#so it took doubly as long to process and start healing

[peachiseas]

Also, I genuinely want to thank everyone for sticking with me throughout everything that happened last month 😭 yall are some real ones fr

[sevenincubistolemyheart]

Lightened Shadows Chapter 2

AU: Final Fantasy 4

Tag list: @xsunnyhoseokx @otomehideout-indecentconfessions @file-missing​ @risefallrise​

Rating: M

Potential Triggers: Pretty descriptive fantasy violence this time around(boss fights will hopefully always be this well written; I’m real proud with how the scene came out so I hope you like it). 

Pairing: Ever-evolving :)

Genre:  Drama, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort

Length: 6.2k+

The air was cool from the little you could feel thanks to your armor but you knew it’d heat up quickly thanks to the sun. Thankfully, it hadn’t risen too much given how early it was. 

“Shall we stop in town first?”

Yoongi stopped you as you turned in the direction towards where the cave you needed to go through waited with a gentle hand on your arm, your armor clanking at the contact.

“Hm? Didn’t you say you already got provisions just this past nightfall?”

He smirked sheepishly and shrugged.

“I may have forgotten in the midst of the men celebrating my victory in our spat. Apologies. Shall we?”

You nodded, barely holding back a sigh. 

‘As if I don’t feel bad enough. Now I have to go get supplies and probably scar a few children in the process with my intimidating appearance. Spectacular.’ 

You entered the quaint little village just diagonal to the castle gates and looked around, trying to go through the brief list of what you needed in your mind. 

‘It should be a short expedition; 2 days at most, 3 if we stop to pitch a tent after delivering the ring to get their explanation once you entered the village.’

 You were sure you wouldn’t be welcome there for long. The town of Mist was known for little else than their reclusive nature and had never been particularly fond of those that hailed from Baron, so perhaps best you purchase one just in case they wouldn’t let you stay at the inn as you feared.

Yoongi led the way to the item shop and offered you a wave as he ran off somewhere; probably to attend to some last-minute errand he’s forgotten about. 

“How can I help you today, my Lady?” 

It was a quick transaction; you luckily had plenty of gil to spare thanks to the 500 gil provisions the King’s guard had insisted you take, along with 5 Potions and a Phoenix Down should the worst come to befall one of you in battle. You bought one more Phoenix Down for good measure in addition to that Tent and exited looking around to see Yoongi’s distinctly teal armor. He’d always hated that ugly green the other Dragoons were forced to wear, so he’d had Jin help him create his own armor once he'd been promoted to Captain.

Having experience building airships was surprisingly helpful in creating armor that could withstand some damn mighty blows apparently. 

You exited the shop looking around for Yoongi carelessly as you walked through the town, trying to not draw any attention to yourself; only to look down in surprise at a sudden banging from your armor being hit repeatedly. A small boy was there, angrily pounding on your armor with tears streaming down his face. 

“You took my Daddy away!! I hate you!”

A wince graced your face behind your mask and for once you lowered it, kneeling to the boys’ height and gently restraining his hands firmly in your own. You had no choice but to take many people to the guards if they happened to be foolish enough to run into you. It had been one of the ways you’d rose in rank so quickly; catching criminals. But...it never made it any easier to see the carnage left in the wake of your actions. 

“...I’m sorry. I know there is naught I can say to soothe your pain, but all I can do is apologize. I had a duty to fulfill, and I did as was necessary.” 

The child sniffled, but the hatred once in his eyes had died down to a mere simmer. 

“You don’t seem so mean. Please miss...I just want my Daddy back. Mommy said he’s served all his time; can’t you get him for me? I promise I’ll work doubly hard to ensure we’re never poor enough to have to steal again!”

He seemed so proud, puffing his chest out, and as you released his hands he placed them on his hips in a show of how strong he could and would be. 

A glance upwards saw his Mother suddenly rushing towards you both and the woman was on the floor on her knees, hands, and head both level to the ground at your feet. 

“Please Lady Captain! Forgive my boy! He means no harm!” 

Your heart clenched as you stood and the boy seemed distressed, seemingly coming to the conclusion that you were leaving as he grabbed onto your arm. 

“Miss, please! His name is Raisoro. Even if it's not today please at least look for him when next you return to the castle!”

You noticed Yoongi waiting as the crowd parted and knew you'd have to make this quick. He'd never been good with this kind of situation. 

You nodded resolutely, meeting the boy’s eyes.

"I swear it on my role as a Dark Knight…"

You met the mother's eyes too as your gaze softened behind your visor and you helped her to her feet. 

"And as someone who also loves another. I will check and return for you once I next visit the castle. I have a mission to do before that so it may take some time but-"

"Thank you Lady Captain! You're so gracious!" 

The mother was barely holding herself together at your words and you squeezed her hand briefly before you pulled away after a ruffle of the boy's hair and made your way to Yoongi who was looking on in solemn understanding. 

"...Dare I ask?"

"The boy's father has been in prison past his sentence, caught stealing food for his family. I promised I'd check once we got back."

Yoongi glanced at you from his place beside you as a chuckle escaped him. 

You felt your cheeks heat and huffed defensively. 

"What's so funny!?"

He shrugged with a fond smile as he shook his head. 

"Still too kind for your own good is all. Could have been a lie, an attempt to steal money, or a ploy to stir up rebellion in the town against the King starting with you by using a young boy but you responded so genuinely that even if that's what it was it backfired miserably."

He snickered a bit more, a rare sound to be sure for most but you enjoyed it nonetheless even as you blushed.

"It's my job as Lady Captain. I may serve the Red Wings but the townspeople are my concern too. I guess it probably seems silly since you're of the Dragoon branch, only responsible for protecting the castle and monster patrol.” 

His laughter died but you caught the amused smirk at his lips.

“All the better for me. People can be complicated whereas fiends are useful for little more than target practice and exercises to bring my jumps to larger heights.” 

You shoved him playfully with a roll of your eyes.

“Alright hotshot; that’s enough bragging. Did you do your little errand? I want to check in with Hoseok’s Mom while we’re here. You know how worried he can get about her when he gets stuck at the castle healing overnight.”

Yoongi seemed to hesitate at that but reluctantly nodded and let you lead him to the small house towards the center of the village where Hoseok’s mom had received her own home after Hoseok had received his white cape as proof he was a Baron White Mage. You knocked on the door and after a moment it swung open to reveal Hoseok’s mother. You smiled kindly, mouth guard already lowered out of respect even as she glared at you disapprovingly. 

“What do you two want!?” 

“I just wanted to check in on you. Hoseok wanted to ensure you were eating enough and healthy.” 

She huffed irritably and leaned against the doorjamb as Yoongi shifted uncomfortably beside you, causing her gaze to briefly shift to him before going back to you. 

“I’m doing just fine; no thanks to you. His Majesty’s recent behavior troubles me. I heard you and your boy there have been doing some just terrible things, under his orders or no. All I want is Hoseok to be safe from such gory acts and that’s your job as his lover.” The glare she gave Yoongi did not go unnoticed by you and you noted the way his whole body tensed and his mouth went in a firm straight line. “And that goes for any kind of hurt. Have I made myself clear?”

You maintained your amicable smile even as it felt like you’d just been speared through the heart. Your voice was unbearably soft as you responded, cursing the way it wavered. 

“O-Of course madam. I will protect him till my very last breath if I must. I would happily absolve any pain he has experienced or will in the future if I was only able, so he wouldn’t have to shoulder an ounce of suffering.”

She nodded and raised her chin in superior pride at your answer before she nodded curtly. 

“Good. Ensure your feelings forever remain so stalwart; as do your ideals or the world may lose one Dark Knight.”

With that, the door slammed shut, and the sting of her obvious distrust bordering on rejection cut deep as you all but stumbled away with Yoongi hot on your heels as you made your way through the little alcove at the back of the village to the river where you knew no-one would be. 

You were barely maintaining the lid on your emotions but at the sight of your glassy gaze, Yoongi couldn’t withhold his ire and hissed through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists.

“Who does she think she is talking down to you like that!? Hoseok and you have been together for how many years now? 3?” 

He snarled as he whirled to grip your shoulders unintentionally being a bit rough, not that it made a difference thanks to the armor guarding your shoulders, careful to avoid the spikes. 

“She even dared to imply you of all people would be unfaithful. After everything you’ve been through with Hoseok and me, it just-” 

He inhaled sharply to try and gather himself and his eyes rushed to yours at your watery giggle. 

“Is something humorous?”

He certainly didn’t find any amusement in this.

You smiled weakly. 

“I just find this all morbidly ironic. I told Hoseok just last night how cowardly I was and it seems even his mother agrees.” 

Yoongi wrenched himself away from you with a hiss, eyes narrowing. 

“You? A coward? That is comical.”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. I obeyed His Majesty’s orders without a second thought. I harmed innocent people-”

“Except they’re not innocent. You seem to be forgetting that. His Majesty explicitly said they knew too much of the Crystal and its secrets-”

“And what gives him the right to decide that!? It’s not our culture or our way of life!! We’ve been focused on technological advancement rather than the power of the crystals for decades...why now does His Majesty seem so intent on them!?”

You covered your mouth in horror at the treasonous words that escaped your lips, and Yoongi had gone eerily still as well before he quickly looked around for any potential eavesdroppers. 

Seeing none, he lowered his voice and frowned seriously at you once again placing his hand on your shoulder. You could see the weight of your words had made their mark from the grim look in his eyes. So it troubled him too. You always knew he was a good actor but his emotionlessness towards this subject, in particular, had admittedly made you feel isolated in your beliefs. Sure, you’d heard the rumors, but they hadn’t been raised by His Majesty as you had. Their opinion simply didn’t hold the same weight as Yoongi or Hoseok’s would. In any case, Yoongi’s low drawl of your name made your eyes lock onto his. 

“They were deceitful and thankfully His Royal Highness caught it in time before they began a rampage against the whole Blue Planet. Let us be grateful for that and move on. Yes?”

Hesitance shown in your eyes but you swallowed back the bitter taste of betrayal on your tongue and nodded. No time to wallow in any case; you had Hoseok to get home to. 

“Enough talk. Let us depart for Mist."

Yoongi finally seemed appeased and he watched as you raised your mouthguard once again though he didn’t comment on it as you both exited the little alcove at the back of the town, only for Yoongi to bump right into a familiar girl. 

“June! How’re things?”

You easily put on a mask of ease, though at the younger girl’s giddy grin you found it wasn’t difficult. 

“Oh, it’s been just peachy! You know Jin...always working! But he came home last night so to reward him I’m baking him his favorite pumpkin pie for when he finally wakes up.”

“He still hasn’t awoken? It’s only a little past dawn but I’ve seen him working well past this just last week…” 

Yoongi mused and you saw the twist of a smirk on his lips when you shot him a knowing glare. 

June huffed at that, shaking her head in disappointment. 

“I’m gonna wring that old man's neck one of these days, mark my words! He works too hard...we’re not that hurting for gil.”

Her last phrase was little more than a mumble but your hand was already reaching for your gil pouch before you could even consciously think. As if anticipating your movements though, Yoongi took a step forward, hand already outstretched with a small pouch, filled to the brim and neatly tied off. 

At June’s wide-eyed hesitance, Yoongi cut her off as she opened her mouth, no doubt to refuse. 

“You’d best take it before a pickpocket does. I’ll remain standing like this until the gil is taken.”

His voice was a low rumble, despite his words as he clearly wanted her to have it, not some thief, and all three of you knew even should he keep his word like you knew he would, he’d merely reclaim his gil and find some other way to give it to the family, perhaps by smuggling it into Jin’s biweekly wages.

June finally took the pouch, and you felt a little misty-eyed as you watched her throw her arms around Yoongi, taking the Dragoon Captain by surprise and making him stumble and fumble to return her gesture of affection with an awkward pat on her back. 

“Y-Yes yes of course, now just release me, will you? People are staring.”

He grumbled, and you were sure without his mask he’d be red as a beet by now. 

Yoongi grew serious, however, and gently caught June’s hand as she went to run off after thanking him profusely. 

“I want you to be sure you go right on home and hide that somewhere nice and secure. Only take what you need and then return to the markets. I don’t want you being targeted for fraternizing with the likes of us. And…” He hesitated but finally handed her something else you couldn’t see as he stepped into her space as he abruptly tugged her into a proper hug. 

“Take that as well. Use it only if you must.” 

He mumbled something else by her ear and then just as quickly pulled away. June looked flustered as well, a little nervous and as Yoongi rejoined you, you side-eyed him with a hint of mirth in your gaze. You were positive he could feel it and eventually after a minute of walking towards the exit he hissed only once you’d both been alone for several minutes.

“What?”

You offered a simple hum. 

“Hm? Oh, I’m just recalling a certain Dragoon mocking me not an hour ago for being too kind. Yet here you are, giving away money I know you’d been saving up for that new lance you wanted. You even gave her a weapon by the looks of it.”

Your voice quieted for that last part as you drew closer to him to whisper and he merely sighed in resignation at that. 

“Of course you noticed. Always so knowing, aren’t you? June deserves to eat. Did you not also happen to notice the flatness of her gil pouch? You know how much they’ve been inflating prices.”

You blinked at that in surprise.

“The item shop charged me the same rate as always. I had no idea…”

Yoongi snorted at that, cool and sarcastic. 

“Of course they would. You’re the King’s guard dog, they know better than to draw your, or my ire. But the townspeople? They are not so lucky. There is a reason people like that family who pleaded with you have had to turn to stealing and they are but one of many.”

“And here I thought I was knowledgeable on the way our people were treated...how do you know all this?” 

Yoongi shrugged. 

“My men have families here; unlike the Red Wings who’re typically born into the military, the Dragoons have always been expected to be enlisters. The practice may have died some with the passage of time but it is still a thing of the present and I asked a few of them to report to me. I pay them a little extra on the side and they know I’m not a turncoat despite being close to His Majesty. You’re the first one I’ve told, actually and I know well enough you’re as good for your silence as I.”

This new information made dread sit heavy in the pit of your stomach. First a degradation of the King’s morality, and now even Baron’s shopkeepers were turning against civilians? You froze for a moment and swallowed nervously. Your King. He was your king still. The just and firm but kind man who’d raised you into the woman you had become. Deep breaths. All would be forgiven and explained when you returned. You were sure of it. Yoongi had said so and he was always right. You just had to have faith. You and Yoongi reached the gate and you looked to him as you ensured your armor was tightened and your sword scabbard ready to give you access to your sword at a moment's notice. 

He too had done his checks and nodded at you, mouth now in a stern frown as he readied himself with grim determination for the journey ahead. 

After a shared nod at one another, you both stepped out into the overworld and began making your way to the Cave of Mist. 

The monsters had been gradually growing more and more feral as the years had gone on. Now they were violently beyond reason, willing to strike at a moment’s notice; including those who didn’t pose a threat. You remembered a simpler time where more docile monsters had been used to train even children, including yourself, Yoongi, and Hoseok. Now, it was a risk of death every time trade happened. Perhaps it was a good thing tensions were so high between the nations nowadays.

In any case, Yoongi and yourself were trained to fight and take out even the most intelligent of monsters thanks to being taught the ways of the sword and lance respectively by your King. Yoongi also had his father for a time to fall back on before he perished. Most monsters seemed to catch onto this and kept their distance from you both, but those either too foolish or too hungry to care still attacked. You remained unscathed, your armor keeping you safe from a particularly volatile Sword rat, the purple beast expelling it’s sharp spines your way. Even bringing up your shield, a few broke through your defenses and you couldn’t help your wince as they made contact with a harsh reverberation as they hit your chest and legs.

Yoongi took a risk and threw his spear at the beast and thankfully it cried out in pain before finally going limp.  He retrieved his weapon and shot a smirk your way, and claimed you’d owe him a drink once you returned to Baron.

That was the only incident you had come across until you reached the cave itself. Since most monsters knew better than to start a fight with you both, you hoped those dwelling within the Cave of Mist would have the same ideas. 

Oh, how wrong you were. 

The larvae and eyewing moths inhabiting the cave were particularly irritating. The moths liked to blind you and the larvae loved to use slow, only prolonging their inevitable deaths. Blind was always a pain to deal with; you both being melee attackers and all. Sure, spell casters and mages were affected as well, but oftentimes they could locate the monsters or other teammates thanks to locking onto their energy if they were fast enough. No such luck here. 

Still, you managed to take them out. However, something strange had occurred, twice now which was not to your liking.

 A voice had called out to you, ghostly and ominous, ordering you both to return whence you came. It had no discernable gender, but the lilt underneath the words made you guess it may have been female. 

Could this be the Eidolon you’d been sent to slay? 

Despite the constant feeling of being watched, the journey through the cave was not a difficult one and you sensed no malice from the entity. Not until you reached the cave’s exit in any case. 

“You are not welcome beyond this point, swine of Baron. Return to your castle and leave this place in peace.”

You frowned at that, ring sitting heavily in its own dedicated pouch at your hip and the image of Hoseok’s worried face in your mind. 

“We can’t do that. Please, I beg you allow us refuge. We have a mission we must see through!”’

“As do I. I take it you mean to refuse my plea then?”

The voice had gained an aggressive but defeated edge and Yoongi stepped forward, all cocky indifference. 

“We have given you your answer.”

“...Very well. Then you leave me with no choice. Forgive me.”

With that, the mist that had not aided your journey in the least began coalescing and you both drew your weapons in preparation. 

A pink scaled dragon had appeared in front of you, and you and Yoongi could both sense the difference in power compared to the weak monsters thus far. You’d used up what little Eye Drops you’d had in stock, and now only had 2 Potions after healing at the slightest injury earlier, thinking you’d had plenty. Luckily you still had both Phoenix Downs should one of you fall unconscious before the other. 

You shared a look with Yoongi and he nodded in understanding, before hopping up and continuing to move from rock to rock, trying to get as much height as possible to come down all the harder on your enemy. Not one to be left out, you turned your attention to the battle, knowing full well you were the only remaining target, and steeled yourself, letting dark energy surround you as you carefully fed just enough of yourself into your attacks to power them up while not causing too much physical damage to yourself. 

It still made you wince and caused an off sensation within your soul whenever you chose to use Darkness but the King always said the payoff would be worth it if the enemy went down. 

Said enemy roared in frustration and swung a large claw at you which you barely managed to dodge before slashing, watching as darkness coated the wound you’d left, seeping in and making it hurt all the more. Your eyes widened in surprise as before you could hop back the creature snarled and jumped, shoving you to the ground with its claws and holding you there as its face lowered towards your vulnerable frame. 

Yoongi couldn’t have chosen a better time to come, slamming down onto the back of the beast, spearing the Eidolon with as much force as he could muster. You watched as blood gushed, ignoring the confusion that hit you at seeing the substance to instead take its momentary preoccupation with Yoongi as it tried to bite him off of its back to get ahold of your sword and stabbing its foot to make it release you. 

It let out a wail of pain, and you knew you were close. Yoongi deftly hopped off and dragged you out from under the creature, tossing you a Potion before he unleashed a flurry of passionate slashes to keep the monster engaged and focused on him. You quickly slammed your mouth guard down and chugged the bitter liquid with a gag and a grimace, feeling the physical aching and the toll on your soul both fade as you regained full lucidity. 

You shook off your daze and felt the power of Darkness fade as fast as it had arrived. Better not to use it twice in one battle and from the way the beast had slowed it seemed the battle was finally coming to an end.

Yoongi was holding his own quite well; he’d always been the more nimble out of the two of you what with having to find the perfect openings to Jump and all and he’d already managed to push the creature back some so you could recover in peace. 

“Shall we finish this?”

He asked gruffly, panting. 

You nodded, but as you went to strike now that it was cornered it suddenly...dissipated into mist? 

Well, that just wasn’t fair. 

“You will pay for that…”

The ominous threat was made good on and you gasped as a snow-like substance slowly fell around you and Yoongi. You fell to your knees at the freezing cold that enveloped you. Damn. This was why you loathed magic attacks. No matter what armor you wore it mattered not. 

You saw Yoongi go down out of the corner of your eye and lunged with a cry of pure, unadulterated fear as the monster came into existence once again and made as if to strike him. 

Claws raked across your back and again, your armor or no, you felt the impact and the pain shortly after, even with the adrenaline coursing through you. You were both going to die entirely if you didn’t do something now. 

You tossed a Phoenix Down over Yoongi, knowing it’d take a moment for the bird of resurrections feathers to revitalize his life force once again, and stood defensively in front of him. A snarl turned your face to something ugly and you hissed at the monster. 

“You want him? Then you’ve got to get through me first!!”

Your cry clearly met its mark as the creature roared in ire at being provoked and you neatly dodge rolled to avoid being hit as it attempted to catch you in its claws, scrambling for your item pouch. You shoved the last Potion’s contents down your throat before you let the power of Darkness surround you one final time, ready to sacrifice whatever was necessary of yourself to ensure Yoongi survived. He wouldn’t have much HP left - that Phoenix Down would only get him conscious and all it would take was one good hit for him to go down permanently. Just as you narrowed your eyes in concentration and went to swing downwards, Yoongi let out an abrupt shout and finished his final Jump; using the last remnants of his own power to finish the battle once and for all before you had the chance. 

The creature roared, in agony this time, and you watched in cold satisfaction as it collapsed to the cave floor in defeat. 

Without so much as a look at the monster that had nearly killed your closest friend you ran over to Yoongi and forced his arm over your shoulder. 

“What are you-?”

“Don’t pretend you aren't barely hanging onto consciousness right now you idiot. I know how Phoenix Downs work. It may revitalize you but it’s only enough to get you off the floor unless you also have a Potion or more on hand.”

You began trudging to the cave’s exit, squinting into the dusk. 

“We’re making a tent for the night, understand? We’ll go to Mist at first light. You’re in no condition to do anything right now besides recover. I’ll take watch after tending to your wounds and you’ll go right to sleep.”

Yoongi chuckled under his breath until he was forced to cough in pain and you frowned in annoyance at him briefly as fresh air greeted you both. It was a welcome change to the musky cave scent you’d both been stuck with for the past many hours you’d been stuck there. That damn mist had definitely cost you time and from how dark it was outside, you’d been there at least half a day. You'd made good time, if nothing else.  

“What’s so funny?”

“You can be such a parent sometimes. I’m fine. Being knocked out happens in fights sometimes. Besides, I managed to save you, didn’t I? I’d say I recovered just fine.”

He muttered cheekily, his voice gruff from being drawn unwillingly out of his unconscious state earlier. 

You grumbled at that. 

“I had it under control. And anyway...it’s dead. That’s all that matters. The only thing left to do now is to give this ring to Mist and see what they make of it. Surely one of them must know, else his Majesty would not have sent us here.”

You gently set Yoongi down onto a grassy hill you’d found, spotting Mist awaiting you both at the bottom. You were a little winded from carrying his weight; like it or not you were smaller and still weaker than him when it came to straight strength. A quick glance around made you relax a little as you sat down as well, taking off your helmet and letting yourself gulp in the fresh air with relief. It really had felt stuffy in that damn cave. Yoongi meanwhile was stripping himself of his armor, and you nodded down towards where a stream flowed steadily into the town. 

“Don’t be afraid to go wash up a little if you’d like once you feel well enough to stand. We can go at dawn as well if you’d prefer, given we’ll be sleeping outside tonight and all.”

Yoongi leveled a glare towards Mist and grumbled as he ran a hand through his messy locks, brushing away the dirt from the cave clinging to his undershirt and pants. 

“It’d be nice if we could just go rest at the inn but I know that’s an impossible venture. Say…” 

He winced as he examined a few of his wounds, mainly scrapes, and bruises but he had a nice long gash on his arm and head bled a bit as well, most likely from when he’d fallen unconscious. 

You could feel your own body aching but tried not to dwell on it, instead rummaging around your item pouch and grabbing a small loaf of bread you'd stashed away and a handkerchief Hoseok always made you carry. A small fond smile twitched onto your lips at the thought of him and you removed your helmet to see better. 

Yoongi had turned his gaze to you curiously, expecting you to stay in your armor in the case of monsters but you sighed at his inquiring gaze as you stood and merely walked over to the log he was sitting on, kneeling in front of him and beginning to dab at his bloody forehead. 

"Silly Dragoon. When will you learn to stop putting yourself at risk huh?"

You pushed the bread into his hands, with your free one continuing to dab at his wound gently. 

"Eat. It'll help you recover faster."

"But what about-" 

"I'm not the one who got knocked out."

You yelped as he suddenly grabbed your face and tilted your head to meet his steely brown gaze. 

"...You'll eat half or I won't so much as touch it."

You groaned as you smacked his hand away, grumbling at him as you uncorked the only Potion you had left and spilled a little onto the cloth to dab onto the cut on his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips as he let out a hiss of pain and clenched his hand into a fist. 

"You're such a child sometimes. Fine, you big baby. Just eat, will you? Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I should've picked up White Magic as well just to make up for your recklessness."

Yoongi eyed you over the bread as you sat back and sprawled out on the soft grass and nibbled at your half. 

"Don't act like you're the paragon of strategy. I saw how you were going to foolishly put yourself in a critical state to try and take the Eidolon out. Armor off. I know you're injured too and we still have ¾ of this Potion left."

His eyes narrowed with a little playful sadism and you knew he was looking forward to tending to your wounds as well. 

You smiled with a tinge of nervousness and shook your head. 

"No, I'm fine rea-"

"I will come over there and tug it off myself."

"Y-You're too weak to!"

You challenged in disbelief, calling his bluff. 

His eyes sparkled again and a cheeky grin now adorned his lips as he moved to stand, causing you to squeak and scramble away from him as you fumbled with your armor. 

"A-Alright alright! Sheesh!"

His low voice snickered in amusement as you blushed and reluctantly tugged off the heavy armor pieces. They'd been dented something awful in that fight; you’d need to get it fixed at a blacksmith once you got back to Baron. Still, you had to admit having the added weight off of your tired body was a welcome change. 

You were indeed injured as Yoongi and yourself had both noted and you winced at the gash in your side, not having noticed that the Eidolon must’ve managed to graze your side with its claws, fairly deeply. Your black t-shirt was tattered, barely sticking to your body from sweat and a bit from the blood as well. Your head was pounding too, the cool night air alerting you to just how hard you must’ve hit your head as you went down. 

“Come. Shirt off; that looks deep.”

You jumped a bit in surprise at Yoongi’s voice right by your ear, turning to frown at him over your shoulder. 

