#so i wanted to ramp it up and damage him for real

[tinyetoile]

more character designs for my cluck AU

Heroblight Ganon and Cucco Zelda. 

I want to make clear that Link’s spirit has been evicted from his body, and that’s Ganondorf’s consciousness that has taken residence within it, so the character technically isn’t an evil Link.

Ganondorf doesn’t actually like being in Link’s body very much. He misses being tall, and buff, and not constantly hungry. Zelda takes offense to this, because at least he’s not poultry, thank you very much.

About Link’s injuries: While fleeing from the rampaging Guardians 100 years ago, Link tried to block a laser blast with his shield, and while his reflexes saved his life, his left arm was still severed, and the flaming debris from his exploded shield burned his face and ear. The Sheikah managed to recover the arm and put it in the Shrine of resurrection with him, which reattached it, but while it’s still useable there isn’t much feeling in it, and his left eye is blind (Ganondorf compensates for this with the Malice Eye in the helmet). The malice on his face covers the burn scars and clouded eye.

[ihavethedreamies]

Desert Storms | Woozi

Lee Jihoon (Woozi - Seventeen)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4k

Pairing: Woozi x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Hookup/One-Night-Stand/Strangers to Fucking

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Doll, Baby Girl, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), 69-ing, Bondage? Tied up but not like that, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!)

Author's Note: I plan on doing a story for each member of Seventeen that is this Sci-Fi, desert world, Alternate Universe, but not according to any kind of schedule.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Hoshi's <-

-> Wonwoo's <-

-> S.Coup's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"Shit. Shit. Shit-" You cursed. You cursed yourself, you cursed the desert, the planet, everything. Why? Sandstorm. Your rover was having trouble keeping ahead of it and you were pushing her to her limits. One of the real issues with sandstorms on the planet of Sierra-Victor-Tango versus Earth was…acid. The giant burrowing space worms that lived under the dunes spit literal acid. Because of this, the sand at deeper levels was infused with that acid. So, you really, really didn't want to be out in that. The problem was, if enough of the acid sand hit the rover, it could damage it badly, and take out the glass. Then you would have been screwed. The storm was getting worse as it traveled and to stay on the road, you couldn't drive straight away from it. All of a sudden, a message came over the transceiver.

"Hey, uh, I can see you from my base. In like a kilometer take a right and then you'll be able to see it and then you can just drive straight in." A man's voice came in, the receiver made the audio crackly from the high wind. You knew about the base, but it was private, so you didn't really know anything about it. If the guy was offering, you would take him up on it. You hit the button on your radio and shouted over the noise, "Okay, great, thanks!" You weren't sure if he saw you on some kind of radar or what. Right where he told you, you took the turn and cringed at the rattling noise your rover let off. Unfortunately, the direction he had you turn was leading you more into the path of the storm. Luckily though, you didn't have far to go. Slowing down a bit, you saw the hatch to the base open just enough for your rover to fit through. As soon as your rover started to go down the ramp into the base, the door closed, and you could hear your own thoughts again. Slowing down, you sighed in relief and stopped the rover. There was another one parked down there that was much nicer and much bigger. You pulled up and shut it off, honestly not knowing if it would start when you went to leave. The motor rattled as it shut off and you had to kick the door open after you pulled the handle. Slamming the door shut, you coughed as a bunch of sand dust blasted back at you.

"How'd you get caught out in a sandstorm?" You recognized the voice of the guy who contacted you, actually able to hear it clearly. You stepped around the rover to look at him standing in the doorway that actually led into the base. He was…gorgeous actually. Not very tall yourself, you had no room to talk, but he was pretty short. However, he compensated for this by working out it seemed because he was thick. His black shirt was sleeveless and tight, his pants were equally as tight. He had longer wavy black hair pulled halfway back into a small ponytail. You waved to acknowledge his presence and retrieved your pack from the hatch of your vehicle and slung it onto your back. Approaching him, you got an even better look at his face. There was a small scar over his brow ridge that left a clean cut into his eyebrow, another small scar on the opposite cheek near his jaw. A set of snakebite piercings rested under his lower lip and his eyes were red. Not like bloodshot, his irises were red. You didn't know if it was natural or not. His ears had some ear piercings, a long pendant hanging down from the left ear with an upside-down triangle-like design. Each finger had an identical silver ring on them that probably served some purpose.

"Thank you for letting me shelter here." You told him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

"Here." He reached for it, and you hesitated for a second but handed the large pack over, keeping your satchel with you. Motioning with his head, he went deeper into the base, and you went up the short three metal stairs and inside, the door sliding closed behind you. You followed him down the short hallway, the metal was old and worn but more or less clean. There was an intersection not too far down the hall, but he kept going forward. You reached another sliding door and when he led you in, it was a stark contrast. Everything looked brand new, fancy, top of the line. It was a giant open living space with a large sectional couch and fancy holo-screen. There was a giant round table to the left and there was a decorative wall that had the kitchen on the other side. It looked like there was another big open space behind the kitchen with a bunch of consoles and other equipment set up. On the other side of the living room there was a large bedroom with the doors open and the hall went in both directions past it.

"Wow…" You gaped, looking around. The same logo that was on his earring was found in multiple places around, a big hologram floating above the center of the table, printed on the glass of the decorative wall, even scored into the glass of the coffee table.

"The storm is supposed to dissipate soon, but then another big one is coming in. You can stay here through it, no one else is here. Normally my co-commander is here too but he's not right now." The man told you and his voice brought you attention back to him. This place looked like more money was put into it than your entire hometown.

"What is this place?"

"Ever heard of the Rangers?"

"Yes?"

"This is our main base." He motioned with his head again and you followed after him as he led you down the hallway to nearly the end. The door at the end opened and he had brought you to a beautiful bedroom with a sitting area, king-sized bed, and a giant bathroom behind the bed.

"I can stay here?" You gawked and he let your bag thump on the ground as he smirked.

"Yeah, no one is using it. Woozi." He held his hand out and you nervously shook it. Even though he himself was pretty short, you were still a good three or four inches shorter than him.

"Oh, uh, (Y/N)."

"Where are you from?" Woozi moved back out of the room, and you trotted after him as he led you back toward the kitchen.

"Morgran town." You informed. He told you to take a seat at the counter and you jumped up on the stool and he opened the ice box.

"I'm not a wonderful cook so I don't have any fancy ingredients, but I can mix all this together with some rice." He had taken a bunch of small containers of leftovers and set them on the counter.

"Okay!" You were starving and hadn't had a normal meal in quite a while. He set up the rice cooker and you wondered if this was how homes on Terra looked.

"Were you born here?" Woozi asked.

"Yes. You?"

"Nah. I was born on Pledis and moved here when I was about eighteen."

"Why?"

"The co-commander, Seungcheol, convinced me to come here with him and start our own faction of Rangers. Not only are there a lot of runaway criminals here, but a lot of people who need help in the middle of the desert." He cast you a sly look as he hit the button on the rice cooker. You laughed nervously at this, and he leaned against the counter in front of you. Lord, he was hot. The way he was positioned, the muscles in his arm flexed and his shirt spread tight over his chest. He huffed when he noticed you were ogling him, and his hand came to your chin. He moved your head up, so you looked him in the eye again and your face exploded into a blush.

"U-uh, I…I'm-"

"Don't worry, doll." He tilted his head to the side, looking over your face, his thumb coming up to stroke your bottom lip. Woozi backed up with a smirk and you avoided his gaze, turning in your stool to get down and go near the couch.

"Your holo-screen is huge." You marveled and he moved out of the kitchen to join you, pointing for you to sit.

"Tap the table." He told you and you saw a little flashing light and pressed it, a holographic module popping up that worked as the remote.

"Watch whatever, I have to go finish something." He told you. You watched from the corner of your eye as he went to the room behind the kitchen, your eyes moving down to look at his ass in those tight black pants. When he got completely out of view you looked back at the module and found a listing of movies and shows that you had only ever dreamed of seeing. They even had ones that were over a hundred years old! Selecting one, a movie series based off an even older set of books about elves and wizards, you sat back to watch it. There was another button on the module that flashed, catching your attention. You tapped it, and a second smaller screen popped up in the corner showing the radar of the storms incoming.

"Shit." You groaned. Woozi had been right. The one you just escaped was still lingering over the area and there was another bigger one coming right behind it. At the bottom of the corner there might have been a third one developing as well. Oh well, it could be worse than being stuck in a fancy underground base with an extremely attractive man.

It was only about thirty minutes after you started the movie he came back out, the only reason you noticed was because the rice cooker had gone off. Pausing the movie, you got up and went to sit at the counter, watching as he mixed everything together and your mouth watered. He left it all in the same big bowl, grabbed two spoons, then nodded for you to follow him back into the living area. You hesitantly sat down, and he sat way closer to you than you even hoped for and handed you a spoon. Glancing at him, you sat back still mostly rigid, and hit play on the movie. After you got to eating it and realized how starving you were, you soon forgot that he was so close to you. He watched in amusement as you scarfed it down and you both had soon finished it off.

"Thanks for letting me stay here. I looked at the radar and it looks like the storms are just going to keep coming." You groaned, resting your head on the back of the couch. Your eyes were closed so he took the chance to look you over like you had been him. The thin fabric of your shirt had ridden up some and revealed the smooth skin on your tummy and waist, tanned with a smattering of freckles from sun exposure. Your long hair was tied back in a braid, and you wore tight leggings with mesh side panels to allow for more breathability. It wasn't too often he ran into anyone, even women, who were that much smaller than him, let alone that cute. His eyes shot back to your face, your eyes still closed and he wondered if you had fallen asleep already. Woozi wanted to just grab you and haul you onto his lap. Living out in the middle of the desert with only the rest of the guys in his Ranger group didn't give many opportunities for him to be with a woman. Now, one had just happened to show up. He didn't want to push it, but with you how you had been looking at him…

"Ugh, I think I wore myself out trying to get out of that storm. The adrenaline has finally gone away it seems." You tipped your head back and forth, your neck popping to relieve some pressure. He glanced at his watch, and it was pretty late. This time of year, the sun didn't get very low, so it was bright nearly all of the time.

"Go sleep then. If I'm not out here when you get up, you can just grab whatever from the kitchen. I'll let you know if the storm lets up sooner." He stood up with the bowl to clean it up and he watched you trudge sleepily down the hall and into the room he let you use. When you got in there, you marveled at the luxury and peeled your clothes off so you could take an actual legitimate shower. The water felt like heaven, and you were glad your spare underwear and clothes were clean. Just putting on your leggings over your panties and redoing a wrap-around breast band, you climbed in the amazing bed and immediately fell asleep.

A loud and echoing crash startled you awake, the sound of metal crunching was the opposite of reassuring. When it happened again you jumped out of the bed and ran out of the room and down the hall. You assumed the only room with the door closed was his and you got ready to knock, but the door just slid open. He was sitting up at a desk across from the bed and he glanced over at your panicked face.

"What the hell was that noise?"

"The metal crushing?"

"Yes!" You gaped and came further into the room.

"Sand worm. We're fine." He assured you, and when it happened again, you jumped so hard he got up and went to you.

"Hey, it's fine." He placed his hands on your arms, and he felt you were shaking.

"That's NOT a sand worm." You insisted, the noise happened again but louder. Even he was a little surprised by the volume of it and he walked past you and toward the equipment room. You followed close behind him and he typed on the console and a hologram of the base popped up, a bright red flashing dot appearing the top right corner.

"Oh, great." He grunted and you looked at him then back to the dot.

"What?"

"The storm must have damaged the drone silo; it seems they're all falling out of the hangar." He clicked his tongue, and you sighed in relief. Sure, that sounded expensive, but a giant monster wasn't going to break in. You were still shaking a bit; your adrenaline had spiked again but your body was so worn out that it wiped you out more.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?" He stepped closer and he was dangerously close to you now.

"I won't let anything happen to you, doll." He smirked, his finger coming up and brushing a lock of hair away from your face, which turned red.

"No?" You stepped even closer, your own hand moving to trace over the rings he had on each finger. The smirk grew and the hand you were touching wrapped around yours and he pulled you to him. Chest to chest, his other arm wrapped around you, your other hand resting on his shoulder. Woozi brought your linked fingers to his lips and kissed over your knuckles, and when he reached your thumb, he sucked it into his mouth. You exhaled harshly and your free hand cupped his jaw.

"How about I help you relax?" He asked, his fiery gaze meeting yours.

"Please." You whispered; his lips so close to yours now. Letting your hand go, you dropped it to his other shoulder, and his strong arms engulfed you, pressing you into him. Woozi sealed his lips over yours and you whined, his tongue immediately swirling around yours. He tasted good, almost like some kind of soda you only had once or twice in your life. His hands on you were hot, his body pressed to yours was hard and his kiss was consuming. When he finally pulled away from the kiss, a trail of saliva connected your lips and you nearly slumped against him. His presence was all encompassing, and your head was already swimming, he was some kind of drug.

"Can I do something?" You ask, his lips still close to yours, your breath mingling.

"Whatever you want, doll." Woozi complied, so you pulled back a bit but instead of stepping away from him, you sank to your knees. His finger came to your chin and made you look up at him.

"If you're going to do that, I want you to sit on my face while you do." He told you and your eyes widened.

"Okay." You shrugged and instead of reaching his hand to help you up, he bent and scooped you into his arms and carried you to the bed. You weren't big, but he did it so easily. Letting out an 'oof' as he dropped you onto his bed, your eyes got bigger as he began to strip. The tight black shirt came off and you nearly drooled. His body looked just as good as it felt, and you couldn't wait for him to drop his pants. He undid his belt and with an aggressive snap, he pulled it off and dropped it on the floor. With a smirk, he made eye contact with you and let his pants fall. You were not expecting him to have nothing on underneath and his hard cock bounced some from being released, smacking against his stomach. Your mouth watered. Stepping out of the clothes, he stalked over to you and pushed you onto your back. It wasn't hard or aggressive, more playful, and he hooked his fingers in the waist band of both your leggings and panties, then yanked them off. Woozi deftly unsnapped your breast band and threw that off you as well. Laying on his back, he patted his shoulders and you hesitantly moved to where he wanted you.

"Come on, doll." He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled your dripping cunt onto his face. You squealed, falling forward, and catching yourself on your arms. You found yourself right in front of his pretty cock and since he was already shoving his tongue into your core, you enveloped the head of his cock with your lips. Neither of you could get over how the other tasted and he grunted when you just kept swallowing his cock deeper into your mouth and throat. His arms tightened their hold around your thighs, and he sucked on your clit. You twitched at the sensation, losing your pace and you gagged on his cock. The spasming of your throat squeezed his cock deliciously and he couldn't wait to fill your cunt. When he buried his tongue inside you as deep as he could, you moaned again, the hand loosely holding his cock squeezed a bit and his hips jumped, making you swallow him more.

"Cum, doll." He ordered, nipping your clit and you did as he told. The vibrations of your moan hit his cock and you sucked hard, setting his own orgasm off. Spurts of sticky white cum painted your throat and mouth and dripped down his shaft when you couldn't contain it all. Still semi-hard, you pulled your mouth off of him with a pop, then licked him clean.

"You taste so good~" You cooed; he was about to tell you the same thing. Helping you dismount his face; you just roll over onto your back and flop to the bed. He smirked, sitting up and rolled you again so you were on your stomach. He kneeled behind you and lifted your hips up, making you rest on your knees. Your chest and face were still touching the mattress and he rubbed his thumb over you dripping folds, then the cold metal of his rings touched the flesh and you shivered.

"W-what do those do anyway?" You asked.

"Wanna find out?" When he asked you turned to look at him and nodded. Little blue sparks flew off of them, then a hologram-like gauntlet surrounded each hand. Suddenly, warmth spread over your skin, and you yelped as ribbon like tendrils shot out from his hands and wrapped around your body. It wasn't bondage, they just wrapped around like vines, over your legs and arms, your abdomen, and breasts. They were warm and tingled and when it got done, the end landed right above your clit.

"Oh, god." You gasped; the sensation dull but incredibly sensual.

"What about this?" He asked and then the ribbons tightened, and this forced a moan out of you. His hands then grabbed the flesh of your ass, the tingling hologram on his hands leaving the same sensation as the ribbons.

"Ready?" He asked and you felt the fat head of his cock at your entrance. Your body was buzzing in so many different ways and you whined positively, and he started to ease in. The burn of his girth fucking opens your walls heightened every other pleasurable sensation in your body and he groaned at how tight you were, so wet you were literally dripping.

"Ah~ (Y/N)…" He groaned finally filling you up completely. Your head was swimming and he simply grinded as deep into you as he could, his pelvis meeting your ass. When he didn’t do anything more than that you whined pitifully, needing him to move more than that.

"Woozi…" You mewled and he groaned.

"You're so tight, baby girl." His voice had rumbled through you. You yiped when the ribbons tightened then began to move again. You couldn't see behind you, but when he groaned, you felt the ribbons wrap around his cock as well and the heat intensified, and he began to move. His thrusts were shallow but hard, and he made sure to roll as deep as he could with each thrust.

"Fuck, I'm not letting you go anytime soon, doll. Even if the storm lets up." He grunted with each thrust, then stopped. You were about to complain but he leaned over you, his hands landing by your head, and you could see better the blue light around his hands.

"You want more?"

"Pl-please…" You huffed and he pumped his hips, snapping his cock into you hard after nearly pulling out all the way. Your mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out and tears pricked your eyes at the intense feeling of him rearranging your guts. He was fucking you like an animal, nearly growling above you, drool was leaving a dark spot near your mouth on the sheets.

