tim, Bruce, and Cluemaster. Though she does eventually come to a warmer relationship with the first three, she still expresses very distinct and sharp anger with all three of them. Her “HATE” as she storms away from Damian may be played for comedy, but it’s consistent with the sheer level of animosity and frustration she expresses for the first three issues in which they work together. Her first meeting with Tim in the crossover “Collision” is marked by very harsh words on both sides, and when Christopher Yost takes over the writing in that storyline, she gives Tim a well-deserved piece of her mind for his injuries going back many months. As for Bruce - we all know and love that fantastic slap. However, the key moment of narration of the issue is “Bruce never gave me a fair shot,” overlaying an image of Steph being fired as Robin. Though Steph is willing to forgive Bruce, her anger remains (hinted at again in Batgirl #22, when the slap is referenced again) part of that relationship.

Lastly, of course, there’s the final confrontation with Cluemaster. And here’s where the claim that Steph’s anger is nowhere present in her time as Batgirl really baffles me. Steph’s hostility to her father remains total and intense from beginning to end, in expression and violence. She even finds her cheerful “I know, right” catchphrase poisoned by hearing her father use it. Her last line to her father, while brave and upbeat, as Steph generally is during her time as Batgirl, is a wonderful and completely knowing callback to her original motivation for becoming a hero - “So sorry to SPOIL your fun.” It’s a final triumph, harnessing the rage which once impelled her to choke him with a chain, or beat him in a cell, and now drives her to capture him with her gooperang.

With all four of these key points in Steph’s Batgirl run forming the basis for my minor counterargument, I do acknowledge that Steph is a significantly less angry person as Batgirl than her early time in Detective Comics or Robin. That’s probably in large part because Bryan Q. Miller just isn’t a writer who digs into the darkness of his heros as much - but also because Miller was deliberately writing a hero who is coming into her own in a major way after a lot of history on the sidelines. Steph doesn’t struggle with not killing villains, as she did in the Final Night issue of Robin or her Detective Comics issue where she went up against Zsasz as Robin. She doesn’t express rage in her fights against most of her other villains, from Scarecrow, to Roxy Rocket, even the despicable Reaper gang of bored kids who turn their nihilistic laziness into murderous rampage.

But that segues into my main counterargument: I do not think that Steph’s anger is a defining trait, but is instead a strongly circumstantial trait. Steph expresses great rage against those who personally betrayed her - her father, her uncle, her gymnastics coach - but when fighting villains without that personal connection, like Lynx, Scarab, and countless gang-bangers, she usually displays a happy enthusiasm for life and her work as a hero. The occasional moments of desperate rage, like wanting to leave a murderous thug to die in the snow during Final Night, or using a potentially lethal move against the fathomless evil of Zsasz, are very rare (and let’s not get into my frustration that despite my enjoyment of the Zsasz issue, Gabrych having Steph re-learn the same moral lesson that she’d previously embraced does not sit well with me). While I can see the argument that “Steph’s anger is a defining trait,” I think my own reading, that Steph has a temper, but generally has a sunny outlook on life is at least equally valid.

(Another side note: the question of when Steph learns people’s identities has always fascinated me. I firmly believe there’s a good chance that Steph didn’t know Batman was Bruce Wayne until her “death”, at which point Leslie told her pretty much everything. She never calls Batman “Bruce” or is shown in the same place as him without the cowl when she’s Robin, and the fact that she doesn’t know who Matches Malone is indicates to me that there’s a good chance she doesn’t know Bruce is Batman either. Perhaps a bit far fetched? But I think there’s no real way to prove that she DOES know the truth from the information given.)

With my main point made, I want to move onto some defenses of Steph’s current journey, specifically in the hands of James Tynion IV. I think a key element to understanding Steph’s relationship to Batman in n52 and Rebirth continuity is that while Jason’s (and Damian’s) deaths have a profound impact on Batman, both Jason and Damian are ALIVE again, and that has gone a long way towards healing the part of Bruce that wanted to protect Steph by shoving her out of the life of the hero. With that gone, Bruce does want to take in the various young heros in Gotham and give them the best chance he can to be the best heroes possible. With that background on Bruce’s part, unless Tynion wanted to make Bruce a giant sexist and have him say “no girls allowed” to Steph, the conflict between Steph and Bruce leading to Steph being an outsider simply couldn’t be a one-sided idiocy on Batman’s part.

And so we get a long, carefully constructed distrust sown between Steph and Batman. First, the trauma of seeing a nightmarish Batman assault her father as a ten year old (Batman Eternal #10), followed by her belief that Bruce Wayne (of Batman Incorporated) is Lincoln March, the force behind her father’s reign of terror on Gotham. She then spends a large amount of her first several months, possibly a year, as Spoiler in a Gotham where Batman has disappeared and been replaced with JimBats. Current Steph simply doesn’t have the same foundation of trust with Batman that previous Steph did. No ridealongs to fight creepy bug people, no one on one training alongside Batgirl and Robin. Just a giant blue Bat-bunny and some training from the Robins and her new friend Harper.