“I can take care of it myself Yoongi, you should rest.”

He stared you down until you caved with a huff and shucked off the remnants of your shirt. You made a good choice wearing your more flexible undergarments for activity today in anticipation of fighting. Made this all much more bearable, but Yoongi was resolutely focused on your wound in any case even so. You knew he wouldn’t lay down, let alone sleep until he knew you were at least taken care of. It warmed your heart that he cared for you so. 

That warmth faded to a whimper as gentle fingers brushed along the wound assessing the damage. 

“Apologies. Hm...Come. I want to clean this with water first. It’s deeper than it looks. It’s a good thing I brought that extra shirt with me after all.” 

You felt a little woozy truth be told, but you were still trying to keep yourself together. Yoongi had been knocked out after all. He had to be in worse shape than you. You had to be strong for him. 

Yoongi wasn’t buying it though. His gaze locked onto the way you swayed and when he saw you stutter a step as you went to start moving towards the stream nearby, he was quick to grab his shirt and rush to your side where he steadied you with a warm hand on your upper arm. 

“Idiot. How did you not notice you were losing this much blood?”

You laughed weakly, through the dizziness as Yoongi helped to guide you to the water. 

“Adrenaline is a powerful thing, as Hoseok says. I didn’t even feel it until you made me take off my armor.”

Yoongi growled at that, frustrated as he rushed to clean the wound, uncaring as you flinched at the icy water against your skin. 

"Well, we'll have to pray my actions are enough to keep you from meeting an early demise. I know you're strong but even you are Mortal."

The wound now as clean as it could be without magical help, Yoongi reached over for the Potion at his side and poured ¼ of the contents over the wound itself making you yowl in pain. 

He was too focused on his task to pay much attention, however, pouring the other ½ of the bottle onto his shirt which he pressed tightly to your side. He frowned seriously at you. 

"Hold it there, understand? I'll be back in a moment; I have to grab your armor piece. It'll hold the fabric tightly against the wound for the time being."

You meanwhile were trying to cope with the unbearable stinging. The wound had been deep indeed. You could feel the Potions remnants trying to stitch your body together, to slow the bleeding. It was working, however slow, but Ashura above it hurt. 

Yoongi returned after a time and you were surprised to see he was holding another Potion in hand. 

"How-?"

He frowned coldly as he crouched at your side and you registered he was now fully adorned in his teal armor save for his helmet which he'd taken off once he saw you. 

Your suspicion was confirmed when he wordlessly pressed a familiar earring into your hand. 

"You bloody idiot!!!"

Your voice was a poisonous whisper, not wanting to draw any sleeping monsters as you scowled at him and he numbly handed you the Potion. 

"Drink."

You shook your head. 

"I can't believe you went back to loot that Eidolon Yoongi.  What if you'd awoken a monster and-"

Your voice cracked and Yoongi sighed heavily as he saw angry tears make your eyes glassy. You could be so overemotional. You wore facades well around others but he and Hoseok had always been exceptions. You had no need to worry over him. 

"I'm here, alive and well, am I not? My wounds are light enough that a good night's sleep will be enough. But yours are more serious. I’m not risking losing you for the sake of your pride. Now drink or I’ll make you.” 

His voice lowered an octave at his last sentence and you glowered at him one last time before tossing the Potion back, wincing at the disgusting taste, but sighing in relief as your wound knitted itself back together, speeding up your body's cell regeneration a bit. It was no Hi or even X Potion, but it had sped the process up enough to be sure your body would be fully healed by tomorrow, and at least the bleeding had stopped. A touch of your head and you noted the tingling sensation had faded. Hopefully, any injury you had there had ceased to be as well. 

Yoongi had busied himself with attaching just the armor for your side into place so that the Potion soaked fabric would be held against your skin but he turned his gaze to you as he stood and stretched, once again discarding his armor. 

“Well; that’s enough excitement for one night. I’m going to go rest until we have to rise at first light.  Call if any particularly threatening monsters arise.”

You also stood, your own armor halfway back on as you gently called his name. 

“Yoongi!”

He paused, halfway up the hill. His hair was mussed from his rush to loot the Eidolon for your benefit; his long blond ponytail trailing behind him. Long hair has been a part of Dragoon culture for nearly as long as the profession itself had been. It was as characteristic to the culture as the Monks wearing it short, braided, or not at all. Yoongi had mentioned his father had explained that it was a demonstration of the freedom Dragoons symbolized and always fought for. He turned to look at you and his perceptive brown eyes locked onto your own. 

You smiled kindly, gaze sincere. 

“Thank you. I know I can be…” 

You sheepishly rubbed at the back of your neck. 

“A bit difficult sometimes. I appreciate it, and you.”

Yoongi scoffed but you could now clearly see his cheeks turning red in embarrassment before he whirled to finish his journey back towards camp to hide it. You still caught the fondness of his tone though, despite the playful words.

“Always so soft…”

You watched until you could no longer see him and turned back to your armor, finishing putting it on and tugging your darkened helmet over your head once more. Luckily the night was still with the only sounds you could hear being the stream beside you and the chirping of harmless bugs. The twin moons were both full tonight, illuminating the Blue Planet brilliantly. 

Nevertheless, you decided to do a quick perimeter check deciding your newly healed body could use the movement. It was a peaceful night and you heard the faint crackling of torches as you neared the entrance to Mist. You couldn’t help your curiosity as you watched a young girl run to the river, bucket in one hand and a cloth handmade doll in the other haphazardly sewn together. 

She seemed panicked and you faintly heard her voice carry to where you stood just beyond the tree line. 

“Agh I can’t believe I forgot to restock!! Mom’s gonna kill me!!”

She finally managed to get the bucket full but you winced sympathetically as in her rush she tumbled over the bucket and sent water spilling everywhere; soaking her to the bone. Just as you debated emerging to help, an older woman with the same hair and eye color ran out of the town and up to her, a worried frown on her lips. 

“Jenjia just what do you think you’re doing!?”

Her voice was much quieter you noticed thankfully; it would’ve probably been bad if any fiends had been awoken earlier. 

The girl, Jenjia as you now knew her, looked sheepish and beamed nervously up at her mother, clasping her hands behind her back. 

“I’m sorry Mom, I just realized we didn’t have any water to boil! You like to have your tea at night with Daddy and I forgot when playing with Cheryl earlier…” 

She scuffed her worn looking loafers on the ground as her mother shook her head. 

“Well then that’s a day well spent, isn’t it? I’d rather have my daughter home safe and sound than a cup of tea Jia. Your father will feel the same. Leviathan will keep our water flowing clean until tomorrow to refill the stores. Come along now; I’ve already put some beef stew on the stove and I’d rather it didn’t get cold.”

Your heart warmed at the gentle interaction even as a bitter twinge you didn’t want to acknowledge made your chest hurt. You had His Majesty, and that was enough. You never would’ve found Yoongi or Hoseok without him. You turned away as you recalled Yoongi and the girl grabbed her Mother’s hand to be led inside. 

Best you were on your way in any case; it wouldn’t be good if Yoongi woke to find you missing, or if a monster snuck up on your camp.

The rest of the night watch passed uneventfully and Yoongi awoke, as he usually did, at first light. 

You offered him a capful of water from your flask and he drank it gratefully. You’d used up all the food last night; you really should bring more than simple bread next time. Honestly, it had just slipped your mind...this was why Yoongi and Hoseok typically took care of provisions. You always managed to miss something. 

You fiddled absentmindedly with the new earring Yoongi had presented you with last night. It was common practice within Baron to claim trophies from particularly tough monsters and wear them as badges of honor. Typically; you felt pride in a kill and yesterday your mind had been preoccupied with panic and anger but now that it was the next morning you felt no joy, no sense of victory, There had been...no malice or hate that you typically felt from monsters. And it had bled too. It was...odd. 

Still, Yoongi had risked his life to get it for you, and King Odin would surely be pleased with the sight of it upon your return. Best to keep it on for now. 

You jumped as a pair of armored hands abruptly clapped in your face and offered a weak smile to Yoongi as he held out his hand to help you up. 

You grasped it, and he easily pulled you to your feet. 

“How are you feeling?”

You couldn’t help the worry seeping into your tone but Yoongi waved you off. 

“I told you last night I’d be fine and I am. I feel fit as yesterday before we’d even departed. Rest can often be even more healing than a Potion or Cure spell. Now then, shall we go? I’m sure you must be exhausted and the sooner we return home the sooner we can get you some much needed and deserved rest.”

You nodded at that, and after making sure you both had snuffed out the fire and that your weapons and armor were properly set you began your short trek to the gates of Mist. 

It was a tiny village you knew, unlike Damcyan, Fabul, Troia, or Eblan there was no castle, and even Mysidia was more bustling and lively than the few houses dwelling here. It was humble to be sure, but there was a peace and a sense of sincerity here that you doubted you could find anywhere else. 

You fingered the box holding the ring in your pocket, a bit nervous now that you were here. Baron and Mist had never had particularly good relations. You prayed that the King asking for their input would establish a rapport and help you maintain a good relationship. You lowered your face visor, figuring being able to see some part of you that was human behind your demonic looking armor would help put them at ease. 

As Yoongi and you both entered the village you noticed the civilians within already began side-eying you distrustingly and couldn’t help but wonder if word of Mysidia had already spread but quickly reminded yourself that that was impossible. After all; Troia was the only neighboring kingdom and they would’ve had to have taken an airship here just to inform them. A general lack of airships besides Baron aside, Troia was always neutral anyway and pretty much entirely isolated.

Guess tensions with Baron really were high then. 

You suddenly noticed a woman approaching you and recognized her as the mother from last night. Her daughter clutched at her skirt, observing you with curious if shy eyes. You smiled at her while Yoongi offered a respectful nod to the mother. 

“Good day ma’am we were just-”

His words were cut off by your pained yelp as you ripped the now searing box that held the ring out of its pouch. You’d been so preoccupied with calming down the young girl you hadn’t noticed the rising temperature until it was near scorching. 

“The ring!”

The box was rustling wildly of its own accord as it hit the ground, and Yoongi frowned deeply in confusion only to roughly pull you back several feet as he too jumped back. 

The woman too had shoved her daughter behind her and was examining the box before recognition lit her eyes. 

“This is-!”

Boom

The box exploded open and Bomb monsters hidden inside didn’t waste any time as they began setting fire to anything and anyone they could. In seconds the village was burning and the smell of burning flesh was everywhere. You could do little more than watch in horrified shock as smoke already was causing your eyes to burn at the spot the woman had just been. That initial violent opening of the box had scorched the poor woman...and her daughter you noted numbly, where they’d stood. The girl-Jenjia you reminded yourself, she had a name- all that remained of her was her doll, slowly burning away to nothingness in front of your very eyes. Suddenly, an abrupt realization hit you.

The bombs were carefully not targeting Yoongi and yourself.

You shook violently as words escaped your lips in hushed horror, taking in the carnage caused in the wake of your visit. It had to be a mistake, it had to. Yoongi would be truthful with you. You must’ve missed something. This wasn’t happening.

“This is what we were sent to do?”

Yoongi looked around with detached and grim determination.

“He wished this village torched.”

Tears streamed down your face and evaporated just as quickly, whether from the flames and smoke or the horror and disgust coursing through you; who could say? You trembled with rage and clenched your fists so tightly your already dented armor creaked a bit more from the force of it. 

“But why?”

You raised your head to the sky and let out a guttural raw of pure primal agony. 

“Why!?!”

Yoongi remained silent beside you, but you could feel the tenseness coming off of him in waves. This upset him too, you were sure. You numbly looked back down at the ground and it took you a few moments to register a new sound amid the now silent town besides the crackling of the fire and the creaking of buildings as they collapsed in on themselves. Destroyed in mere minutes. 

A young boy sobbing. 

You grimly raised your head and began walking towards the sound hearing Yoongi’s steady footsteps beside you. 

You came across a mint haired boy, hysterically gasping over a woman’s body. Luckily the child was beside the only water source in the town; a small pool which seemed to have kept the Bombs at bay. 

As Yoongi and you approached, he clung all the harder to his mother, not even noticing both of you. You barely managed to make out the words between his heart-wrenching sobs. 

“Mother you can’t die! J-Just because your dragon did!!” 

Yoongi’s eyes suddenly lit with understanding behind his visor and you turned to him in confusion as he nodded to himself. 

“I’ve heard of their lot. Men who can conjure Eidolons...Summoners.”

It suddenly hit you and you mumbled to yourself as it all seemed to come together. 

“Then the dragon we slew...was...his mothers?”

The boy gasped at the sound of your voice and turned to glare fearfully at you and Yoongi making you wince as you met his gaze behind your visor in reluctant admission of your guilt. He stood in an attempt to appear more intimidating even despite the tremor in his voice showing how petrified he was just underneath the facade.

“You...You’re the ones who killed her dragon!?”

You swallowed the bitter taste on your tongue as you pleaded with the boy. Moon above, he couldn’t be more than 10. 

“Forgive us. We’d no idea this would happen to your mother.”

It sounded exactly what it was. Weak and pathetic. There would be no forgiveness. Not for this. Nor for Mysidia. 

You forced your gaze to his deceased Mother and sent up a prayer. As if that would help him now. 

Yoongi looked around and finally spoke up, tone matter of fact. 

“His Majesty sent us to eliminate every last one of these people.”

Your legs finally gave out, unable to take the weight being placed upon you. 

“No…”

Yoongi frowned as he looked down at you, assessing your condition before he began to move towards the boy with grim determination. 

“Foul work to be sure. But we’ll need to kill the boy as well.”

At that you lunged, just before he reached him, hopping to your feet and pushing against his chest plate in horrified desperation. 

“Yoongi!!”

Up close as you were, you could feel his breath on your skin, could hear the hateful sense of begrudging duty in his tone.

“It’s him or us ____!” 

You pushed him with all your might, making him take a step back even with the weakness coursing through your shaky body.

“He’s a child!”

You turned to look down at the still sobbing boy who was too preoccupied with trying to wipe his tears to pay attention to you both. 

“You’d betray your King?”

Yoongi’s voice now held a note of finality,

You turned to fully face him, clenching your hand into a fist and drawing it close to your chest.

“Betray him? Any King who’d wish for this is no King of mine!!” 

You snarled, harshly swinging your arm out in a subconscious show of disgusted frustration. 

Yoongi smirked at you suddenly and you found yourself startled as he scoffed in humor. 

“Hmph. I thought you might say that.”

Your eyes searched for him just behind your visor as you grew hopeful. 

“Then…?”

He looked off into the distance for a moment and then turned to you with sharp determination. 

“I owe his Majesty much but not so much I’d soil the Dragoon’s name in his.”

He planted his spear down with finality.

Your eyes widened and you stepped closer to him in excitement.

“Then you’re with me?”

He made sure to meet your gaze and wordlessly nodded twice in support before he turned, this time towards the destruction, and walked past the boy as he spoke, looking out at it. 

“Baron’s army is the mightiest in the world. Our flight means nothing if we remain alone; we must treat with other nations, share what we’ve seen…”

He hesitated and then turned to look at you once more. 

“And Hoseok, he must share our flight.”

Your tone softened in affection for him and you nodded, stepping closer.

“And he will. Thank you.”

He turned away for a moment and mumbled to himself. 

“...I’m not doing this for you.”

You didn’t hear him and tilted your head. 

“Huh?”

Yoongi ignored you however and turned to nod towards the boy.

“Quickly, we mustn’t linger here! What of the boy?”

You didn’t even hesitate. 

“We take him with us.”

After hesitating a moment you approached him where he was still crouched protectively over his mother’s body as Yoongi watched uneasily but stayed where he was. 

“Come, it’s not safe here! Take my hand.” 

You asked gently, holding out your hand to the boy. 

He hopped away from you with a glower. 

“No!!” 

Yoongi growled low in his throat at that.

“We’ve no time; use force if you must!”

He joined you as he ran over and Jimin cowered away in fear disguised as anger. 

“Stay away!”

You held out your hand as Yoongi and you both froze. 

“Wait!” 

The child began running in earnest and Yoongi and you both followed, hot on his heels when he suddenly curled in on himself with a choked sob.

“Leave me alone!” 

He suddenly screeched as blinding white light surged up from beneath his feet and you could feel the magical energy emanating from him. Yoongi had faltered but you kept running, refusing to be responsible for the death of another child. If he harmed you so be it...you deserved it anyway.

“I HATE YOU!!!”

You felt the earth shake violently and you glanced up to see a massive Titan made of pure earth. The Eidolon raised its hands, your eyes widened and you lunged curling your arms around the boy as you crushed him protectively against your chest as hard as you could just as he fell unconscious from exertion. You felt the Titan’s hands come down onto the Blue Planet’s surface hard and your body flew into the air. 

If you were to die then so be it, but let this child survive at least. 

He need not share the payment for your sins.

You slammed against the ground hard several times, but curled your body inward all the more around his tiny body in spite of the pain, praying your armor would be enough to absorb the impact as you finally, mercifully joined the child in unconsciousness.

A/N:  Welp, I hope those that actually read this series enjoy it; I’ve only gotten one rambly review on AO3 that inspired be to keep posting this so thank them if you enjoy this series and I’m not talking to myself. Anyway! Onto fun notes about this chapter! :) 

I find Yoongi’s characterization and his relationship to Reader to be one of the most fun parts to explore thus far for me this chapter as well as how they fight together in a serious battle. I also delved into status effects some as well as the various uses of Potions! Expect more explained uses of items and such as the series goes on! Yoongi’s look hair wise in Daechwita perfectly fits both the OG character Yoongi is based off of(Kain Highwind). Luckily it hit me as I was going through mvs, trying to decide if there was anything that matched Kain’s lucious locks and there it was! 

Also yay!! Official intro for Jimin! I know he’s never had mint hair before but I just had to include the nod to the OG game after doing Yoongi’s so...please bare with me. These are the ones I felt most fit what I was imagining. 

Hope you all enjoy and please leave feedback it’s a huge motivator for me! Much love hope ya’ll are enjoying the influx of content from me lately! <3

[callboxkat]

Infinitesimal: The Elder Brother

Author’s note: I wanted to offer more insight into Virgil’s and Emile’s past and their relationship before meeting Patton--particularly, Emile’s motivations. Hopefully, this accomplishes that. It includes spoilers for part 15 of Infinitesimal (chapter 17 on Ao3), Sharing is Caring. Please heed the warnings!

Summary: The story of how Virgil lost his tail, told from Emile’s perspective. 

Warnings:  blood (seriously), fighting, illness, injuries, fear, death mentions, guilt, and a very bad cat

Word count: 3370

Infinitesimal Masterpost! 

Writing Masterpost! 

Ao3 Link

...

“So, are we ready to go?” Emile asked, sliding a pin into his belt. It never hurt to have some extra protection. He glanced around once more, just to be sure he had everything.

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil said, tying a water pouch around his waist. He had a bag over his shoulder, like Emile, but unlike Emile, he had a string looped numerous times around his torso, meant to keep the crutches he used to walk pinned against his back when they needed to climb.

“I thought you’d be more excited,” Emile teased. “It’s not often we go to the seventh floor.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s still work.” He paused. “Thanks for letting me come, though,” he said quickly. “It’s nice to stretch my legs.”

It had taken Emile a while to warm up to the idea of letting Virgil rejoin him on their supply runs, after what had happened to Virgil’s foot. But Virgil had made a lot of progress navigating on his crutches, even as it became clearer and clearer that his foot would never fully heal. As Virgil argued, he was now faster on the crutches than he had often been before he’d ever broken his foot. It was true that it had been slightly deformed ever since Virgil was born, and he’d had difficulty walking for long periods of time. The crutches took away that problem.

If breaking your foot had any upsides, Emile figured, that would be it.

Regardless, it was no wonder that Virgil had worn him down, Emile thought, looking at his baby brother. Especially with how persistent he could be. Even now, Emile didn’t let him come every time, but the occasions that he did bring Virgil with were growing more and more frequent.

“Sure,” Emile said. “It’ll be fun, having you there.”

“So, what all are we getting, anyway?”

Emile laughed, gesturing for Virgil to go ahead of him. “I only told you twice already.”

Virgil was conspicuously silent. Emile suspected he hadn’t been listening earlier.

Emile just smiled, turned off the light, and strode after Virgil into the tunnel. “We need to get some more lights, since these are probably going to start burning out soon; so that’s why we’re going to the seventh floor. That, and I also want to see if I can get some of that yarn she has. And while we’re there we can get some food before we start working our way back.”

“…like those strawberry candies?”

The old lady who lived on the seventh floor had a container of candy, which she usually refilled if she expected her grandchildren to visit her soon. Virgil’s favorite among them was a hard candy with a wrapper that made it look like a strawberry.

“If she has them,” Emile said. “And only if it’s safe to get them.”

“Cool.”

Emile couldn’t see Virgil’s face, but he knew his brother well enough to know he was grinning.

“After that, we can pick up some food in the apartments we pass on the way home. I figure that’s easier than stopping along the way up and then having to carry it all with us.”

Virgil nodded, not saying anything.

“Whatever we get’ll depend on what’s available, obviously,” Emile continued. “And how much room we have in our bags. So, we’ll see.”

…

 “Okay, wait here a second,” Emile said, working open the door that led into the apartment. He crept forward, glancing back once to make sure Virgil had done as he asked.

It was quiet, which was good, and what Emile had expected to find. It had to be past midnight by now, and the old woman was the sort to turn in for the night early. Emile would have been surprised to find her still awake.

He crept out a few inches, crouching, just to be sure she wasn’t around. There had been one or two occasions in the past where the woman had fallen asleep in her favorite chair in the living room; and Emile didn’t want any surprises, especially with his brother there.

“Em,” a voice hissed. Emile glanced back to where Virgil stood just within the doorway, waiting. He held up one finger. Just one second.

Virgil nodded, and Emile crept further out, looking around. Once he was far enough to see into the living room, he stopped, peering into the dark at the woman’s chair. Empty.

He glanced once more around the kitchen before he turned back to his brother and beckoned him forward. He heard the soft, even tap of Virgil’s crutches on the tile floor as he approached. Even muffled by the bits of fabric tied over the ends, they were louder than Emile would prefer, which was part of the reason why he wanted to be doubly sure that they were alone.

…

“Oh, shoot!”

Emile glanced up from where he sat, organizing the supplies in their bags. Everything had gone well in the apartment, and they’d collected everything they came for. The light bulbs, some wire, some food, and even the yarn. At least, Emile thought they had.

“What?”

“The candy,” Virgil explained, gesturing back out into the apartment, towards the kitchen counter where the tin they were kept in sat. “I almost forgot!”

Emile bit his lip, considering. “Okay, give me a few minutes and I’ll go get it.”

“I can do it,” Virgil said.

“Virge….”

“Come on, it’s one piece of candy. I’ll just go over there and be back before you’re even done with this.”

Emile looked at him for a long second. Virgil stared back, hopeful, pleading, insistent. Confident in his abilities. Emile sighed, giving in. “Okay. But be careful.”

Virgil grinned his crooked grin, turned around, and walked back into the apartment.

Emile went back to packing, making sure everything was secure and that there wasn’t any wasted space in the bags. The more they could bring home on their trip, the better, since it would mean they could wait longer before needing to go out again.

Several long minutes passed. Emile was starting to grow antsy, but he reminded himself that Virgil couldn’t move as fast as he could, and there was no reason to assume anything more was keeping him. So he kept packing.

He had just fastened the button on his bag when he heard the scream.

“EMILE!! Help!”

Emile was instantly on his feet, running before his mind could catch up with his body.

The sight that met him when he emerged from the wall would be forever burned in his memory.

An enormous cat, with gray-white fur and a face that looked like it had been rammed into the wall one too many times, stood in the middle of the kitchen floor. Its yellow eyes, flashing in the darkness, were locked onto something at its feet.

Virgil.

“HEY!” Emile yelled, hardly caring at this point if he woke the human.

It wouldn’t matter. Not if he lost his baby brother.

He ran forward, pulling out his knife so fast that he caught his palm on the blade. He switched it to his other hand without a thought, not slowing down even as the cat’s eyes lifted and locked onto him.

Virgil took the opportunity to scramble backwards. One of his crutches was lying broken on the floor more than a foot away from Virgil lay, where the cat must have dragged him. Now, he brandished his remaining crutch as if to ward off his attacker. He was panting, pale, but very much alive.

The cat, despite Emile’s yelling, didn’t seem overly interested in leaving its prey. As he ran, trying to get to his brother before it was too late, the cat reached over and batted at Virgil with a paw. Emile’s baby brother cried out in terror as he was bowled over.

The cat was playing with him.

“Let him go!” Emile grabbed a piece of the broken crutch as he ran past and threw it, hitting the cat in the eye with a lucky shot. It hissed at Emile, pausing to swipe a paw in his direction. Emile scrambled out of the way, twisting his ankle in the process.

As Emile struggled back to his feet, the cat pounced, jaws snapping. Virgil rolled just in time to avoid being bitten in half, but not far enough.

The cat’s jaws closed on his tail.

Virgil let out a strangled sound and grabbed onto his tail, trying to pull it away from the cat. A few sections slid back out, streaked with blood, but the cat bit down harder, and Virgil shrieked.

The cat tugged harshly, making Virgil slide across the floor until he found a foothold in the grout between two tiles.

Emile ran forward. “NO!”

Too late.

There was an audible snap, like a rubber band pulled too taut. The worst sound Emile had ever heard.

Virgil collapsed.

The next thing Emile knew, he was in the cat’s face, standing over his brother, slashing his knife across the ugly thing’s nose. It reared back, hissing, blood beginning to drip down its face and mat in its fur.

The cat slashed a paw at Emile and knocked the knife from his hand. He went down for only a fraction of a second, blinking away stars, not even feeling the pain, and scrabbled for the pin at his side. He yanked it free and held it aloft like a sword.

For what could have been either an eternity or only a few seconds, he fought, stabbing and slashing whenever the cat dared come close. Eventually, it drew back and began pacing from side to side, hissing with its hackles raised, watching Emile.

It tried one more time to approach, but Emile was ready. He stabbed his pin into its side as hard as he could. It sunk in far enough that he couldn’t pull it back out.

The cat yowled in pain and scrambled away.