"W-Woo-Woozi!" Feeling your orgasm coming fast, he leaned over you more, wrapping his arms around your middle to haul you up, his chest to your back. His hands cupped your breasts and the ribbons tightened even further and he grunted two more times, spilling inside of you, this sent you over the edge. One of his hands was on your throat, just lightly holding you in place as your whole body spasmed. You orgasm faded shortly after his and your body stung, the ribbons leaving you calmed the burn, and he helped you curl up in the bed. You watched the dancing patterns of the screen saver on his wall display, dazed, barely registering him moving around. When he came back into view you slightly noticed the continuing metal crunch of the drone silo, but it was the least of your concerns.

"You know, I think the storms might last a few days…" He sat on the bed next to you, wearing a pair of boxers now.

"I hope they last the whole month," You mumbled, and this made him laugh.

"Me too, doll."

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

Seventeen Master List

Taglist: @gaslysainz

[razorblade180]

5 Star Chongyun

No real reason for this. Made an Amber one so I thought I’d make one for one of my first mains.

Much like 5 star Amber, I wanted to try keeping the identity of his character and kit relatively in tact. His ascension will be crit damage.

Normal Attack- Six hits with a greatsword with the final hit being the strongest

Skill:Frigid Crypt- Strikes the ground dealing cryo damage and creates a cryo infusion field that lasts 25s with a 30s cool down and is the same size as Dehya’s fiery sanctum. When enemies are attacked by Cryo units on the field, a stack of Binding Frost is inflicted upon them a once per set time period. Each stack of Binding Frost decreases the enemy’s defense, maxing out 40% Stacks are cleared once skill duration ends.

The idea behind this was pretty simple. Give cryo another support that also has benefits for others outside the element. Instead of competing with other dmg bonus characters or increasing power like his aunt, he can have the niche of shredding def instead of resistance. This also allows him to be on teams with Shenhe and his other established comps.

Elemental Burst: Spiritual Inverse-When no Frigid Crypt is on the field, Chongyun will enter the Pure Yang Transcendence state. In this state, Chongyun wields a spirit blade dealing cryo damage that can’t be overridden. His attack speed is increased by 35% and every two hits apply a stack of binding spirit. When Transcendence ends, Chongyun performs one final attack, sending the spirit down at the opponent and creating a Frigid Crypt.

If Frigid Crypt is already on the field when the burst is unleashed, Frigid Crypt is transformed into Exorcism Rites. In this state the field no longer grants cryo infusion or Binding Frost stacks, but instead pulses cryo damage in set intervals for the remainder of the skill duration. A set damage bonus on this attack is granted depending on the number of Binding Frost stacks in Frigid Crypt the burst is activated. All stacks gained in this way are cleared when Exorcism Rites ends.

Now you may be wondering why I would give such an overly complicated burst to Chongyun and the answer is not what you expect. I feel bad for Eula mains. If I’m being honest, that entire second burst form has them in mind without outright giving them everything on a silver platter.

The first form is essentially the only “practical” way you’re reaching the max 40% if you use the skill before the field from the burst ends. It’s sorta the same concept of using Kokomi’s burst after skill, but in the opposite order and the field would be repositioned. You’d also get multiple skill uses out of Shenhe or ramping Ayaka damage.

A1 Passive Mind be Purged- When Chongyun is in the party, whenever a character triggers, Frozen, Shatter, Super Conduct, Crystalize, or Cryo Swirl, a sealing talisman will be summoned, dealing a burst of cryo damage for a set percentage of Chongyun’s atk and inflicting enemies with one stack of Binding Frost. This can be triggered off field.

Once again, I care about the two Eula mains in the world. This also allows for some accumulation of Binding Frost stacks during Exorcism Rites when it isn’t possible, albeit to a lesser degree. It’s also the reason all stacks have to be cleared by the end of the field in burst mode too. That being said, this talent gives you the option to start gaining stacks in a fight before using Chongyun’s skill.

A2 passive World be Saved! - If the team lacks both hydro and one other Cryo member, Transcendence State is granted an additional 20% crit rate.

I thought this A2 might be a little much, but then I remembered Clorinde exists. And for those who might not get the premise, it’s essentially allowing a melt play style to exist with the draw back of you’re probably not getting many Binding Frost stacks outside of burst unless you have an electro on the team fast enough to keep up. You also technically wouldn’t need a completely different artifact set . You’d basically get half or some cases the full buff of Blizzard Strayer benefits depending on if you’re forward or reverse melting.

Constellations:

-C1, Rigid Training- All accumulated stacks are taken in when activated Pure Yang Transcendence and converted into a 2% atk bonus for every stack up to 10.

-C2, Positive Influence- The atk speed given in Transcendence State now applies to all Cryo Units inside of Frigid Crypt and Exorcism Rites field. Additionally, stacks can be gained by off field cryo attacks.

-C3, Time Honored Legacy- Skill level increase

-C4, Heated Passion- The duration of Transcendence State is extended by 10s. Additionally, the final strike decreases cryo resistance by 15% for 15s. If A2 passive is in affect, Chongyun gains 50% crit damage in this state.

-C5, Self Reflection- Elemental Burst level increases

-C6 Embodiment of Yang, dispeller of Yin- The upper limit of defense decrease from Binding Frost stacks is increased to 60% and non-cryo units can now apply one stack per attack. Cryo Units now apply three.

It’s only fair that C6 is broken for both play styles and is the perfect match for the insanity of Shenhe’s C6, which removes the limit of her quill stacks on normal and charged attacks. Also the C2 being a bit busted is pretty much a staple at this point. Not only does it directly buff every cryo unit with off field applications, which is currently 8 out of 14 of them, but that attack speed would mean something for Eula, Freminet, and Wriothesley. Did I kill part of Mika’s gimmick? Yes but I’m sure someone will agree with me that needing C5 talent lvl 10 Mika for 25% atk speed is not worth it. Especially for 12 seconds

So yeah, that’s my random idea that woke me up. It probably could be better but I’m not about to work out proper math and theory crafting for a hypothetical wish. I think a kit like this shows off how Chongyun is not only a supportive friend, but a real go getter when it comes to his job and covers all his bases. I also like the concept that he would be stronger and in a way, more selfish in a pyro team cause he’s either trying to end things quickly for everyone’s sake, or has lost his cool and going all out without much thinking.

[dr3comebackera]

Daniel Ricciardo on his Zandvoort crash, surgery on his broken hand, recovery process, and return in Austin

Tom Clarkson: "Now you mentioned the elephant in the room, Zandvoort. FP2, Turn 3, what happened?"

Daniel Ricciardo: "I *awkward laugh*, I mean I obviously can remember it very clearly, since I didn't hit my head. Erm, but, so you come through, turn, I guess it's Turn 2, and it's over kind of a crest, but then you stay quite tight, because, then the line for 3, you ride the top of the banking. So you know, you're not taking a conventional racing line, so you're not like looking at the apex, you're looking at the top of the corner, pretty much. Like, as a driver, we're always looking ahead and normally like at the apex, but the way you exit 2, you then kind of look straight ahead and pick your braking point."

DR: "So at that point, I'd exited 2, I hadn't seen any yellows, nothing like that. And then by the time I've looked and braked, I then looked where I need to turn, and I see Oscar. This all happened so quickly, but I remember, I can, obviously I'm picturing it in my head now. So I remember, okay, the line we take is high and by this point I'd braked, so I'd already committed, so I knew the speed I was going. My only choice was to take the high line, but I could see his car was at the top of the track. So there wasn't enough room for me to pass through the high line. I'm going too fast to take a low line, so it was either, probably look like a real idiot and crash into him, or try and just slow the car as much as I can, and likely just crash into the barriers, which is what happened."

DR: "But yeah, because it was all, I guess I'm still trying to figure out what I'm going to do, by the time then I'd committed to just going straight, I hadn't then realized, 'okay, take your hands off the wheel.' And a lot of us still don't do it, because crashing is not natural. And it happens so quickly, because you don't plan to crash, so a lot of the time you don't kind of have, yeah, the time to be like, 'okay, I'm crashing, what do I need to do? Brace myself, okay, take my hands off the wheel.' Sometimes you just don't have the luxury of time."

DR: "So, that was it, I hit the wall. I've only watched one replay, but I just don't, I don't want to. Basically, when I've gone in, I'm pretty sure like the right front, it's just the angle, right, the right front would've grabbed the Tecpro [barrier] first, and then that's, like, pulled it in, so it's, it's like I've turned really hard right, the way obviously it's grabbed the wheel. So because the wheels then turned so quickly, I've basically lost grip, so it spun out of my hands, and the bottom of the [steering] wheel, which is pure, hard carbon, has then come up and basically karate chopped my hand."

DR: "So then, you've got the shock of the crash and then adrenaline, so I've come on the radio, and I'd, I think I'd been like, oh sorry, like I've crashed or something. And then, is he like 'oh, you alright?' or 'can you continue?' and I was like, 'no, the car is damaged.' And then, I could feel my hand, and I was like, 'ow, my hand, my hand.' And then I just, it started to, like the pain just went, obviously ramped up really, really quickly, and I feared that something was bad. So, as I'm, I wanted, I was like, 'I need to get my glove off, I need to get my glove off.' And as I'm pulling my glove off, I remember, I was thinking, *awkward huffy laugh*, I was like 'if there's a bone through the skin, I'm gonna pass out.' So that's all, I was just like 'please, please don't let me see anything gruesome.' I'm not good with this stuff, I'm sweating telling it, like I'm serious. I suck at this.

TC: "Have you broken a bone before?"

DR: "I broke my arm as a kid at school, throwing a tennis ball. Anyway, yeah, another very random accident, and I didn't need surgery, that was like a long, long healing process."

DR: "But yeah, so, alright, so I've pulled my glove off, and I, I could see it was already quite swollen, but no bone through the skin. I was like, 'okay.' But then the pain just got so bad, so as soon as I jumped into the medical car, I was *long pause* making a lot of noises, because I was in a lot of discomfort. So I knew that it was not good. I knew immediately, obviously, I wasn't going to race on the weekend. Like I didn't need a doctor to tell me. I feared it was a broken bone. I think the first thing that really kind of just made me sad, was I just had a very, very productive summer break. I felt really, really good physically, and I was just, yeah I was just ready to go. And this just felt like an unfortunate setback. But I was just more worried about surgery and all that, because I'm, again, I'm a bit of a wuss.

TC: "What happened next, I mean, you went down to Barcelona, to Dr. Xavier Mir, who is renowned in the MotoGP world, for mending those sort of breaks. I also think he was, didn't he help Lance Stroll earlier in the year as well?" "Yeah" "So who put you in touch with him, or did you know him already?"

DR: "So from the medical center, we went to the hospital there in Amsterdam. Got scans, and they're like, 'yeah, it's broken.' And by this point, it's the size, like, looked like an elephant stepped on my hand. The doctor there said, 'look, I would recommend surgery.' He's like, 'you can have it here, but you probably want to wait anyway a few days for the swelling to go down. Speak to whoever you need to speak to and obviously you can have your surgery wherever you want, I'm just going to give you my advice.' So then we reached out to Lance, we reached out to, well Jose, a friend of ours who works with Alpinestars, so he knows all the MotoGP guys, and he, he's Spanish as well, so he knows. So he, I think, put us into touch with Xavier Mir, and then, yeah, Lance was like 'go to him' as well. All signs were just pointing to, this guy's done this too many times, just go see him. Like, like don't even bother, just go there.

DR: "So it was, it was a blessing and a curse because, *laughs* he does a lot of MotoGP guys, who, are not human. They are not. It's fact, they are not. So, I think there's an expectation of me going in there, he's like 'oh, F1, MotoGP, same! Not human, don't feel pain.' 'No, doctor, I feel pain. I'm going to cry for the next 48 hours whilst I'm in this hospital.' So it was just funny, they, I think, you know, all the doctors and nurses and that who were helping me, and they were great, but I think they were, they were just quite, they would laugh a lot, because I would wince and pull away and ask questions every needle that went into my arm. Erm, so I think they just thought I would be tough like a MotoGP rider, but I am not."

TC: "I'm sure you were."

DR: "No, no, trust me, I'm not. The break itself was quite significant. It was a shatter, like it wasn't like, oh you just break it clean down the middle. I think it was in eight pieces or something. So it was also, for a bone that can be quite a simple one, it wasn't too pretty."

TC: "So it's your pinky that was being affected by it?" "Erm, well..." "On your left hand?"

DR: "It's like the outside of the hand. So that's the bone I broke, in between like the wrist and the pinky, like that knuckle. So like along the outside there. But even me just rubbing my finger over the top of my hand, hurt like crazy. Maybe I just feel pain more than others, I don't know. *laughs* But er, sorry, I just want to, just let's also say one thing. There was also the reality where, yes, I would moan and complain because I don't like the pain. But it was a broken hand, so there was also a part of me which was like, 'look, dude, yes you're in pain and it's going to be a bit of a process, but people have worse injuries, people have bigger accidents.' So don't get me wrong, I also tried to reality check myself through it all, and I think that's what made me quite, like remain quite positive."

TC: "You missed five races, you came back for Austin. Was there any talk of you getting back earlier, maybe for Qatar?"

DR: "So I knew, I was doing physio every day, and I was, I was doing what I could to come back as soon as possible. But I also wanted to make sure, and I think, you know, Red Bull/Alpha Tauri were really good with this, I wasn't fighting for a world championship, like it's not like, dude you need to just drive through immense pain and just get a point, you know because this is your titles on the line. Like it was, let's make sure you do this and heal properly, and get the right treatment, because also you've got, hopefully a second part of your career which is going to be long and glorious. So it was just, don't compromise anything that you then have a bum hand for the next two years of your career, three years, whatever. So it was good, I could just do it properly."

DR: "Qatar was talked about, I went on the sim the week of Qatar, on the Monday, but I couldn't, er, yet, drive with the full force of the steering, like so we would like bring the feedback down. Er, I just couldn't grip it and do more than like two laps at full strength. So it was very clear that Qatar was out of the question, and also for me to come back and like, yeah, I don't know, not drive at my best and then, no, that no one benefits. I don't benefit, the team doesn't. So er, it was that, at that point we're like, let's just go all in for Austin and make sure I'm good for that."

TC: "And Liam was doing a decent job as well"

DR: "Exactly, he was doing well and there was also, I think Red Bull were great to give me a contract whilst I was injured, to give me a contract for next year. So I, I had that-"

TC: "That was very significant, wasn't it?" "Yeah" "They actually signed you long-term when you were on the sidelines?"

DR: "Yeah, there's so much about being back in the Red Bull family this year that's felt good and right, and I think that was such a, yeah just such like a big thing for them to do that. I think obviously it showed they have a lot of faith in me. It also put to bed if anyone was like, 'oh you know, is there still any issues from their previous relationship years ago? Like is there any carryover tension or whatever?' Like, for them to do that, I think it was very much like, he's our kid and we're going to support him because we believe in him and- So that was really nice."

TC: "So you come back for Austin, and were there any ill effects there? Because I mean, that's a quick track, sector one in particular."

DR: "Er, no, like in, in short no. Erm, I think the race, I got into it quickly and, and, and I was actually honestly expecting more pain in Austin. I was expecting like every kind of bump or kerb I'd hit would be like 'ow, ow, ow.' But it was okay, and erm, I think it was just an endurance I needed to build so like, towards the end of the race, I could feel like my grip strength was maybe not as good as at the start of the race. But honestly, I was, I was fine. And I think that was another thing, I didn't want to get back into a race and then be like, 'yeah I could have done better, but you know, my hand was not up to full strength.' Or like, I was like, this can't be an excuse, and it wasn't, so it was all good."

TC: "And Daniel, you were never going to miss Austin, right?"

DR: "No, I couldn't. I would've loved the result to be better, but no, I couldn't miss Austin.

TC: "The track, the place"

DR: "Yeah, yeah. I love it."

[novantinuum]

no, so like-

i watch a lot of reactors, yeah? and they all have varying opinions on SU s5 and what they thought about the pacing.

gonna be real here.

i genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, can not imagine Any other pacing for the end of the season at all and literally just think. it's fine.

i feel like people kinda like... take the behind-the-scenes knowledge that Crewniverse had to pull some storytelling strings to wrap up in a limited number of episodes and then copy paste that Real Life situation and all the nebulous what-ifs over the actual Fictional Story that we got, which. is not a "poor" ending at all, as i've seen some claim. it hits all the beats it needs to for the ending to make thematic sense. it re-introduces plot points when they're relevant. the moment the wedding happens it all moves forward at a swift clip yes, but like. god i am so, so fucking tired of the term "rushed."

(also bc when people say it isn't "rushed," then they're saying it's "filler," and. damn. what the fuck do y'all WANT lol you get nonstop plot heavy ep after ep and call it rushed and the moment you get a few fun little breather eps as a courtesy you're complaining that you're not getting plot. geebus.)

because honestly, like. okay. pretend for a moment that the wedding episode still happens completely as-is. exactly what are people proposing takes up the space of a complete season and a fourth before moving to its conclusion, without compromising the entire theme and vibe of the ending? the precise second the diamonds know who steven is, you're already in endgame territory. there is Zero situation in which the show can dawdle after that, because if steven has revealed himself to the diamonds then he's going straight to work, and he's going to press them about healing their corruption damage. in my mind there is Zero way to insert any meaningless fluff here that is not one hundred percent steven gunning to get white diamond's support because it would not make Sense for him to run off on little side adventures when he has the pressure of his mother's biggest goal bearing down on his shoulders.

in sum the diamond days arc is FINE, it serves its purpose in ramping up to the climax of CYM perfectly, and i just wish more people would stop letting the nebulous "what-if" game tint their view of the already really, really good show we GOT, and stop arbitrarily "warning" reactors that season five is "rushed" and thus swerving their opinions of the end of the show before they can even make any themselves

[innerchorus]

Arslan Senki Chapter 133

ArSen is a horror series now.