Which brings me to another major point of contention I have with some trends in Steph fandom: her relationship with Tim. A lot of Steph fans view her relationship with Cass as the defining relationship in her life. And I would never, ever want to say that Cass and Steph didn’t powerfully impact each other’s lives - Steph learning so much from Cass, and Cass seeing Steph as she dies in her final confrontation with her mother, clearly demonstrate how important that relationship is. But for various reasons, Steph’s relationship with Tim is ignored by many fans. Was the way Tim treated Steph (and Helena and even Babs) over the issue of his secret identity pretty crummy? Absolutely. But for the span of 128 issues, Steph was part of Tim’s cast, and her main relationship in life was with him - and it was often a beautiful one. Tim’s growing attraction to her, his support of her during her pregnancy, him sticking by her as Bruce played hot and cold with her training - there’s so much to love about it. And as much as Cass was shafted by the way Steph became Batgirl, and I think her relationship with Steph merited much more than it got during that series, I think the way her relationship with Tim was handled was just as frustrating. (I don’t want to make this into a major flaw of the series - there are reasons Tim couldn’t appear in Batgirl very often, and Miller did a solid job of writing a character arc for the two that explained it in universe - but I would have appreciated a few more appearances by him than just one, just as Steph popped into the Red Robin series every now and then.) I think too many fans see Tim as a weight that Steph needs to shed to become a great hero, but I think Tim was a great force for good in Steph’s life and career as a hero. Not a perfect one - that would be poor characterization of both Steph and Tim - but more than just dead weight that I feel many, many Steph fans treat him as.

With that background, I look at the restoration of Tim and Steph’s romantic relationship in Rebirth as a major plus. It’s not a perfect restoration - the criticism that it’s pretty blandly sweet, rather than the rocky, complicated, loveable coupling we see over the 20 years of their history previously, is spot on - and there was almost no setup (except for the adorable panel of Tim crushing on her at the end of Batman Eternal, which artist David Lafuente putting a heart into the uncolored pencils :). A huge part of the criticism of Steph’s current arc revolves around how she shouldn’t be so brokenhearted over Tim’s death - but I think that’s a really silly argument. Balancing Steph as an independent character vs. a supporting character for Tim is something that I think Tynion probably will struggle with, but I very much think that 1) her love for Tim is emotionally engaging and sweet, and thus her sorrow and rage feels quite understandable, and 2) a big reason Tynion is telling the story of Steph striking out on her own is so that she has more accomplishment under her belt when Tim comes back, so she doesn’t fall into the role of “Tim’s girlfriend.” I want Tim and Steph to be together - I’m a longtime TimSteph shipper, obviously - but I want her to have her own arcs and goals, so I think that her current plotline will be a big step in the right direction.

Which brings us to the third main point of this essay (point one being about Steph’s anger, point two being about Steph and Tim): Steph’s rejection of Batman leading to her status as outsider to the Batfamily. To me, even as Batgirl, Steph is defined much more by her independence and status as not in the innermost circle of the Batfamily, rather than her anger. As mentioned before, Batman couldn’t just be the jerk he was in the 90s, telling Steph to stop or firing her. So how could Tynion write a story about her being an outsider now? She would have to have a reason - and he gave her two. First, the way Steph and Bruce handle the grief of Tim’s death. Second, Steph trying to find what kind of hero she wants to be. Both of these do mean that Steph is making mistakes, even becoming hypocritical in criticizing Batman’s mission while using the exact same tactics. But I don’t think it’s a case of Tynion saying, “Oh, look how dumb Steph is.” This is Tynion having Steph take control of her own career. Her outsider status is no longer the result of being controlled by Batman or Tim. Steph has agency in her status - she chose it, and she will return when she chooses, on her own terms. She’s also very much a competent hero - perhaps a bit overly so, by taking down Wrath with really superior tactics and psychology, and the whole team in a very Batman vs. the Justice League way in Victim Syndicate. There are hints of her former struggles in Rise of the Batmen when she sets off all the explosives at once, and her fight against Anarky in the second issue of Utopia was pretty poorly written, but on the whole, this Steph is in no danger of being fired for failure - and that, too, is part of her agency.

As for the fears of War Games - people have been predicting that Steph’s plots are a reimagining of War Games since Batman Eternal (myself included). At this point, I think Tynion is not super interested in retelling that story. There may be some elements that parallel that horrible storyline (even though I will say that Devin Grayson’s and Brubaker’s parts for Steph are affecting, and Steph’s death scene gives me one of my favorite lines, “Part of the legend,” which I will bring up ANY TIME someone says Steph wasn’t Robin), but I think Tynion is more interested in telling a new Steph story.

Which brings me to my closing point: Steph’s storyline has some problems. It’s basically her turning a bit into “stop having fun guy” by telling Batman he’s doing it wrong, and she’s also a hypocrite because she’s using the same tactics constantly. But the suggestions I hear instead seem almost always to be “recreate the fun parts of her previous history and give her new fun relationships.” People (rightly) want her to restore her bond with Cass, and to grow closer to Jason and Duke.

All of these are fun, and I would love to see them, but they’re the actions of a supporting character in someone else’s story. What Tynion is telling is very much Steph’s own story, with her taking control and having the right to make mistakes without being punished for them. She’ll deal with the consequences on her own terms. So far, her story has had ups and downs, but it is Steph’s story, and I for one am following it with great enthusiasm and enjoyment (though hopefully with fewer guest-writers).

#Stephanie Brown #Steph meta #Spoiler Alert #Here we go #Part of the legend #Seeing Something Through

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