Emile took the opportunity to seize his brother under the arms, trying not to think about the pool of blood he lay in, the pallor of his skin, the fact that he couldn’t tell if he was even breathing. He dragged him backwards towards the entrance to the walls as fast as he could, panting heavily, shaking with adrenaline, just waiting for the cat to return.

Which of course, it did, as soon as it noticed its prey escaping.

It bounded towards them, furious, teeth bared. The roaring in Emile’s ears was so loud that he couldn’t hear its hissing. He dragged Virgil even faster, faster than Emile had known he could move.

Emile made it through the entrance and shoved the both of them to the side just as an enormous paw slammed through the opening in the wall. Emile scrambled away, pulling Virgil along with him. His eyes fell on his hook and rope, lying discarded on the ground, and he snatched them, driving the sharpened point of the hook into the cat’s leg with all of his strength.

Another shriek, and the cat was gone. Somewhere else in the apartment, a human voice called out, but Emile couldn’t have cared less.

He tossed the bloody hook to the side and hurried back to his brother, already yanking off his shirt. He pressed that to the gaping wound on Virgil’s tail, feeling sick when he saw just how much blood there was. A shirt wasn’t going to stop this. Pinning the shirt in place with his knees, he grabbed Virgil’s knife and cut his bag off of him. He hacked off the strap of it, and then tied that around his severed tail. He had trouble tying the knot, his hands slipping on the blood.

So much blood.

“Virgil, Virge, stay with me,” he begged, knowing his baby brother couldn’t hear him. “Just stay with me. You’re going to be okay. It’s going to be okay, you hear me? Virgil? Virge, please, open your eyes. Please!”

Please, he has to be okay.

He kept the shirt pressed to Virgil’s wound, his heart pounding, staring at his brother’s pale face, his limp form.

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please wake up! I can’t lose you!”

Virgil was his baby brother. His only family, his only friend. His responsibility, left to Emile after their parents had died. Emile knew that the world was dangerous, especially for a little, especially for Virgil. And Emile had sent him to get that candy, just a stupid piece of candy, alone. He’d sent him straight into that cat’s claws. It didn’t matter that Emile hadn’t known it was there. This was his fault.

If Virgil died, it was his fault.

…

“I’m going to get you home, I promise,” Emile murmured, slowly getting to his feet. He paused for a second, making sure he didn’t overbalance from the heavy weight on his back.

Virgil, his head lolled on Emile’s shoulder, didn’t answer.

Emile had gotten the bleeding from Virgil’s tail under control as best he could, using whatever he could from their supplies. But they had to get home. Emile could do more for him there. They had proper bandages—more than what they had brought on this trip, which they had turned out to be woefully unprepared for��and clean water. Emile knew that he needed to get Virgil’s wound cleaned as soon as possible.

He’d repurposed the string that Virgil usually used to secure his crutches, the rope from his hook, and the strap from his own bag to keep Virgil on his back. He’d be able to hold onto Virgil’s legs in the sections of the tunnel where he could walk level, but most of the trip involved climbing. He wanted to be absolutely certain that Virgil would not fall.

Emile reached back a hand and laid it against Virgil’s cheek, just to reassure himself that Virgil was still breathing. He felt a soft exhale against his hand, and his knees went weak with relief.

“Okay. Okay. You’re okay. Let’s go, baby brother,” Emile said, not bothering to wipe at his eyes, tears slowly sliding down his cheeks as he began to walk.

He went as quickly as he dared, climbing down through the walls, hurrying through the tunnels. Virgil never made a sound, even as Emile talked to him, begged him to wake up, to hold on.

By some miracle, they made it home.

Emile hurried inside and laid Virgil down on the floor, grabbing a blanket at random to bundle under his head, and another to elevate his tail in an attempt to slow the bleeding. He un-bandaged and cleaned the wound, swallowing his nausea at the sight of it, before bandaging it back up again more securely.

Once that was done, he hurried to Virgil’s head and checked for the hundredth time that he was still breathing—it was shallow, but he was—and started cleaning the blood off of him. He was covered in it, soaking his clothes, matting in his hair, smeared across his cheek. There was only so much he could do.

By that point, the adrenaline was wearing off, and Emile was starting to feel some of the pain from his own injuries. He hadn’t gotten away unscathed, of course, fighting off an entire cat. He was growing dizzy, probably from blood loss and the shock of what had happened. Still, he waited until he’d made Virgil as comfortable as he could manage before finally tending to his own wounds.

In addition to the slice in his palm from the knife, there were few slashes on his arms and chest, a couple of them rather deep. Emile couldn’t have said for certain exactly when in the fight he’d gotten them. He stayed at Virgil’s side, keeping a watchful eye on his brother as he cleaned and bandaged them. He also wrapped up his twisted ankle, which was so swollen by that point that he couldn’t tell whether it was broken or just badly sprained.

Finally, when all was said and done, Emile sat there in the dark; and he put his head in his hands and cried.

…

The next three days were some of the worst of Emile’s life.

Virgil looked so vulnerable, lying there in the blankets, his skin paler than Emile had ever seen it. The shadows around his eyes stood out like stark bruises, his dark hair tangled and pasted to his forehead with sweat.

On the second day, when Virgil did stir, he was trapped in a nightmarish delirium, thrashing and crying out nonsense. He was burning up, his skin sweaty and hot to the touch, and Emile didn’t know how to help him. He didn’t have medicine; he couldn’t leave Virgil long enough to get any; and he wouldn’t know what or how much to give him, anyway.

He did what he could, cleaning and re-bandaging his wound and trying to keep him comfortable, but whenever he tried to comfort Virgil during one of his nightmares, he didn’t seem to even know Emile was there. It broke his heart to see his brother that way.

“You can do it, V, you can,” Emile whispered, dabbing a damp cloth along Virgil’s sweaty brow. “You’re so strong. I know you’ll be okay.”

As much as Emile wanted to believe those words, he honestly thought that his brother was going to die. He thought that he had utterly failed as an older brother, and he would lose the most important person in his life. The only person in his life.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then carefully propped up his brother, who moaned at being moved. “Sorry, sorry,” Emile whispered, picking up a cup of water at his side. He pressed it to his brother’s lips. “Can you drink some of this for me? Just a sip?”

He trickled some water into Virgil’s mouth. Virgil coughed, water dripping down his chin, but then his eyelids fluttered, and he swallowed.

“That’s it,” Emile said, “That’s it. Good job. One more sip. There you go.” He set the cup to the side and gently laid his brother down again.

Emile bent over and pressed his forehead to Virgil’s. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love you so much. We never say that enough, but it’s true. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, come back to me. Please come back to me, Virgil.”

Emile never let his brother out of his sight, practically glued to his side, just in case something changed. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, could barely stomach more than a few sips of water, he was so stressed.

On the evening of the third day, Virgil’s fever finally broke. When Emile pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and found that he’d cooled to a more normal temperature, he started crying all over again. He’d been crying a lot recently.

Virgil stirred at the sound. “Emile?” his weak voice croaked.

Emile froze, going still, then quickly wiped at his tears. “Virge? Virge, can you hear me?”

“Hurts,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering half open. “What…? Wh-where…?”

Emile couldn’t answer, not yet. He just let out a sob and held his brother close, careful not to hurt him, crying, apologizing, promising over and over that he’d never let anything hurt Virgil ever again

Virgil’s arm came up and rested weakly against Emile’s back, and Emile cried in relief that the world hadn’t taken his baby brother away from him.

…

It was a long and slow recovery, but Virgil did recover. What remained of his tail healed; and while it would of course never grow back, he adapted just as he always did; and if Emile didn’t know any better, he might have believed that Virgil had always had only half of his tail.

One blessing through it all was that Virgil didn’t remember what had happened. Emile wouldn’t wish that horrible memory on him.

Emile did tell him about the cat, about the supply run gone wrong. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell him about what exactly had happened. About how it had all been Emile’s fault.

But Emile remembered. He would always remember.

[risingsouls]

Conversations: 2

[The next in this self-indulgent series I guess I’ve decided to go through with after all because I’m weak for them and their dynamic.

This actually took a turn that I didn’t expect that made it better so there’s that at least.

So, enjoy my bs if you’re so inclined! :D]

“Hold still, damn it!”

Nabooru scoffed and met his glare, shifting once more to find a comfortable position on the stool she perched on. “I barely moved! You want me to stop breathing?”

“Tch, it would help.” Vegeta dipped his fingers back into the salve she had provided him--some concoction the Gerudo healer had created in their assimilation on Earth and effective in speeding up the healing process according to Nabooru--and applied it to the nasty burn blistering on her side. “It would mean I didn’t have to deal with your ribs expanding, anyway.”

Nabooru bit her lip to stifle a hiss, the sudden cold and the sting of Zana’s ointment doubly uncomfortable on her wound. One she shouldn’t have sustained at all if she had just been strong enough to stave off Vegeta’s blast. Instead, she had to abandon that course and dart to the side to avoid taking the ki wave head on. She could still feel the sear of heat in her side as the cascade of purple blew by her. It crashed into the ground feet away and sent her flying, and she landed in a sprawl several meters away. At least he hadn’t refused to continue their spar after that. 

She draped her arm over her head as opposed to holding it out in front of her to give him room to work. “I told you I could handle this myself,” she huffed, picking at the loose bit of fabric on the roll of bandages with her free hand. “I’m used to dressing my own wounds.”

“What I saw looked incompetent.” He shot her another glare, though it was marred by the hint of a smirk. “Watching you try to do this yourself was painful.”

“I didn’t ask you to stick around and watch,” she snapped back. “You insisted on that and you insisted on doing it for me. I was fine.”

Vegeta’s retort was a silent one, a less than ginger press of his fingers at the center of the burn. The Gerudo flinched away and sucked in a breath. “Valaqi voe…” She muttered a few more choice curses and steeled herself, gaze fixed on the far wall rather than her less than tender healer.

The Saiyan grunted, his ears picking up the foriegn syllables but the long forgotten translator chip in his head supplied the meaning. “Are you calling me stubborn or an idiot?”

“It’s all the same in my nat--”

Nabooru cut herself off and whipped her head around to narrow her eyes at him. She ignored the growl she got in return and the pain that shot up her side from the sudden movement. “You understood that?” It was no secret between them that neither of them hailed from this planet. With how wide the universe was, though, and how she suspected their planets were likely not in remotely the same vicinity, she didn’t expect him to understand the Gerudo language. Or had he simply guessed using the not-so-subtle clues of her irritation with him?

He tapped the side of his head. “Translator chip. I’m as surprised as you are that it picked up on your language.” In all his expansive travels of the galaxy, he had never heard mention of a planet called Hyrule, even in the tedious charting and astronomy lessons he had to endure. Someone in the empire’s retinue had apparently been there or picked up the planet’s languages somehow. “But if it can pick up the languages on this backwater planet, I suppose I shouldn’t be.”

A glance back up from his work and he found her pondering his words in confused silence, brow furrowed. He rolled his eyes. “It’s a device they implanted in my brain through here,” he indicated the scar behind his left ear, “that can translate different languages across the universe for me. Makes communicating with other races more efficient. Everyone in the Cold Empire had them in case some fools couldn’t speak the galactic standard.”

His explanation only mildly helped her understand, but it was enough. She knew asking for more would be met with outright refusal or insult. “Sounds...invasive. Convenient, though. It means you wouldn’t have to spend months learning another language, anyway. It does get tedious.”

“Precisely.” He smeared a last bit around the lower edge of the burn near the curve of her hip. He held out a hand for the bandages. “We didn’t have time to sit and learn every known language in the universe to do our jobs effectively.”

Nabooru placed the bandages in his outstretched hand. “So, you did a lot of traveling, then? Back when you worked for Frieza?” she asked, raising her other arm to join the opposite and give him room to wrap the bandages around her waist. “What exactly did you guys do for him, anyway?”

“We were soldiers and worked as part of the Planetary Trade Organization under Frieza for his portion of the galaxy.” Vegeta unravelled the bandages, and when he noted Nabooru’s once more befuddled expression, he grumbled: “An organization that traded planets, which means deciding if planets are worth trading and preparing them for said trade.”

A crimson brow arched, and her lips curled downward. “So, a nice way of describing colonization? Taking over planets for gain?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, paying little mind to her distaste of the business. Nothing she could say would surprise him; he had heard it all before from those pleading their case to live another day. Those he subjugated in Frieza’s name. He held the end of the bandage against her abdomen and began wrapping it around her waist, releasing it to use both hands when the first wraparound had it secured in place. “The Cold family had an entire empire, much of it likely acquired by forcible means.”

The tossing of her stomach that wasn’t a side effect of his calloused fingers grazing across her flesh didn’t stop Nabooru from pressing the matter further. “What did you do, then? When you went to these planets?”

Dark gaze flickered up to her face, narrowed as his bandaging slowed. He regarded her verging on sour expression, how the bridge of her nose threatened to crinkle in distaste and the firmly set frown on her lips. “Hmpt. I’m not having this conversation if it’s going to end in a lecture.”

“That bad, huh?” She winced when he tugged a touch too hard on the bandage to secure it in place, squeezing her middle. “No, I won’t lecture you. It’s, what? A few decades too late for that? Besides, I’m not exactly squeaky clean enough to feel comfortable lecturing anyone about much of anything.”

Vegeta squinted, unsure if he believed her. She had proven herself a different breed than the rest around him. While not completely moralless, she didn’t reek of someone having the same idealistic and simplistic notions of good and evil, right and wrong, that Kakarot and his friends possessed. And, despite him giving her apt opportunity, her claim to an aversion to lecturing rang true. He could care less if she decided the cruelty in his past was too much; it was the insufferable chiding that would chafe his temper.

“It usually started with reconnaissance,” he began with a tone akin to the boredom of reading from a textbook. He completed another circulation around her waist and considered another for insurance in case it started bleeding again. “We were sent to a planet to scout its potential, whether that be in natural resources or people for either soldiers or a potentially useful skillset. Raditz took care of most of that part. We then sent our report back to base and some high-ranking blow hard or Frieza himself decided if the planet was useful or not. 

“If its people were deemed useful, we left the planet. We weren’t trusted to recruit soldiers or other personnel.” Vegeta tugged the bandage tight and secured it, a bitter smirk on his slips. “Probably thought we’d try to build our own army against him or something else equally paranoid, or he considered a trio of Saiyans too barbaric to handle it. Not that it mattered; I sure as hell didn’t want to deal with that.”

He tossed the spool of bandages in her lap and snorted when she scrambled to keep it there. Considering the glare she shot him, he was surprised she didn’t fire it back at him. “If only the resources were needed, nine times out of ten, the planet was purged of its people or they were kept around for labor. If the planet had no use to the empire in resources or any other marketable aspect, it would depend on what the empire did need. Sometimes that meant leaving the planet alone. Others it meant purging it anyway to build a base on it or outright destroying it. That part we were trusted with.”

Nabooru spun the bandages in her hands, considering the prince’s description of his previous career. While unsurprised, the weight in the pit of her stomach was unmistakable. She couldn’t imagine how many lives were expunged all for a tyrant’s gain. “I assume I don’t need to point out the irony in all that?” 

Vegeta’s jaw tightened and he cast her a withering glare. “Of course not.” He tugged his gloves back on and folded his arms over his chest. “I thought we agreed to no lecturing.”

Rising to her feet, Nabooru stretched her spine, gritting her teeth as the burnt flesh on her side pulled uncomfortably. “Mm, I guess that was a little lecture-y...it wasn’t meant to be.” She paused and picked up the jar of Zana’s remedy and twisted the cap on it. “I mean...I don't agree with murder, but I can’t really fault you for it and not because you were doing it under someone else’s orders. You said yourself Frieza would kill you if you didn’t follow orders. Morality isn’t exactly the first thing on your mind when you’re trying to survive.”

Once more, he had the sneaking suspicion she spoke from a place of experience than simply reason. He had never considered such a point of view, his mind blurred by his one-track-minded ambitions that fueled him. Back then, it was to kill Frieza. But that did mean surviving him and playing along as a loyal servant. A useful, obedient, planet-purging slave. Though it may not have occurred to him at the time or even years later, he could not deny her logic on the matter. For the longest time, his life had been a test of survival, of making it to the next day and closer to his goal. Another that he never realized outside of dreams, both waking and sleeping.

"Partially,” he rumbled. Gloved fingers dug into his biceps. “Make no mistake: I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the power, the fear I instilled. I didn’t care how many I killed, and I didn’t need Frieza’s orders to do it. If I wanted to kill the bastard and take his empire, I needed both of those things on my side.”

Another swath of silence stretched out between the two of them. Though the Saiyan’s callous words caused her stomach to perform another series of acrobatics and the tightening of her throat to intensify, it wasn’t out of surprise or her moral compass busting under the pressure of its true north being thrown completely off. She had heard such sentiments before. Witnessed it, been a part of it, acted it out herself despite her efforts to avoid it. Endeavors she found herself near alone in pursuing so actively, compared to her peers. She couldn’t be sure they didn’t enjoy it to an extent. They all hailed from a kill or be killed world, either way, most of them warriors, soldiers. Relishing in murder or not, killing was part of the job at some point.

And hadn’t she wondered how it would feel to use her newfound power to raze Hyrule to cinders in an act of vengeance? Destroy everyone and everything because, if they weren’t openly involved in the slow strangling and then outright attack on her people, they were complicit in it? To truly complete the path their disgraced king paved for himself alone and realize their idiotic fears?

She felt the jar crack in her hand and she forced herself back to reality, relaxing her grip. Vegeta quirked an eyebrow at her, opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. She returned to the moment before her distraction. His words. Another wise-crack. Anything but that night, Ganondorf, the past…

Then, something clicked. “ Wait. You killed Frieza though, so why did you stay--”

She felt the weight of her mistake before her mind truly understood in the brief but daunting surge in his energy, the twisting of his neutral expression into quiet anger so out of sorts with the ki spike. Every instinct in Nabooru told her to run, but she ignored every last one and stood her ground, gold eyes trained on him. Waiting for him to lash out in an attack that she would have to attempt to defend herself against. He remained still as stone, however, which only unnerved her more as the pressure in the room soared and begged to explode. She considered begging him to say something, attack her, walk out, anything at all.

And all at once the moment passed. Vegeta’s ki dropped back off to next to nothing, masked as seemed to be the common practice. Nabooru released the breath she held and leaned against the back of the couch. She chewed her lip, considering if she should continue that line of conversation and risk her house and life. Instead, she only managed a nod and an unintentionally croaked, “I understand.”

His anger boiled again, and had she been anyone else, any of the other fools that surrounded him, ashes would be all that was left of her. Not before potentially laughing in her face and explaining just why he thought she could never understand him, no matter the effort put forth. Perhaps it was the high amount of unknown still surrounding her, not enough information to make a solid assumption of her experiences, that cooled the rising inferno within him to a crackling flame. Until she proved him right, at least.

“Do you?” he hissed through clenched teeth, tone icy and condescending. 

Nabooru nodded again and held his gaze, expression unreadable. “Yes,” she responded, setting the cracked jar on the side table. “I didn’t get to kill my Frieza either.”

[durrzerker]

Taskmaster: The Line. Chapter 5: Secrets

The old Masters of Evil headquarters was still intact. It had not burned down, been bombed, or been swarmed by supervillains. There weren't even rats in the walls.

That was the totality of the good news.

Everything else, in summary, had completely gone to shit.

It was a ragged party that crossed the threshold of Baron Zemo's former home. Laura and Black Ant were leading the pack by now, as they were the only ones who weren't limping or nearly collapsing with exhaustion. Black Ant had caught up with the group shortly after shrinking down to escape the chaos that he had spawned during the Bagalia Freedom Festival, and it was a good thing, too; Akeja had silently collapsed a quarter mile from the gargantuan mansion, and the other children weren't faring much better. Carrying Akeja and Mara across his shoulders like a pair of sandbags, Eric had been uncharacteristically silent as they stopped in the dank foyer of the abandoned building. "Amazing no one's taken this place over yet," he finally said.

"They've been trying." Taskmaster was favoring his wounded rib a bit more now; without time to rest and with the increasingly desperate pace that they had set to finish out their journey, he was in a good deal of pain himself. "I hadn't decided what to do with the place, so I've been letting ol' Tessie clear them out to keep her weapons in good shape. An idling warbot is..." He trailed off; he couldn't even finish the joke. The spot where Laura had stabbed him was throbbing in the way only an adamantium blade could, the same way it had when she'd gored his hand a year back. It was like every nerve had been cut in half with molecular precision. Pulling off his dirty cloak and setting it into a pile against the wall, he collapsed against it. "Role call..."

Laura, whose healing factor at least allowed her to remain in peak shape, set Malakai down on a huge old Corinthian leather couch. "Everyone's here. I've been keeping track. You don't look so good, Taskmaster."

"No shit? Maybe it's because you fucking stabbed me." He wasn't mad about it. Really.

"I'm not going to feel guilty about that," Laura replied, her ears visibly burning. "You had done nothing to warrant the benefit of the doubt, and you left Black Ant behind to ambush me."

"I left him behind to ambush the person -stalking- us," Tony countered. "How was I supposed to know it was you? How long had you even been following us, anyways? Didn't you see us -helping- the fucking kids?" Tony closed his eyes behind his mask, even as he argued. To Laura, it still looked like the ghoulish visage was staring her down.

"...Truth be told, yes. But from where I was, it just looked like you were fighting over them -- and you did crash their vehicle."

Tony could tell that she didn't like when she had to try and get a bead on how he was feeling. The man's airtight costume blocked his scent from her, and he could alter his body language whenever he liked; it was one of his most useful skills, the kind that wasn't as obvious to people as other applications of his photographic reflexes.

"Well, whatever," Tony replied with a grunt. "The Hub's agent ain't here and I need to sleep, alright? Wake me up when they arrive -- I think we could all use a little rest."

"I don't think we should..." Laura pursed her lips and stopped when she heard the crinkling of a wrapper behind her. Eric had finally found use for his remaining honey buns he'd swiped earlier. He was passing them out to the assorted Scions, who had piled together on the couch in the living room. While Akeja had gone right to sleep, the others' hunger had won out - they voraciously assaulted the treats with the kind of shamelessness only starvation could inspire. "...Yeah, alright. Only for awhile though, Masters." She turned around and headed towards the kitchen with that, likely to look for more food for the children.

Tony watched her go, but before she'd even made it out of the living room, the mercenary had passed out. He dreamed of the Scion children.

--

He was in the middle of some kind of nightmare in which all six of the children were surrounding him, throwing accusations that he couldn't understand in their unique language. He wasn't quite sure exactly when he woke up, because when he did, the children were arguing loudly in that same tongue.

"Hey, hey!" Eric called out. "Come on, people are trying to sleep here -- namely my very ill-tempered partner."

"Fuck you, Man of Ants!" Shouted the sixth child that Tony had never heard speak yet, and now it was evident why; a girl with red hair and a deeply thick brogue, she was barely understandable even when trying her best. "Y'think ginna scrap o'fud makeus even?! Not a'er what you did, nay, him neither!"

What him and Eric did...? Taskmaster didn't move from where he was, kept his breathing slow. His perfect control of his body's actions came in handy here -- especially when Laura joined the conversation, returning to the living room to figure out what the big screaming match was about. "What's going on? What -did- you two do, O'Grady...?"

"It's none of your business, Wolverine." Eric's voice was surprisingly serious, more harsh than almost any time that Tony had heard it before. "If these brats really want to tell you, I can't stop them; but I'm not turning on him like that."

There was a pause. Tony opened his eyes, opting to keep his mask's optics dimmed in the process; all part of how he could easily pretend that he wasn't paying attention, even to Wolverine's highly enhanced senses. Laura was pacing, glancing to the gathered children and then stopping before Eric. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this one way or the other, but I'm curious; why -do- you do this, O'Grady?"

"What do you mean?" He snapped back defensively.

"Why do you follow Taskmaster? I've seen your relationship. You call yourself his partner, but he treats you more like a sidekick. You were an Avenger once; you were a hero, even if you had your problems. Why follow a jerk like Masters?"

Clearly trying to deflect, Black Ant turned away from her. "Keep your voice down, huh? You're gonna wake him up."

"He's completely passed out. I'd be able to hear it if he was up."

Realizing he wasn't going to get out of this, Black Ant hesitated, then explained, "Look...you don't know him like I do. I -don't- follow Taskmaster."

"But--"

"--Stop. You want to know? Then let me talk." Eric stepped forward, accusingly prodding her in the chest. "I don't follow Taskmaster, I follow -Tony-. Even when he trained me back with the Initiative, I could tell something was different about him compared to other supervillains. He -got- what it was like, you know? To want to do one thing, but to feel drawn to another. Then, when I was with the Secret Avengers, I found out about everything...his memory problems. His -wife-."

"He's got a WIFE?" Laura nearly shouted, then covered her mouth. Taskmaster's breath nearly hitched, giving him away. It took all of his self-control to maintain the illusion that he was asleep, doubly so when Eric turned to look his way.

"Yeah, he does; and he doesn't even know it. It's The Hub. You know, the lady who's supposed to be sending our fucking -help-? The way his powers work, every time he copies someone new, like he did to get your stupid foot claws, he loses everything else. As far as most people are concerned, Taskmaster's all that's left; the mercenary, the guy who will kidnap anyone or fight anyone for hire; but when you work with him like I do, you -see- him every day...it becomes obvious that ain't the case."

"Bullshit," Maya snapped, sounding wounded.

"...It's true," Eric insisted. "Look, don't get me wrong! Tony -- not Taskmaster -- isn't a saint. I'm not saying he's some kind of heroic good guy underneath it all. But you don't realize how -easy- he goes on you fucking people," the mercenary accused, glaring at Laura as he started to anxiously pace in a circle. "Did you know that? He'd rather let himself get stabbed through the hand than actually risk really hurting you, because even though -he- doesn't understand it...this is self-flagellation. He's punishing himself every time he takes a job, and his fucking wife LETS him! He doesn't know any better! He's in...factory settings, as he calls it!"

Falling silent for a moment, Laura pressed her hand to her mouth in thought. When she finally responded, her tone was somber and disbelieving in equal measure. She wasn't buying this at all. "So, what. You're saying he wasn't -trying- when he attacked my sisters and I? He shot them in the head!"