I know I've already posted a smattering of screencaps and thoughts on this one so this post is bullet point mop-up duty and will cover anything that didn't make it into those, or extra thoughts related to those parts.

Pleased that I called the chapter title (more or less) when the last chapter was released.

I've gotta say the atmosphere in this chapter is top notch. Arakawa ramping up the tension and the sense of wrongness, both in the ominous spreading of those dark clouds and the presence of and interactions with the undead warriors, and then the horror peaks when the winged apes descend.

Gieve's "Why are there dead people here?!" made me let out a nervous laugh. The confusion is rife, because those standing before them are indeed who they appear to be... yet not.

Kharlan is clearly still intending to attack again. Just catching a glimpse of him facing Hilmes and Zandeh, followed by Kubard and Isfan being confronted by Shapur was enough for my heartrate to kick up a notch, my personal dread is building for what might be coming. Given the words chosen by the other undead warriors who speak in this chapter, I am expecting EMOTIONAL DAMAGE (both for myself and the characters involved).

I was discussing this with @tired-reader-writer but may as well pop it in here as well; if the undead warriors can speak, while their speech right now is very Team Zahhak, maybe they will have some genuine words for their loved ones before the end, once the sorcery has been overcome?

Whatever words undead Shapur uses to hurt Isfan, I need him to know that they're not true. It would make my day for Kubard to be able to say "Your brother would never say that about you." But it's so hard to know what we're going to get. Maybe this Shapur will have some barbed words for Kubard, too. I do think on some level Kubard likely feels regret over what happened to Shapur, not regret for his own choice to flee necessarily, but regret that he didn't manage to persuade Shapur to leave too, that he left him to what turned out to be such a horrible fate after they argued.

Petition for this awfulness to be balanced out by Arakawa showing us some happier memories once all this is over and done with. I need those flashbacks, I want these characters to remember the good, the real relationships they had, not these harsh words and these twisted resurrected forms.

Copy-pasting again but the idea that those hints of bloody tears I talked about in the previous chapter mean that deep inside their consciousness (soul?) is still there is seeming more likely. I'm writhing because this is all so painful but it's so good. I can't wait to see what Arakawa does with it next.

Daryun's mind racing as he faces Vahriz, and Narsus on the sidelines running through the same possibilities in his head as he and Arslan look on is some good shit. The knowledge that he has been 'brought back from the other world' by Zahhak's powers (presumably the powers given/taught to the sorcerers) is chilling. Like, that's supposed to be a one-way journey. If the 'real' Vahriz's consciousness is still there, that's got to be horrific. If they're aware of what their bodies are being made to do... Things they would never have done in life... I hope they are laid to rest again properly.

Anyway, Vahriz at least lays it out in the open. And why should Team Zahhak hide their intentions now? So, they want to eliminate Arslan. But do they want anything different from Hilmes, or are they simply aiming to kill him, too? That remains to be seen.

Fighting on horseback is not going to work (as we've seen before, horses are spooked by sorcery and given what's about to descend on the city they're going to totally lose their heads now). Kishward facing Manuchurh and resolving to deal with him was pretty badass, I hope that works out. Realising that it's both Manuchurh and not Manuchurh... I hope all the other characters come to the same conclusion about those they're facing.

Tus asking if he has permission to eliminate Khayr. I liked that. He doesn't question the job, just checking he understands what Kishward is asking of him. Because it's quite a thing to ask. And it won't be easy.

Gieve's blow should have decapitated Manuchurh, but no. Nothing. So that got me thinking, how can they be defeated if not by sword or other weapon? Well, if there's a sorcerer controlling each of them... Kill the sorcerer who is responsible. Maybe they're lurking close by, and with their death the sorcery binding the undead warriors to this world will break. It's telling that we haven't seen the sorcerers themselves in all of this chaos. It makes me think they are hidden nearby, controlling these things.

Very worried about how Estelle and those others outside the city are going to defend themselves from the winges apes. Hide under overturned carts? Flee inside and trust that the Parsians have a bigger problem to worry about than the fact some of them are Lusitanian?

How best to defend the city against winged apes? Get inside and shut all the doors and windows? Use arrows when you can? Fight on foot in the streets because your horses have lost their minds to fear? These things likely have corrosive blood too, just to make matters worse. This is all sounding so horrific and I'm here for it. Let's hope Farangis has some idea of how to fight them.

Also I hope Don Ricardo gets a break soon. The man's been through so much. I want him to survive this.

[petrichorium]

i am barging in to demand (humbly request) the shanks/pluvi lore. specifically how you met. please. i just really wanna know your vision

I am always ready and eager to talk abt shuvi lore truly i hope ur ready for So Much Yappage here 🙏🏻

The basic gist of it is I’m a lighthouse keeper and I end up kinda saving his life when the red hair pirates wreck near my island bc they didn’t listen to me LMFAOOOOO but I’ll put a more detailed account under the cut 🫣 and talking abt this inspired me to make a lil moodboard for our slowburn while i still live on my island (for a timeline it takes about two yrs for him to finally wear me down enough that im like yeah sure ill fuck u, n then abt four more yrs of us in a steadily ramping up fwb until i finally do leave w him—which is a Fraught Decision and a Whole Thing i will not get into here LOL)

It's a year after shanks lost his arm and they left the east blue, uta's with them bc the vague "uta is canon but film red is an au" thing lets me do what i want and what i want is for her to be integral to me warming up to the whole crew LOL (i have aged her up a bit tho, she's 12 here; shanks is 28, im 32ish bc again i do what i want and what i want is to age myself up KJSHDBFJKH). Anyway again im a lighthouse keeper, there's a storm brewing and i see their ship in the distance so i call them up on their transponder snail..........

I think they're coming in from a scuffle tbh, kinda intending to make landing and lick their wounds as they wait out the storm. im like hey ur Too Late and Too Far and ur gonna wreck if u try to make landfall rn. they do not listen to me and attempt anyway. it's a mess, the ship's already pretty damaged and the crew tired and in the chaos uta ends up going over—shanks jumps in after her, one armed and all, and they r swiftly separated from the ship in the storm

uta's fine enough when they wash ashore right beneath my lighthouse and shes also Loud enough that i hear her over the wind so i make the trek out and take my little pulley-lift down the cliffs and like listen. nearly unconscious man i know was one of those pirates who didnt listen to me...... i would not have bothered. but little girl soaked and sobbing and terrified clinging to him........ would be cruel not to help. so i grumble and bitch and trudge over to throw his arm over my shoulders and Attempt (w uta's "help" which is more just her bawling and yanking on his shirt, and also his help which is a bit more useful but still Not Great) to lug him back to my lil lift.

Im in like. Work overalls and a pair of grungy waders and a big ol wool sweater and a coat thrown over—real waterman chic yk—just soaked to the bone bc it’s pouring and the seawater’s doing nobody any favors, cursing up a storm bc shanks is a big fucking man and I’m very much doing the heavy lifting. Anyway he’s half conscious and drops a uh...... clearly addled “you’re beautiful” and I’m like okay dude if ur awake enough to be pulling that bullshit ur awake enough to walk better than this cmon now……….

Anyway we make it to the lift up to the lighthouse w uta just absolutely inconsolable and shanks drifting in and out of consciousness. Im taking the moment to catch my breath and steadily get more and more pissed bc she’s called him captain enough times for me to know he’s definitely the one who just Blatantly Ignored my warnings And she’s called him Shanks enough times that I’ve finally put a finger on who he is—bc one of my responsibilities as lighthouse keeper is also to warn the island of who’s approaching so I keep tabs on the more Infamous pirates of which the red hairs are so I’m even more irate LMFAOOOOOO sooooo serious I am such a cranky spinster in this selfship (even tho again I’m only like. 32 JDNCKSNKDND)

Anyway. Once the lift brings us up to the lighthouse/keeper’s quarters I help shanks to the spare room and grab him some dry clothes and he’s Out by the time I’ve showered n gotten into my own. Uta’s a bit better esp once I get her showered and dried too, she hovers near him for the first lil bit and then is spooked enough by the storm and yk her unconscious father that she ventures back out to stay w me. To help calm her nerves I decide to call into town and see if the rest of the crew has popped up (bc i know the currents and know generally where a ship like that would end up)—im decent friends w the local bartender and shes like yeah they showed up n now theyre weathering out the storm. she puts me through to beckman and he talks to uta and then he n i kinda agree better to just wait until the storm passes and then theyll come take uta and shanks off my hands

it takes like a couple days!!! the lighthouse is abt thirty mins from town but the storm's so bad the route is too dangerous for a bit. shanks remains largely unconscious for most of that; i take care of uta and she n i rlly bond during this time, in fact i let her sleep w me bc shes too flighty to sleep well w shanks.

and then she lets her fleet of uncles into my house while im tending to the light and i come back to be jumpscared by beckman and im like wow this is awful gtfo of my house take ur captain with u i want all of u G O N E 😭😭😭 i am not a people person and i do not naturally get along w men esp not. the kinda men the red hair pirates are i fear so i am very curt and quick to send them off.

it takes shanks another day or so to sleep it off n then he wakes up to a disheveled crew and a wrecked ship w them all stuck for at least a month while the ship is repaired. He only has very hazy memories of me regarding the whole ordeal and it's one of the primary reasons he comes out of it A Bit Obsessed but v much nothing concrete.......

ofc when i finally venture into town beckman points me out and shanks approaches me very eagerly n offers to buy me a drink n im like :) no thank u i would rather not do that actually pls take ur arm off my shoulders and never speak to me again JSHIBFJHB idk........ it takes a couple of other interations && watching me w uta before his Full Infatuation sets in but within the week shanks is v much enraptured and also in denial abt the romantic aspect (in his head he just wants to be friends w me bc uta adores me and i saved him; its like a funky little challenge in his head LOL)

then it's two yrs of him finding every excuse to come back "for uta's sake, shes always asking after her favorite auntie" and slowly coming to realize hes into me and then starting to be Very Obvious about it until i again finally give in. its sweet, idk hes the kinda guy in my head who falls Hard but doesn't realize until hes in the thick of it, poor Beckman who saw the entire future the moment he started asking uta about me when he woke up LMFAOOOOOO

n e way there we go 🙂‍↕️ 🙂‍↕️ i hope it lives up to ur expectations JHADBFJHB

[phantomdoofer]

Tower Town, La Guerra Antica - Why We Fight

“Bless you, Commander!” A group of refugees called to Volante as they walked past. A group of English refugees, they'd been evacuated to the Resistance Base when their own had been overrun.

There hadn't been many of them left, so they had plenty of room to accommodate them. 

Volante waved and smiled, trying to reassure them, though he didn't entirely feel it. The Pizzamancer was ramping up his attacks, and the Resistance cells all over the world were taking a beating. They had been forced to expand the Base again; the warrens of living quarters below the Base were beginning to look more like a giant inverted tower than any sort of environment. And the nature reserves were in danger of being damaged by the influx of people, trapped underground, just wanting to see and touch something natural.

Volante couldn't blame them. The whole point of this fight is so that people will be able to live free under a real sky, after all.

In the two years since he'd been Augmented, he'd quite literally driven the fight home for the Pizzamancer's forces. More times than he cared to consider, he'd made daring raids behind enemy lines to destroy resources, break up plans.

It just seemed to redouble the Pizzamancer's efforts.

Finally, recently, Rosa had pulled him off the front lines. “Look, Volante, I get it. Really, I do.” She'd looked down at her hands, her frustration showing in the flex of her arms. “We have these powers… and they don't seem to be doing any good. But… we can't give up. We just… need to apply them in different ways, is all.”

So she'd taken to training him to be even more of a leader. He'd found he had a head for it; between his now-vast experience with their opponent's forces, and the incredible processing speed of his Augmented mind, he had quickly become one of their foremost planners.

Rosa still sent him on missions, though. “I'm pretty sure you'd burst into flame if we left you sitting at base all the time,” she'd said, a rueful but also playful smile on her face.

He realized he was unconsciously speeding up - everyone around him was starting to sound like a half-speed movie again. He consciously reduced himself to “normal” speed. He huffed, annoyed. Doesn't feel like anything we're doing has any effect!

Spinning on his heel, he made his way to one of the nature reserves. I need to see something other than death for a while.

Proceeding out into the open, he sighed and smiled. Even knowing it was false, an enclosed space meant to resemble the outside world, it was still comforting. Better than stuffy stone hallways.

Nascosto had built this one more recently, designed more as a park than a reserve; the increasing demand from a burgeoning refugee population had required some form of recompense. “People need to at least feel some form of life,” Nascosto had said when he'd called to inform them of the changes. “We weren't meant to stay underground forever.”

Volante wished he could remember anything about the man. I understand why, but… it feels so shady to believe everything a disembodied voice says. 

Volante approached a park bench, and flopped down, breathing out. Shortly, several people called in greeting, and he waved back absent-mindedly. No one approached; Volante's occasional forays like this were well-known, and everyone seemed to understand he wanted to be alone… and just absorb the life around him.

He leaned back, staring at the artificial sky above, letting his mind unravel and just exist.

An unknown time later, the sound of a group of children laughing and playing caught his attention… along with a much deeper, familiar voice. A voice as full of life and joy as the children around it.

Volante smiled, and looked down.

Out in the field in front of him, Gordo ran and played with his horde of children. Volante counted at least thirteen, ranging in age from small children to a few young teenagers. All of them were laughing and screaming, many of them climbing and crawling over their immense father. 

Volante chuckled as a group of them climbed onto him, dragging him to the ground, where he flopped onto his back, laughing. They climbed over him like a herd of kittens attacking a bull, and he playfully fended them off. “No, no, aiuto! Qualcuno mi aiuti! È un'orda di mostri! Mi mangeranno vivo!” He yelled, and the children made mock growling and snarling noises, playing the part of the monsters they fought as only children would.

Volante noticed that the usually lightly-clothed Gordo was dressed in a light shirt and shorts, for once. The mountainous hedonist was usually less modestly attired.

As the swirl of play moved away, Gordo stood up, laughing and dusting himself off, then turned, seeing Volante watching. He walked over. “Mind if I join you, ragazzo?”

Volante gestured beside him. “Be my guest.”

The bench groaned as the man sat, and Gordo leaned back, throwing his arms over the back of the bench. After a period of companionable silence, Gordo spoke. “It's not often I get to spend time with all my children.” The man's voice was pitched lower than normal; it made Volante's bones vibrate.

Volante smiled. “I saw the vicious attack. Is this all of them?” He teased, knowing the answer.

Gordo chuckled. “Purtroppo no. Many of the others are still bambinos. All I can do for them is admire them… and help their madri.”

Volante turned his eyes towards his friend. “Do you really spend so much time helping them?”

Gordo waved a hand. “Not enough hours in the day, sadly. I wouldn't have time for anything else. But their madri understand that - I give them what time I have.” His face fell. “There's never enough time.”

“And so many want for comfort, eh?” Volante teased.

Surprisingly, Gordo's face stayed solemn. “Amico… everyone is hurting. So badly. I feel it… feel it in my soul.”

Volante nodded. As a side-effect of his powers, the man had an unavoidable desire to comfort and protect people. “And there just isn't enough of you to go around,” Volante said quietly.

Gordo nodded. “Sì. No matter… no matter what I do… we do… it just gets worse.” He turned, and in his eyes was more despair than Volante had ever seen. “Ragazzo… please. Tell me. Tell me what we're doing has meaning. That… that we're not bringing these children into the world… only to die.”

Volante felt a surge of anger and fear burn through him - not at Gordo, but at their opponent. How dare you drive such a man to such despair, he thought. He quickly reached up and gripped the big man's shoulder. “What you do… what we do… absolutely has meaning, amico. Sì, it's a tough fight… and getting tougher. But we won't give up. Trust that you're not alone, amico mio. Your children, your friends, will live in a world free of fear.” He nodded emphatically. “I swear it.”

Gordo sniffed, then turned and gripped Volante's forearm. “Ragazzo… providence smiled on us, the day we found you. I shudder to think what would have become of us if we had arrived but a moment later.”

Volante blushed furiously. “Don't be ridicolo, amico mio! You would have done just fine without me.”

Gordo gave him a long look. “Humility has its virtues, amico mio, but false modesty is as much a sin as arrogance. No. The day you returned… I hold no illusions. We had overreached. We likely would have been wiped out. Oh, some of us would have survived… but the back of the Resistance would have been broken. We would have stood no chance.” He gripped Volante's arm like a lifeline. “Ever since… you have been a driving force in this movement. So many look up to you now, ragazzo.” He grinned weakly. “I'm one of them.”

Volante chuckled. “Oh, come now, amico, surely you're exaggerating…”

Gordo retained his solemn expression. “No exaggeration, amico mio. I would say, after Rosa, you are the most important person in this movement, now. More than me. You are more than a fighter, a planner, a leader… you are an inspiration. Your drive, your passion… it would be no lie to say that many of our fighters would have lost hope by now, without you. Myself included.”