"No, I'm saying that he was trying -- to commit suicide by superhero. Look...I've seen him when pressed, okay? He does -not- go down easy, and there's a reason that he's actually feared so much in Bagalia. He doesn't half-ass it here; you piss him off, you're dead. You do something he finds distasteful, you're dead. If you were watching us, you saw how we shut down that Jason Waterfalls jerkoff. He'd never fight like that against you, against Spider-Man, against any of you 'hero' types." Slumping down onto the couch, planting his palms against either side of his helmet, Eric took it off. A mess of unruly red hair, a to-the-atom perfect replica of the appearance of his original body. Tony knew that he'd often questioned if he was the 'real' Eric, or some kind of facsimile created in his image. Tony had always argued the former, maybe against his better senses. He just wasn't sure that he himself liked the alternative. Was that selfish? He considered it before focusing his attention on his partner's continued speaking.

"I've seen him pin his boot to Captain America's face. He had him dead to rights. But when the time came, he didn't finish the job, even though he could have. And if you corner him about it, he'll claim it's because he doesn't want the 'heat', or he'll make excuses, but when it really comes down to it..." Eric looked up at Laura; Taskmaster was too far away to see his expression, but his tone gave away everything that he needed to know. "...That's Tony in there, under The Taskmaster. People don't see Tony, he hides it so well. They see that stupid fucking costume, that ridiculous cape...and a grim echo of the guy I know who taught me; who's ignored every rule he sets for himself for my sake."

"Why, though?" Laura asked, sounding skeptical. "It's easy for you to make these claims, but have you ever considered that he's lying to you? That he's just pathetic and lonely, and keeps you around so he has control over someone?"

"Shut the hell up," Eric snapped back at her, nearly rising. "I'm not the only one who knows this. He'll pretend he's forgotten, but Cap does, too; can you believe Taskmaster still admires him? Hell, have you ever even SEEN him copy a supervillain's moves? I've seen him throw like Bullseye, like...once. But day in, day out? It's Rogers. Daredevil. Black Knight. Hawkeye. -You-. And you wanna tell me he's faking it, when he tries to be like you on a level even he doesn't realize?"

Laura looked ready to bite back, to respond to Eric's accusatory tone, but after a moment she simply stopped walking around and regarded the children. While they still looked annoyed, still seemed ready to argue with Eric, they'd all shifted to listening intently. For some reason that Tony couldn't fathom, they were invested in this. What did Black Ant know? What wasn't he telling him?

"He wants to be the best, and I don't just mean at fighting. Every time, before he forgets, he becomes a little more like you, a little less like Taskmaster," Eric murmured, barely loud enough for Taskmaster to hear. "And then he goes back to it, gets his next job; but I'm not stupid. I've been watching people who were better than me my whole life. When he -really- has a reason to fight, you can almost see Tony in there, like a reflection in a lake. And then he has to copy someone new, or gets pushed further than his mind can take, and --" He mimicked a popping sound with his finger in his mouth. "...The next pebble drops, and it's gone."

The room fell silent for a little while, interrupted only by the sounds of the Scions grabbing the food that Laura had brought them on a tray and starting to dig into it. Looking conflicted, Wolverine finally threw her hands up. "So, what? You're saying that I should trust him? That he's 'not so bad'?"

"No," Eric replied coolly, putting his helmet back on. "I'm saying that I'm keeping my cards to my chest for a reason, and that I'm not telling you about what happened with these kids for the same reason I'm not telling -him-. Like I said, if they want to share? I can't stop them; but you won't understand why things went down like they did. What I will tell you is this: You need Taskmaster to save these children. Even they know it; it's the only reason they haven't ratted us out already. And if he finds out what he did...he's gonna run. He'll snap, he'll disappear, and then we're all fucked."

"He can barely move. He's hardly going to carry this team." Laura's tone wasn't proud, just factual.

"I'm not talking about fighting," Eric replied vaguely. "Just...don't trust me, okay? I don't give a shit. I don't even like you, Logan had better hair. Talk to the kids if you want, but I'm done explaining myself." He started past her, only for the smaller woman to plant a palm on his chest.

"This isn't finished, O'Grady," Laura warned. "Not by a long shot."

"I know," he responded, "...And I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn. Your hair is -amazing-." Taskmaster couldn't see them anymore, but he heard the distinct sound of Eric attempting to lean in and smell her -- and Laura punching him in the stomach.

After that, the group scattered. The Hub's agent -- the agent of his wife, Tony forced himself to try and internalize without much success -- was still not here, and everyone was occupying the time they were forced to wait differently. Eric was playing on his phone, Laura checked on the Scions and then went to explore the enormous mansion, and the Scions huddled together, finally well-fed and trying to catch up on their immense lack of sleep.

For his part, Taskmaster had a lot to think about now. Waiting another half hour or so before 'waking up', he finally rose and staggered out of the living room, heading for the armory. When he'd been working as Zemo's prison warden, he had stashed some equipment here, including of the medical variety. He could patch himself up a little better, get fighting fit again.

He'd barely opened the door of the safehouse and stepped inside when he heard footsteps approaching; small and quick. Grabbing a kit full of strange syringes, his personal supply of advanced first aid from his on-staff scientist Albino, Taskmaster turned in time to see one of the Scions approaching. It was the last he didn't recognize, all fire-colored hair and intense features that he quickly recognized as a strange mixture of Chinese and Scottish.

Tears in her eyes, she stepped forward, fearlessly grabbing for the first weapon she could find - a Desert Eagle, already loaded for haste's sake in case of emergency, barrel pointing straight at Taskmaster's forehead. When she finally spoke, it was through tears. "D'ye really not remember what ya did to us?" She asked him accusingly.

He didn't know how to answer.

[thezodiaczone]

March Forecast for Libra

A busy month is in store for you, Libra! The Sun is marching through Pisces and your sixth house of health, fitness and organization until March 20. You’re inspired to get your life running like a well-oiled machine again. With spring right around the corner, these sunbeams will motivate you to get out into nature, eat fresh food and get active after a sedentary winter. The March 17 Pisces full moon could jumpstart any new habits or systems you hope to get in place.

If you’ve been reeling from the eclipses of January 31 and February 15, March could help you start to make sense of it all. This year has sent most of us off to the races—and with these eclipses igniting your houses of fame and group activity, there haven’t been a lot of quiet moments to work through all the energy that’s gotten stirred up. Some Libras have been too busy shaking hands and kissing babies to even set their feet on solid ground. Other Libras could be staggering from some early spring fever or a new romance. Whatever’s gotten stirred up, you haven’t had a chance to process it until now.

Not that March is a slow cycle by any stretch of the imagination! Just like in January, there will be TWO full moons bookending the month. Even better? The second one, on March 31, lands in Libra. And two planets, Mercury and Jupiter, will turn retrograde—a cosmic slowdown that you might actually welcome after all the hubbub.

Conserve your energy at the very beginning of the month, when March 1 delivers a full moon in Virgo and your twelfth house of healing, closure and endings. You could be busy wrapping up a project or working behind the scenes. What’s holding you back—and what are you still holding onto? If you’ve been clinging to a painful situation that’s past its prime, this full moon can help break the pattern. With this potent lunar light in your transitional twelfth house, it’s better not to try to control the outcome. The universe may reveal its plan—and a method to the seeming madness. Be still and watch for the big reveal, which will supply all the guidance you need. You’ve been swimming upstream long enough, Libra, and where has that gotten you? Leave struggle behind already!

Have you been unsure whether you should trust a certain person? Their true intentions could be revealed in the light of this full moon, which can spark an outpouring of pent-up emotions. And with open-hearted Jupiter forming a flowing trine to your ruler, romantic Venus, you could also attract someone who’s soulmate material. Swept away much, Libra?

Keeping your feet on solid ground could get a little slippery starting March 8, when expansive Jupiter turns retrograde for its annual four-month backspin. Jupiter will reverse until July 10 through Scorpio and your second house of work, money and security. Since October 10, the red-spotted planet has been zooming through this prosperous part of your chart, pushing you to take risks and grow. Your confidence has been on the rise, and this may have magnetized new opportunities for financial stability. Global Jupiter could even have brought in a long-distance work opportunity or client.

Exciting as it is, it’s been a lot to take in, and now you might welcome a pause to process and integrate. If bills and paperwork have piled up on your desk, or you’ve got one too many unfinished projects, use this time to catch up. Be discerning about what you take on—you could accidentally bite off more than you can chew.

Since retrogrades can bring back the past, an old client or employer could resurface. Or be proactive and reach out to former colleagues, mentors and alumni. These connections could lead to an unexpected opportunity. During Jupiter’s U-turn, one source of income could slow down or even end. Necessity is the mother of invention. You might take a “bridge job” or do a freelance gig to fill the gaps. Jupiter returns to direct (forward) motion on July 10 and remains in Scorpio until November 8, which will help you make up for lost time. Use this retrograde to tweak your plans, revamp your budget and streamline your systems. Then you’ll be ready for the exciting prospects that arrive this summer and fall.

On March 20, the Sun moves into Aries and your seventh house of partnerships. A dynamic duo could turn official, for either love or business. With el Sol in your opposite sign, the next four weeks are ideal for restoring balance to your closest ties. Save your best energy for the people who have your back through thick and thin. If an S.O. or close friend has been getting the scraps (you’ve been busy and time’s been tight), use Aries season to reconnect and get back on the same page.

Relationship repair work may become a priority when Mercury spins retrograde in Aries from March 22 to April 15. A key bond could also hit a rough patch. Mercury is the planet of communication, travel and technology—and when it turns retrograde, all of these areas can go haywire. Prepare for some crossed wires in an important relationship or possible breakdowns around a business negotiation. Most astrologers advise against signing contracts during a Mercury retrograde phase, and this applies doubly for you because of its placement. Hash out the terms and use this three-week period to conduct due diligence. if you’ve overlooked something, you’ll be glad you took the extra time to investigate. It could even be worth the investment to have a lawyer look over any binding agreements before you sign.

Mercury retrograde can notoriously dredge up the past, and this time, a former flame could resurface. Have you swept a conflict under the rug? For couples, this can be a fruitful phase to work through sticky issues with a therapist—or to try direct communication! Your peace-loving sign hates confrontation, but avoiding it doesn’t make it go away. Sometimes you’ve gotta deal to heal.

There’s a lot going on, Libra—and March is certainly NOT going out like a lamb. All your efforts will pay off at the end of the month, when a rare second full moon lands in YOUR sign. On March 31, the year’s only Libra full moon hosts a cosmic coming-out party. A solo venture or passion project you’ve been toiling away at for the past six months could come together with a flourish. La luna hands you the proverbial mic, so make sure you’re ready to bask in the moonlight! Practice that elevator pitch and be prepared to self-promote when you have the floor. This assertive full moon can help you speak up where you’ve been holding back. Take a deep breath and bravely raise your voice!

Love & Romance

Where to begin? There’s so much amorous activity simmering, you may seriously look into cloning yourself to take full advantage of it! Red-blooded Mars is blazing through fiery Sagittarius and your third house of friends and local activity. Chemistry could heat up with a platonic pal or someone you randomly meet during a night on the town. Attached? Stoke your own lusty libido by getting out and remembering how it feels to go on actual dates. Dress up and do something surprising—novelty is sexy!

The other half of the cosmic-lovebird duo, vixen Venus, is finishing her annual jog through dreamy Pisces until March 6. Before she moves on to impassioned Aries and your partnership zone, she’ll lock lips with expansive Jupiter in seductive Scorpio on March 1, inspiring you to leap before you look. If you can manage your expectations and just enjoy things as they’re unfolding, you’ll come away richer for the experience. But if there’s no way this thing is going to go the distance, don’t even kid yourself for one of those red-hot minutes.

Once Venus starts loping through Aries from March 6 to 31, you could meet a person with long-term potential, perhaps someone you feel an instant kinship with. Easy conversation and a sweetness between you are promising signs. Attached? If the state of your union leaves something to be desired, the “new leaf” energy of Venus in Aries can help you hit the reset button. It might not be as simple as declaring it reborn—you might need to work with a professional or hash out some sticky issues to get things back on track.

Your adventurous side sparks up on March 11, when Mars swings into a triggering trine with unpredictable Uranus in spontaneous fire signs. Interactions will simmer with electric chemistry, but just beneath the surface lurks the potential for some serious head-butting. What have you been holding in for too long, Libra? Uranus can inspire you to speak up and voice your opinions. But with these two hotheaded planets fanning each other’s flames, you could swing a bit too wildly in the outspoken direction. Remember, the goal is to build a bridge, not incinerate it!

On March 17, Mars will trot into Capricorn and your domestic fourth house until May 16. Strong emotions and desires can gust up, possibly prompting you to move forward with baby plans or moving in together. Make sure you’re ready before you take the plunge. Acts like these are hard to “control-X” delete. That said, if you’ve been dragging your feet on a commitment (as Libras are wont to do), Mars can motivate you to finally just go for it.

Key Dates

March 13: Venus-Saturn Square Love interrupted? Watch out for the unexpected resurfacing of some old fears or negative family patterns, which threaten to disturb the smooth flow of your love life. Even if your partner tries to bring you around, you might not be able to talk about what you’re experiencing. Take time to process the feelings, but don’t do anything rash or irrevocable.

Money & Career

“Multitasking Maven” may become your new moniker this month, Libra. With the Sun in Pisces and your orderly sixth house, you’ve got a lot of projects cooking at once. You’re ready to tackle them in a systematic and organized way. But as quickly as you knock items off your to-do list, new ones crop up. Prioritize so you don’t get overwhelmed.

With intensifier Mars in Sagittarius until March 17, your communication house is a hub of activity. Keep your devices charged and explore new ideas. You’ve got nothing to lose by going for coffee or hearing someone’s pitch. If you think there’s a possible synergy, explore it! On March 11, an opportune trine between Mars and innovator Uranus might bring a partnership offer or an exciting chance to join forces on a cutting-edge venture.

Explore thoroughly before jumping in, even if you’re excited. With enterprising Jupiter turning retrograde in Scorpio and your money house from March 8 to July 10, this is no time to rush or gamble. A couple of opportunities could turn out to be duds, but you’ll learn a LOT by going through the due diligence anyway. All is not lost—in fact, you’ll be happy you took the time to thoroughly research.

With Mercury, planet of technology, media and communication, also retrograde from March 22 to April 15, be painstaking with your negotiations. Leave no stone unturned! If you can hold off on sending or signing offers now, do so—at least until you’ve thoroughly read the fine print. If someone truly wants to work with you, they won’t make you feel hurried or hassled.

Key Dates

March 2: Mercury-Jupiter Trine Your imagination will be in fine form under this productive sync-up, so try to shuffle your workflow to allow you to engage in the more creative aspects of your work. Is there a writing project that you’ve been putting off, waiting for inspiration to strike? This might be the day you’re been expecting!

Love Days: 13, 19 Money Days: 25, 6 Luck Days: 23, 31 Off Days: 1, 20

[menrva-wright]

Shades of Blue

Vera curled up in the small, round cubby that held her plush bed, pulling up her knees towards her, so she could balance the open sketchbook on her her thighs. She peered out into her tiny, one room house, one whole wall of which was dominated by the bookshelf, two thirds of it scrolls and books in general, the other third all of her personal research and sketches. The book in her lap was her most recent sketchbook dedicated to portraits. 

She thumbed through the pages, most of them filled with sketches of Hina, with her blonde hair and green eyes. A few were of passing strangers. One was of Gaz, smirking, cigar in his mouth. Finally, she hit an empty page. Vera frowned, brows knitting, her hands gently touching the blank paper.

She didn’t want to draw Hina. Often she would sketch her twin, a deep, inner fear of forgetting her sisters face driving her to commit it over and over again to paper, every angle, every expression, ever strand of hair and glint in her green eyes.

That was perhaps what Vera missed most about her old hair and eyes - she had cried and broken a mirror once she had realized that her face had forever become her own. In retrospect, that had probably helped her heal.

But now....now she didn’t want to draw Hina. It was time for something - someone - new. She cocked her head at the paper, debating a moment longer. Her hair, now loose, most of the gentle waves relaxed, but a few curled as tendrils through the air, reached over and attempted to knock over a brush. Vera reached out, idly smacking at the strands. “If you do that again, I’ll cut you off. Grab me the pencils.” The tendril in question flicked at her, before reaching over, the dark purple strands wrapping obediently around the thick wood and returning it to her open palm.

She was going to draw Ler. Vera chewed her lip, pondering for a moment, before taking the pencil and beginning to gently sketch the Ren’dorei, starting with the shape of his face and jaw.

Ler had been perhaps one of the happiest coincidences Vera had encountered in years - after almost running into him due to a particularly fascinating butterfly, their friendship had blossomed quickly. It had very quickly become apparent that the two had a great deal in common - most obvious being that both were sane studiers of the void and their mutual desire to be as much of a pain in the ass to the Old Ones as possible. Even when their conversations strayed beyond that, it flowed with incredible ease - Ler having a rather wicked sense of humor to boot. One evening she had been reduced to convulsing on the floor from laughing so hard - it had felt like she would never breathe normally again.

Vera’s lips quirked upwards at the memory, her fingers continuing to recreate his features from her mind’s eye. She hadn’t initially wanted to draw him, unwilling to allow herself to like him too much - he had, after all, just gotten out of a very painful engagement, and Vera knew what that was like. The recovery from that would be a long process, nasty and drug out. Grief was a potent thing. And it wouldn’t do to get too attached to her new friend and then promptly risk a friendship somewhere down the line. That had happened to her  before, and she was unwilling to experience it again. Twice in her life she’d cared too deeply and not been cared for in return. There would not be a third time.

However, she had continued to seek him out, enjoying their easy, hours long conversation and quick comfort with the other. She’d been particularly concerned yesterday evening, the day of his would-be wedding. Thankfully, in an odd twist of events, the encounter with the Sha from the other evening had allowed him to access all his anger and mostly drain it. It was funny, how the Void was helpful sometimes.

Onto the ears, now. This took a few tries, with gentle erasing of lines that didn’t suit. She’d never drawn an elf before - well, at least, one that wasn’t a Kaldorei, anyway. She kept ruminating on their conversations of the last two days - their discussion jumping around to deeply personal tragedies, to scientific considerations, to funny stories. 

Their conversation about their own remarkably quick alignment to each other was one discussion that stood out. Vera had been relieved and delighted that Ler had admitted - in a roundabout, rambling way - to noticing it as well, and perhaps - one day - pursuing it. She had been doubly relieved when she had asked, and he had agreed, that he wasn’t ready. It had taken her a while to ‘get over it’, and it would no doubt take him a while too. 

For now, though, Vera was more than content to enjoy his company as a friend, as they steadily learned about each other and pursued more Void research than they could both handle. Speaking of which, Vera still couldn’t believe he wielded Xal’athath. It was staggering that he had handed it to her, allowing her to touch and handle the infamous ritual blade. The fact that he maintained the mental fortitude to deal with it and not go mad was impressive in and of itself.

She shook her head. “You’ve been through quite a lot, haven’t you?” She remarked out-loud to the now completed sketch of Ler. Her eyes flicked to her right, peering at the closed case of watercolors. One of her hair tendrils reached out, grabbing it, another snagging a brush. She grabbed the case, first, snapping it open. She was going to need a lot of blues. She put it back down, and reached for the hair tendril that held her favorite brush, reaching over to dip it in the water, then swirl it in the paint. She combined a few colors, trying to get that specific shade of pond-blue that seemed to be Ler’s skin color.

“I’ll need a dark blue for the hair, and an even darker one for that particular robe set he seems to prefer...” She mumbled, as she slowly began to draw her brush across the paper, painting and shading with a variety of strokes.

“Did you know, that your idea about the Parish is going to send my mother into a tizzy?” Her voice was airy as she painted, still addressing the paper replica of her friend directly. “She’s going to somehow get herself onto the wandering isle, screech at me at an ungodly volume, and then toss a frying pan at my head.” Her lips cracked upwards into a grin. “It’ll be hysterical.”

Vera paused momentarily in her painting, peering around. “..You know, it’s a good thing I live so far from the village, last thing I need is someone walking in here and realizing all those years fighting the Sha really did make me go mad.”

Vera huffed, tapping the brush against the rim of the water glass. A few dribbles of paint fell onto her bedsheets, which she rubbed away. She’d wash them later. The stains would stay forever - said bedsheets were now close to rainbow in color - but Vera had never minded. It was simply a reflection of one of her greatest passions. 

She set about working on his hair. As her brush moved in elegant motions, she clicked her tongue, cocking her head. “You know, something tells me I’m going to get quite good at painting you.”

Vera found she didn’t mind that at all.

[ratsandrocknroll]

Sorry it took so long to start drawing you, I know I said I'd try to some time ago but I honestly find portraits intimidating- especially when they're someone I care for deeply. Doubly so when they're no longer with us to give feedback. Not a finished project but sketching has helped me process some grief I'd held back for years. Hoping to do some more of this one soon. #sketchbook #artist #friends #beautifulpeople #drawing #fernlavenderart #artstagram #artistsoninstagram #whatidrew #dailydrawing #portrait #bellezobrienart #illustration #illustrator #sketch #tiedye #healing #pencildrawing https://www.instagram.com/p/CK0Mg1gpmBt/?igshid=bdq7pkv39b7t

[nightblink]

Blink Reads Oathbringer - Chapter 120

Only one chapter, because this was the kind of doozy that got a play-by-play and ended up being long enough to stand on its own.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Twenty – The Spear That Would Not Break

Ooooo, yesss, 'Rough map of the Battle of Thaylen Field', good. I love having city maps like this to help us visualize.

Kaladin's even believing that he failed the windspren, now, the ones that gathered when he was close to speaking the Fourth Ideal. Oh Kal. For some reason I don't think you 'being down on yourself' is the reason you couldn't swear. You knew that you wouldn't mean it. You weren't ready for it, and that's all right. You can't- you can't push recovery, or coping, or ability to deal with an issue, not like that.

Kaladin vs Amaram – a fated face-off- oh shit Amaram just downed the smokestone. WELL THEN. One bonded Radiant versus one… human just about to- “bond”? host? an Unmade

---

Haaaaah, and there Adolin goes again, self-deprecating about the ill-fitting jacket he'd patched together to lighten Shallan's worries and appear steady despite how unstable he is on the inside. Oh man, but that 'Go. Save the city. Be Radiant, Shallan.” [CLUTCHES HEART] L o rd, but you can just hear the love and admiration that he's pouring into those words, each one of them honest to the core (except, of course, the “I'll be fine.” But that's on a different level entirely.)

There's another scene that I'd gladly pay to see done in good animation – Shallan raising an army of illusions, each glowing like a Radiant, and Pattern's fractals running ever-so-subtly over the shape of him-as-a-Blade.

'The illusory Adolin glowed with Stormlight and floated a few inches off the ground. She'd made him a Windrunner.' 'I… I can't take that.' [claps hands] Hello. Again. Self-worth. Issues. And this time combining his feelings of inadequacy with his memory of her looking at Kaladin – Windrunner, standing tall and heroic, windspren sweeping around him like sparkling starlight – when he breathed out slow and it felt like his hopes started to seep out along with that breath.

No scream from his sword – but he thanks her. Maybe, over in Shadesmar, she can even hear him. Maybe.

---

AIGHT TEAM AWESOMENESS TIME (lets use awesomeness rather than Friction for things like that because lbr it just kind of sounds Wrong otherwise)

Hearing Szeth refer to Dalinar as master just makes me shiver, it feels… not quite wrong, as he chose this person to follow, trusting their judgment, but it definitely feels weird

Nightblood, you definitely eat people. It's not the same method as humans eating thing, but it's the same sort of principle.

Szeth really, really needs some quiet, no-death time, but with people around. A place where he's at least accepted to be. And despite Nightblood being… Nightblood, the sword is good for him. Companionship. I can't wait to see what his bonded highspren has to say about that, though.

---

Right, so. Amaram can just fuck off already. As if he wasn't bad enough already, now he has the sheer gall to tell Kaladin to thank him? “I created you, spearman. I forged you.” Oh get down off your high horse for once in your goddamn life, Amaram. The world does not revolve around you! You are not the lynchpin on which the turning of time rests!

Look at this goddamn weeb with his dual-wielded Shardblades. Fuck up his day, Kal. Fuck up his life.

'One taken in bloodshed, at the cost of Kaladin's crew. The other, Oathbringer. A sword given to ransom Bridge Four.' And wielded by Amaram, who put Kaladin's brother on the front line and took Kaladin's freedom. Branderson's not even trying to hide the symbology here, he's outright stating it. (Kal you are such a Hufflepuff, istg, and I love it)

Yikes, and there starts the transformation. Amaram's probably going to look distorted and sprouting crystals by the time this fight ends.

---

“Hello, old friend.” GODDAMN, I DIE. Dalinar you'd better come out of this alive.

---

Yet another scene that I'd like to see justice done to via animation is this one of Shallan, light swirling around her and expanding from her feet as everyone she's ever drawn comes to life-through-light around her.

[winces] Of course her parents would trigger old trauma and start causing her to falter and retreat. But… her alternate personalities. As unhealthy as her coping mechanisms may be, these two do usually lend her a reprieve (not strength, no matter what she thinks – that is hers and hers alone, as the Real Person) when she needs to lean on them.

---

Adolin: [casually collects a squad of Thaylen soldiers]; Jasnah: [does not need any help whatsoever]; Adolin: ...okay then, next-

Once again we have mention of those “geometric shapes” that we saw with Dalinar when he jumped down the chasm to tap Venli out of the vision, and I still wonder if that's proto-Shardplate or not, especially since Dalinar was unhurt as he dug his fingers into stone to slow his descent and now Jasnah casually tosses a man through the air, nbd

[insert lots of quiet shrieking that will be followed up on in my Adolin Notes post] tldr: Horrors of war (he's gonna have nightmares about this) and so, so many self-worth issues.

Aww yisss, heirs teaming up to go get Navani and Fen out of being cornered, good, because I need both Navani and Fen to survive this battle and their strengths aren't in battle prowess

---

Hmmm, so is the Perpendicularity going to fade over time since Honor is still shattered? That's kind of the feel that I'm getting from what Ivory is saying here.

Jasnah can just wave her hand and a squad of soldiers is Soulcasted into smoke with hardly any effort. Oooof. Yeaaaah, I imagine even Jasnah, who did such in Kharbranth with no regrets, would feel rather horrified at the ease with which she just dispatched those men.

Ah, the Perpendicularity has closed – good to know. 'He had been the storm, and had somehow recharged the spheres – but like a storm, his effects were passing.' That tells us a little more about Dalinar's current state as well – because despite the Stormfather having a large fragment of Honor's power now, they are still 'just' a Bondsmith-pair (though I'm still thrown by and dancing around the whole I am Unity thing, because. goddamn.)

Ooooo, with the worlds this close and Soulcasting as easy as it is- you're gonna pull what we see on the cover and close the wall gap, aren't you, Jasnah?

---

Now Szeth and Lift are getting close to the Singers who aren't Fused – many of whom never wanted to fight in the first place. And you two know if your quarry headed this way or not?

It's an interesting split in the Skybreaker reasoning here – Nale sits out the battle, bowing to the Parshendi as the true keepers/rulers of the land, but Szeth maintains that since this 'law' is the 'product of the many', and his own experiences show how flawed that can be, that he cannot follow it. I'm… still very confused and torn over Skybreakers.

OOOP THERE'S THE ONE WITH THE RUBY they did know where they were going to find her

Okay Sanderson but now that you've put the thought in our heads, we need at least one chapter in a future book where Lift is sitting around with Nightblood and teaching it the filthiest, filthiest language she possibly can in all the languages she knows.

Once again, the greater power of the Radiants' Surgebindings prove to be a deciding factor over the Fused's Voidbindings – and Szeth has experience in the air. Which he's going to need, since now that he has that ruby he's got a target painted on the back of his head.

---

I'm thankful that it's Adolin who told Navani about Elhokar's death. Kaladin… Kaladin saw it happen, and he would have catapulted right back into the moment and into the self-blame and overwhelming grief if he'd had to be the one to tell Navani that her son – one of the people he'd sworn to protect – was dead on his watch. Adolin, on the other hand – they're family, and while Adolin doesn't blame himself to the level that Kaladin does, ever since Kholinar he's been in Grieve later mode. He hasn't given himself the time and slackening of self-shouldered responsibility to process the feelings over Elhokar's death, though he's been mulling over the consequences of what it means logically for the entirety of the Shadesmar journey.

I can't even imagine how this must be for Navani – the second time she's mourned the death of a child. Even if the first time, Jasnah eventually returned, that doesn't change the fact that Navani had to mourn both her children.

As soon as his shared moment of grief with his aunt is over, Adolin is assessing the situation and formulating strategy, taking charge without breaking stride and giving orders to the Thaylens – interrupted by Jasnah being goddamn amazing (hah, she DID Soulcast the wall whole again, and how) – and then changing strategies on the fly due to the new fortification. He's so very far from useless, and yet, this seems to do nothing to alleviate that insecurity.

...Adolin, you're damned good with a Shardblade, but that's a thunderclast. Y'know, the twin of the thing that crushed Lift's lower body earlier? You don't have Radiant healing powers! If that thing so much as clips you you're fucking toast. I know you probably want to help your brother, (you want to be useful,) but without Plate or stormlight healing, that's... very close to a deathwish.

---

Oooop, yeah, Amaram is going all crystalline on us. It's not having any apparent detriment on his physicality so far, though with him wearing Plate that could just be hard to tell. Gotta give him one thing, though: Amaram is really good with the Blade, and doubly so with that dual-wielding stance. It wasn't going to be easy for Kaladin in the first place, and now he's bonding with an Unmade.

Oh yeah and don't forget your job – whatever Dalinar's doing, he needs to focus on it and not get killed. That'd be great.

I can't remember – has Kaladin ever felt the Thrill that we've known of? I can't remember it happening even in an offhand reference as opposed to on-page.

When did Amaram get a Shardbow?! Is that Sadeas' old bow that he's shooting at Kaladin with? I… well, that's appropriate, but I'd rather not see Kaladin hit with a spear-sized arrow.

I wonder just how much the swallowed gem + Unmade bonding is going to change Amaram. Bonding with a spren doesn't change the Radiants so physically (yet), but we see here that Amaram's sprouting more crystals from his body – crystals that are piercing through his Plate from the inside out! - and considering what voidspren do to the Listeners/Singers, I wouldn't be surprised if Yelig-nar evicts his soul once it's done changing his form.

Okay, Plate or not, grabbing a Shard-lance is a ballsy move.

---

'Dalinar walked through the mist, and each step was a battle he relived.' After all this trauma relived, the only way you're going to sleep this night if you survive is by passing out from sheer exhaustion.

It's interesting to know that the Thrill isn't a drive to kill, per se, but just to fight – it simply takes that to the extreme end, keep on fighting even when you've won, keep on fighting until there's nothing left, even then keep on fighting there is only the fight

---

'Jasnah existed halfway in the Cognitive Realm.' As great as that must be for her to Soulcast powerfully and on the fly, it… probably isn't good, technically speaking. The 'normal' people who use Soulcasters seems to end up like this over time, and even if the physical effect wouldn't apply to a Radiant in the same way, it's probably still not safe, or even a good idea.

Still. Jasnah can just reach forth and command air to become stone. That is awesome.

'“Bad?” she asked Ivory. “It is,” he said from her collar.”' Uh oh. And saying that about Shallan going through the amount of stormlight that she has… we know that there are effects/repercussions to simply holding stormlight (increased impetuousness, a drive to act) do we know if there are any downsides to using too much stormlight? A sort of burnout, perhaps?

Just. Casually soulcasts a wall of pitch in the air and then sets the Fused that come through it on fire to bun and writhe and die horribly. No big deal. And then slices through the next with the Ivoryblade. Simple. Elegant. Effortless. Very terrifying.

Ah- that's fair, and not the 'bad thing' that I'd originally considered: Shallan's burning through enough stormlight that there won't be enough left for anyone else to do anything (as opposed to somehow having a negative effect on herself). Damn, I didn't realize that she was going though that much stormlight, if she's nearly cleared all the field of spheres around them of energy!

Fingers crossed that Jasnah can help Shallan, and that neither Renarin nor Adolin dies fighting the thunderclast.

---

Dun ruby? Did he or one of the other Radiants breathe all of the light from the King's Drop? I'd thought it was still infused!

'I think they would have flown like you instead of falling down, if they'd really wanted to be saved.' That. That's not how it works, Nightblood. Also you can't exactly be a 'noble sacrifice' when you're you. And on that train of thought – what would it take to destroy such an Invested, sentient object like Nightblood?

'He did not win by dying.' And you actually do understand that, in more ways than just related to the immediate battle at hand – you've faced death, more or less experienced it, and have seen and decided for yourself that it is not the answer that you'd once wished for.

I continue to love this trio's dynamic. Lift and Nightblood are far too quickly becoming friends for Vasher's future sanity, though.

What is 'deevy'. Is that Nalthian or something that Lift actually recognises, I can't tell

Yessss, time for Lift to show off those skills – not the Radiant ones, but those that she honed by stealing people's dinners.

---

'She'd made thousands of illusions. Each one… each one was her. A portion of her mind. A portion of her soul. … Each one of her illusions that died hit her with a little shock. A sliver of her dying.' Aaaaand you're another one that's not going to be sleeping tonight unless you just collapse into unconsciousness. The soldiers have at least had some experience with this sort of battle, but you… this is really your first battlefield of this kind, and you're not only fighting it all on your own, but in a very strange but intimate way, with parts of your very soul.

She's gotten a lot better at her illusions, though, perhaps partly though the sheer power that she's able to access to power these, but that combination of Lightweaving+Soulcasting backed by all that light feels a lot like Kaladin's airbending of the highstorm even as he drew light from it back during Part 1. I'd bet a handful of spheres that what she's doing here is one of the Lightweaver-unique Surge manifestations.

Veil and Radiant are supports, anchors for her mind, but Shallan is the one doing this, not hiding behind a false mask to do so.

Oh? What do you need Shallan's help for, Lift?

---

AMARAM. CAN. SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.

[winces] A sword may be better for breaking Plate than a spear, but the problem is that you're much better with a spear than a sword, and there's a fair chance that Amaram might be better facing off against a sword, assuming that he's trained Blade-against-Blade. And I think you realize those problems too.

WHOA WAIT WHAT AMARAM'S PLATE IS SHATTERING- 'Beneath, his ripped sock revealed a foot overgrown with carapace and deep violet crystals.' Um. Well then. Carapace and crystal. He's growing his own armor, isn't he?

Oh shit and he has access to surges now. That first one looks like the Stoneward's use of Tension that we saw in Dalinar's initial flashback to Aharietiam in this book, but that second looks more like Friction! Unless it's a use of Cohesion or combined Cohesion-Tension that acts like Friction? It's possible that while the Voidbindings are analogous to the Surgebindings, the combination that a Fused may have is different from the Radiant combinations. And while he's not… technically a Fused? Ish? Sort of? (What do we call this sort of bond.) he's obviously obtained access to at least one if to two or even more Voidbindings or Surges.

And now it's two against one, and Kaladin still has to keep an eye on Dalinar to make sure that nothing's going after him. Greeeeaaaaaat. This is not going to turn out well.

---

Speaking of not turning out well, Adolin I know you want to be of use and help your brother but, uhhhhh you do know that that thunderclast only needs to get one hit on you without your Plate and you're smushed, right?

And you're alone, even better. Renarin was caught in the crowds, I believe I saw? Um. This is. Just about suicide and I think you know that and that's. Mmmmmmmmm- (Of all the things I wish these brothers never had to share...). It’s going to be half-miracle and half breaking the limits of his goddamn skill if he’s going to survive this for any length of time. Seeing a soldier get squished right in front of you isn't inspiring any confidence

………………

'“You want to fight it, don't you? It reminds you of when you were alive.” Something tickled his mind, very faint, like a sigh. A single word: Mayalaran. A… name?' Right, hearing a spren's voice – not out loud, but in your head, from a spren that shouldn't be able to do anything but scream.

….if that's not a proto-Bond of some kind then I will eat a goddamn mushroom. He hasn’t said any Words, but he’s definitely cracked enough for a bond. Even so, though, WoB is that it’s very, very difficult, nigh-impossible but not entirely so to revive one of the dead-by-broken-Oaths spren. If he’s even edging towards managing that... there’s no way that it’s going to come without consequences. With spren and human both broken - that wouldn’t be a normal Radiant Nahel bond; even if they manage a Bond there’s going to be something different about it. (....hah, another thing that the brothers would share, what is it with the Kholins and strange bonds?)

Oh, great, so even if you dodge, the sheer force of the thunderclast hitting the ground in an attempt to smash you can knock you off your feet. Fantastic.

!!! Somehow, in all of that noise and the roar of adrenaline, you manage to hear a child's whimper and dash back to save them, then proceed to parkour through the collapsing buildings as it strikes at you and then reverse back with speed to blitz its legs. I mean I still want Renarin to get here asap because you can't last forever, but I'm at least not as worried for your life as I was before, considering this display.

….yoink?

---

'It returned every memory he hated about himself. War and conflict. Times when he'd shouted Evi into submission. Anger that had driven him to the brink of madness. His shame.' Everyone is going to need a good, long series of therapy sessions after this is over, but you most of all. Oh Heralds, you most of all.

The thrill reacts to his thanks like a favoured axehound to its master's praise, reveling in his acceptance. It loves him, in its own strange, twisted way.

---

Venli! Back to you, finally – you weren't pushed back with Odium and the others when Dalinar opened Honor's Perpendicularity, and I am curious.

Rhythms are overlapping, drowning each other out, and yet, amidst all that chaos, she can pick out one of the old Rhythms, a Rhythm of her people, not of Odium, and the way that she can feel Timbre, like a magnified version of Maya's whisper not two pages before-

...I was wondering if it were possible for Parshendi to become Radiants. I thought I read somewhere that there'd never been a Parshendi Radiant before. Hah. While Dalinar might technically have been holding his hand out to Amaram, the message came across to someone else entirely. 'You can change. You can become a better person.'

You have Words.

'I choose!' Oh man, that gives me shivers. Not as much as 'you cannot have my pain', but damn that sent a jolt down my spine.

Okay, it's really silly, but I'm cackling myself out of my chair at the thought/sight of Venli hunching over, shoulders curling, practically talking to her chest.

'Journey before destination.'

[EXCITED SHIVERS]

(I do wonder, though, especially considering what we've seen of this Avalanche, if all of this generation of Radiants is something new, different from before.)

---

I am very amused but not at all surprised that Adolin can recognise sets of Shards on sight, even though he likely hasn't seen them in person before.

2v1 is better than nothing when you're facing a thunderclast (especially when this guy can take hits and you can't) but I still want Renarin there asap (WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE US BACK-TO-BACK KHOLIN BROTHERS, SANDERSON)

oh yes and then of course it ignores the bait and goes straight for Adolin. Fantastic, it holds grudges.

….did. did you just throw an over-six-foot-long Shardblade like it was a knife. And that's a move you somehow practiced.

his ability to read/react in battle situations is (tbqh) disgustingly good but that 'judging the shadow of the thunderclast's hand and dodging so it landed with him between the fingers'? What the actual fuck is your reaction time

...not good enough, apparently. Ouch. Even a glancing blow is enough to badly injure. (Broken rib, injured arm and injured leg (unknown severity), possible further internal injury)

Seven heartbeats. Panic conveyed to his mind as a warning, unprompted.

So. Uh. That's a thing.

Except then Thunderclast. He is so fucking lucky that that stomp didn't hit him or he'd be paste.

[winces] Between the previous injury from the sideswipe, the drop, and now the fall, his leg is busted. He can't run. He can barely even stand. But there's Maya again, reaching for him (there are no heartbeat counts no indication of summoning since the rooftop collapse and I wonder if that's significant or not) and-

Oh thank fuck Renarin is finally here

HAH THAT'S RIGHT YOU'D BETTER STEP BACK IN FEAR. A Shardbearer is one thing, but a Radiant? Whatever spren is animating the thunderclast, it recognises that glow of stormlight, and know that its death is nearing.

“I can handle it, Adolin. Just go! Please.” AHHHH, RENARIN GETTING TO BE THE ONE TO PROTECT HIS BROTHER THIS TIME I LOVE- (I still want back-to-back brothers sometime but this is awesome so I'll forgive BrandoSando for now)

………...Adolin is going to have nightmares about the thunderclast smashing Renarin for the rest of his life. That said, Jesus fuck what a fucking TANK- looks like Regrowth use in battle isn't just for healing others, but will accelerate the stormlight healing to the point of well I just got flattened by a boulder but that's okay I'm good

Seriously, though, Truthwatchers and Edgedancers must be just goddamn unkillable

Handing the Mayablade over is not something I'd expected, but better that Renarin have someone at his side that's uninjured and won't have to dodge every single blow and can instead focus more on the attack.

---

'Szeth of the Skybreakers had, fortunately, trained with all ten Surges.' Which means that you've already practiced with Division even though you're not trained with the power that you'll use as an actual Sybreaker, and you know what the other Surges look like and what to expect from them, which is more than any of the other Radiants here have.

Szeth on ice skates is something I need to see art of now

PFFFFFT okay I know that technically a Radiant doesn't have to transfer the stormlight with their hands, but for Szeth to do so with his face just sends me cackling

YOU GOT THE RUBY GO GO GO

Ahhhh, that's what you needed Shallan for. Good job on the switch; they definitely believed it, and now you have time

[winces] Yeaaaah – even if the Thrill never had a hold on Szeth, it'll take the memories of the fighting and the killing and break him all the more, and he does not have the stability to come out of that all right.

But what of Lift? How will the Thrill affect her?

---

Um. Well. Looks like that transformation that Amaram's experiencing is not a painless one.

Unless we see another Surge use from him (which would mean more than two Surges), I think this confirms that Yelig-nar confers the Surges of Tension and Division(?), given that he's burning stone like we heard that the Dustbringers could do from the TWoK prologue and saw Malata do to Taravangian's table.

Ouch. This fight is really showing just how bad it can be for a Windrunner(/Skybreaker) to lighten themselves when their opponents are coming in with blows hard enough to fling them across the battlefield. Also he is once again getting dangerously low on stormlight, and unless he wants a successor-scene to the aerial chase he had in Shadesmar that ended with him plummeting, he'd better be very judicious and efficient in his stormlight use.

Um. Okay so- “Syl. Syl, that was a Lashing.” - confirmed that the Unmade can confer Surges beyond the strict two-Surge-limit on their host. That. That is terrifying.

Gotta agree with Kaladin that's it's not entirely Amaram that he's speaking with right then. While Amaram may still be present, he's been twisted even further – first by the Thrill and then by Yelig-nar – to a point beyond what probably even Meridas Amaram alone would have gone, despite being an utter shitsack of a man.

Then again, I could be wrong. The revelation of the Heralds 'betrayal' could very well have been a no-turning-back point for him, going over to Odium instead out of anger and hurt and spite when he found out that the Heralds he so trusted and believed in were revealed to be already on Roshar, and not as holy as he'd thought.

“After I was forced to kill your squad, I… hurt.” 'After I was forced-'? Oh, you despicable, putrid barf-stain of a human being, I hope one of those amethysts is stabbing you in the balls right now, because what the hell is that passive acceptance. Nobody forced you to murder men for a Blade. This is definitely your fault and you have zero remorse and I am going to cheer when you finally get your face stabbed like you deserve.

Igniting the air?! Oh fuuuuuuck, that's new- note, Division doesn't require solids or liquids it can just. Pull a full Colonel Mustang and ignite the air. Greeeeaaaaaat.

“Then why do you still hurt?” Oooo, that struck deeper than any of his physical hits have thus far, and it's making him angry and unstable – both of which could make him reckless and sloppy.

!!!!! UM. That's. Well then. That's a pretty sickening transformation. Here I thought he'd end up with more of a crystal carapace, but no, this is…. He's a hollowed geode curled around that dark light.

Oooop, yeaaah, and there he goes into the air – Kaladin's domain indeed. Especially with Kaladin so close (yet so far) from the Fourth Ideal, and with far, far more practice in the air, Amaram can't hope to match him.

Daaaaamn, but what an epic sight, Kaladin floating down like a wind spirit himself, the storm still raging in the background, hovering above Amaram as the light of Hatred flickers and fails - “All the war did was identify the spear that would not break.” How very Stoneward of you in that moment, Kal, especially with that parallel between ten spears and ten Heralds.

Aw, shit. Looks like the Fused got smart and brought backup, and now there's barely any Light left for you to fly/heal/Lash with. This is not good.

---

RENARIIIN – HELL YEAH MAN, YOU DID IT

Very good fighting indeed, especially when you're not used to battle – though the technicalities of battle with humanoid enemies is one thing, and going up against a thunderclast is entirely another, you still made it through the adrenaline and the nerves and the fear and you pushed through.

I think it already fears him, Glys; it feared him from the first time it saw him. Also Glys is really excitable and it's adorable.

Huh. So – a 'beacon' of stormlight, and that… did it force the voidspren to flee the thunderclast body and return to the Everstorm, then? I can't imagine that it was a powerful enough light to purge the voidspren into nonexistence, but this scene is a little sketchy on the detail of what the power is/is doing. WE NEED MORE DETAILS, SANDERSON.

Is this an echo of your worries from earlier, back in the temple, Renarin? Or do you mean you saw yourself die in battle – do Truthwatchers have some sort of psuedo-Atium-like ability?

---

...Shallan is Not in a mentally stable right now. Hopefully Jasnah gets there soon because this whole flowing identities thing in the midst of the effort of keeping her illusory army up, that army dying, and the energy drain of the slowly decreasing stormlight is very worrying.

YES thank the heralds there's Jasnah- ooooh, shit, but two of the three Shallans are illusions and the 'Shallan' one isn't her – this is, mmmmmmm… every new paragraph comes with a new name, Radiant to Shallan to Veil and around and around, the personalities not so much bleeding over into one another as flickering, each step accompanied by a different face. This does not bode well. It seemed like she was healing a little in Shadesmar, but this is as bad as if not worse than she's ever been, Veil and Radiant pulled into prominence by the stress.

For all that Jasnah hates teaching, she certainly doesn't hesitate to infodump on Shallan when the opportunity presents itself, even if that opportunity is when they're still in the middle of a battle! This is giving us-the-readers a lot of information on Soulcasting, as well as giving Shallan something to focus on – and it's not like the stream of information is keeping Jasnah from being utterly badass and fending off any Fused that approach, so it's not quite as inopportune as she might believe.

---

'He was… unaccustomed to being able to do things like this. Not only using the Shardblade, but being physical. He'd always been afraid of his fits, always worried that a moment of strength would instantly become a moment of invalidity. Living like that, you leaned to stay back. Just in case.' I'm so, so glad that Renarin's finally getting the chance to step forward and do these things that he's always wanted to do – what is a moment of freezing up in a fit if he can heal from getting smeared by a thunderclast, after all? I don't think its likely that the stormlight 'healed' his epilepsy, though I'd have to wait for a WoB to be sure – but it sounds like the stormlight might be acting as a sort of buffer? idk, I don't know enough about epilepsy to give any kind of informed opinion

All of this sound and activity and frenetic energy sounds like it's playing hell on his nerves, oh man. You've gone through so much today, Renarin, it sounds like you need some serious recharge time after everything's done here.

Uh oh. Yeaaah, a thunderclast was one thing, but twelve small, fast Fused with weapons, and your stormlight running out… that's not something you can face right about now.

OH GOOD they have spanreeds to Urithiru; they're not entirely in the dark about why their forces aren't coming through

[narrows eyes] I'll bet that their inability to contact the Kharbranthians isn't an accident, but not in the way that they're thinking it is.

“There's nobody else.” R e n a r i n. He knows this could mean his death, even with stormlight healing, but then again, when has that ever stopped him? Certainly not in the first book when he tried to charge out, and not in the second when he stepped out into the ring to help his brother. But this time, no one is stopping him. No calls of 'That's not for you. You can't do that. You're not well.' This time, they're seeing Renarin Kholin as the man who can step forward and make a stand.

'Not very noble or brave, now was he?' Hah, it looks like you're one more that doesn't understand the definition of bravery, 'Rin.

Fffffffft, damn, but those stained-glass visions are still the coolest shit. 'These had always been right. Until today – until they had proclaimed that Jasnah Kholin's love would fail.' But it didn't. It didn't, in the greatest middle finger ever to anyone who thinks that Jasnah Kholin cannot feel.

AAAHAHAHAHAHA BOOOM, here come the REINFORCEMENTS. ENDGAME, MOTHERFUCKERS.

---

Shallan is still personality-flickering with no sign of stopping. She needs an anchor of some kind or I feel like this is just going to keep going, and that's. not healthy.

“We're getting too good at pretending.” YEAH, NO SHIT, Y'THINK.

“You don't have to worry. After I rest, I'll recover and settle down to being just one. I actually… actually don't think I'm quite as lost as I was before.” ...okay that's heartening but I'm still worried. That alone isn't gonna stop me worrying.

Oh, great. Looks like the humans aren't the only ones with reinforcements.

---

Yessss, Renarin giving orders like the prince he is! Lopen/B4 following them without a hint of hesitation!

Three shardbearers and two thousand troops? Plus B4 in the air once again and tackling the problem of the Fused? Considering how many of the Sadeas troops have already likely been defeated and the fact that the vast majority of the Singers have absolutely no battle training? It wouldn't be a complete rout, but the tides have turned to where the end outcome is a certainty, I believe.

D u d e, twenty times you healed yourself from getting smacked and/or smushed by that thunderclast-! Hooooly fuck, you're a tank, Renarin.

Carrying an injured Rock all the way down to the Oathgate had to be a trial without stormlight. Good thing they all know how to heave a heavy bridge!

“I think I used up all my Radianting for the day.” I feel you, Renarin. Working the Gate means you'll still be helping but won't be required to interact, and it'll be quieter. Not exactly recharge time, but it's the closest you'll probably get for now.

SUDDEN ROCK HUG. Ahhh, that's a nice thought, Rock, but sudden hugs from not-family prooobably aren't the best thing for Renarin. (Though he does need some time just Being Around his Bridge Four friends for a while, I think.)

'Renarin settled down nearby on some steps, trembling from it all, but grinning anyway.' Good. Even overwhemed and with the city buzzing too-loud around you, you can grin wide. You were awesome today, Renarin, and you deserve every second to bask in that.

---

Lift doesn't seem affected at all by the Thrill, at least from the outside. The Nahel bond can't help guard against its influence, but perhaps her boon/curse from the Nightwatcher can?

You are going to try to capture the Thrill. 'You lure the spren with something it loves.' At least Taravangian gave Dalinar some good advice at least once. And the Thrill… it does love Dalinar, is familiar with him, was probably all but bonded to him during those past years. If anything could tempt the Thrill into that ruby, it's Dalinar.

'“Thank you,” he whispered again to the Thrill, “for giving me the strength when I needed it. … Now, old friend, it is time to rest.” It… it really is amazing to see just how far Dalinar has come, from the first flashback and through the books up until now, and see how it all shaped him, each step of the way, so he could make that decision – and this one – at the crucial point.

---

I'm worried that you're not going to last long enough, Kaladin. Outrunning all those Fused takes power, and you're running out.

[winces] This is just a beatdown, and it's painful to watch. For every step he manages to get ahead, something else rises to take away that clawed-for advantage.

Well, shit. And there's the last of the light.

….except that they're turning tail-? OH, THE THRILL-

But Amaram didn't run. Amethyst-creature that he is now, despite the crack in his gemheart, he's still able to rise and make his way over to the broken, injured Radiant.

'Bridge Four.'

[quiet, internal screaming]

---

Looks like the Rosharans have their own version of '300 Spartans vs the entire Persian army' legend. It doesn't look like they're even going to need the battalion of reinforcements from Urithiru, though, because with the capture of the Thrill, they're collapsing like puppets with cut strings. Some are choosing to stay and some are choosing to split and run with the retreat, though, which. Hmmm. They're not under Unmade influence, but yet they're choosing to go with Odium's forces anyway? I'm actually surprised that there's not more of them that are simply too shell-shocked to move.

And the Everstorm passes as well, its power sucked away – why? Did it take that much energy to stay there in one spot in the first place, or does the removal of Nergaoul and the fleeing of Yelig-nar diminish its power here, or did Odium simply decide that he wasn't going to waste any more of his effort on this battle?

---

GOOD Lopen got light over to Kaladin so he's not lying there suffering from all the pains of his broken body

Haaaaaaaah – Rock broke his vow of pacifism. He'll probably be the next to swear Words, or at least do so soon, I think. We caught a glimpse of the cracks during his POV chapter, and this might well be the tipping point; he killed to protect.