Volante was stunned. “Gordo… I…”

Gordo started chuckling… which quickly turned into roaring laughter. “Ah, the look on your face! That's what people admire about you, Volante! Despite all you do… you don't hold yourself above others.”

“Neither does Lady Rosa, though,” Volante mumbled, trying to regain his equilibrium.

“Infatti,” Gordo conceded, “but dear Rosa, eh, she holds herself apart from others. For good reason, as we both know,” he added quickly, “but it makes her seem aloof… something she hates.”

Volante took his arm away, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps we could do something for her. Something to give her time to reflect.” 

Gordo shrugged. “But what could we do to ease her burden that we aren't already doing, amico?”

Volante grinned as a spark lit in his head. “I have an idea.”

He quickly outlined his plan, and as he went on, the huge man's grin spread from ear to ear. “I don't know if it will change her heart, ragazzo, but I agree… she needs a reminder of why she's doing what she's doing.” 

Volante nodded. “But how do we do it?”

Gordo let out a bark. “There is one person who can arrange it… if we can contact them.” 

~~~~

Volante hit the call button on Rosa's office, Gordo standing beside him. So far, their plan had gone off without a hitch.

Now we just have to get the most recalcitrant part of it to cooperate.

The “enter” tone sounded, and he opened the door.

As Gordo squeezed in behind him, Volante looked his leader over. She looks so worn out. Her skin was paler, and her hair, normally luxurious and silky, was frazzled and frizzy. She had bags under her eyes.

As he sat down, he put a hand on her desk. “No offense, Lady Rosa, but you look terrible.”

Gordo nodded. “You're not taking care of yourself, amica. You've been cooped up in here for days now. What good can you do if you collapse?”

Rosa groaned. “You two… you know what has to be done to keep this whole thing running. It's… things are getting tight.” She sighed, leaning back. “Who else can do it?”

Volante and Gordo exchanged glances. “Well, we could, you know,” Volante said.

Rosa sighed again. “But there's things that only I can do…”

A chime sounded on her desk… a familiar one.

Rosa's eyebrows rose. “Nascosto. Wonder what's up?”

Each of them dutifully scanned their hands, and Volante quickly locked the door while Gordo activated the countermeasures. Shortly, Nascosto's distorted voice came through. “Rosa,” he said, “it's been brought to my attention that you're working yourself to death.”

Rosa's eyes grew wide. “How… how did…?”

Nascosto chuckled. “A few things: simple deduction - things have been escalating, and I know you, Rosa. You have many virtues, but one of your greatest faults is trying to shoulder your burdens alone. Also, a little birdie told me.”

She looked up suspiciously at the two men. Gordo merely grinned his most insouciant grin, while Volante had a stone face a Litha would have been proud of. “A ‘little’ birdie, huh?”

Nascosto chuckled. “One, perhaps, not so little. But I agree - you're no good to anyone as a burnt-out husk. So… I have a proposal for you, Lady Rossini.”

She leaned back, sighing. “I'm listening.”

“To put it bluntly, you need a vacation. And I can arrange one for you - one where you get to spend some time with your son, Angelo,” he said without preamble. 

Rosa's eyes went wide. “Cosa? But… but it wouldn't be safe, you said. That's why you sent him somewhere I didn't know about.”

“And that's true,” Nascosto said. “But I can teleport you, and your son, here. Where I am. There's no danger of you discovering each other's location if neither of you really know where you are.”

Rosa resisted… but she already felt her resolve shifting. “I… I haven't seen him since he was a bambino,” she whispered. “He's nine now. Would he even recognize me?”

Gordo leaned forward. “All the more reason to do this, ragazza. For his sake… and yours.” He looked off into the distance. “We both know that our children are a treasure we cannot afford to lose, Rosa. He's already lost his Papa. Don't leave him without his Mama, as well.”

Rosa scowled. “It's war, Gordo. That could happen at any time.”

Volante spoke up. “As he said, all the more reason to do this, Lady Rosa. You may not get another chance… before something inevitable happens.”

She sat back, her heart beating fast. 

“I could give you a couple of weeks together, Rosa,” Nascosto said. 

Rosa l, in one of her lightning changes of mood, suddenly looked resolved. “Va bene, but only on one condition,” she said sharply, pointing at Volante. “While I'm gone, he's fully in charge.”

Volante looked shocked. “Cos-? but- me?? What- why-?”

Rosa smiled maliciously. “You're already a spiritual leader of this Resistance, Volante,” she said. “I think it's beyond time for you to learn some administration.” She looked down at the blank screen. “It should take me about a week to drill Volante in what his responsibilities will be. Is that acceptable, Nascosto?”

The distorted voice chuckled. “Fine by me, Signora. I think it's a fine idea.” A pause. “Volante, it's on you, now. Do you accept?”

Volante grumbled, fidgetong. No good deed goes unpunished. I suppose she wouldn't do such a thing unless she had faith in me. Finally he waved a hand. “Sì, sì, do il mio consenso. But solo Dio lo sa why you think this is a good idea.”

Rosa and Gordo both grinned. “You're more important than you realize, Volante,” Rosa said.

“I tried to tell him that, myself,” Gordo chuckled. “He just can't seem to believe it.”

Even Nascosto's distorted chuckle was obvious. “Don't sell yourself so short, Volante. You're a key to all of this, now. All of you are.” He paused. “And you all need to be healthy, physically and mentally. That means not burning yourself out, Rosa.” 

Rosa laughed and held her hands up in surrender. “I give, I give. I'll take your little ‘vacation,’ Nascosto.”

~~~~

Rosa blinked as the lights of the new place briefly dazzled her. I've been here before, but you'd never know it.

A gnome stepped from behind a control panel. “We meet for the first time again, Rosa,” he said, smiling warmly.

She stepped off the pad, put down her bag, and shook his hand. “Thank you for taking such a tremendous risk, Nascosto.”

He waved a hand. “No risk, ragazza. And it's vital you have some time.” He stepped back to the control panel. “Now, if you'll join me over here, your son is waiting.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Angelo. She quickly stepped beside him.

Nascosto worked the controls… and a young man popped into view.

She looked him over - he was a little short for his age. Not surprising, considering. He had Rosa's deep red hair, though it was cropped short. He was also unusually stocky and bulky for a child his age. Also not surprising. Before he'd been sent away, Payne had confirmed that he'd inherited Rosa’s power. 

He stood straight, looking around with interest, but otherwise quiet.

As he turned towards her, she felt her heart melt. He still has his father's dark brown eyes.

Both Rosa and Nascosto stepped from behind the panel. Nascosto stepped forward first. “Welcome, ragazzo. I'm Nascosto, as you were told. Welcome to my extra-secret abode.” He gestured at her. “And this… is Rosa Rossini. Your mother.”

The boy and Rosa locked eyes… and she felt her legs go weak. She stumbled over to him, trying to maintain composure. She started to kneel… then realized it wasn't necessary - he was almost as tall as her. She held out her hand, starting to touch his cheek… then, unsure, switched to putting her hand on his shoulder. “You… you look so much like your Papa,” she whispered. 

He seemed unsure how to respond. “M… mother,” he said. “It’s - I - I’m sorry, I - I don't remember you.”

Rosa choked out a little sob. “Of course you wouldn't. You were barely two. I would have been shocked if you did.” She hugged him around the shoulders. “Ah, figlio… I've missed you so.”

He seemed unsure, but returned the hug.

Nascosto cleared his throat. “If you don't mind, I'd like to take you both somewhere you can talk privately. But first, let's drop your things off at your rooms.”

~~~~

Rosa sat across a table from Angelo, neither of them looking sure of how to proceed. At least he doesn't look like he hates me or something.

Nascosto had left them alone. “This needs to be between you two,” he'd said. “You don't need some old gnome haunting the shadows.”

Rosa cleared her throat. “So, um… please, tell me about yourself.”

Angelo looked uneasy. “Don't you know?”

Rosa shook her head. “I don't know anything about the last seven years of your life, any more than you know about mine. I knew you were safe and healthy. Secrecy… secrecy works best that way.” She leaned forward. “But I want to know about you, Angelo. We've been apart too long. I want to know you. Your hobbies, your hopes, your dreams, your favorite food, the foods you hate, your friends, if you've made any.” She held her hand up, palm upward. “I promise, tell me about yourself, and I'll tell you as much about me as I can.”

He sat silently for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “Zia Moda said you'd want to know all about me,” he said quietly.

Rosa chuckled. “Ah, Moda’s still around, eh? Good. I entrusted you to her when… when I had to send you away.”

Angelo's face went hard. “She never told me much. Why did you send me away like that? Didn't you want me?”

Rosa felt her chest tighten, and held her hand up to the boy's face. “I wanted you more than anything,” she whispered. “Your Papa wasn't sure about having children - wartime, and all. And I had just been Augmented. But…” she paused as she regained her vocal control, “I knew we were both living on borrowed time. One or both of us might have died at any time. I… I wanted us to have a piece of the other… in case that happened. You were the result. And then… and then your Papa went out on patrol one day…” she felt her sorrow bubbling up, and turned her head. 

“But why… why did you get rid of me?” Angelo said, his voice laced with hurt. 

Rosa groaned, reaching her other hand out. “Oh, bambino mio… I never wanted to send you away. But your Papa was the Leader of the Resistance, and I was his second. We tried to keep it hidden, but… it wasn't a random attack. The monsters he encountered were some of the Pizzamancer's deadliest creations. He… he stood no chance.” She shook her head. “It was obvious he was targeting the leaders, then… and he's cruel enough to target families. I've seen it happen. He knows no mercy, no remorse. He would have come after you.”

Angelo went pale. “He'd have killed a baby?”

Rosa nodded. “He'd have killed you with a smile. He likes to torment his opponents. Some of my…my comrades… have died particularly gruesome deaths.” She grasped his hand. “So know this - I sent you away so you would live… so you might have something approaching a normal life. I never, never wanted to be parted from you.”

He looked unsure, but he looked her in the eyes. “...I… Zia Moda tries her best, but… she's not my mother. I've dreamed about meeting you, so often that I can practically recite the dream from memory. But you were always a fuzzy, faceless figure.” He rubbed the crimson fuzz on his head. “Your hair was the only thing I could ever remember - the only tie I had to you.”

Rosa laughed, and her voluminous hair bounced with the motion. “Well, it is rather memorable, from what I'm told. Your Papa always said he loved it.”

Finally, a small smile cracked the boy's face. “Can… Can you tell me about him?”

Rosa nodded. “Of course, figlio. First of all, his name was Michel - that's how we decided upon your name, by the way.”

Angelo blinked, confused. “My name?”

Rosa nodded. “In his infrequent free time, your Papa was a painter… and he adored the works of Michelangelo. So, he was named Michel, so…”

The boy grinned. “And I continued the name.”

Rosa reached out and stroked his face. “That, and… you were my perfect little angel. A blessing, delivered to me in the darkness.” She choked. “After your Papa died, it… it tore me in two, sending you away. But I knew if I didn't, you…”

Angelo clasped her hand in his, his eyes wide. “I understand, Mama. I forgive you.”

Rosa's lip quavered. “Mama? You called me Mama…”

Angelo tilted his head, looking endearingly like a confused puppy. “You're my Mama, no?”

He found himself wrapped up in a massive hug as Rosa finally let go of her grief and happiness. Unsure how to respond, he awkwardly patted her back. “It's OK, Mama. It's OK.”

In the distance, Nascosto smiled, turning away.

~~~~

Volante sat back, running his hands up his face and back into his hair, sighing. No wonder Rosa was so strung out. Even with his accelerated thought processes, keeping track of everything was a daunting task. Logistics, intelligence reports and operations, dealings with nations near and far, petty grievances from residents, requests from other Resistance cells…

Across from him, Gordo sat, his tongue stuck out as he used a stylus to type on a pad. In the giant's hands, the stylus looked laughably small. He'd snapped a couple already. He growled. “Dio non voglia che fabbrichino queste cose per persone della mia statura…”

Volante, despite himself, grinned. “I can't thank you enough for helping me wade through this mess, Gordo. I know you don't enjoy it.”

Gordo snorted. “Acting as an advisor is nothing new to me, amico, but… actual paperwork? Mio Dio, it's no wonder Rosa looked ready to climb into a grave.” He snarled softly. “It would have been a welcome respite.”

Volante nodded. “Agreed. I don't know how she was getting through it all.”

Gordo glanced up. “To be fair, amico, she wasn't. Look at the dates on all of this - this is weeks, months of backlog.” He leaned forward, putting the pad down. “I didn't mention it, but our people have been… dealing with what problems they could themselves. They knew Rosa was overwhelmed. She's a beloved leader, but…”

“... she's not known for her patience,” Volante said.

Gordo nodded. “Or her administrative acumen, for that matter. And besides, she's only one woman.” He sighed. “I thought we gave Rosa plenty of time, but…”

Volante shook his head. “We may not get through this before she returns,” he muttered. He sighed and picked up another pad, typing at supersonic speed, then pausing while the device caught up with the flood of input. “What good is this speed if it can't fix problems,” he muttered.

The door chimed, indicating a visitor.

“Come in,” Volante called.

No response.

Both of them looked up, and Volante pressed the “Call” button. “You can come in,” he repeated.

A rough, jovial voice responded. “Nah, Volante, you an’ Fat Boy get yer asses out here. We wanna talk to ya.”

Volante and Gordo exchanged glances. “Klaus?” Volante said, puzzled - the voice was that of his Ogre second.

“We?” Gordo said, standing. “Also, ‘fat boy?’” He muttered under his breath.

Volante laughed and slapped Gordo's broad back. “Even for an Ogre, Klaus is a bit lacking in filter. Come on, let's see what's so important about us coming out.”

As the door whooshed open, and the two stepped out, Volante realized that Klaus wasn't alone - in fact, he had a reasonable cross-section of the Base's middle leadership behind him. 

Volante smirked. “Has our leadership been so bad you're already planning a mutiny?” He quipped.

The crowd laughed, but Klaus shook his bushy head. “Nothin' so damnable, Vol. We know you two been burnin’ both ends tryin’ get get that shit pile Rosa left ya worked through. Everyone's gettin’ worried.”

Volante quirked an eyebrow. “While the concern is appreciated, there's no need to worry. We'll get everything taken care of.”

Several people shook their heads. Klaus crossed his arms. “With all due respect, Vol, I'm callin’ bullshit. Ya both look as bad as Rosa did already. Yer tryin’ to do too much. We appreciate what yer doin’, but it ain't gonna do any goddamn good if ya both collapse.”

Gordo shrugged. “And what would you have us do? These are all important things. We can't just leave them undone, unaddressed.”

Klaus nodded. “‘Course not. But who said ya had to shovel all the shit yerself?”

Volante and Gordo exchanged glances. “What do you mean?” Volante said.

Klaus roared with laughter. “You hero types. Ya think ya gotta shoulder the entire fuckin’ load yerselves. I'm sayin’ ya need to delegate! Not everything needs yer personal touch. Instead’a wastin’ yer damn time finessin’ every single thing yerself, work out what people like us can do, and hand it off.”

Gordo's eyes widened. “It is… quite a lot of responsibility, amicos. Are you sure you're fine with taking on so much more responsibility? On top of your own duties?”

The crowd roared and cheered in affirmation. “We talked it over, already,” Klaus said, grinning. “We're willin’ to take on the burden. You guys’re not just runnin’ the show, yer riskin’ yer lives on the goddamn front line, shoulder t’ shoulder with us mooks. Least we can do is help ya carry th’ load.”

The group cheered again.

“Let us help!”

“Least we can do!”

“We're all in this together!”

Volante put a hand on Gordo's shoulder. “Who are we to say no to such a generous offer? Give us time, and we'll begin assigning tasks to those we feel are fit to do so.”

Klaus smirked, uncrossing his arms. He handed over a pad. “That's all we're askin’ Vol,” he said, unusually quiet. “Here’s a list. Let us help.”

Volante nodded. “We will. Grazie, grazie to all of you.”

As the crowd dispersed, and the two went back into the office, Volante leaned back. “Now, why didn't we think of that? Why didn't Rosa?”

Gordo chuckled. “I think your foul-mouthed second said it best: hero syndrome. We're so used to shouldering the burden alone, we forgot… we're a group, a famiglia.”

Volante nodded. “I think it's only fair that a few promotions be in order. You have the volunteer manifest, don't you?”

Gordo nodded, holding up the pad. “Right here. We have a wealth of willing hands.”

He pressed a few buttons, and the data transferred to Volante's pad. “Bene. Now, let's put those hands to work.”

As they typed, Gordo reflected. “Speaking of famiglia… I wonder how Rosa's reunion with her figlio is going.”

Volante smirked. “If her son is anything like her, they've probably come to blows already.”

~~~~

Angelo reeled backward, struggling to keep his feet. “Gah!” He cried, his head spinning from the force of the impact he'd just taken.

Rosa, across from him, unclenched her fists and immediately moved to steady him, her eyes wide with concern. “Oh Dio, Angelo, are you all right?”

The boy, his head still spinning a bit, nodded. “Just… just give me a second,” he muttered. He'd asked his mother to help him learn to fight, and to control his super-strength, which was just starting to show itself… but it was not going quite to plan.

Nascosto, off to the side, stepped forward. “I was afraid this would be a problem. Rosa, you've gotten so used to going full bore you've lost the ability to keep yourself at a more reasonable level of strength when you're fighting.”

Rosa turned to the small man. “I know. It's been so long… all I've done the last several years is try to do as much damage as I could. It's not a problem when I'm not fighting, but now… even in a simple spar like this…”

Nascosto sighed. “It's a sort of mental block. We'll have to figure out a way around it. You've lost all finesse. You just hit as hard as you can. Poor boy won't learn anything that way.”

Angelo shook his head. “I need to learn to fight, to really fight. Mama's right, I might need it, one day.”

Rosa crossed her arms, looking down. “But it's no help to you if I'm liable to kill you with one hit…”

Nascosto stepped forward. “Don't worry, Rosa. I can spar with him.”

Both humans’ eyes went wide. “Nascosto, with all due respect, while Angelo is still young, his strength is beyond a normal human's. And to be fair, I didn't even know you could fight.”

He simply grinned, removing his coat. “Rosa, dear, I've been fighting since before your great-great grandfather was a dirty thought. And besides - I'm a gnome. Not exactly a frail waif.”

Rosa nodded. While small, gnomes were far stronger, tougher, and heavier than a human twice their size. They call themselves rocks for a reason. 

Looking at him, Rosa was surprised - he was wearing a sleeveless shirt underneath, and he was surprisingly toned, even for a gnome. “500 years of sleepless nights gives you plenty of time for extracurricular activities. And I'm an accomplished pugilist.” He put his hands up in guard position, and gestured with one hand in a “bring it” motion. “Come on, ragazzo. Try to hit me.”

Angelo, unsure, looked at his mother… who was looking the gnome over with an appraising eye. He had his arms to the sides of his head, but they were loose, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. Instead of being face-on, he had his left side towards the boy. To say nothing of the confident smirk.

Rosa smiled and nodded. “It'll be OK, figlio. I think he'll make a good opponent.”

Nascosto grinned wider. “Don't hold back too much, lad. I'm tougher than you may think.”

Angelo shrugged. “If you say so.” He swung a fist…

The gnome swayed his head away, not even moving from the spot. The boy threw several more swings; Nascosto swayed out of the way, and took the last on his forearm. “Too slow, ragazzo. Go for short, quick jabs. Like this.” The gnome bounced forward and did a short, lightning-fast straight punch, stopping just short of the boy's nose, followed by several that brushed against his ribs. I didn't even see them coming! Angelo reeled back, and the gnome smiled. 

Angelo’s mouth fell open. “Do you have some sort of speed power, sir?” He said.

Nascosto chuckled. “If you think I'm fast, you should have met my teacher. Man could have given a rattlesnake a nasty shock.” He rolled his shoulder, standing straight again. “The trick isn't to be strong, though that's important. What matters is hitting them in places and ways they weren't expecting…”

Nascosto took several quick jabs at the boy - arm, gut, then a couple at his head. Angelo reeled a bit, trying to defend too many places at once…

“...and while they're confused, give ‘em the real hit,” Nascosto said, and he threw a powerful right hook, aiming for Angelo's ribcage.

Angelo, caught unaware, braced for the impact…

The gnome's fist stopped just as it made contact, the cloth barely rippling. 

Nascosto stepped back. “Helps to know some basic anatomy, too. Only aim for vitals if you have to. Disable, debilitate - knock the breath out of them, knock ‘em off their feet, make ‘em dizzy. Anything can give you an advantage.” He walked over, grabbing the boy's sides, twisting his stance. “How you stand matters, too. If your opponent is skilled, give them a small profile to hit.” He stood back. “Of course, you can play mind games, too.” He threw his chest out, slapping it, his head back, a mocking smile on his face. “You can provoke ‘em into attacking, and if you're expecting it…”

Obligingly Angelo took a swing… and he found himself on the ground, facing the artificial sky above.

“...you can take control of the battle away from ‘em,” Nascosto said, looking down at him.

As Angelo’s head spun, Rosa chuckled. “Too bad we don't have time to teach him some martial arts.”

Nascosto spun, dashed towards her at astonishing speed - 

Suddenly she found herself staring up at the sky herself. Nascosto and a concerned-looking Angelo walked up, looking down at her. Nascosto looked smug. “Don't get too cocky, Rosa. You're rusty, too. You never should have fallen for that.”

As Angelo helped her up, Rosa growled at the gnome. “That was a dirty damn trick, Nascosto. You knew I had my guard down.”

Nascosto's smile got wider. “Maybe. Consider it an object lesson for Angelo - I know I was preaching pulling punches, aiming to disable… but that only works sometimes. Considering what he's likely to face, playing fair won't get him far.” He held up a hand, and it lit on fire. Angelo's eyes went wide - Nascosto hadn't demonstrated his own abilities in front of the boy before. “To say nothing of monsters, and power-users.” He turned to the boy. “Remember - in a fight for your life, there's no such thing as fair play. You're fighting to survive. Cheat. Use dirty tactics. Use every advantage, press every weakness, and watch for the best times to do it. You have a weapon? Use it. They trip? Kick their head in, if you have to. Break bones. Snap necks.” He waved his hand, and the ball of flame dissipated. “It's you against them.”

Angelo had gone pale, and Rosa quickly wrapped the arms around her son. “Nascosto, he's only nine!”

Nascosto put his hands on his hips. “And he's the son of the leader of the Resistance. It's a testament to his protectors that no one's made an attempt on him yet. He needs to know.” He sighed. “You want to try and sugarcoat death and murder?”

Rosa stroked the boy's head. “I… I don't…”

Nascosto's face softened, and he walked over to them. “I know. It's harsh. And I'm sorry to have to be so harsh with you, ragazzo. But you have to be prepared.” He glanced up at Rosa's face. “Your Madre isn't the only one who cares about you.”

Angelo looked confused, but Rosa nodded. “You care about all of us, don't you?”

Nascosto looked grim. “As if you were my own children.”

Rosa looked thoughtful. “Do you have any children, Nascosto?”

The gnome, for once, looked surprised. He stared, then shook his head. “No. In five hundred years, I've devoted my entire life to resisting the Pizzamancer's evil. Children, relationships… there wasn't time. And… they would've been targets. I would have had to keep them here to keep them safe. And that's… that’s no life for anyone.”

“What about you?” Angelo said. “You do it to yourself.”

Nascosto looked surprised, then smiled. “I do. But… I'm immortal, lad. I have time.  Keeping someone with only a few years locked up their entire life… I won't have it.” He slammed his fist into his hand, looking at the boy. “One day, you'll walk free, and without fear, on the surface, ragazzo. I swear it.”

“And will he be walking alongside a little Nascosto?” Rosa said teasingly. “Maybe you should take a few pages from Gordo's book.”

Nascosto smiled, but there was a sadness to it. “I was a lot like him, once. Maybe… maybe one day. When Dominic isn't a threat.”

“Dominic?” Angelo said, perplexed.

Nascosto smiled more brightly, a touch of mischief in it. “The Pizzamancer's real name, lad.”

Angelo's eyes went even wider. “You know the Pizzamancer's real name??”

Nascosto nodded. “I do. And much more, in fact. We were friends, long, long ago. I'll tell you the story another time.” He took his stance again, this time his arms held out, his hands flat, spread to catch blows. “Now. Let's work on your form and speed. Aim for where my hands are. Control your punches, boy, but don't pull them. Let's go.”

~~~~

Nascosto sat at his terminal, busily putting in figures, when the door opened and Rosa crept in. “He settle down all right?” Nascosto said without turning.

The woman chuckled. “You managed to avoid bruising him too badly, but he'll be nursing that side for a while.”

Nascosto shrugged. “He juked when I expected him to bob. I managed to pull the punch, at least. I'm not perfect.”

Rosa shook her head. “No one thinks you are, Nascosto.”

The gnome stopped typing, looking off into the distance. “Yes, they do. They expect me to be. I have to be. I have to.” He turned, and Rosa was shocked to see his face - drawn, shadowed, old beyond its youthful appearance.

Rosa quickly crossed over to him. “Nascosto, what… why do you feel that way?”

“Because this is my fault, Rosa. All of it. It's all rooted in my mistakes. My failures. I can't afford to mess up again.”

Rosa looked shocked. “Nascosto, no one says this is your fault…”

Nascosto looked stricken. “But it is, Rosa. It was my research that made him what he is.” His voice rose as centuries-old guilt began to bubble forth. “It's my power that keeps him alive and untouchable. It's my fault I didn't stop him! Me! MY FAULT! I-!”

Rosa grabbed the gnome by the shoulders, shaking him. “Nascosto, STOP! Per favore! You're scaring me!”

Nascosto stopped ranting, but looked up at her, his eyes full of fear and uncertainty for the first time she could recall. “That's why I have to be perfect, Rosa. That, right there. All of you… all of you are counting on me to know what to do. To always have a countermeasure.  To be supremely confident, twelve steps ahead. And I have to be, or people die.” He paused, his eyes stared into the past. “I can still remember the day he killed me. My first resurrection. The day he became the Pizzamancer. Half-burned bodies, laminated to the walls, the ceiling. Piles of ash, silhouettes plastered on every surface, caught in profile as they were flash-fried. Trees scorched and burning like giant torches. Stone and metal, melted and deformed like some kind of grotesque jelly. And the silence. I was the only living thing in a city that had been incinerated. And it was all my fault..

He looked at the ceiling. “I should have seen what he was. But I trusted him. Trusted him with my life… and he took it. Took the lives of my friends, my colleagues, tortured them, tormented them… he knew it would hurt me. That it went against everything I stood for. Without me, he couldn't have… all those people would've…” He shook his head, coming back from his memories. “I have to hold the line, Rosa. For them. For all of you.”

Rosa bent down and hugged the gnome. “Oh, Signore,” she whispered. “I'm sorry.”

Nascosto awkwardly returned the gesture, then pushed her back. “I can't rest, can't relax, Rosa. Not so long as that monster still runs free.” He turned back to the terminal, where a set of schematics hovered. “That being said, I think I'm getting close to a solution.”

“Oh?” Rosa bent over, glancing at the screen. “I don't understand most of the science there, but… that looks like a ring.”

Nascosto nodded. “It is. Or, it will be. It's a special device that can store psycho-spiritual energy. An old colleague of mine was working on something like this… before… and I forgot until a couple of years ago. Right after I Augmented Volante, in fact. Been trying to back-engineer it from stuff people have found over the years. If this works… I think I can… seal him.”

Rosa nodded. “That's great, Nascosto! But… didn't you say that him copying your immortality was the big problem? What good will it do to seal him if he can still get out? Couldn't you… remove his powers, somehow?”

Nascosto sighed. “I would, if I knew how. For all we learned - what gene sequences did what, how they interacted, things like that - we never figured out how they can defy the laws of physics. I mean, look at you,” he said, gesturing at Rosa, “your muscles should tear and your bones should break every time you throw a punch. Volante's mind should melt every time he tries to run, to say nothing of how his skin should start to peel off and his own muscles to tear. Gordo should have been a pile of ash ages ago. These powers, they… they tap into something beyond even my understanding.” He sighed. “Besides, I don't think we've ever encountered someone with more than one distinct power. They always blend, or one takes dominance. There's no telling how all those powers are interacting inside his body. If I destroy one, who knows how the others might react.” He leaned back. “So… the best I've come up with is to render him inert. The problem is… he'll still be somewhat conscious when he's sealed.”

“And with all that power…” Rosa muttered.

Nascosto nodded. “He could, and would, break loose. However, I discovered a quirk: if the sealing mechanism is worn by someone with a similar enough genetic structure, it synchronizes… and their mind will suppress his.”

Rosa's eyes widened. “So you're saying if someone of his blood wears the ring…”

“...their presence alone will keep him sealed, yes,” Nascosto finished. “But it'll have to be constant. If they're separated long enough, he'll be able to overwhelm it, though not escape it. It'll be an eternal burden.”

“Couldn't you synchronize it to someone else? Like yourself?” Rosa said. “You're immortal, after all.”

Nascosto sighed. “Believe me, I tried. It's got to be someone of similar blood. Descendants.”

Rosa looked perplexed. “Does the Pizzamancer have any family?”

Nascosto smiled grimly. “He killed most of them… but believe it or not, he does. They're living in the Resistance Base, in fact. Do you recall a family of Ninda named the Totinos?”

Rosa touched her chin, thinking, then nodded. “I think I do. Very quiet. Don't interact much with others. Like they're… afraid…”

Nascosto nodded. “Afraid of being discovered… and for people to discover who their relatives are. If Dom finds out they're alive, he'll tear down Heaven and earth to kill them…”

“...and if the other Resistance members found out, they might try to take out their hatred of the Pizzamancer on them,” Rosa muttered, then shook her head. “Poor things. No wonder they seemed jumpy.”

“If I can get this on him, I'll give the ring to them… and explain what to do. I hate to place the burden on them, but… there's no one else it would work with.” Nascosto stared for a moment. “Damn you, Dom,” he whispered. “Even a victory against you leaves people in pain.”

“When do you think you might have it ready?” The excitement in her voice was obvious.

“Years, probably,” Nascosto said. “It’s still in the experimental stages. I won't risk attacking him until I know it'll work.” His eyes looked just a bit wild. “It has to work. It has to,” he whispered.

Rosa looked at him and saw him as he really was: a brilliant man who was carrying the ultimate survivor's guilt… and had been on the edge for quite literally centuries. Most men would have cracked by now. Long before, in fact. She crouched down, taking his hand in hers. “You're doing the best you can, Nascosto. No one thinks otherwise. And let me tell you this: we're going to win.” She smiled, just a touch of mischief in her eyes. “I refuse to let it be otherwise.”

Nascosto looked up, into her eyes, and slowly she saw a flame of determination appear in them. He took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. “You're right. We've managed to keep him from taking over the world this long.”

She nodded. “Yep. It's just a matter of time. I know it.”

Nascosto closed his eyes and sat in silence for an unmeasurable time. Finally, he sighed again. “Thank you, Signora.”

Rosa stood up, shrugging. “I mean, I've got years of experience keeping the Resistance going now. What's one more encouraging speech?” She pumped her fist. “I really believe it, you know. We are going to win.”

Nascosto nodded. “Yeah. You're right.” He still had a shadow of doubt in his heart, but he chose to believe. “Now. Did you come in here to buck up an old man, or did you have something else in mind?”

Rosa burst out laughing. “After all that, I'd forgotten why I came in here!” Her smile became merry. “I have an idea, Nascosto. I remembered - Angelo has never received a birthday present from me. I want to throw him a party… and make him something special.”

Nascosto's eyes lit up. “Now there's something I can get behind. You have any ideas about what you want to give him?”

She sat down and outlined her idea…

~~~~

Volante sat in the office, sedately flipping through the reports. He sighed - the redistribution of work had gone wonderfully. If only we'd done it before. Everyone had put in extra hours, digging through the enormous backlog, and after a week of determined effort, they'd finally gotten most of it caught up.

Most of it. Volante was reading through intelligence reports - all of which were need-to-know only. Which meant only he or Gordo could even access them. 

He closed down one file and opened another. Some things just can't be delegated. Luckily, most of them were fairly tame - after the flood of attacks weeks prior, the Pizzamancer had gone quiet. Which is worrying, in and of itself. But people were taking advantage of the sudden quiet - different nations and even orphaned city-states were feverishly trading for supplies, and the Resistance was offering what aid they could. 

Overall, morale was rising. Volante's was not. He's up to something. But what?

Gordo opened the door, quietly closing it behind him, and eased into the chair across from Volante. He held a pad, and quickly patched into the secure connection in the office. “Scusa per il ritardo, Volante. Just checking in with some of the department heads.”

Volante nodded. “Everything bene?” He said.

Gordo nodded without looking up. “Now that people aren't working double shifts to carve through that montagna di scartoffie, sì,” he said. “In fact, everyone seems to be unusually happy.”

Volante growled softly. “Because the greasy bastard has gone quiet. I don't trust it.”

Gordo nodded. “Sono d'accordo. He's definitely planning something. But what? Have you seen anything in these reports?”

Niente,” Volante muttered. “He's as quiet as a rat. Which is just making it worse.” He put his hand down, and his finger began tapping the desktop absent-mindedly. Soon the whirr of high-speed motion began drilling into Gordo's ears. “It's right here, I know it is. But-”

The whirring became painful as Volante's anxiety began to peak…

Gordo gently put a hand over his friend's hand. “Volante, fermare. All we can do is what we can do. Besides,” he said, grinning, “you'll drill a hole through the desk at this rate.”

Volante looked down at his friend's hand, and grinned weakly. “Scusa, amico. Force of habit.’ He pushed away from the desk, sighing expressively. “I need to take a walk. Get some food. Be a person for a while.” He stood. “Care to join me?”

Gordo went back to studying the pad in front of him. “I would, but I just ate. I'll continue digging through this mess of inganno e astuzia. Go. Put it out of your mind for a bit.”

Volante nodded. “Thank you, amico.”

As he left, though, he found he couldn't put it out of his mind. He's had the world on the verge of disaster for years. And suddenly he goes quiet? No. Something terrible is about to happen.

He fought the urge to run out and try and find out what it was.

~~~~

Angelo followed behind his mother, amused but a little perplexed. “So, what're we doing today, Madre? Some more sparring?” He rolled his shoulder, grinning. “I'm starting to enjoy it, to be honest. It's… nice. Having something to do with this power other than try not to hurt people with it.”