Rock drawing the bow does indeed beg the question of how he did it if stormlight's not enough, and even if he was a Windrunner already, which apparently he's not, gravity and air pressure aren't gonna do squat against a bow's draw weight.

Another scene that needs to be done justice via art – the light breaking through as Dalinar kneels on the stone, the ruby that holds the Thrill (old friend) held gently, Lift resting her hand on his shoulder.

Tears of joy, maybe, but also of relief, and regret, and pain. There's nothing simple about it.

[central-city-meta-pocalypse]

Family first - (DiNozzo x reader)

A/N: Okay, this turned out to be way longer than intended, but hey! More story for you guys. I was watching Sherlock Holmes the other day and there’s a bit at the end where Irene Adler and Sherlock talk about why she did what she did (no spoilers - it’s an amazing film you should watch it) and I instantly thought ‘I can make a fic out of this’. So here we are. I used two lines of the film in there, I think, as little prompt phrases (again, go watch it!) This is my first NCIS story and I hope it makes all makes sense :) Do let me know what you think!

Summary: Imagine working with the NCIS team and being blackmailed into helping the person they’re trying to catch. You’re caught and are interrogated as to what has been going on.

Pairings: Gibbs x reader (familial), DiNozzo x reader (romantic). (I just really love these two.)

You sat handcuffed in the silent interrogation room. You’d lost track of how long you’d been sat there, waiting for someone to come and interrogate you as to what had been going on for the past few months.

You glanced up at the camera in the right-hand corner. The red light had been absent the entire time you’d been sat here. That meant that they’d probably worked out who you’d been working for and knew that having evidence of you having been captured would give away their advantage.

You weren’t surprised that you’d finally been caught. The whole charade had become exhausting for you and you’d slipped up. When the man they’d been tracking for nearly two weeks disappeared as though he knew exactly what they were planning, the team had quickly pieced everything together and realised what had been going on. You’d attempted to get out of there, but you’d been arrested immediately.

You’d been the perfect person to undertake this task. Close to the team, but not an actual member so they wouldn’t suspect what you were doing until it was too late.

But that didn’t mean that you didn’t care for them more than anyone else in your life. You’d worked dozens of cases with them on and off for years. Being shipped off to NCIS by your boss at the FBI whenever Gibbs needed an extra pair of hands. You seemed to work more over here than you ever did at the Bureau.

These people were your family.

And you’d deceived them all.

You glanced up at the one-way mirror in front of you, knowing that the exact people you had been trying to save were all stood behind it, discussing amongst themselves how to proceed with you. They felt betrayed, and how could they not? But then again, they didn’t know the whole story. That by sabotaging their attempts to stop your employer, you were saving their lives.

You silently wondered who would come into the room to question you. Gibbs seemed the obvious choice; he was intimidating at the best of times when questioning a suspect, but he would be doubly dangerous now. He’d taken you under his wing, treating you and caring for you as a daughter, rather than just a team member. You weren’t sure whether you’d be able to bear being in the same room as him, with the contempt he must currently feel for you.

DiNozzo would get to you equally, if not more so. Everyone had taken their turn to tell you that he had a thing for you and you couldn’t deny feeling something more for him too. The pair of you flirted back and forth and you always felt a little lighter whenever he sent one of his charming smiles… you doubted you’d be getting any more of them.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening as someone entered the room. You turned your head to your left and immediately wished the ground would open up and swallow you.

Gibbs held the case file emblazoned with the NCIS seal on it loosely in one hand, looking down at you, expression steely and unreadable. Behind him was Tony, his jaw set and he looked angry, but you could see in his eyes, the hurt and betrayal he was feeling when he looked at you. This couldn’t possibly have been any worse.

You looked away, unable to look at them for any longer and began studying your own hands in the cuffs on the table, but you heard the door being closed gently and the footsteps of the two men as they moved further into the room.

You flinched as the file landed heavily in front of you on the desk. Gibbs took a seat in front of you but you refused to look up. The tension in the air was almost suffocating and you could literally think of nowhere else you would want to be less.

After what seemed like forever, Gibbs finally spoke. His voice was barely a whisper, but you heard every syllable as though he’d shouted it.

“We trusted you. We all did. And you were against us from the start.”

You closed your eyes, but that didn’t stop a tear from escaping through your lashes and beginning to trail down your cheek. That wasn’t the truth and it hurt you more than you could express to hear him say that.

They didn’t understand. You had to make them understand why you’d done what you did. But why would they believe you now?

When you didn’t reply, Gibbs continued in a slightly louder, but no less dangerous tone.

“Who do you work for? They’re the one we’re chasing, right? That’s why you’re here - to protect your employer.

“You don’t understand-”

“Then you better make me, (y/n), because I don’t know what the hell to think!” Gibbs yelled, slamming his palm onto the desk and making you jump again.

You shrank back into your chair as a few more tears raced down your cheeks. You had to explain. You had to try and make them understand.

“He calls himself Ares,” you said meekly, finally meeting Gibbs’ eyes. “He’s a hacker, well, amongst other things… Everyone has a weak spot… and he found mine…”

“And what was that exactly?” asked Tony, who was leant against the wall arms crossed. You’d almost forgotten he was in the room.

You looked from Gibbs to him with a watery, resigned smile, knowing they would work it out. Tony’s shoulders dropped and his expression softened momentarily as the pieces fitted into place.

Them. The team at NCIS were your weakness.

“What happened?” Gibbs asked, his voice now a lot softer, inviting you to finally spill the secrets you’d been holding for the last few months. You sniffled slightly, but swallowed against the lump in your throat, working through the overwhelming urge to break down.

“That mission in Europe, that’s when he found me. He knew everything - who I was, who I worked for, what I was doing… I was ready to call someone to come and pick him up, but then… he reeled off all of your names and told me he knew where each and every one of you was…” You squeezed your eyes shut again as fresh tears blurred your vision. You forced yourself to stay strong. You had to get through this.

“He knew that you were getting too close to one of his main suppliers, so he told me he’d contact me with instructions soon after… and that I was to do everything exactly as directed or he’d kill you… all of you, one by one. I-I couldn’t let that happen, Gibbs, I couldn’t.”

You took another deep breath, knowing you weren’t quite through with this interrogation yet.

“Why not kill us all anyway if we were getting too close?” Gibbs asked, obviously still not satisfied with your story.

“Suspicion… an entire NCIS team all being killed at once will draw the wrong kind of attention, though that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t…” You paused, thinking about how to form the next part of your sentence. “But also… he admires you, Gibbs… He isn’t finished with you yet…”

Gibbs leant back a little in his chair as he processed this. You knew he’d been on the receiving end of admiration from the wrong kind of people before, but that didn’t mean that he was practised at dealing with it.

“You can’t underestimate him.” You looked him directly in the eye, pleading with him to listen and believe you, “he’s just as smart, resourceful and strong as you are, Jethro, and infinitely more devious…”

Looking down at your hands, you felt the tears welling in your eyes again and your voice cracked as spoke again.

“I just didn’t want to see any of you get hurt because of me.”

You bowed your head again as your shame flooded through you and sobs shook your body. You’d never wanted any of this to happen. You just wanted everyone to be safe.

“I’m sorry, Gibbs, I’m so sorry…” you choked out between sobs, not looking up.

It was a slight tug on your wrists which made you glance up again. Gibbs had unlocked your restraints, pocketing them before getting up out of the chair and making his way over to you. You instantly stood too and walked into his open arms, throwing yours around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder to continue to cry.

He rubbed his hands soothingly across your back and stroked your hair as he whispered comforting words in your ear as you wept. You knew you weren’t fully forgiven and it would take a while to heal the relationships you’d damaged during this nightmare, but Gibbs knew that you hadn’t done anything to intentionally harm them. He still loved you.

After a few minutes, when your crying had calmed considerably and you’d lifted your head to instead rest your chin on Gibbs’ shoulder, he spoke again.

“I’m gonna have to go and talk this over with the Director, okay?” You pulled back from his shoulder and looked into his blue eyes.

“What’s going to happen to me?” you asked tentatively, not looking away from his gaze. You needed to know.

“I don’t know,” Gibbs answered, shaking his head slightly. At least he was being honest.

You reluctantly nodded and removed your arms from around his neck, letting them fall limply by your sides.

“Hey, chin up,” Gibbs said, lifting your chin lightly with one of his fingers before wiping away the remaining tears on your left cheek. He took a few steps away and opened the door, turning back to you. “DiNozzo will keep you company.”

You nodded again as he closed the door and disappeared from sight. Letting out a sigh, you leant against the desk, placing your hands on the edge either side of you.

“Well, Gibbs’ gut was right all along,” Tony said, pushing himself off of the wall and walking over to you. 

You didn’t know if you could bear to look at him yet, but he leant up against the table next to you and folded his arms. You decided to try and glanced at him before quickly looking back down at the floor. His tone was light-hearted but he still looked hurt, which was hardly surprising, but that caused a tightness around your heart that you couldn’t shift.

“He kept saying that this didn’t add up, and well… it didn’t”

"A lot of good that does me,” you replied, scuffing your foot on the floor out of frustration, “I might have been doing it for the right reason, Tony, but that doesn’t excuse anything. I worked against you all and let a violent criminal go free. I have to pay for that.”

“You won’t do any time if you agree to work with us to catch him and testify, and you know it” Tony replied firmly, clearly trying to convince you and himself that everything would be alright. You didn’t know whether you should believe him or not; Gibbs had said it himself, he didn’t know what would happen to you. "You’re too good of an agent for that.”

“You’d miss me, Tony?” You teased, trying to make light of the situation and bumping his shoulder slightly in jest.

“Yeah, I would,” he responded, not missing a beat.

You looked up at him suddenly having not expected such a reaction from him, only to see him looking down at you with a small and genuine smile. He must have registered the astonishment in your look as he smirked slightly before covering your hand on the edge of the desk with his own.

“What? You didn’t think I’d miss you if you weren’t constantly popping up around here?” he asked gently, squeezing your hand, “That’d leave me with McGeek all the time… The thought of that.”

He shuddered which made you chuckle and brought another smile bright to DiNozzo’s face. After a minute, you paused and looked back into his eyes and saw the genuine feelings behind his words.

You didn’t know if words would fail you if you continued to hold his gaze, so you simply rested your head gently on his shoulder so you were no longer looking at him, before saying:

”I’d miss you, too.”

Tony said nothing else and simply rested his head on top of yours as you waited for Gibbs to return.

You’d practically forgotten that the others might still be stood behind the mirror, watching your moment with Tony, and to tell the truth, you didn’t really care if they were. Your choices had meant that they were still here to witness it and that was one thing about this whole ordeal that you could live with.

It took twenty minutes or so for Gibbs to come back into the room. You and Tony hadn’t said another word or moved, other than Tony removing his hand from yours in order to wrap his arm around you, holding you close to him. You found yourself listening to the soft sound of Tony’s breathing, watching the rise and fall of his chest and finding yourself quite willing to fall asleep on his shoulder and forget what was happening.

But, at the sound of the door opening, you jumped up, suddenly completely awake as Gibbs re-entered the room. You weren’t sure whether you should be glad that he was alone or not.

The Marine’s expression was as guarded as ever and you couldn’t work out what he would reveal about your fate.

“Vance has agreed that with your full co-operation in catching the guy that got away and this ‘Ares’ and your guarantee that you’ll testify against him when the time comes, he’ll give you immunity from any jail time,” Gibbs said, a small smile gracing his features.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, running your hands over your face as you tried not to smile.

“But…”

You just knew that was coming.

“Until that point, you are still technically under arrest and have to remain in the company of at least one of us twenty-four-seven,” he said, momentarily looking at DiNozzo before his eyes flicked back to you. “Afterwards, you’ll have to requalify for your position and provided that you pass, you’ll be reinstated as our liaison to the FBI.”

“Thank you, Gibbs,” you said, hugging the marine again.

“You’re a good agent, (y/l/n),” he replied when you pulled away, “we shouldn’t lose you because of this.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat rising again, but in relief and happiness this time.

“Fancy spending the rest of the day with me then?” asked Tony, coming forwards to stand beside you.

“I think I could probably stomach it, yeah.”

Tony smiled at you at you were sure that Gibbs was smirking a little at the exchange on your other side, but he didn’t mention anything.

“Come on,” Gibbs said, opening the door for you and ushering you through, “we’ve got to get this son of a bitch.”

As you exited the room, you were hit by an oncoming figure dressed in black who ended up hugging you tightly before you could even regain your balance.

“I knew you wouldn’t have turned against us, I just knew it,” Abby said, not letting up on her grip at all which was making it a little hard for you to breath.

“Thanks, Abby,” you managed to choke out, though you still hugged her back with equal vigour.

Behind her stood McGee, Ziva and Ducky. They all exchanged a look with you that said ‘don’t worry, we’re with you’ and you nodded, a single tear falling down your cheek again.

These were the people you were protecting. Your family. And nothing was ever going to come between you and your family ever again.

Requests are open!

[ky-the-squiddy]

I think immortality has always been one of my greatest desires. I’m not talking fountain-of-youth, pause-ageing, live-forever-because-growing-old-doesn’t-happen type deals. I’m talking immortality. Live forever because, yes, your body doesn’t age, but it also doesn’t break, it heals any injury faster than it’d take for the wound to kill you. I’m talking put a bullet through your head, and you’ll just spit it out a few seconds later.

I want to live forever.

Now, that isn’t really feasible, considering technology and lack of magic and all that jazz. But it’s why I wanted to be an actor when I was younger, so I could play a role big enough that my name would echo down the halls of history. It’s why I took a massive interest in cryogenics at one stage. Why I have an interest in utopias. Why I still feel like I need to do something, I need to do something big, I need to leave my mark on this world in a way that I’ll never be forgotten, because even if I won’t be there to see it myself, I’ll still be there in some form, and that’s as close to immortal as I can get.

It’s kinda funny that, despite this desire, I’m still suicidal.

(doubly funny if you consider the book that sparked this latest thought process features a suicidal immortal as a primary character)

....Perhaps part of both of these obsessions comes from the fact that I don’t understand death. Oh, intellectually I do, of course, and from a storytelling perspective I know how to write it well enough to bring people to tears. But on a personal level? Nope.

I’ve never had family members or friends die. Never had to deal with people close to me grieving. Hell, I’ve barely even had any pets, so the biggest thing to happen in that corner was the death of two hermit crabs back when I was 13. I didn’t even realise until days afterwards, and I hadn’t had them long enough to build up any sort of real attachment.

I know I’m lucky that I’ve never had to deal with anything like that, but I also know that I’m sheltered because of it. But there’s little I can do in that regard.

.

...Going back to immortality-

One thing I’ve found that seems to scare people about the prospect of eternal life is the abundance of time. Of running out of things to do and getting bored, and then having no way to undo their immortality. I suppose this is something else I just don’t understand, because... just...

There are always new things to do and see and learn and create

By the time you’ve learnt all the languages, I can assure you that people will have created new ones. You’re afraid of running out of books? Don’t be, people write them at a much faster rate than one person could ever read them all, and this isn’t even including stuff posted online or the backlog of historical fiction. Walked the earth and been everywhere and seen all there is to see? Like hell you have. The world is not a static place, and it is filled with people who are happy to show you things you’ve never seen before.

And when you’ve run out of things to see? Well then you just start creating new things yourself. Write a book, make some art, learn some physics and become an astronaut. You’ve got all the time in the world to become the best at things, you can do anything. How dare you presume you’ll get bored when there is so much out there to explore.

...and then there’s the issue of leaving people behind.

Of watching loved ones grow old and wither while you stay eternally young.

Again, I understand the concept of it, but...

Well, this comes back to thoughts I’ve had bouncing around in my head for years. 

I mean, I’d fight with everything I had to be able to bring my QPP with me into eternity, if they wanted to come. But if they couldn’t? Or they didn’t? Then okay. I’ll stay with them for as long as they want me, and when they didn’t want me anymore for whatever reason... I’d move on.

I’m not good at permanent connections. Never have been. I could get up and walk away from the love of my life without a second thought. And okay, yes, that’s a moronic idea, so I won’t go doing it. But the fact remains that I’m fairly certain I could. And that’s the thing.

So I doubt I’d ever know people long enough for me to really see them age. And if I did? Then after they die I’d move on, drift away, find something else to spend my countless aeons on. There’s always new things, new distractions, new people. And I prefer being on my own anyway.

...but this is all just hypothetical, of course. Fact is, I’m mortal, and that’s unlikely to change. So I’m just gonna aim at finding a nice house to live in with my SO where we can keep cats and grow bee-friendly flowers and tell our stories to the world. Because stories are a type of immortality too.

[dove-annarchie]

A Slow Damage headcanon theory compilation by Ann

It’s late and I’m supposed to write short stories instead of a long rant about a game that’s not even out. But after watching the Slow Damage PV another hundred times and seeing that the N+C fandom is kinda dead. I decided to add my little, possibly going to remain unseen theories/headcanons/speculations/guesses etc. for the fans waiting for something new.

Note that nothing of what I’ve written is to be taken at face-value, it’s just my speculation and feel free to correct me on anything or share your theories with me. Anything to make this agonizing period of waiting a bit less agonizing!

First, these guesses wouldn’t be as strong without @shinocchidesu’s text decode on the PV and the inverted sketches @bara-mink (sorry, for some reason i couldn’t tag you :C) made to get a new perspective on the images, and they look clearer!. Kudos to them!

To start this trip, I may warn you this is gonna be long as heck. Be prepared.

We’ve got to start with the ambience. N+C has something like a track record regarding crapsack worlds, dramatical murder and maybe false alkanet being the exceptions (and even then, Dmmd was dark as fuck despite the cheery, colorful world it was in). Togainu no Chi was a post-war dystopia, Lamento was a story in a world that was slowly dying, and sweet pool’s world was fairly ordinary but the darkness on the plot was the product of the characters’ doing.

Slow damage seems to be the game where both the characters and the world around them are grimdark as hell.

Taking the PV at face value, the characters seemed suspicious, the music and effects were unsettling and the background left an impression (at least in me) that nothing was fine. Looked kind of like a decadent city, or a red-light district, just an urban zone full of crime. If I had to compare it to explain myself better, think of Dragon Palace in Omerta Chinmoku no Okite (another BL, mafia themed VN).

(what looks like an urban environment in the pv):

(omerta’s dragon palace, for comparison):

A crime-filled ambience is an ideal place for a dark plot with troubled characters.

Moving along with the characters, we see 4 of them (at least if there’s not a hidden twin, clone or doppelganger). None of them look 100% sane to me. The flashing visuals and slightly off-key music and sounds are likely to hint that at us, or maybe it’s the kanji, for the Japanese-speaking people? They’re either very involved with crime, or their hands aren’t clean enough to disprove any guilt. At least for me, since these are my deductions.

Moving on, I’m going to talk about the people we see in the PV. Starting with:

My thoughts about him? When there’s crime, there should be cops. He looks like a detective or cop to me. He also seems to be middle aged, or older than the MC at the very least. Old enough to have been a father? Who knows. But he reminds me of Motomi (TnC) and Kiryuu (Omerta) for some reason. I’ll call him Kiryu for now.

The words deciphered by shinocchidesu in their post read:

Sins, guilt, depression, self-loathing, to hide something, mask.

If I tie this to his assumed position in the law, Kiryu must have committed a crime himself and/or gotten someone killed. It was either an accident or intentional, whether in a moment of weakness or fully aware of what was going to unfold. In any case. It seems like Kiryu desperately wants to hide it, or forget it. Or the disgust he felt with himself after doing it.

Affection, mercy, silence, determination to be…

What if his route is like a healing process, maybe not just for Kiryu, but also for whatever the MC went through before? Maybe by taking his route, if he has one, we can make him move on or remind him that the past is in the past, and that he can still find worthy things in his life (Like the MC?). he’s going to feel more positive with the MC around him, he may quickly take a liking to him. Maybe because he reminds Kiryu of someone from his past? Is being romanced by the MC like a chance to symbolically or internally fix everything that went wrong?

Next is…

My thoughts about him? Looks like the typical pretty boy every anime media must have. Longish hair? Check. More delicate face structure? Check. Mischievous smile? Check. He also seems to have piercings, or maybe it’s the rough lines of the sketches. I’m going to call him Shi for now, read the explanation ahead.

The deciphered words read:

Unrestrained, unstoppable pleasure, blood, bone, flesh, violence.

This doesn’t spell good.

I’m going to stretch my deductions a lot and state that maybe Shi was (or is) a cannibal, or a serial killer. I see him as a hedonistic fuck who doesn’t care about other people’s wellbeing as long as he’s having a blast. Maybe he was under the influence of drugs. All of this spells that Shi was an outright criminal, the kind of pleasure-seeking person who will go to the extreme just to feel new sensations, even if they’re morally wrong. Shi wants to feel thrilled, he has no barriers or chains. He’s a free man and not even the police can keep him from having his way. He’s sassy, brash, carefree and confident. Has a joyful and fun façade to hide his bloodthirstiness and the misery it caused him.

Or we can take the other side and imply he was being forced to be like this. Maybe he was part of a cult or a very toxic group who indulged in killing and intoxication. He’s used to this, even if he doesn’t want to be. Maybe the MC can help him withdraw from his passions or push him deeper into it while joining him. I still don’t have this clear.

Self-denial, build and rebuild, hidden aesthetic.

Shi lives very frugally. Because of his criminal status he has to constantly relocate, but it’s not like he has important things to leave behind. Much like Nine told Aoba in dmmd re:connect, Shi can build and destroy his (outer) world whenever he wants or needs to and he doesn’t lose much by that. The build and rebuild part can also apply to his possible murderous intents, since he destroys lives in order to build up his pleasure. Possibly being with the MC may inspire a desire to settle down, despite the risk, and having legitimate reasons to do the opposite. A possible bad end might be joining in the bloody debauchery and being dominated by Shi?

Next one…

My thoughts about him? A classic character; the kichiku megane. Other than Ugajin (also from Omerta) and the yaoi manga with that name, I cannot make any comparisons due the fact I haven’t seen many examples of this archetype. Unless he turns out to be a caring, if amoral sweetheart, I’m betting my cat’s life that he’s going to follow the trope to a T. Stoic, sadistic, cruel and uncaring, but smart, sophisticated, desirable and maybe hiding a very tiny good heart. He looks like a high-ranking criminal, or yakuza or mafia or I dunno, he looks not like a lowlife thug, but more like an evil hidden-in-plain-sight kind of criminal. He can afford to look elegantly amoral. It took me a while to give him a decent placeholder name, so I’m just calling him Kenji for now.

Let’s analyze his phrases.

To put on, not being himself, inerasable past, acted out truth, hatred towards their own.

This one’s a little more complicated to me even if it seems to be explicitly spelled out. Kenji’s self-hatred must stem from a typical traumatic experience. Maybe his family/race/clan/group did something awful and he was one of the few who regretted letting it happen? And that’s why he’s involved with crime? Because he sees himself as nothing but another apple that rot far away from the tree and he can’t do better than commit more crimes?. A little part of himself knows that while he’s scum, or at least related with the real scum, he didn’t commit atrocities like his kind so he can afford to be a little bit better. He desperately tries to distance himself from his clan, erasing his past and not wanting the horrible truth to be discovered. He doesn’t need to have a higher moral ground, he’s content with not doing horrible things directly. And he clings to that.

Cruel, thorough confrontation, continuous obsession.

Rule of three dictated these might refer to Kenji’s relationship with the MC. While MC doesn’t look like a career criminal, he’s still at the very bottom of the barrel, living in the crime-ridden urban settlement on a filthy studio (assuming he’s an artist). While Kenji can flaunt of being sophisticated and respected. If the kichiku megane aspect is played straight, Kenji won’t limit his cruelty with the MC, maybe seeing him as just another ruffian undeserving of even mere eye contact, much like he sees the people working for him. MC will keep clashing with Kenji, causing the yakuza to become enticed and attracted to the young (?) smoker. As if he’s “deserving” of him. I don’t have much else, sorry.

And finally…

Now let’s go with the hooded person, who I’m assuming it’s the MC, and if he isn’t and turned out to be the main antagonist or some shit like that, welp, then screech in my ear and call me Rachel.

I’m basing my guesses from the teaser images rather than the kanji.

The first one is simplistic. We see a person in a hoodie sporting a macabre smile, standing in the middle of a street with distorted figures which must be buildings. The colors are limited, classical red, black and white, aiding the macabre aesthetic of the picture. The black figures seem to sink onto the ground and lose consistency. As seen on the N+C website, the title of the game is written twice; once in white and then in black, right over the white katakana in an irregular way that may be meant to add to the “instability” of the image.

I don’t see much symbolism other that this being N+C’s way of saying “yo, we gon fuck your mind up but you gotta wait for it ;) also if you don’t speak Japanese then you’re doubly screwed fam”

The second one is more complex and gives us a very good look at the aspects and symbolism. We see the hooded person in much clearer detail. Looks definitely masculine (it’s a yaoi game, duh). He’s sitting on a stool, in a crooked posture, looking depressed and defeated, smoking while avoiding eye contact with the camera. Smoking was believed to reduce stress, but that was debunked a while ago, so he has pent up a ton of anxiety added to the usual problems with his already underprivileged lifestyle. Behind him there are numerous canvases (assuming he’s an artist, or at least a hobbyist) with a huge black one right behind his back, they show no images other than empty whiteness and some shadows, their meanings being that either he gave up, those easels are representing emptiness and gloom, he became disillusioned and he’s reflecting on stuff, or that there are multiple problems in his life that are unimportant or self-inflicted and thus cause him small amounts of misery but not to an extreme extent, and this one big black canvas right behind his back represents factor that started, prolonged or keeps fueling his bitterness and internal struggle.

I want you to save me./Do you want to be saved?

In a world of crime, a young man has the chance to make things right. Anything he could do may make things better or worse. Is he talking to himself? Is someone else asking him that? All the above?

By who? By me?

He’s doubtful and depressed. He started at the bottom and he’s still in the bottom (that was unintentional). But can he push his frustrations aside and face the music?

That concludes my analysis and helped quench my impatience a little bit. I should repeat that this is not to be taken at face value nor I’m saying this is 100% canon official information. It’s just another guessing game to see if I can give you an idea of what to expect. I dunno, I just wrote this for fun C: thanks for reading!