Rosa chuckled. “Oh, we're not putting you on the front lines anytime soon, figlio mio. But… did you not help others with your strength, before? Lift heavy things, help people move, that sort of thing?” She looked back over her shoulder, a look of mild reproof on her face. 

Angelo hastily held up his hands. “I offered! Truly, I did! But Zia Moda insisted it was “beneath me!” I wanted to help!”

Rosa stopped, turning. “Beneath you?” She scowled. “We're not - porco miseria, we're not royalty!” She turned back. I need to have a chat with that woman sometime…”

Angelo, a bit shaken, nodded. “I really wanted to help. I always feel so bad, seeing everyone struggle, and knowing I can help and I'm not allowed…”

Rosa put her fist in her other hand as she walked. “Well, that's changing immediately. If you want to help, and it's not dangerous, you're going to be allowed to help. We have enough problems without some people getting delusions of grandeur.”

Angelo blinked. “What does that mean?”

Rosa turned her head. “It means someone has ideas that they're more important or better than others. You're important, but you're not some prince. And I'm no queen.”

Angelo’s lip curled. “Ew. Yeah. I don't feel that way at all. I don't think I'm better than anyone else. Stronger, yeah, but… not better.”

Rosa turned, smiling, and rustled the boy's close-cropped hair. “That's my boy. Keep those feet on the ground.” She clenched and unclenched her hands, the muscles in her arms rippling as she did. “These powers… they're meant to help people. When people use them selfishly… well. Look at what the Pizzamancer has done.” She stopped outside the door to the nature preserve. “Anyway. I thought we'd do something special today.”

“Oh?”

Rosa smiled widely and opened the door -

A table was set up just outside, covered by a tablecloth in eye-hurtingly-bright colors. Balloons were tied to the corners. A small but lavish feast was spread surrounding an enormous cake, and Nascosto stood beside it, his face merry.

He threw up his hands and both he and Rosa yelled, “SURPRISE!”

Angelo blinked, taken aback. “Wh… what's going on?”

Rosa laughed. “Nascosto and I were talking the other day, and I realized - you've never gotten a birthday party, or a single birthday gift, from me. So, surprise!”

Angelo was certainly surprised. “But it's not… my birthday…”

Nascosto laughed. “Certo che no, ragazzo. Your Madre hasn't forgotten. But we only have a short time left, and she wanted to do this for you. I heartily agreed.” He smirked even wider. “And it's been a long, long time since I got to host a party.”

Angelo grinned, still a bit perplexed but starting to get into the spirit of it. “I guess.”

Rosa laughed. “You guess? Don't pass up an opportunity to celebrate life, figlio mio!”

Nascosto nodded. “Yep. ‘Yesterday is gone, and tomorrow isn't promised.’ One of the oldest sayings known to man. Take happiness where you can get it, my boy.”

Angelo laughed. “OK, OK! I get it!” He sat down. “Besides, I’ve gotta have some of that cake.”

As they sat down, Rosa made a tut, tut noise. “You're just going to ignore this sumptuous feast Nascosto so kindly cooked for us?”

Nascosto grinned. “Cooked, mind you. Not had made. Everything here was made by hand, from resources from this very preserve.”

Angelo looked impressed. “Even the cake?”

Nascosto chuckled. “Especially the cake. Rosa had to fight some, er, feral chickens for the eggs.”

Angelo burst out laughing. “Feral chickens?”

Rosa scowled. “Don't laugh. Some of those things had teeth. And three-inch spurs. Nascosto neglected to mention all that.” She glared at the gnome…

Nascosto chuckled uneasily. “I, uh, was experimenting with increasing their size for, er, food purposes… and I might have accidentally regressed them back a few eons.”

Angelo was howling with laughter.

Rosa huffed. “It was worth it, though. Huge eggs.” She smiled proudly. “I made the cake, by the way.”

Angelo stopped laughing and stared. “You made this?” 

The surprise was warranted: the cake was a beautiful explosion of confectionery, a good two feet tall.

Rosa smirked. “Nascosto's not the only one here who can cook.”

The gnome rubbed his hands together. “Well, enough chit-chat. Let's eat this before it gets cold.”

~~~~

Angelo leaned back, trying not to groan - he was so full, he was blissfully miserable. “That was… wow.”

Rosa, similarly stuffed, nodded. “I haven't had a meal like that in years. You're an amazing cook, Nascosto.”

The gnome burped and grinned. “Well, centuries of practice and all that. And fresh materials help.” He waved at the partially-disassembled cake. “The cake was heavenly, by the way.”

Rosa chuckled. “I don't often get to flex those skills… so I may have embellished a bit. But I agree, it turned out wonderfully.”

Angelo was almost purring. “Mama, Signore, thank you so much for this. I don't think I've ever really gotten… um… a real birthday party before. Moda tries, but…”

Nascosto nodded grimly. “You're on short commons, with so many people in your shelter. I understand, ragazzo. I'm working on a solution, but…”

“...but it takes time,” Rosa murmured. “Right?”

Nascosto nodded. “I don't want to tell the others, but… we're running low on the nanomachines. I have the facilities to build them here, but… sadly, this area is a bit lacking in the raw materials.” He sighed. “I have to be careful.”

Rosa's eyebrows rose. “Is it anything we can help with?”

Nascosto shrugged. “Not unless you want to spend more time mining than fighting. And most of the materials I really need are found on other continents… or are under the Pizzamancer's control.” He growled. “Every day, in every way, he causes problems.”

All of them sat in grim silence for several seconds… until Rosa suddenly clapped her hands. “Well, enough for that for now! We've got one more thing for you, Angelo!”

Angelo smiled. “And what would that be, Mama?”

Nascosto's grim countenance melted into a mischievous smirk. “Presents, ragazzo mio, presents! A birthday should always include some sort of gift, if possible.”

As the two shuffled to pull out packages, Angelo gestured at the food. “Isn't this enough?”

Rosa laughed. “Wonderful as food is, it's not lasting… which things like presents should be.”

Nascosto pulled out a small box, proffering it with a grin. “Here you go, Angelo. Happy birthday.”

The boy gently lifted the lid on the small box, reached in… and pulled out a hand-length metal object. He lifted it up, examining it; it had a plethora of screws, hinges, and assorted grooves that he noticed led to a wide variety of tools. “What is it?” He asked, curious.

Nascosto took it from him. “It's a multitool,” he said, expertly flipping it open into the form of a set of needle-nosed pliers. “One of the most useful things you can ever have. Pliers, blades, cutters, tweezers, screwdrivers… there's more than a dozen tools in this thing. I've kept one on me at all times, almost my whole life. Saved me a lot of trouble… and saved my life a few times, too.” He grinned even wider. “It's even got a hidden function. Say you need a tool it doesn't have… hold your thumb here for two seconds,” he put his thumb against one of the large hinge screws, “and say what you need. Allan wrench,” he said clearly…

The metal flowed and reshaped, and suddenly an allan wrench sat at the end of the tool.

He handed the tool back to Angelo, who stared. “Cooool,” he whispered.

Nascosto beamed. “Nanomachines woven into the metal. Tap the hinge three times to change it back.”

Angelo did so, and the metal flowed back into its original shape.

Angelo pocted the device with a smile. “Thanks, Signore Nascosto. I can already think of a bunch of ways it'll come in handy.”

Nascosto nodded. “I bet. Bright kid like yourself, you'll find lots of ways to use something like that.”

Rosa stood, shyly proffering a small box. “Here you are, figlio mio. Buon compleanno, nine years’ worth.”

The box was small… but Angelo could tell, somehow, that it bore a huge weight to his mother. He carefully opened the box…

He lifted the small, dark object out, holding it to the light. “A ring?”

Rosa nodded. “A special alloy, almost indestructible, and won't tarnish. Try it on, try it on!” 

He slid it over his middle finger - it was too big for his other fingers - and realized he could feel a faint pulsing coming from it, like a heartbeat. “What…?”

Rosa held up her hand… where an identical ring sat. She smiled. “Synchronized rings. So long as we have them on, we can feel each other, no matter where we are. Even if we ended up on different worlds.”

He looked closely at the ring. “How does that work? Nanomachines again?”

Nascosto chuckled. “Even more fantastic. Back before the breakdown, a colleague of mine was experimenting with variations on a phenomenon known as “quantum entanglement” - atoms created together under certain conditions would resonate, no matter how far apart. They found a few new applications… and this was one of them. Rings like this were often exchanged between spouses… and parents and children. They were fairly common… before.” He gently took the boy's hand, and put it in his mother's. “No fancy technology, just physics… the only way to break this bond would be to utterly destroy the rings.” He smirked. “And, short of dropping them into a nuclear reaction, that's not happening.” He nodded. “As long as you wear them, you'll never be fully apart.”

Rosa's eyes were welling up. “Do… do you like it?”

Angelo paused. He could feel her heart racing in excitement… and anticipation. 

He'd never felt closer to anyone.

He darted forward, hugging her, and she squeezed him tight. “Thank you, Mama,” he whispered. “I'm never taking it off.”

Rosa could help herself anymore, and burst out crying. “Oh, figlio mio… nor will I. Not til my dying breath.”

~~~~

Volante knocked on the office door, smiling. For some reason, Gordo had beaten him to it, today. Then he chuckled. Not “for some reason.” He's excited. 

Today was the day Rosa would be returning from her vacation. While they'd managed to get everything ticking over nicely, both of them, as well as the entire population of the base, were looking forward to the return of their comrade.

A rumbling voice called through the speaker, and Volante opened the door with a smirk.

Gordo sat at the desk, looking rather childlike for a man his size. Volante chuckled. “Gordo, amico, you look like you're being called to del preside’s office, not welcoming back a friend.”

Gordo fidgeted in the seat. “I feel like I am, amico. It's… it's just - did we do a good enough job? Will she be happy with what we did? What if-”

Quickly moving to the man's side, Volante laid a hand on Gordo's shoulder. “Amico, respirare. Relax. Every report I've seen, every word I've heard, has been filled with satisfaction and praise for our efforts. The Base is running more smoothly than it has in years. There's no reason to worry.”

Suddenly, Gordo looked slyly at the smaller man. “Ah, so you weren't up til the wee hours reviewing reports, and Klaus was just making a joke.”

Volante blushed furiously. “I, er, just wanted to make s-sure we hadn't missed anything…”

Gordo smirked knowingly. “I see.”

Volante sighed irritably and sat down across from the big man. “Sì, sì, so I was worried, too. I just… I just want it to be perfect when she comes back. She had so much faith in us…”

Gordo stood, his joints cracking as he stretched. “I suppose you said it yourself - the reports are all glowing. We've done what we can, amico, and no one has found any fault in our efforts.” He flipped his arms outward, loosening his shoulders, before he sat back down. “We both need to relax.”

“What time did Nascosto say she was returning?” Volante queried.

“Around noon,” Gordo replied. “He wanted the two of them to have plenty of time to say their goodbyes.”

~~~~

Rosa sat across from Angelo, staring at the young man, picking at her breakfast half-heartedly. Finally, she spoke. “I have so enjoyed this time together, figlio mio. I only wish it could be forever.”

Angelo didn't look up at first, and Rosa felt his pulse quicken through the rings. Finally, he looked up… and she saw the unshed tears in his eyes. “I wish… I wish I could go with you.”

Rosa reached across and ran her finger across his cheek. “Perhaps, one day, when you're stronger, it will be safe for you to join me. When that day comes… well,” she smiled, a smile of both happiness and sorrow, “I can't even describe how happy I'll be.” Then she laughed. “Though, hopefully, the war will be over by then.”

Angelo looked quizzical. “You really think it might be over that soon?”

Rosa shrugged. “Nascosto has something in the works. I don't understand the science, but… if he can get it to work… we may finally be free of that bastardo malvagio.”

Angelo's face lit up, and he nodded emphatically. “I hope it works, then. Not just for us, but for everyone.” He leaned back, staring at the artificial sky. “People shouldn't have to live below the ground… no matter how nice it is, it's still a cage.”

“Hear, hear,” a deep voice said off to the side, and the two of them turned; Nascosto was striding through the doors, carrying a plate of food. “I swore you'd walk free, lad, and I intend to stand by my promise.”

As the gnome sat down, Rosa scooted over. “Is it all prepared, Nascosto?”

The gnome nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Took me a while to work out how to erase your memories of me without erasing your time together, but I think I managed it.” He frowned. “Would've hated for you two to lose all this bonding time just because of me being fumble-fingered.”

Rosa and Angelo both smiled. “It'll be fine, Signore,” Rosa said jovially. “I have faith in you.”

Nascosto looked up suddenly, and Rosa remembered the very, very personal discussion the two had had, just a few days ago. 

Angelo laughed. “Signore, I don't think we've got anything to worry about. You'll fix it all. I know it.”

Nascosto stared for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Rosa, Angelo,” he murmured. “That means a lot to me.”

~~~~

Volante and Gordo stood beside the teleportation pad, trying not to look impatient. A sizeable crowd had gathered; Rosa was a beloved leader, and despite their glowing praise for Volante and Gordo's work, they were looking forward to their fiery third leader’s return.

A voice crackled through the computer's speaker. “Nascosto here. Everything ready on your end?”

Volante strode over to the station and held his hand to a panel. “There's a bit of a crowd, but we're ready. You?”

~~~~

Nascosto turned, looking at Rosa and Angelo. “They're just saying their goodbyes, one moment.”

Rosa was wrapped around Angelo, fighting back tears. “I'll always be with you, figlio mio.”

Angelo laughed, the explosive sound mixed with tears, and held up his hand. “I know, Mama. I know. I can feel it.”

She held him at arm's length, smiling. “Always know that I am proud of who you've already become.”

They stood, eyes locked, for a few seconds, and then Rosa bent, picking up her satchel. “I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Nascosto.” 

As she strode up to the platform, Angelo stood beside the gnome. “It'll take a few moments for it go through,” Nascosto said, “the adjustment process is pretty-”

An alarm went off. Then another, and another.

Nascosto's eyes went wide.

Rosa dropped her bag. “What is it?”

The gnome frantically worked controls and hit buttons. “No, no, nonono, how did he - I should have -”

A digital window popped open in the air above the console, displaying a globe of the world. As they watched, a few icons popped into view, in orbit… then more.

And more.

And a multitude more.

Nascosto had gone white. “How do he get that many in orbit without me-” 

The ground began to tremble.

Nascosto's jaw dropped. “No,” he whispered. “Even he thought it was madness when they proposed it. Why would he…”

“Nascosto, what's happening?” Rosa yelled.

~~~~

Volante grabbed Gordo's arm as the ground shook, knocking him off balance. Behind them, several people fell, and they could hear screaming in the distance.

Through the speaker, Volante could hear Nascosto speaking… and Volante's blood ran cold at the fear and uncertainty in the always-reliable voice.

Volante and Gordo both stumbled to the speaker. “Nascosto? Nascosto, what's going on??”

~~~~

Rosa almost fell over as a particularly strong tremor shook the ground.

Nascosto looked panicked, but he started working toggles. “No time for the fancy stuff! I'm teleporting you!”

Rosa held out a hand, “Wait, what-”

bwip

~~~~

bwip

“-do you mean?” Rosa said…  but she was looking at Volante and Gordo, not Nascosto and Angelo.

She realized she could remember everything… including Nascosto's face.

The tremors became violent, and Rosa heard shrieks of fear coming from below. 

Gordo stumbled to her. “This place is reinforced, but it can't survive this!”

~~~~

Nascosto was frantically working his console. Angelo had never seen him move so fast. “Si-signore?” He said uneasily. “What's happening?”

~~~~

Rosa heard her son's tremulous voice through the speaker. She dove to respond. “Angelo?? Angelo, are you Ok??”

~~~~

“I'm sorry, Rosa, but none of us is going to be OK at this rate,” Nascosto said. “I didn't think even he would dare…!”

The shaking reached a fever pitch. 

Nascosto turned to Angelo. “I'm sorry, ragazzo, but you're gonna have to stay here.” He looked up, and had to yell over the roaring of the shaking ground. “Computer! Initiate program Will-o-Wisp! All bases! Activate local shift, NOW!!!”

~~~~

Rosa, Volante, and Gordo were all fighting to stay upright. Rosa hit the button to speak… as a loud humming seemed to penetrate the very fabric of reality around them. “Nascosto? What's Will-o-Wisp? Is Angelo Ok? What-”

~~~~

“I'm sorry, everyone,” Nascosto whispered.

He pressed the button in front of him…

And the world changed.

[shanie]

Look, I'm gonna be real with you. Wizard101 may pass itself off as a kids MMO.

But by GOD is that game fuckem'd up.

And not only on a level of the players IRL doing dumb shit.

Like, imagine being some 10 year old who is trying to play through arc one and you're presented with this guy who everyone says is the most evil man in the spiral, and all he really wants is his dead wife back. That's all he wants. The guy was willing to set aside the spiral as collateral damage for love and you have to fn MURDER him for it.

How the fuck does the 10 year old even begin to process that? How can you ask them to?

How do you then go on to arc 2 and suddenly you're confronted with Morganthe? You're dealing with British Colonists, literal murder plots, psychological slavery, mass genocide, the extinction of an entire planet, and the complete unmaking of creation. Oh, and that poor guy who wanted his wife back? He's a zombie now. He's a zombie and you have to kill him AGAIN so maybe he can possibly find peace with his dead wife this time around.

All while your character is STILL A STUDENT. And then by the time you get to act three, your character has ramped up so fucking hard that now you aren't fighting bad guys, you now have to become a divine entity to face off against the primordial creators of time and space. AND THAT'S NOT EVEN THE END OF THE GAME!!!! How the hell did this happen?? This was supposed to be a quirky little wizard game that you played as a kid and had fun with! Why the hell am I being tasked with killing GOD?!?!

Seriously, someone needs to stop teaching the wizard how to summon Cthulhu (who is now your bestie or something? I don't know arc 4) and get them some goddamn therapy. So much therapy. Just give them a nice house in the country and let someone else take over because the sheer volume of trauma response this kid has at this point, Jesus criminy.

[kenobireads]

Vader's Fortress

Today's the dayyy! I posted the first chapter of Vader's Fortress to Wattpad! (Starting to put it on AO3 now!)

Since there are two prologues, one for Anakin and one for our MC, I went ahead and posted both of them! Here's Anakin's introduction into this SW parallel universe! It's a short one, enjoy!

And you can find the story here!

Anakin Skywalker was dead. He died with Padmé. With the Jedi. With the Republic. In his place was...me.

Darth Vader.

When Obi-Wan Kenobi turned his back on me, I gathered the last of my strength and dragged myself two, maybe three meters. According to Darth Sidious, if I had not done this, I would have caught aflame. I'd be unrecognizable—that is, if I survived at all.

I did not believe him. Didn't believe I saved myself.

I still needed the suit. It kept me alive, so long as I did not go long without it. I lost my left leg and my one real hand. The leg had melted, and I felt everything. Sometimes I still did. Multiple organs were damaged.

I still had pain. Saved myself?

No. I saved nothing.

Twelve hours. Max. That was how much time I could safely go without the suit or a special bacta chamber.

I tried to push it, of course. The longest I lasted was eleven hours and thirty-seven minutes before I could no longer breathe, my lungs unable to continue on their own. It felt as if they were collapsing.

At first, I despised the suit. Uncomfortable. Hot. Clunky. Restrictive.

Until I started realizing my strength within it—and my weakness outside it.

After recovering, I spent the first few weeks doing my master's bidding. Each task seemed to require more recovery, starting with Jedi Master Kirak Infil'a for his lightsaber.

I killed the self-exiled Jedi and bled his kyber crystal. I met the Inquisitors and put the 'Grand' Inquisitor in his place. I put in endless orders to the Kuat Drive Yards.

I bowed. Constantly. Palpatine had me on my knees each time we met, and then on my back in agony. Force lightning—worse than I remembered.

Not that it mattered. I deserved every moment of pain, every second of misery.

Why? Because I killed Padmé. My wife. The mother of my unborn child.

I don't know the details, the how or the when. It doesn't matter.

She is dead. And she took me with her. Whatever remained in this broken organic form...it was but a shell, fit only to hold the rage. There was no room for anything else.

I was a masochist. Proven by the red planet coming into view before me: Mustafar. The planet where I lost everything.

This was my second visit since Kenobi left me to die. Palpatine was rapidly building his palace over the fallen Jedi Temple, but Coruscant would never be my home. I needed a sanctuary, and I knew just where to build it.

I didn't know what I wanted, but I was beginning to know the dark side. And it was there on Mustafar.

So, maybe I enjoyed the pain. Maybe I simply felt I deserved it. Honestly, I didn't bother looking too deeply. At anything.

Skipping the cracked landing pad, I lowered my newly modified Actis starfighter to a patch of dried, cooled magma next to the wrecked mining facility. As the ship began to quiet, the sounds of the planet grew louder.

The pop of lava. The swoosh of high winds. Even a far-off roar of some hungry, pissed-off beast.

Eventually, I stalked off the ramp, only to be bombarded with heat, even in my suit. I pulled my hood over my helmet because, as always, I felt like I was being watched. Friend or foe was no longer a question I asked—everyone was an enemy.

I worked my way up a ridge just above the old mining complex until I found a spot that provided a complete view of the surrounding lands. The destruction from my duel with Obi-Wan was beginning to look like a part of the planet as the lava took the area back.

My mask let out two quiet beeps. I shifted to the direction it indicated and waited three full seconds before the reading came up.

A camera eye was following me from the complex walls.

Curious. There wasn't supposed to be anything in this area, not for miles. Nothing else was happening in the ruins, though there was another camera further down on the opposite side.

I shifted slowly, taking in every angle, working in a circle. My back was to the mining complex when I saw it: the very top of a permacrete entry, the kinds the Techno Union used all over Mustafar. I couldn't see the building beyond it, but I recalled a science laboratory being the closest facility.

There was too much distance to get any readings from it. I knew it was unlikely I would find anything there. It was probably Palpatine watching me.

And yet...There was a pull to the place. It didn't feel like the dark side. Nothing was calling out to me. It wasn't a nudge in the Force. No, it felt more real, as if my physical body was being gently tugged toward it.

But my body was my enemy, too. It was barely my own. So as my body felt the need to cooly approach the place, I treated it as I would any other unknown risk.

I took control and approached on my terms.

[crystalelemental]

Sync Pair Retrospective - Halloween 2022

I feel like this event was weird. I dunno, it just didn't feel that engaging to me? It's hard to explain.

Halloween Allister Allister came out second, but I'm talking about him first, because I once said he was the worst support released last year. It's been another year now, and...yeah actually, I stand by it.

Halloween Allister feels very much like SS Wally, in that sense where he was ultimately held back for having a new trait. Ghost Rebuff was supposed to be a huge deal, but Ghosts...don't really love this guy. They can get along, but the bad speed tends to hinder more than help, given how gauge limited many of them already are. His immediate +3 crit for the team is nice, but defense is only relevant sometimes, and his Ramp Up is incredibly slow acting. He's a pair that thrives more in Gauntlet, especially as a soloist given his passive recovery, but his CS performance is highly suspect. This has not significantly changed.

The completion of grid expansions did provide Allister with two F2P partners in Agatha and Shauntal. Agatha's stalling technique via Hypnosis allows Allister to take a little longer with the Ramp Up to get her where she's going, while Shauntal's speed boosting trainer move meant gauges were less of a problem. Neither was an ideal fit. They worked well, but were far from exceptional. NY Dawn was effective enough, further improving physical bulk and doubling his Ramp Up buff. But the trouble with Allister is that if he's getting Ramp Up, he's not applying the rebuff, and then what is he doing? You need approximate self-sufficiency, but the only two with that, Anni Lillie and Renegade Cynthia, are pretty slow and gauge hungry. So he often fails to give them what they need.

Allister hasn't really changed. If anything he's gotten worse, as other fast-acting crit buffers jump in. NC Calem does the same +3 crit with the right grid, and offers a huge boost to Atk with some Sp Atk in the same action, while having two types of field effect. Palentine's Mallow does the same Def/Crit with high personal healing and Ramp Up gimmick, but with special defense drops on her main damage attack instead of the type rebuff, making her more broadly applicable. Frankly, if it weren't for the rebuff, Variety Agatha would've put him out of a job permanently as far as offensive support goes. The kid started out pretty bad and arguably got worse. His only real niche at this point is a Gauntlet Solo count few care about, and the rebuff that doesn't see much use. That'll save the meta.

Halloween Iris So with that you may think hey, Iris has Poison Zone, and Poison is a rough time. I guess she's the better pick. Great news! She's the worst Zone setter! It's not even close!

Iris' Zone exists for herself. Hyper Beam spam is at least decent, despite her low special attack, and she can do okay at clearing on-type content. Though off-type reveals how bad the special attack really is. Her only other utility is Acid, which she needs 3/5 to make a 100% AoE chance to debuff special defense. That is a lot of investment for an effect Lucian wildly outperforms at 1/5, girl. Zone is carrying you, and frankly, it's not worth it given how bad Poison damage really is. It's incredibly had to justify Iris.

The introduction of new damage dealers was also a double edged sword. Yes, Emma and Oleana could use the Zone. But they're physical, and new CS parameters with the 12.5k meta meant you didn't want to attack with both types of damage, so oopsie doodles, using Iris is not using someone who does literally nothing but Zone, or trying to let her contribute to damage by re-allocating points to more punishing conditions. Emma had an easier time with Looker than Iris. And Oleana had a rebuff that she slapped on right away to ensure Toxic, effectively replicating Iris' utility, then adding Venom Drench and Pep Rally 2 on Move Gauge Boost to the mix. Oleana wasn't so much a good partner to Iris as her replacement. It wasn't Zone, but it got the job done better. The only real partners Iris has received as Drasna, who has Poison as secondary, and Petrel, who is a 0.4% chance to happen on a limited banner he's sharing with four other targets. Good luck with that!

Iris is not in a great position. Poison is starting to seriously pick up as a damage type, but they're all physical. And while Iris doesn't contribute much, she prefers special. Which very, very few competent Poison-types are. Iris is still waiting for the special Poison type of her dreams, that has competent DPS and is easier to access and everything. Personally, I'm hoping it's Halloween Lusamine and Nihilego this year. But given how the year has gone for me personally, I'm not confident.

[romegaketh]

if you are open for snippet requests I would like to humbly ask for any speculation au writing you have 🥺 (esp the conflict of moxbry telling yuta to go off his suppressants and the conflict therein. also danny i love him)

ok this is from wheeler yuta is not a therapist and i am genuinely crushed i did not finish it lol. bcc-typical gore! thanks for the ask ❤️

BOSTON. 

The Best Friends used to do team meetings in a hotel room, around a table packed with preferably-vegetarian takeout, and Fast Five on in the background with the volume turned way down. Chuck Taylor would write up an agenda on his phone, and Orange Cassidy would pretend to pay attention but fuck up by gasping at the big chase scenes, even though Trent was halfway through some long complaint about something or other. 

Surprising nobody, Blackpool Combat Club is different.

"Is that all you got?" Jon Moxley spits. Blood bursts from his cut lip and spatters across his chin. He’s on his hands and knees on a pile of mats in a boxing gym outside Boston. 

In front of him - above him - is the American Dragon. Bryan Danielson’s laugh is low and mean. "You know it's not." The crack of his hand across Moxley's face rings through the air. An angry red stain sinks into Moxley's cheek. 

Moxley pushes himself up onto his knees. His tank top is stained with his own blood. His jaw set with determination and real, clear, rage. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” says Danielson, grabbing the back of Moxley’s neck with vicious glee. His hair has fallen out of the little ponytail, and is loose around his face. He looks - not angry, but not not angry. Like something dark is inside of him and he is grateful to let it out. 

If Wheeler wasn't wearing blockers right now he is sure he would be choking on the scent - even with them, he's breathing in fire and copper, as thick as it would be in rut. It’s a shitty little gym but it’s empty; it’s theirs. It feels like being downwind of a forest fire. And not downwind enough to feel safe, either. 

Wheeler signed up for this. He did it clear-eyed and hopeful. He didn’t know how swift it would be, how immediate. One day he was outside, but today, he belongs. 

"Boys will be boys," William Regal sighs, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin. It’s strange to see him in a hoodie and sweats instead of the suit, but everything about today is strange. "I'm glad you're here. I think they're behaving better now that they have company." 

Yesterday, Wheeler wrote BCC in blood on his chest. Today, he’s here, watching Moxley and Danielson try to kill each other. It’s supposed to be a demonstration. What, exactly, it’s a demonstration of still appears to be in question. 

Moxley raises his head. His eyes flash to Regal, and then to Wheeler. Hot, sharp, furious. When Wheeler crossed the ramp - when he turned away from his friends and came to the future - he thought, now Moxley will know who I am. Well, he does. But maybe now Wheeler is learning who Moxley is. 

Yesterday Wheeler bled like a fountain, but Moxley matched him. Right now Wheeler is sitting next to Regal, with a protein shake the size of his head and a power bar; right now Moxley is pinned beneath Danielson, while Danielson bends his head so his mouth is against Moxley's ear. 

Normally they're better matched. It feels good to know Wheeler did some damage: Moxley isn't slow but he's slower. Wheeler had to scrape himself out of bed this morning. His head still hurts. 

“How’s he looking?” Danielson asks, looking up for Regal's approval like an alpha half his age. Moxley snaps at him, teeth out, but Danielson darts away with the same easy grace he shows in the ring. 

Regal laughs. "Bryan," he says, fondly. "You're showing off."

Danielson shrugs. Moxley's blood is on his cheek; it makes his grin look feral. "You heard the boss," he tells Moxley. "You want a nap?" 

Moxley growls, a low deep sound, big enough to fill the whole building. He looks like a kid, too. A baby alpha, tussling, for the attention of a bigger one. But Moxley is Jon Moxley. And that's Bryan Danielson. Everyone who's ever watched a wrestling match knows how sharp their teeth are. 

Regal puts his hand on Wheeler's shoulder. Gentle, careful. He's not possessive with Wheeler like he is with them. Wheeler is grateful for it, though he feels like he shouldn't be: he didn't sign up to be treated with care. But maybe he did. Bryan said he would be - under a wing. A dragon's wing, he'd thought, tossing and turning, before the day he made the decision. 

Regal isn't a dragon. Regal is a man. Because only men have power like this: the power to speak, and be obeyed. "Settle down," Regal tells them - both of them, it's clear. "Don't make me come over there." 

Danielson wipes Moxley's blood off his cheek and the dragon recedes. He's just a man on a mat, with Moxley a foot away on his knees. The warmth comes back to Danielson's face, and to his hand as he reaches down for Moxley -  long fingers extended, palm wide and open. 

But Moxley glares, turning his face away, to spit onto the floor on the other side. 

Something flashes in Danielson's face. Not anger, something quieter. Before Wheeler can look deeper, it's gone. "Gross," Danielson says, easily. "I'll get you a paper towel for that."

Moxley rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." It takes him longer to come back to himself. Wheeler is maybe glad. He's not sure how to feel. He knows that - for whatever reason, rightly or wrongly - he fought Moxley and Moxley fought him. And it mattered. 

Danielson is crossing the floor, the bright, easy smile on his face. "How are you feeling, today, Wheeler?" 

Wheeler holds up his power bar. "Perfect," he says. "I even got snacks."

"Fantastic," Danielson says. You wouldn't think he is a predator, like this. He just looks like a cool alpha you'd meet at the gym. Except for the blood. "You were great last night. Really gave Jon a run for his money."

"I did my best," Wheeler says. The cut on his forehead itches. "But thank you. It means a lot."

Danielson smiles. "Good. We're very happy to have you."

To have Bryan Danielson standing in front of you - in shorts and a bloody white t-shirt, with his hair up, with his hands bruised - it doesn't feel like it happens every day. It feels like another world. But Wheeler fought to get here. He did. He earned this. "I'm glad to be here," he says. 

"I'm certainly glad we got you away from the Best Friends," Danielson says, amicable and easy, like he'd say, buddha bowl hold the tempeh. "I hate to think about how you'd have been wasted staying longer under Orange Cassidy." There's a cruel smirk when he says the name. Something uglier. The dragon peeking out from behind the man's eyes. 

Wheeler's shoulderblades prickle. He feels his own hands form fists. Just because he’s not on Orange’s team anymore doesn’t mean Orange didn’t train him.  

"Hey." That's Moxley. All of a sudden he's at Danielson's back, his hand on Danielson's shoulder - the difference in their heights enough that Moxley is looming. His voice snaps through the air. "Cut it out, Bryan." 

"He was a good teacher," Wheeler says, looking at Moxley. It feels like, when he was bleeding, and he almost got that pin, and Moxley looked - Almost. Not quite. "I'm grateful to him. To all of them. I'm glad to be here, now." 

Danielson looks up at Moxley. "Yeah?" 

"Bryan," Moxley says. It's so clearly about something else that Wheeler looks at Regal, whose mouth has compressed into a thin line, and whose hands are curling into balls against his thighs. He can't read it; he doesn't know Regal. He could guess. If he were to guess he would say - nervous, uncertain, and a little remorseful. But that doesn't sound like William Regal. Not William Regal, who headbutted Moxley when he was dripping in Bryan’s blood. 

A conversation passes between them. Not so much a conversation as an unmoving fistfight. Moxley, scowling; Bryan, a contemptuous shrug. Wheeler really did think they liked each other. Maybe he just got used to the Best Friends. Even when Kris was being a jerk, he knew she liked him. 

Moxley wins. Danielson spreads his palms open, shrugging.

Moxley spends a lot of time looking awkward. You don’t realise that when you spend most of your time with Moxley with him kicking your ass, but actually - he’s kind of tentative. Feeling things out. Like he thinks Wheeler is going to say, fuck off, and turn around and go back to the Best Friends.

Wheeler likes it. Maybe he just likes Moxley. Maybe he just has a CD full of Mox matches in a drawer somewhere in his mom’s house. Who can say?

"Anyway," Danielson drawls. "I wanted to say." He taps his fingers against the side of his neck. "Do you wear them all the time?" 

Wheeler's stomach drops through one of those trap doors in Indiana Jones, right into an extremely culturally insensitive pit of snakes. "To the ring, yeah." Regal is looking between them like a sunning lizard, so Wheeler explains, "Blockers."

The patch on his neck doesn't itch. It's only been on for a minute. He slapped it on in a hurry. 

“You’re an alpha,” Regal says. 

“Yeah,” Wheeler says. Maybe it’s generational. Maybe Regal’s actually an asshole - the wrong kind of asshole - and Wheeler needs to get out now. “I wrestle in them so it makes sense to train in them, too.” 

Danielson raises an eyebrow. “Well,” he says. “You might gain some reaction time if you lose them. Usually it’s about half a second.”

Mox says, “Cut it out, Bryan.” His hand moves, but he doesn't grab Danielson's shoulder. He just puts his hand on his own hip and rolls his eyes. "The kid's been here a minute. Let him do some fucking pushups before you completely overhaul his life."