[nurturingflame]

Week In Review - 65

Lots laid out on the table this week. Maybe that means moving forward there will be less room for misunderstandings. Pfft! HA! Yeah right! Next week we start the Haunted Warehouse Adventures!

To Prune & Grow 13-16

Splinter’s words tumbled in her ears, but it took a moment for them to reach her brain.  Why is he telling me this?

The feel of his fingers on her hand was disconcerting.  When he offered his palm to her, she considered refusing, and had to fight with herself not to.  She didn’t really need any balm. In fact, the little prickles that indicated her healing power was working had already started, and would most likely have her hand good as new before they left.  But he’d gotten the balm for her, come back, offered his hand out, after she’d called him nasty names.  Well, not that nasty.  I’m sure he’s been called worse.  But then, she’d been called much worse than ‘impossible’, both behind her back and to her face.  She she’d placed her palm in his.

The warm pressure of his ministrations sent tingles up her wrist that had nothing to do with the little golden ants that might be gathering there.  He rubbed with the second pad of each finger, lifting the tips to keep the claws from scraping her.  The pressure was consistent and seemed to rub in just the right places, so that her shoulders dropped and she sighed slightly.

Then he began speaking of his wife and daughter, while at the same time she wondered why someone rubbing her hand would feel so nice.  Had it been that long since someone had touched her in a compassionate way?  She couldn’t remember.

Even in a loving union...Perhaps she had misread the relationship between Splinter and Eliza.  While the ferret had insisted that there was nothing romantic between the two of them, and both of their actions seemed to confirm that most of the time, there were times like this one, when Phoenix felt thrown off, like she couldn’t figure out what everyone’s role was in this great play they were all acting in.

Then, he’d stopped rubbing, and just as she was about to withdraw her hand, he’d pressed down with his thumb, indicating she was to keep it there.  She thought he’d start with another round of balm, which smelled slightly minty, but felt soothingly cool on her hot skin.

She was silent for a while, as she tried to think of a reply, staring at their hands and realized she had no place from which to search for one.  What was happening now was like when she died the first time, there was no background for it, nothing to draw experience from.

So she drew from the only other place she knew.

“I’m not trying to take your woman away from you, Splinter,” she said gently, leaving her hand where it was, though she finally raised her eyes to look in his face.

Ideally a ninja should be prepared for every possibility, a master doubly so, nothing should surprise him. Yet, surprised, was an understatement of the circumstance Splinter found himself in. Shocked still would be a more appropriate description.

He found himself unable to process what the Phoenix had said, even after playing it over several times in his head. His tongue felt thick when he began to thaw from his frozen state.

“She… I… I'm not… I mean she's not...” He sounded like a fool and the agitation he felt towards himself worked to snap him from his befuddled state. He withdrew his hands from her and cleared his throat, taking a moment to sort out what he wanted to say. Actually he didn't WANT to say anything but apparently clarification was in order.

“I believe you are under a false impression Phoenix.” Her eyes looked into his and he had to fight the urge to look away from their intensity. At a loss to express his own thoughts, he recalled the words that the ferret had said in the hall. “Elizabeth has made it very clear that she is not mine, or anybody else's for that matter.”

“You act like she's your woman.” the little healer challenged. “Like she belongs here.”

“She does belong here!” Splinter pushed away from the table, unable to remain still while his thoughts were in such turmoil. “They are our responsibility, but it is more than that. Elizabeth has brought a new kind of life to our home, a comforting atmosphere that we have not had before. And Gwynevere,” Splinter stilled, a smile softening his features. “she takes the space her mother has created and fills it with joy.”

He looked at the Phoenix, his mood sobering. “You say you don't intend to take them away, but you cannot know if tragedy will come for them while in your care. It is…” he swallowed, his throat feeling thick with emotion. “hard for me to think of losing them, to you or to fate.” he sighed, “But it seems that I have no more say in the matter.”

Splinter felt defeated and wrung out, unused to letting his emotions be seen like this. He was ashamed of his outburst and wanted to crawl away to the comfort of his darkened room and meditate. However, there was one more point to clarify.

“Phoenix, if you believe that I have taken any ‘liberties’ with Mrs. VonHertz or abused my position as her protector, then you are sorely mistaken.” He leveled her with a gaze full of remorse, trying not to let visions he had received from the Rat King overwhelm him. “I have no woman.”

The woman who still sat the table was silent for a long time, her big green eyes still looking at him intently.  She had taken her hand, the one he’d been holding, and massaged it with her other one, the look on her face was something akin to chagrin.  The anger he felt at himself slowly began to inch toward her, pity as the last thing he needed or wanted.  But then her visage smoothed out, and she pushed her chair out from under her and stood up.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you had abused Eliza in any way, Splinter,” she said carefully.  Her cheeks slowly began to turn pink, and she finally looked away from him.  “And I would imagine it would be very difficult indeed to ‘abuse’ Mrs. VonHertz.”  She chuckled, shaking her head.

She came around the table, and he thought for a moment she was going to approach him, but she didn’t.  “Listen,” she took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

What deal was she going to try and make, he thought, because her body language certainly indicated that was the direction she was headed.  But again, he was surprised, so that his breath was almost taken from.

“I know you don’t like me,” she said quickly. Before he could interject, she went on, “I don’t know if I’d like you very much if our positions were reversed.  I, feel strongly about my people, and you obviously do too.  But, you aren’t going to lose Eliza and Gwyn to me,” she assured, her pale brows drawing upward, her mouth soft.  “The entire reason they’re leaving is to build them a larger space in your home, remember?”

First he was a controlling curmudgeon, and now he didn’t like her.  Did he really act so unpleasant when she was around?  Did he dislike her?  You want her, the Rat King’s voice echoed in his head again, so that his throat constricted.  No, it was his own thoughts, a memory, not The Rat King himself.  Could one want someone and dislike them at the same time?

He didn’t dislike her, he decided, but a much more troubling thought settled in on him.  She frightened him.  Her very presence in his life unsettled all kinds of things--the comfortable relationship he’d developed with Elizabeth, Gwyn’s attentions.  His boys’ world now stretched even farther than it did before her arrival, for she seemed to have connections with more mutants than they had thought existed.  It had been a very long time since he had had an outburst like the one only a few minutes before, or since he had been so taken aback that he was at a loss for words.  She upset his control.

And he did not like that.

“Yes,” he answered her question with a small nod, placing his hands behind his back.  

“You’re welcome to come to The Haunted Warehouse whenever you want to,” she said, making her way to the kitchen entrance.  “It isn’t really haunted.”  She gave him a soft, conciliatory smile.

“Thank you,” he replied, not sure how else to respond.

She nodded, then turned to leave.  Just as she reached the exit, she turned back, her smile much more mischievous.  “And if you want a woman, Splinter, I can hook you up with one.”  She looked him up and down appreciatively, so that he took a step back.  “I can think of quite a few women who would jump at the chance to put their arms around a man like you.”

She laughed, a girlish giggle, like the kind she had given on the dance floor at the party, and then disappeared from the kitchen.

“Do I have to bring my keyboard?”

“Yes Gwynevere, you are not getting out of practice for two weeks.”

“Awww.” Gwyn whined without too much heat, she knew it was long shot, but brightened again. “Do I have bring my math?”

Her mother paused in her folding and looked at her with a raised eye ridge before letting out a deep sigh. “Okay, how about we make a deal.”

Gwyn nodded her head eagerly, she'd agree to almost anything if it meant a break from schoolwork.

“You don't have to do any worksheets,”

“Yes!!” Gwyn wiggled happily from her spot on the floor where she was packing her suitcase.

“But!” Her mom qualified, holding up a finger. “You have to do two projects. One book report and one art or craft project.”

Gwyn thought for a moment before agreeing. “That doesn't sound too bad. But why?”

The ferret smiled and went back to folding. “This is an opportunity to spend time with the Phoenix’s kids, and I'm sure that they could teach you different things than the boys have. I know that Medusa likes to read and Acros and Aries are both very talented. Besides, if you have an assignment to do together, they might not mind having a little kid on their tails for two weeks.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes and laughed. “Do you always have to have a plan? Medusa and the guys like me just fine.” Gwyn rocked her head like a bobblehead doll. “In case you've forgotten, I'm adorable.”

Her mom laughed and stood to finish zippering her suitcase closed, tucking in stray fabric as she went. “That may be, but they've only had you in small doses till now. It's always good to have a game plan for these types of things.”

“Pfft.” Gwyn thought her mom was being silly. “You try too hard. This is gonna be fun!”

“Maybe,” the ferret said tilting her head to the side and scrunching her muzzle. “We’ll see. Are you done?”

“Almost.” The girl turned back to her packing. “Do I still get to go to the play with April and Casey’s sister?” She'd been promised a night on Broadway for her birthday since going home and seeing her friends wasn't an option anymore.

“Yes, being away from the lair shouldn't interfere with that at all. Make sure you pack something nice, maybe that purple dress?”

Gwyn went back to the dresser and picked out a few more items. April had taken her clothes shopping a couple times, mostly because Gwyn was hitting a growth spurt and desperately needed some new undergarments. As a result she had more to choose from then she had come to New York with, but not much. “That should do it.” She said with satisfaction as she closed her luggage.

“Good. Now go find someone to help you load the Shellraiser while I finish up.” Her mother turned her around and gave her a pat out the door, suitcase in tow.

Gwyn took off without a backwards glance, but waved to the Phoenix as she passed her in the hall, not bothering to stop and chat. As she entered the main space she saw Splinter leaving the kitchen and flagged him down. “Ojisan!!” She called happily as she dragged her bag behind her.

“Gwynevere.” The rat smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, in fact he looked kind of sad. Gwyn had overheard the adults arguing earlier and knew he wasn't happy about them leaving. “Ready to go so soon I see.”

“Yeah,” Gwyn twisted her sneaker against the concrete, her excitement dulled. “Mamma says we're going to take the Shellraiser, easier than walking across town with our stuff.”

“A prudent decision.” He said evenly. “I shall inform my sons to be prepared to escort you.” The rat turned away but Gwyn called him back.

“Ojisan.” It was Japanese for ‘Uncle’ a term that they had agreed would be okay for the babies to call him, so Gwyn decided she would call him that too. He seemed to like it. “Are you going to miss us?”

Splinter dropped to one knee so that they were eye to eye and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Very much.” He said softly. “But you will only be gone for a short time, like a vacation. I will be here to welcome you when you return home.”

“Okay. It’s a deal.”

Splinter nodded. “A promise.”

Gwyn smiled and gave him a fierce hug and she swore that he hugged her back twice as hard as he normally did. She didn't think it was a good idea to remind him that the last vacation she and her mom had left for they still hadn't returned home from.

[hopewielding]

hopewielding’s RP Cheat Sheet

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: Rachel OOC Contact: Asks please. I’m not a great fan of IMs and I keep my other contact information private.

Who the heck is my muse anyway: Kitty Pryde is a self-described mutant rights activist who was one of the youngest mutants to ever join the X-Men. Her powers emerged when she was thirteen and a half, when she phased through the floor of her second-level bedroom. The X-Men and Emma Frost both tried to convince her parents to let her go with them, with Emma kidnapping the X-Men in the process and Kitty working to save them. She joined a fractured and hurting X-Men team immediately after the death of Jean Grey, and her quick wit and terrible costume choices provided a welcome distraction from their woes. Despite her young age, she joined the X-Men on many missions, including fighting the Brood and Skrulls in space. 

The first time she tried to leave the team, heartbroken over Piotr Rasputin, she was possessed by the ninja demon entity, Ogun, and was imbued with all the technical martial arts skills his mind offered. She returned to the X-Men, only to be injured in a battle with the marauders that left her permanently phased and in danger of dissipating from existence. After some time, with the help of the Fantastic Four and Doctor Doom, she was returned to her natural state. However, the X-Men were soon killed, and she fled to England with her remaining friends, Rachel and Kurt, where she formed the British superhero team Excalibur with Brian Braddock and Meggan Puceanu. With Excalibur, Kitty traveled through time and across realities, and fell in love for a second time with Pete Wisdom. Some time after learning the X-Men were alive, Kitty returned to the United States to rejoin the team.

The second time Kitty left the team, it was to mourn the death of Piotr Rasputin and his sister Illyana to the Legacy Virus and the death of her father, killed on the mutant island Genosha. Wishing for a chance at normal life, Kitty moved back to her home state of Chicago and enrolls in college. But, there was no escaping the mutant life, and Kitty was forced to fight bigoted humans, mandatory therapy and Sentinels for the opportunity. Once again, she returned to the X-Men in their time of need, accompanying the team into space once more and sacrificing herself to save the Earth by phasing a giant bullet through the planet. She was lost in space for some time, before finally being saved by Magneto, while the X-Men were living on an island off San Francisco. However, her powers were once again broken and she was forced to wear a special suit to remain solid, until she was killed in a Breakworld plot and resurrected, her powers healed.

Following Schism, Kitty followed her old mentor Logan back to Westchester, where she co-headed the Jean Grey School of Higher Learning. She took no part in the fight between the Avengers and the X-Man over the Phoenix Force, and was devastated when Charles Xavier was killed. When the original X-Men were brought to the future, she decided to mentor them, eventually fleeing to Canada to be with Scott’s team. There, she began a relationship with long-time friend Illyana Rasputin, and the two rescued then adopted the mutant child Bo. Eventually, both teams were united once more, although the school had to be moved to Limbo to avoid the Terrigen Mist brought to earth by the Inhumans.

Points of interest:           Physical Appearance: Kitty is rather small in stature, both short and slight in frame. She has long, dark brown hair usually pulled back into a high ponytail, and deep brown eyes. When not wearing her uniform, her outfits fit largely into the simple jeans-tee-sweatshirt combo. She is usually confident in her mannerisms and behaves with purse. She isn’t afraid to take up space and give loud, inspiring speeches when she needs to.

          Powers: Kitty is able to phase through material objects and elements such as fire and lightening. She does this by passing the molecules of her body through the molecules of the object in question, with the process being largely subconscious. In a similar way, she is also able to align her molecules with other objects so that she cannot pass through, which gives her the ability to walk on air. She is also able to phase other people with her, as long as she remains in physical contact with them. While intangible, her thoughts are perceived as erratic by anyone who tries to read them, and any electronic devices she phases through are instantly short-circuited. A less utilized aspect of her powers is her ability to blend into the shadows and be practically invisible.

          Personality: Kitty is best described as a self-righteous, stubborn, kind, and passionate young woman. She is talkative, witty, sarcastic, and constantly trying to make light of her situation with humor. She has dedicated her life to the mutant cause and seen many friends die as a result, with this experience often lending itself to bitterness and regret. However, she is also fiercely determined to do her best by the next generation and eliminate prejudice against mutants so that others will be able to live a normal life. She is sometimes prone to bouts of insecurity, stemming mainly from body-image issues. 

          Skills: Kitty is a self-described genius and polymath, with prowess in physics, engineering, and computing software and hardware. She is also a  highly skilled hand-to-hand and armed martial artist, has trained in dance, and is a competent Earth and interstellar aircraft pilot, capable of speaking a wide array of Earth and alien languages.

          Heritage: Kitty is a third-generation Jewish-American, her grandparents having fled Warsaw, Poland prior to the Nazi occupation. Her great aunt is known to have been killed in Auschwitz. Kitty’s father, Carmen Pryde, fought in the Vietnam War with Charles Xavier, having volunteered when he was still underage. He was divorced from her mother, Theresa Pryde, by the time Kitty was fifteen, and devoted his life to helping others in any way he could, and even when it got him in trouble with the Japanese mafia.

          Canon Divergence: My Kitty diverges from canon at the point where she meets Peter Quill. On this blog, there was no romantic relationship between them and Kitty never joined the Guardians of the Galaxy in space.

What they’ve been up to recently: Kitty has recently returned from Chicago, having taken her third break from the X-Men following their war with the Inhumans. She now leads the team and heads the school now located in Central Park. Her aim is to increase mutant visibility in order to foster harmony between humans and mutants.

Where to find them: Kitty is currently operating out of New York, specifically in Central Park. However, she frequently travels around the United States and other parts of the world, answering distress calls from new mutants and battling threats to the planet.

Current plans: Currently, Kitty is adjusting to being the leader of the X-Men while juggling her responsibilities at the school and her relationships with Illyana, Bo, and other members of her mutant family. With Illyana, she is also working on expanding her abilities in order to phase through magick, which she has never been able to do before. However, she’s fearful of breaking her powers once more, and is largely keeping her experiments a secret from the rest of the team.

Desired interactions: Right now, there’s nothing specific I’m looking to write with a partner. However, I would love to explore more of Kitty’s canon relationships and do some mutant rights-related threads.

Offered interactions:            Teacher/Headmistress: Kitty is a lot of fun to writein a mentoring role, though this kind of interaction is more-or-less exclusive to mutant characters. Whether it’s guiding your character through mutant life or helping them with her powers, Kitty is a really compassionate, inspiring teacher.

          Teammate: I enjoy action-orientated threads as much as dialogue-orientated ones, and this goes doubly for when the other character is a X-Men or mutant and they’re working together on some mutant-related issue. Rescuing young mutant children from terrible situations, dealing with monsters, stopping members of the new Brotherhood, or just training together in the Danger Room -- it’s all on the table.

          Friend: Above all, Kitty is a great friend. She’s a great listener for when your muse is down, needs someone to talk to, or needs someone to beat their head against a wall. She’s reliable, loyal, and won’t shy away from some hard truths. But, she’s also a great person to just hang out with in general, whether your muse wants to go to a crazy nightclub or have a picnic lunch on the lawn.

Current open post/s: I don’t have any current open posts, but I welcome everyone to send in memes or chat to me about making a starter or plotting out something more in-depth.

Anything else?: I am currently working on a PhD in social psychology, am attempting to get two research papers published, and am running tutorial classes at my university. I usually set up my queue to put out one reply per day, with the queue restocked on the weekend. 

Tagged by: @alterphase -- thank you! Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it!

[elizabethrobertajones]

9x21 rewatch

hey so I have frequently commented on the uncanny way my rewatch lines up with new canon kind of unnerving me at times

anyway for the historical record, 12x13 is the next episode we are waiting to air at the point I start watching and this was in no way planned, this is just where I got to in a 2 year process.

I fucking knew Ramiel had a lamp that used to belong to Metatron in his basement.

I love that the recap to start with is pretty much all 9x18 after some basic season 9 angel war stuff. I sometimes forget that it’s a huge season-changing plot episode because I never focus on all the drama that takes place during it but look at all the really meta stuff. But it scrapes together the rest of the arc and puts it into a sensible shape to actually finish the season with, although with Buckleming episodes you NEVER need the ENTIRE recap because it’s always too long and covering too many details like they don’t trust us to remember everything that’s going to be mentioned here. It’s literally a 2-parter recap that after a minute of angel stuff switches to recapping Abaddon's entire season and Crowley and the Mark of Cain and the hell hounds and some more Crowley and anyway we’re 1:55 into the episode and oh my god should I be actually collecting which episodes have the longest recaps? I bet 12x13 is going to be 5 minutes

Leith, Scotland - 1723

Hey Gavin. I was always disappointed they didn’t make him ginger, since Crowley is obviously not wearing the same meat as when he was Ferrrgus. And then Rowena showed up and I was doubly mad that Gavin was not ginger. 

Anyway this is pouring one out that they cast someone who wouldn’t be wildly unchallenging for people to think was related to moderately-successful-literary-agent instead.

Also, Abaddon busts in and is ginger and says she’s a “friend of the family” - with hindsight would it have made sense for Gavin to even wonder if they were related? How much does he know about Rowena? It seems like Crowley didn’t know her since he was a boy. Did he ever complain about her? I feel like he’d be the sort to tell Gavin lurid stories about his own horrible childhood to make him shut up and appreciate it :P

Crowley called Abaddon “the world’s angriest ginger” in 9x10 and honestly if I didn’t mention it then, getting in to the beginnings of Crowley’s own family drama here is basically demanding I stop and laugh at this. I don’t think Rowena is angry - justifiably so if she is - but Crowley certainly has some issues with Abaddon that I think we never really appreciated at the time.

ABADDON Yes. You're packing. Sailing for the colonies. I know all about it. Change of plans.

I mean, at least they’re upfront about the horrific retcon, the one genuinely open wound on the show that just *turns to scream out of the open window for a while*

[A YOUNG MAN enters ]

YOUNG MAN Ooh. What's this, then? Are we having a party?

I wonder if Gavin will still be gay/bi in 12x13? 

(There’s 1 bed in the room and this guy also has a key and, well, they’re planning on skipping the country to the new world. Meta of the time went into this but I suppose I have not much else better to do here with his story than explain as it unfolds :P)

Anyway who knows - same director and everything, Buckleming aren’t half bad at referring to their OWN canon, they’re as cheery as anyone else about implying Rowena is bi, even if they can be staggeringly homophobic in other ways. Guess we see how the wind is blowing.

Like right here they just immediately kill Gavin’s boyfriend and he doesn’t mention it again all episode >.>

The opening with the angels is still so ridiculous but I’ve never watched this NOT on a terrible stream before and I need to appreciate at DVD quality the angels watching Metatron’s useless plant/trap/whatever because their faces are exactly the sort of “what the FUCK am I watching” expressions necessary here while he talks :P

I love the implication here:

EZRA Oh, I can't tell you how great it feels to finally have a night off, right, guys?

Cas is working his army hard... weirdly more appreciative of the angels telling stories about eating pizza and actually taking the opportunity to kick back on Earth and go to bars and enjoy a night off.

I have a lot of feelings about this because Cas’s angels are the most human - they still sound angel-y when they switch to talking about plot stuff, but when they’re kicking back they sound regular and human. Considering angels go BACK to trying to live somewhat like their old selves in Heaven, Cas’s army is the most randomly dressed, relaxed bunch of angels we’ve ever seen, and this didn’t mark a permanent change, as once they were back in charge, they give this up and all angels wear black/white/grey again. After 12x10 I have a lot more feelings than normal about angels and proximity to humans. Cas had his angels doing things like healing humans at the hospital for no reason other than that it was a good thing to do. Cas’s angels seemed closer to human than any of the other factions we came across. These angels were changing and adapting to living on earth - making the most of it and blending in and maybe getting to know having a vessel that they may NEVER have done before.

Just... aargh.

Cas let his angels have a night off and when they asked what they were supposed to DO with a night off he squinted and furrowed his eyebrows and thought about what Sam and Dean would do and said, “Humans seem to enjoy going to bars in their spare time” and all the angels took it as gospel and shuffled obediently off to have fun >.>

EZRA ... being handpicked by the big man himself. I'm not really supposed to talk about it. 'Cause it's Metatron.

Back in 9x14 there was some moment like this which had a ton of ambiguity about who was being referred to of all the available villains, of Bartholomew, Gadreel or Metatron. Now Cas and Metatron are ambiguously blurred together, though on first viewing it might not be so obvious because we don’t know these are Cas’s angels, but “the big man” is a reference to a boss and their boss is Cas and they’re like ??? this angel seems to be talking to us like he’s on our team (and having the same night off as us) but is Castiel hand-picking anyone for anything - and then he goes and drops Metatron’s name after a weighty pause.

There are a lot of weighty pauses this season

Also blurring good guys and bad guys - the martini being delivered to the angels’ table looks like the one Abaddon drinks later

ALSO then Ezra walking down the alley sees the silhouette of a man in a long coat and stops in horror before realising it’s not Cas, relaxes, and then is nabbed by Cas’s angels.

The scary alley moment is more than enough to mimic the usual patterns of victim and monster in the show and the spectre of a man in a long coat seems monstrous to Ezra, using Cas as the villain... 

Once Ezra is chained up and waiting, Cas’s appearance is heralded by terrifying slow footsteps and Ezra’s fear:

EZRA Is that...him?

Side note: the classy purple angel who I’ve always had a soft spot for is not named in the episode but appears to be called Benjamin by the transcript. 

Obviously not Cas’s BFF Benjamin but they’ve been very good about not re-using angel names. “Benjamin” appears to only be in this episode and isn’t named anywhere in the dialogue, so I suppose easy to ignore.

Dean shows up wearing his bizarre/excellent putrid yellow jacket which is an incredible stretch by the wardrobe department to find something unflattering. It brings out all the worst in his face, which I never knew had a worst until I saw the promo pics for this episode – for the first time. Of course it’s yellow because sulphurous connections because Dean’s about to be a demon.

I’ve seen it compared in a more favourable light (literally) to Brokeback mountain and a jacket one of the characters wore because of the hug scene, but I think in general the whole point is to really underline in red pen a dozen times that Dean’s in deep with a demonic connection.

(I was also just reminded of Sam’s jacket in 12x12 which is an eye-catching reddish-pinkish-orange, depending on the light. An anon helpfully suggested he might have a witchy descent (which is just teasing after how many times we’ve hoped for it and written speculation that FINALLY it might be Sam’s time) but aside from red being witchy in general, now I think about it, it would sort of be the colour of Rowena’s hair :P (Somehow this entire rewatch is about ginger-ness))

God I do not miss season 9 Dean.

(All he’s done so far is hear “commander”, look affronted, look at Sam and whisper “commander?!” in an affronted way and I should be flipping out from the Destiel of it all but Dabb era has been wrecking me

like

I have it paused and they’re about to hug

but I just don’t feel it, you know?

Not when in season 12 there’s a serious danger of them nuzzling or clinging like they don’t want to let go

*pat pat*

*Dean allows himself 1 hand placed on Cas’s back out of Sam’s sight to stay for about half a second longer than it should*

God we are so fucking spoiled right now

Can’t believe we used to think Destiel was canon off of season 9 nonsense

DEAN So...Commander?

CASTIEL Yeah, not my idea.

wait never mind

Dean just can’t let things go about Cas, can he? All he needs is a waitress to flirt with him or the angels to give him a cute nickname - I mean, intimidating title - and off Dean goes.

Has he said anything this episode except for “commander” yet?

blah blah talking tactics and angel war how can a conversation between these two be dull?

Aside from being dull, the scenario is twisted around completely implausibly:

CASTIEL Dean, this angel-on-angel violence -- it has to end. Someone has to say, "enough."

right yeah good, then Cas asks them to interrogate the angel and wtf. We aren’t hurting angels! Unless Dean does it!

But nah we need a cliffhanger so Dean can say this:

CASTIEL Well, you've had success at these situations before. If you don't want to do it, I understand.