Danielson doesn't move. He keeps his eyes fixed on Wheeler, but it's very clear that Wheeler is not who he is talking to. "Improving his technique is not overhauling his life, Jon."

Wheeler clears his throat. "Company policy," he says. "Everyone's entitled to their preferred presentation." He’s paraphrasing from a lecture he's been given multiple times by Daniel Garcia. "Up to the point at which it encroaches on someone else's presentation." (That's a reference to wrestling in heat. Also rut, but in practice it's only really omegas who get in shit for wrestling under the influence. That's also a paraphrase from Daniel Garcia. Wheeler wasn't the object of the lecture. He was just in the vicinity and it stuck.)

Danielson tilts his head. “Is that a moral stance, Yuta?”

“Kind of.” Wheeler swallows. “Actually, you know what? Yeah. It is. You wore them at WWE. I wear them here.” 

Mox looks at him. A longer, deeper look. Like he did after he got the pin, when Wheeler was lying there on the mat. 

Danielson smiles. The smile is broader, wider. “Okay,” he says. “We can work with that.”

Regal says, “If you’re quite finished, I think now would be a good time to demonstrate some holds for young Wheeler.” His voice shades into calm reproof. “Since he certainly didn’t learn any from whatever you were doing before.”

Mox ducks his head but Danielson just laughs, a big laugh, like a bell. “All right, all right,” he says. “Point taken. C’mon, Mox.” 

It's just Wheeler and Regal on the bench again, both of them watching Danielson turn Moxley into various shapes while Moxley grimly allows himself to be bent.

“To be perfectly honest with you,” Regal says, “I’m very glad you came along. They were about to kill each other.”

“Great, now they can kill me.” Wheeler is only half-joking. It’s not like he knows if Danielson is a good teacher, or Moxley. But he was taught well before. He’s confident in his own ability to figure out what he needs.

“We’re lucky to have you,” Regal says, abruptly. “I hope you know that we know that.” 

“Oh,” Wheeler says. He thinks about Danny and Lee - Danielson wanted them, too. He wanted them so much he’d have bled for it. But Moxley bled for Wheeler, and now Wheeler is here. “Thank you.” 

“I know it’s a lot,” Regal says. “I know -” and he gestures, with a big sweep of that broad, scarred hand, “they’re a lot. But they’re good. They really are. And you’re good. They’ll make you better. And I will, too. We’ll do our damnedest.”

“I never had any doubts,” Wheeler says. That’s not a lie. He could have turned around. So many times. All the times. But he didn’t. He stayed the course. He’s here. 

Regal’s eyes crease. “They’re hiding something from me,” he says, quietly.

“Oh,” Wheeler says. 

Regal smiles at him. It’s a wistful smile; the craggy face of a mountainside, stretching onwards and upwards, despite snow and sleet and spring avalanches. “It happens,” he says. “Sons hide truths from their fathers. I hope one day soon you’ll come to hide the truth from me, as well.” 

Wheeler swallows. “I’ll do my best.”

Regal’s laugh is soft. “Good. I’d expect nothing less.” 

Wheeler lets himself look. Regal is an old man. You can see it here, in this shitty gym, with its bad lighting and the smell of sweat; the lines around his eyes, the tremor in his hands. But there’s something else there too - not just the man Wheeler watched on tape for years, not just the myth - but kindness, too. A deep well. Wheeler did not expect to find that. “They know you love them.” He didn’t mean to say it like that. Abruptly, out of nowhere. Too obvious. Chuck Taylor would say, get it together, kid. Chuck Taylor is very good at talking to people. “They couldn’t not know that.” 

But Regal says, “Oh,” his voice softening a little, with a little joy. “Thank you. I’m glad you see it.” 

“Anytime,” Wheeler says. 

Regal rakes his fingers through his hair, leaning back so he can look at Wheeler with the full force of his gaze. “I’ve got a question for you, young Wheeler,” he says. “Who is the most important member of the Blackpool Combat Club?”

It’s like the slap: it’s a test. There’s a right answer and three wrong ones. Maybe more than three.

Wheeler aced the slap, though. Full marks, gold star. Extra credit. He looked right into Regal’s face, but he didn’t hit him. He stood his ground; he didn’t lose it. 

Stand your ground; don’t give it away. He takes a breath. Bryan is the unstoppable force and Moxley is the immovable object. Maybe it's the other way around. Either way, they destroy each other if left unchecked. So there's only one option. Give me a place to stand and a lever and I can move the earth. Regal is both the lever and the place to stand. “You.”

Regal laughs. It’s a warm laugh; it settles in Wheeler’s chest like apple cider on a cold day. "Thank you," he says. "But not quite. Think about it and get back to me."

[bravevolunteer]

@trapton asked: " what the fuck happened to you ? " // blood, blood, gallons of the stuff

IT'S AN APPROPRIATE RESPONSE from his father ( for once )— one look at Michael and the question on anyone's mind would be 'what the fuck happened?' He neglected to even try look less fucked up before dragging himself through the front door— because he honestly didn't expect his father to be home, figuring he would avoid the confrontation until after handling the bloody details. Now, Michael has to deal with his questions on top of the burning pain exploding through his ribs with every step.

Dried blood clings to his face, staining his nose and lips a striking crimson. From his nose, mostly, but a couple small gashes that tore open as well. It dripped to his clothing, a mess down his shirt and arms where he had first tried to stop it. Secondary to the blood is the redness just underneath his eye, swelling skin that has already begun to blossom into purplish bruising. With the way he walks, falters in his steps and a particular focus ( as if letting go of such will cause him to lose his balance and collapse ), there's obvious damage to his side hidden by his clothing. Michael clings to the railing where he was caught hard enough to make his bruised knuckles go white, just barely stopping himself from swaying in a dizzy haze.

"What do you care?" He can't help but snap— even if his father does actually give a shit for some reason Michael can't comprehend, he feels sensitive and pliable and fucking embarrassed. The gaze burning into him doesn't help, catching him somewhere between wanting to keep the truth caged and the urge to spill his guts under the false hope that his dad might do what he's supposed to.

He sighs, knowing he won't get away with saying nothing. "What does it look like? I got my ass kicked." He doesn't insult the person who did it or try to claim it was unfair... the rumors surrounding Michael have been circulating for awhile. As the missing cases ramp up, so does talk, and a lack of real evidence doesn't matter to peers who could easily pin it on the notoriously unstable son of the restaurants' co-founder who murdered his own brother. It was a sibling of one of the kids who started the fight. They had just gone missing a couple weeks ago, pronounced dead even though no bodies are ever found, and Michael recognized the grief in the other's eyes. He was angry, resentful, and likely a better brother than Michael ever was, seeking out the closest thing to closure he could get. Michael tried to defend himself, his own reactivity clawing up his throat and out his mouth when accusations were hurled at him, but it was after the third punch that the energy faded and he just... let it happen. With Michael's lack of resistance, they both sought the same release: taking out their grief on the person at fault.

But he doesn't tell his father any of that. "I can clean it up myself." No matter his insistence, Michael still stumbles when he lets go of the railing.

[the-firebird69]

There's another thing happening here too these people keep harping on our sun to fall for stuff and he's not and he sits there trying to threaten him into it and it's disgustingly stupid. People say you're exhibiting pure **** behavior and they're killing them globally it's getting worse and worse and worse and no they don't want to give up anything so you can be normal to fool them to take their stuff to do the wrong thing. So they're going after you that would be foreigners I guess you call them tons of them and other more lock to for that matter they don't want to take the fall coz you're doing something real stupid. That leads us to right now

That leads us to right now-

= These two **** tried to keep him up last night and didn't work at all and he fell asleep slept all night and they beat each other up and they keep doing it and it's the sun and the father and then going to lose right now they're going at it for real in Costa Rica they'll kill each other. We're helping it out and we're going to make sure there's a ton of damage and it will start a series of movies that will get rid of these **** also last night it was ramped up times three and they managed to get 3.2 times the previous night and they lost about all of them the Pseudo Empire lost a fraction too but these guys lost 0.5% between two or three groups of Mack Morlock they're running around town crying and Trump is at 2.9% and fallen and he's getting worse and meaner and we're gonna take care of him. More shortly

More shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

[castalyne]

Title: Eye of his Storm

Words: 633

Fandom: The Killing

Pairing: Stephen Holder/Caroline Swift

Summery: Some introspective Stephen Holder stuff, his thoughts on Caroline Swift. Kind of feel like, while he does love and care for her, he fell harder for that shot at having a 'normal' life.

There's mentions of sex here, but it's rather soft and tame.

archiveofourown.org/works/51272152

Stephen Holder falls in love with open doors. The potential for something new, the unknown, the desire for something different. A sense of normalcy, for something that's not his own, a new stab at another life. Caroline Swift is a lot of things to him, someone he could fall in love is one of them. She's patient, gentle and forward and Stephen has to admit it's nice that SHE was the one who asked HIM out. They'd only been working on this case, in different stratospheres, for a couple weeks, but when she asked if he wanted coffee? and to not just 'drink it in the meeting room' like they had done every day for the last 3 weeks with 3 lawyers, 5 detectives and an assortment of other law enforcement officials? She didn't have to ask him twice.

He names his favorite cafe on the very edge of the nicer part of town because there was no way in hell he was bringing her to his usual haunts or 7/11. A classy lady deserved good coffee and vegan options that ACTUALLY tasted like the real thing. When she said she liked it? The place was cute? The vegan options actually tasted good? He was a goner.

When she would say, in so many words, she preferred to stay in most nights, Stephen couldn't be more relieved. No hanging out under over passes, down back alleyways, in the trailer parks across the way, spending nights in the back seat of his car. He got to sit on his couch in front of the TV with Caroline leaning in to whisper something about how hot it was in his apartment and watching her stretch out to pull her sweater off over her head. The movement made his stomach flutter.

The first time they had sex was the first time he'd done it since the Larsen case, the first time he didn't have a head full of thoughts and meth and inner demons to chase. He had everything off from the waist down before she was pushing him onto the bed and straddling his hips and was pushing his shirt up just below his chest before he grabbed her hands and pulled one to his mouth. She turned red and looked back over her shoulder, glanced back to him. "I knew you had sex with your socks on." and he lost it and he laughed and laughed until she leaned in and kissed him until she shook with laughter. She guided his hands over her body, places she liked being touched and she took the initiative to gently ply moans from him as she ran a hand up under his t shirt and stroked the skin there too, over some scars and tattoos he regretted. The first time he applied 'normal' to sex in what felt like forever. He thought it'd bother him more to have her wipe the tears from his face after he came, mumbling something about the stress at work while she cooed something sweet to him and held him in the quiet dark until he passed out in her arms.

It was never like how it was with Linden and he doesn't want to compare them, who was a proverbial storm crashing around in his head that made his body follow suit, ramping up to cause a scene and leave a wake of damage for a greater 'good' whatever that meant at the time. Even if he was caught in that damage, even if she hadn't talked to him in months, he was still fond of Linden. Caroline felt more like the eye of the storm; calm and bright, keeping the darkness at bay until whatever the storm brought next. He hoped, whatever it brought, they'd be ready for it.

[kerink]

you brought up such good points and it gave me a platform to yap more so sorry about that

for PTSD and survivor's guilt: i'm a psychologist and i work at the VA where PTSD and survivor's guilt are the name of the game. you'd honestly be really surprised how people can cope through and compartmentalize some of the most horrific shit imaginable.

PTSD is at its worst immediately following the event and several decades after the dust of your life has settled. i often tell people that once you hit your 40s-60s your PTSD will ramp up again, as bad if not worse than it was after the event. now this is specific to veterans, who are 18-25 typically when the event happens, and then spend their 20s-30s trying to go to school, get a job, have a family, start a home. all of this your brain perceives as "trying to survive" so it doesn't try to deal with the trauma just yet. this is also not true for everyone, it's true in most cases i've seen and it's true for my personal PTSD, but there are also some people for whom they never get a break from their trauma.

so immediately after the event, curly's going to have to be going through pretty extensive medical treatment where his primary focus is still going to be surviving in this moment. he's also going to be going through exhausting and painfully and mentally taxing physical therapy. all of this is going to enable him to compartmentalize what happened on the tulpar, since he will still technically be in a life or death situation and living with his sympathetic nervous system activated. in the game we saw how stressed curly was, how sleep deprived he was, and know he was hallucinating too, but was still able to do his job and support his coworkers. to me this show that curly is very resilient and able to compartmentalize things well enough in order to get things done. i think the initial PTSD effects would be pushed aside, and since you only need to get over that initial hump, after awhile he'd be symptom managing instead of dealing with trauma. that distinction may not make total sense and tell me if it doesn't, but there is a difference.

now the survivor's guilt will eat him alive for sure, people don't shake that one off unless they go full avoidance mode. i think curly would be able to flip it to "i have to live for them" because he's nothing if not self-sacrificial. also, curly would blame himself for having brought jimmy along. and after seeing, hearing, and experiencing everything jimmy did to them only for jimmy to kill himself and get out of being held accountable, curly wouldn't want to take that "coward's way out." he'd want to live and heal and get better so he could face the music. he's going to take responsibility not only for what he did but also what jimmy did. their whole lives he's been shouldering the burden of Jimmy, what makes this any different?

thinking about curly's prosthetics and what physical supports he'll have access to is a real tricky one, i agree with you. esp since we do only have limited capabilities today and we have no idea what the world looks like outside the tulpar.

i see people call the pony express scifi amazon and. yeah... i agree. but we make that comparison because we have an analog. so let's look an our analogs. we have a society where we allow amazon to have the working conditions it does. but we also have HUD glasses, controllable prosthetics, we're working on artificial organs, various forms of vocal recovery (we don't know what the damage to curly's speech system are, if he lost his tongue or if his vocal chords were damaged or if he was just in too much pain to speak), the brain chip thing you pointed out, and all sorts of other things either currently available or in the works. society continues to push to improve quality of life without addressing the systems that cause poor quality of life.

and bouncing off that statement into the next thing i wanted to talk about: we can get an idea of what curly's recovery might look like by turning to other scitfi dystopian stories. the cyberpunk and star wars series were the first ones i thought of when making this post. cyberpunk has a prosthetic and augmentation focus, while star wars (motions to darth vader). anakin skywalker also had full body burns, multiple amputations, and damage to his speaking abilities. and look at what they were able to do for him!

the tulpar has a very retro-future vibe that screams fallout to me, so i think poking around in the fallout universe for inspiration would be meaningful. sadly i dont know shit from fuck about fallout other than from monster factory lmfao

i think curly's situation is ultra complicated, which is a good thing for a fandom. it allows everyone to explore it however they want to, whatever's going to bring them catharsis. which is exactly what curly is to jimmy: something to project his own pain and suffering out on and someone too helpless to stop us taking it out on.

edit because i forgot to touch on the money bit: i think pony express would pay a lot to make this incident go away. even tho jimmy was fucking around on the psych evals, he was doing that when they were already in the middle of their mission. pony express obviously cleared him before he even got on the ship, which is going to show faults in their screening and application processes. there were also only 4 cryopods for a crew of 5, even if that's legal it's going to cause such bad PR that they're going to want to hide it. and there was only enough food and air to get them from port to port with no emergency rations, there was also no automatic SOS system in place that would keep track of the ship and alert the company to an issue. the blood is on pony express' hands, and since it's not clear if they went out of business or if they moved to fully automated shipping, either they or the insurance company responsible for them is going to have to pay up. an event this grizzly is gonna be all over the place, look at how society responded to the chilean miners, uruguayan flight 571, the titanic.

i think they're going to try to deny fault first, but once an investigation is done and the evidence comes out, they're gonna pay out the wazoo to shut curly the fuck up and make this all go away and look like sympathetic good guys taking responsibility.

look at the recent disney scandal, where they tried to get out of the death because the wife had signed up for disney+, then back-tracked when they got bad PR, but tried to say they were allowing it to go to trial because of altruistic reasons.

been thinking a lot today about post-rescue curly

a rescue team is going to want to keep him in cryo until they can figure out not only how to transport him but how to treat him. keeping him in a medically induced coma after that while he goes thru multiple surgeries. what does the medical technology look like in the future? what does his treatment and rehab look like? how easily do his skin grafts take? are his prosthetic neuro-linked and controllable? does he get a cyber eye? or is it long and hard and painful and riddled with infection and rejection and set back like it would be now? will he ever be able to vocally speak again or will he use sign language or an AAC board or other speech generating device?

did the ship's security camera keep running and recording after the crash? during the hearing will curly have to watch everything happen all over again? or did it go out like the radio and curly will have to give detailed testimony over and over and over again?

will he have to face anya and jimmy and swansea and daisuke's families during the hearing or during the settlement process? will they understand? will they hate him? will they blame him? will they comfort him? and if the cameras work and daisukes parents hear that their son was the one who was chosen to survive, but curly got his seat? will curly be able to live with knowing that?

what does his future look like? does he live off the settlement money or does he have to go back to work? does he write a book or sign over movie rights? does he get hounded by media and press wanting to parade him around all over tv and radio and newspapers and magazines? do people pressure him to do a lecture circuit? do true crime people ever leave him alone? how long is it before he's able to just go to the grocery store in peace?

what does a life for him look like?