DEAN Who says I don't want to do it?

so it looks like a cheap 4x16 moment and I guess we’re seeing Dean all twisted up and about torture and showing how he wants to do it and so on but... Ugh, CAS. Why do you suffer for these things in your characterisation :P Especially bloody stupid ones that in the same scene you are being characterised properly over - it’s like they just drop that after paying lip service to where Cas’s arc is actually supposed to be at, to put in something entirely different. 

Imagine if Cas had asked them to go talk to Ezra because they were better at interrogations than him - without torture - but Dean shows up in there with an angel blade clearly ignoring that and wanting to go the threatening torture-y route. Cas stays in character, Dean is scary, easy!

At this point, actually looking forward to the trips to Crowley and Abaddon scenes

CROWLEY So, here's the thing, boys and girls -- we have a crisis. Admittedly, a crisis of my own making.

He really never wanted that throne :P He tries to reassert his power and declare himself the winner just for being back at it - and now we know WHY he’s so motivated to always go back for the throne - obviously with Abaddon it’s too personal not to do it to spite her, but then again in literally 3 episodes Crowley is back on vacation, bored stupid of the job, and just enjoying hanging with Dean instead. He loves the idea of getting Dean to run Hell for/with him, to take the edge off the boredom (and probably scare demons out of fighting against him).

ABADDON And I'm hearing that one of them also has the mark of Cain -- all bad news, since the Blade is the one thing that can bring about my --

CROWLEY Utter destruction.

ABADDON To be indelicate. But here's the thing, pet -- same goes for you. And once I'm gone, who do you think's next on those cute boys' list?

Now there’s a familiar line - pretty much the last thing said in 12x12 was Lucifer reminding Crowley of this. Crowley here has both a healthy reason to fear it, but also, since 9x16, a reassurance that Dean seems to be controllable and that he might just be able to control him or at least NOT die by his hand, so long as he plays his cards absolutely right.

Crowley getting demon!Dean for his own uses seems like it HAD to happen once Dean got the Mark because Crowley would never be able to just let him be - even if they always have that knife (and it’s great that it actually COULD kill Crowley but I don’t know if they’ve ever even given him a glancing blow from it because he always plays them well enough to avoid it) Dean with the Mark is violent and dangerous in a whole new way. 

Not sure Crowley counted on feelings, mind you :P

But, regardless, season 10 does not take long at all for Crowley to feel safe with Dean, and even in season 11, newly cured of the Mark and compelled by Amara to come help her, in 11x02 Dean can’t kill Crowley. At this point it’s more like they need to grudgingly accept they’re friends or something? >.>I definitely find it interesting this taunt comes up again because Crowley should be secure DEAN at least likes him enough not to kill him because first he thought he puppet-stringed him into not doing it and then it seemed that they genuinely cared about each other enough not to do it... If anything, the fact Sam and Mary would still happily kill Crowley are the problem :P

Cas... Cas owes Crowley TWO, has been threatening to murder him for years, and still hasn’t done it, mostly because they avoid socialising unless it’s the sort of desperate scenario where they have to put aside their issues and deal with a bigger problem.

I suspect Crowley has a lot of contingency plans for finding himself trapped in an elevator with Cas when they have no greater reason to work together, and now I’ve typed that I REALLY want that episode :P

CROWLEY To be clear... I'll not be joining you ever. Except at your death scene, where I shall burst into song. Goodbye. You have no hold over me.

ABADDON Oh, no?

[She snaps her fingers and GAVIN appears.]

ABADDON Gavin, honey, say hello to daddy.

blah blah old fandom complaints. Abaddon knows Crowley is emotionally vulnerable because of her spy, Lola, so the same trick Bobby WASN’T dumb enough to go for seems to be an option here. Probably illustrating how Crowley has changed specifically by using this exact same exploitable weakness as 6x04

... it still comes across as really silly and timeline breaking to do this particular thing and NOT send Gavin back >.>

Since it’s Buckleming I have no idea how they’ll deal with this plothole or if they’ll even mention it.

Anyway Crowley folds like a cheap suit, which he’d hate because he wears expensive suits

Crowley’s got to have saved them a couple of times now because it was convenient but this is I guess the first time really playing off his heart to make him save anyone. Even Sam and Dean don’t seem to think that’s worth doing despite knowing how messed up he is. While they had hi in the Bunker immediately after his almost-cure they didn’t exactly try guilting him into helping them

I wonder how it might have played differently if Dean saw that confession, not Sam. I seem to remember Sam commenting on it to Crowley but not nearly enough to actually gain anything from emotionally manipulating him :P

To be honest considering Abaddon was messing up Gavin’s eyes, and Crowley breaks and asks her to stop, there might be a parallel with him “saving” Dean by putting the First Blade back in his hand and waking him up as a demon. Gavin wants to be a Prince of Hell (fat fucking chance) but Crowley has what he’s looking for there in Dean. It’s all inverted though, despite Crowley caring for both - obviously Dean does not want that job at all.

Anyway then Sam figures out how to do the interrogation without anyone getting hurt, Winchesters discover it’s really fun to tease angels.

more on the surface cooperating and working as a team and presenting a united front

GAVIN You are not my father. My father was Fergus MacLeod, a simple tailor. A drunk, a monster.

ABADDON Sounds about right.

GAVIN He looked nothing like you, and I buried him.

CROWLEY A lot can change in 291 years.

Just gonna assume Fergus was ginger and you can’t stop me.

The idea of Crowley being not-suave is slightly terrifying but like Rowena, I think he’s held up entirely by determination to be more than he was in a “past life” - Rowena never technically died but she remade herself completely and I think sustains herself out of pure spite at the world that mistreated her :P

I guess Crowley’s always known about suits, but that doesn’t mean he had the best ones.

There’s something vaguely wrong about Abaddon and Crowley almost seeming to co-parent Gavin with the amused back and forth looks as he discovers where he is. Like, they set aside their differences to mock him? Is this a staggeringly clever parallel to what Sam and Dean are doing with Ezra as we back and forth, or are these just scenes where they wanted to write all ~comedic moments~ between all the characters... I have no trust of this :P The irony about Gavin thinking they’re in Heaven and these are angels is just... too heavy anvils.

Oh, I was wrong, under his yellow jacket, Dean is wearing the shirt he dies in, which makes this episode, 9x23 and 9x05. Still a weird place for it to pop up. I’ve been having a lot of issues with 9x05 randomly relating to important episodes but, like… not… lately :P

This is still really cold to US:

DEAN You're a fan. Just 'cause you're hot for Metatron... ...or Bieber or Beckham... Just 'cause you know everything about them doesn't mean that you actually know them. 

SAM Or that they even know you exist. 

DEAN Ooh, that's cold, Sammy.

SAM I'm just sayin', man.

Going back to the Becky portrayal of fans… Which to Sam and Dean PERHAPS in-character they hadn’t really had time to think of it differently… It’s much clearer from an outside POV that Charlie represents a better type of fan, but she’s a friend to them and even if she read the books, well… I don’t think they’d think of her as a fan. CAS said he’d read them and admired Chuck’s work. :P

Also generally in episodes with fans, there comes around some validating point about their engagement even if it’s disagreement or confusion elsewhere, being a fan is given approval or at least an attempt at understanding, especially as they learn and grow from these encounters, seeing themselves from outside eyes. Bringing it up out of context without any wider message, it just sticks with them not liking fans, and Buckleming maybe having a bone to pick, and is just generally awful.

SAM Wait a second. Just, please, uh... Clarify this for me. You desperately wanted this job, but you didn't know what it was? 

EZRA Well, until you were chosen, the exact nature of the mission was kept a secret. 

DEAN Wow. 

SAM Wow.

There’s possibly something to be said here about Cas and Metatron in 8x22 but I have no idea how to get to it while going through Buckleming stuff which now sounds like a critique on Cas for not reading the terms and conditions though Metatron did sort of tell him what they were up to…

GAVIN You sold your soul?! Sold it?! For an extra three inches of willy?! 

CROWLEY Priorities change. I wasn't the bon vivant that I am now. I'll simplify -- my soul did a stint in hell, where it became demonized. Then I had to possess another person so I could traffic with the living. Any of this sticking?

If 12x13 does what I WANT it to do (and assuming Dabb has any ability to wrangle Buckleming onto the same “flawlessly fixing borked canon” train the rest of the writers are on :P) then this does not have to break canon as it currently does, provided they put Gavin the fuck back in 1723: this episode establishes he apparently didn’t know EXACTLY what details and phrasing he told Bobby in 6x04 – he didn’t even know Fergus sold his soul, never mind what for. In 6x04 he was more than happy to rat Crowley out for all of this. Now, however, we have a weird loop where Crowley is the one who tells him this info and unless there are some very complex loops in the way time travel affects ghosts and personal belongings left in your original time, making a sort of bizarre “I can be a ghost before I died” thing (??? I write time travel nonsense for fun and this is making even my head hurt and I just randomly added two characters basically meeting eyes across two separate unrelated time travel out of body experience trips to a novel I didn’t think had enough time travel shenanigans this week :P) – Gavin has to go back so that he can die in the right time, and be a ghost to now pass on this info that he didn’t know…

Argh.

I really like this angel’s style. Modern fashion but absolutely in Cas’s model. Like, this is sort of catwalk Castiel :P she gets to wear leggings.

Cas should wear leggings

Anyway more admiration for the angels here, because “Benjamin” (if that is his real name) is also so snappily dressed, and they’re BFFs who probably judge people together, so these fashion-conscious angels are another little detail I love about Cas’s army. They still loosely fit the idea that angels either wear suits as a uniform, or she takes Cas’s general aesthetic and dresses like it, but of course both put a different, fashionable spin on it… So different from the stuffy angels of the past, while sort of fitting a pattern that fits for angels…

RIP Ezra, the most useless angel we have ever met. He was clearly a plant from Metatron to do exactly this (not that he knew it), since I don’t think it’s just his death that was planned by the traitor within Cas’s army. Metatron WANTED Cas to find the not-portal and see that mocking fake Heaven, and so he gets all that information to him by giving him an angel so useless he’ll blab the entire script. I honestly don’t even know if Metatron is controlling Ezra to say all this or if he was that terrible all of his own volition :P

CASTIEL I was sure everyone here was loyal. Finally united by a common cause. 

DEAN Well, that's the problem. See, you don't think anybody's lying. I think everybody's lying. It's a gift. 

I think they TRY to write Cas properly but fall down when the plot stuff happens. There’s nothing wrong in general with the set up here and Cas’s beliefs, except for when things they decide to do for the plot suddenly contradict them :P

In this case, good. Cas believes that these angels were truly committed to whatever he’s been saying to them about their current mission and I guess relying on the angel hive mind. I wish there had been more emphasis on Cas’s uncertainty about doing this because season 6 but he does have to step into a leadership role, and wrangling angels without drastically reprogramming them (e.g. when you need an army in a hurry to catch a target that you’re worried about, and don’t have time to do more than throw in some house rules like “no dress code” and “take Friday nights off to go to a bar” or “do side quests at the hospital”) means relying on some of those more angel traits like loyalty to a cause.

The angels are so messed up now though, that without actual unquestionable leaders like the archangels, listening to Metatron and listening to Cas weigh about the same, and some angels think Metatron is the new god or are willing to deal with him as such in order to get back to Heaven (same difference) and Cas has these soldiers loyal to him…

Of course Metatron is playing on their idealism, which we’ll get into next episode with the suicide bombers “taking it too far” but this is the early stages of his plan and it’s playing off basically this mindset – that Cas is hoping for idealism and loyalty. Especially as he has pure good intentions for it (HOSPITALS. ANGELS. AAAH it’s been years and I still scream about it) and Metatron is basically taking this Cas stuff and throwing it back in his face.

Anywho. The Dean stuff is kind of still so blunt and cruel and I literally don’t know this man. I mean, I’ve got season 7 on one end and season 12 on the other when it comes to stuff I’ve been watching lately. Wandering back to Mark!Dean is really bizarre. I remember wank about how this particular exchange was kind of… so un-Dean and not nice of him to say to Cas, but considering on both sides of this arc a normal squishy Dean exists, I really kind of appreciate the acting.

While also loathing it.

Be strong, Lizzy. 4 episodes after he loses the Mark he’s washing cars in booty shorts. Dean’s still in there.

Anyway!! One of the BIG redeeming scenes of this episode which I love to bits from so many directions (Sam and Cas!!! Talking!!!!! Let them be friends 2k17!!!!!!) and am just gonna quote in its entirety:

CASTIEL I wanted to ask you about Gadreel, the time he possessed you. 

SAM It's not really something I like to -- 

CASTIEL Sam, please. 

SAM He didn't possess me completely -- more like we, uh... shared housing. I was still me.

CASTIEL Did you ever sense a presence? 

SAM I don't really know what I felt. I mean, maybe that I wasn't completely alone. 

CASTIEL Did you ever feel threatened? 

SAM No. More that he... wasn't at rest, l-like he had unfinished business. Now that we know more about him, I-I'd say he felt misunderstood.

CASTIEL But not -- not a danger, not hostile.

 SAM No. I was wrong, obviously. He killed Kevin.

I LOVE the way it codes Gadreel as a restless spirit/vengeful ghost. After season 7 had such a detailed exploration of that for Bobby and now Dean is on a descent that in season 10 will also be directly and openly paralleled to being a vengeful ghost, this description had me excited for that parallel since this aired when it came to Dean, as well as just appreciating what this does for Gadreel (and in a way what it says about angels as he’s paralleled to Cas too for some of his actions to Cas’s in earlier seasons).

I think his vengefulness is really interesting as a way to look at it. We saw Bobby descend into vengefulness because he was given more and more reasons to rile himself up against Dick, until in the end he possessed a maid and marched off to try and kill Dick himself. Obviously there’s similar parallels just because Gadreel possessed Sam (and his own vessel is going to get caught in the crossfire, not that anyone spares a thought for him despite him TWICE being depicted on screen without Gadreel in him) and ended up being thrown at targets at least one of whom was picked for the same reason Bobby got so angry at Dick – Gadreel killing his torturer was a no-brainer for him, and got to vent a lot of anger at his treatment. It softened him up to carry on killing, and like Bobby was warned about becoming a vengeful ghost eventually you just start hurting people and it becomes a pattern…

I sort of feel like as well it justifies that Gadreel is on borrowed time and softens his need to redemption to being less proving himself to anyone else (though from main character eyes, I think he would – maybe Heaven would be less impressed with his redemption just because it’s a footnote detail to them) and more to personal realisation in that same way Bobby knew it was time to move on, many other ghosts we’ve seen reach that point, and Dean in the end also went and reached out to Death, assuming it was HIS time to move on as well and that he couldn’t keep hurting people.

(Yikes – this makes me realise I have literally never talked about this idea since the middle of season 10 when I didn’t know how it was going to resolve aside from presenting this idea… 10x23 was underwhelming enough I forgot that my favourite metaphor for this arc had played itself out correctly :P)

Anyway I am always liable to end up writing reams about Gadreel so I should probably stop, as all his stuff is yet to come, and I think the dialogue speaks for itself about how beautiful it is Sam felt his presence and I guess… wasn’t troubled by it. Like, if he felt different, and in hindsight realised his change in mood must have been Gadreel, then that translates to Sam having felt this on top of his normal emotions (I talked about how Gadreel seemed to be influencing Sam at various points while that was going on) – if Sam felt this too, I think that translates well into the almost nervous energy he had at times (9x04 especially since it showed him chilling at the Bunker except for where he was throwing himself into massive tasks, but in general being peppy and defying Dean’s nervousness about him staying home and resting up – Sam himself didn’t succumb to any vengeful anger over that time, even in the scenes where he was dealing with Crowley. He’s so much more well-balanced than he used to be, honestly :P)

Also eee Sam and Cas talking. Cas apologetic but also in need of answers, and looking sympathetically at Sam all through this. Sam being troubled but also caring enough about Cas to open up and feel comfortable about talking about it to Cas… yessss

There are SHOCKINGLY few scenes of them being emotionally kind to each other like this

CROWLEY I mean, I beat you, starved you, came home drunk, beat you some more, woke up hungover, and, yeah, I beat you. In all fairness, I didn't really have any role models. My mother was a witch!

Note to self because a promo for 12x13 came out already while I was working on this – Gavin knows she’s a witch! And he’s asking how she’s still alive even after seeing how much nonsense this family has.

My confidence is a wee bit shaken but we’re sticking with it :P I’m sure we all have MacLeod family drama rage on the back burner that this episode is going to bring up in full.

Anyhow, I vaguely remember people paralleling this to what Rowena and Crowley talk about when it comes to her neglect. My internet is down but I recall discussion of how many pigs Fergus had been worth selling for :P Long story short, perpetuating abuse and neglect to create this messed up family. Gavin seems like the most well-adjusted but we’ve left him alone for 3 years and he’s got this brilliant legacy so who knows what’s up.

I also wonder given the themes of the season, if he’s maybe knocked someone up with a baby-out-of-time, so even if they send him back to his watery grave (that he fucking owes the universe and this season has ~cosmic consequeeences~ as a threat) there’s some more MacLeod fucked up abandoned children out there >.> Rowena mentioned her own father and how much Gavin looked like him… Given how well HER life turned out I suspect this might not be a good thing in both the parallel to Gavin, AND her own backstory. Like, she doesn’t seem about to say “well I had a normal childhood, this was all just teenage rebellion that went too far” or something :P

GAVIN So... If you're a king... that would make me... Prince? 

CROWLEY And you say I've never given you anything. A title!

I had to stop this to make a gifset which I think explains everything I might have said here

Crowley with retconned hindsight is just like “fuck it” “my kingdom is based solely on the fact a prince of hell wants to fish in peace and I let him” “this is the most unintentionally hilarious thing that has happened to me in 300 years” “I love my son” “I actually love him”

“give the fucker what he wants”

GAVIN And if I was to accept you as my father, you could keep me from eternally burning in hell? No matter my sins?

[...]

GAVIN This might work out. For the first time in my entire life, I can see possibilities, a future... Just as soon as you take me back to my own time and I can board that ship for the new world.

Oh my poor queer little Prince of Hell. You have a get out of jail free card but hear the call of the New World, where you can be yourself and know full well you’re not going to hell no matter how many dudes you bang… it’s the life you always dreamed of.

(Someone should really just tell him, dude, Gavin, your prince of hell-ishness… God is bi. Be chill. You’re fine)

I think I promised to go into this further when I got here, but honestly those lines are so blatant. Gavin thinks he’s going to burn in Hell, and he wants to start a new life. He MAY be a criminal or something and just on the run and there’s some boring back story they’ll give us. But for now, I remember everyone and their mum blogging about how he was queercoded in this episode (and his friend in the room with one bed and a hot red head to share really ruin the ‘on the run murderer’ speculation :P)

I love how Gavin immediately gets confident and sits down in the chair that Abaddon and Crowley have sat in while in a position of power…

A position where Abaddon ends this episode stabbed and Crowley has to sit in the chair shot and useless, and Gavin – well he’s talking about Crowley sending him home to board his ship that will go down and take this entire timeline with it right now.

Meanwhile, Cas leaps straight to action on Sam’s word of trust. Obviously he was thinking about reaching out to Gadreel because after hunting him before, 9x18 had been a bit of a turning point for everyone. I don’t know if Dean shared his intel on Gadreel but it seems unlikely they DON’T share notes like this – despite never seeing them talk it all out on screen, TFW generally knows each other’s shit unless it’s MEANT to be a secret.

So somewhere or other Cas has been musing on it, that Gadreel was captured and Metatron may or may not have used it as part of an elaborate set up, but Gadreel sure was ready to die and gave them ALL that lingering look as he was handed back over to Metatron (and Dean beat the SNOT out of him, you’d think he’d want to get as far away from them as possible :P)

And clearly he has some way to communicate with Gadreel, despite the fact that previously he had been hunting him fruitlessly… Perhaps a spell can send a message one way or angel radio can be directed, but the actual location part doesn’t work….

Which just gives me weird feelings about the longing retcon and  how Cas can always tell where his humans are...

I mean Metatron tapped the line obviously because he’s watching EVERYTHING but

CASTIEL Thank you for coming. And thank you for coming alone.

GADREEL I've seen you through Sam Winchester's eyes, and he trusts you.

*screams some more about how they’re face to face BECAUSE of Sam on both sides, vouching for everyone’s character and they in turn implicitly trust Sam’s character judgements completely and honestly they just work together so well after this and aaaaaah*

GADREEL You have a reputation for honor.

CASTIEL In some circles. As for reputations, yours precedes you.

Aaaaaah but reputation. Cas’s reputation gets worse and worse but this season presents his story very interestingly from the angels. Ephraim, Bartholomew and now Gadreel have heard of knew first hand that Cas was above all a good and honourable angel and solider. Gadreel taps into the rumour mill – he based his decision to help Dean on a character reference from CAS and in turn used Cas’s name and how he knew his reputation and Dean’s to gain Dean’s initial trust…

Clearly he’s listening to the nice things angels say about Cas, and the later character defamation where all the angels seem to have nothing nice left to say about him starts later… 1 episode later, and then quickly escalates >.>

Cas’s reaching out makes Gadreel defensive too quickly – I think Cas underestimates his trauma a wee bit –

GADREEL What happened in the Garden was not my doing.

CASTIEL I know you feel misunderstood. And you're eager to redeem yourself and maybe more. 

GADREEL You refer to my support of Metatron's campaign to rebuild heaven? 

CASTIEL Your support? You've recruited for him, you've killed for him. And I know you truly believe it's for the greater good, but you've placed your faith in the wrong master.

He wants to relate his own experiences and need to redeem himself to Gadreel’s feelings. I think between Gadreel and the good reputation rumours and this, Cas should have played up a bit more that he’d slaughtered thousands in Heaven and felt bad about it because it’s pretty accusatory :P

I find it interesting he says “wrong master” – as I was saying, he and Metatron are rivals, presented even as equals, especially with the faith in them. This makes Cas sort of indirectly owning that he’s the “higher power” in charge here, which I don’t particularly like but I suppose he’s thinking “commander” not “cult leader” (as Dean accuses him of next episode) and he’s keeping that distinction where few of the angels are, while meanwhile dropping back into his military mindset in a way we basically NEVER get to see Cas do when it comes to command and plans and stuff even if we do get him being tactical sometimes…

CASTIEL I know him too well, Gadreel! I made the same mistake, and it led to the fall. 

GADREEL Which led to my second chance. 

CASTIEL This is about more than just you.

Cas continues trying to pull Gadreel back… he has a point here, although I’m more concerned as with many Buckleming dialogue decisions, why Gadreel was defending that point in the first place. There’s so many little character un-intuitive lines that I think were meant to have juuust that little more subtlety that were totally botched somewhere in the “this is what we mean” to “what we actually wrote” process :P

Like Crowley talking out why Gavin should hate him and ending up in completely the wrong place. Or starting from it. That bugged me :P

Anyway I love Cas lying on a sofa crying about how much he loves his family but I also love BAMF angel Cas arguing these things about duty and their mission and what they were ‘made’ for with other angels just because that whole angel mindset is fascinating to me

*Dean has flashbacks to the Mark*

This can not end well. It looks like it’s really messing him up :P

On the other hand I just noticed Sam is wearing a horrible green shirt we rarely see and I’m distracted.

Imagine if he wore it with the orange jacket.

Brb getting the First Blade because we’re just suddenly decided after the halfway point to link up with the other part of the plot.

SAM (disgusted) Oh! Come on, Crowley! You really, uh, uh, have to hide the Blade in a corpse? Not -- not with a corpse but in a corpse?

Sam Bucklemings all over the place – they had this info already but he seems to be reacting fresh to it which would be fine because EW GROSS WHAT IS YOUR DAMAGE but it’s too much exposition explaining that the Blade is in there, and Jared is just… not committed to that much exposition, so transforms into Buckleming!Sam, who often sounds bemused by the words coming out of his own mouth.

I do love that jaunty piano music (which I have looked up several times in various contexts because it’s clearly public domain or something & always forget what it is) that they use to show Crowley and the New Prince of Hell are chilling. Gavin is reading his newspaper, Crowley’s just kind of sitting there plotting.

I have no idea what he’s planning to do at this point. Abaddon will kill him easily because she massively out-powers him (see also: everything I said so far in the rewatch about this, everything I said in 12x12 about this :P) but he eventually warns Dean it’s a trap, when he’s already coming here with the first blade, just not knowing Abaddon is here too… Like, what was his plan if Dean bailed and didn’t show?

As a display of control it’s a bit counterintuitive because comes up here to have a showdown with Abaddon anyway despite the warning, so Crowley should discover Dean CAN’T be commanded… but he kind of really needs Dean to kill Abaddon for him.

Maybe he just trusted he could do it but used the one word he knew that was a code to tell Dean to be more careful, but…

Anyway we had a “Romeo” and “Juliet” in 2 adjacent episodes, and I saw people talk about how that was Destiel just because all the other love arc stuff but honestly, the whole Juliet thing reflects waaay more on Crowley, and his yearning for love still unrealised since 8x23, but building up to him FINALLY snaring Dean in 9x23… And well, hindsight is everything :P

GAVIN I'm going to the colonies. I'm workin' my way across. I've given my word!

Ooh so confirmation he was not A: running away or B: being sent… A different obligation. Maybe THIS is about his poor dead boyfriend who honestly there is NOTHING else directly about in the episode, like mentioning his friend was clearly just Too Gay to imply ANYTHING else about him…

Let Gavin be gay 2k17

DEAN (on phone) All right, we're on our way.

CROWLEY (on phone) Oh, and, Dean, you need to get a move on. It's a good day's drive from Poughkeepsie.

Dean had basically already hung up on him oh my god this is such a shoddy plan – it’s not even making the most of what he CAN do in his situation

A bit of back and forth about parenting as well. Crowley is sort of a John mirror this season as well (if we take all the layers of subtext as VERY distinct from each other) and he is basically going to “parent” Dean back to demonhood… Right now he’s struggling with parenting Gavin, and muses on if Dean was nice to John. It parallels Gavin and Dean as Crowley’s two children – Dean as the “better” son doing everything Crowley asks (except for not coming here in the first place – he’s also telling Gavin not to get on the boat for his own good but at Crowley’s expense right now)

ABADDON Little trick I learned from Henry Winchester. 

Crowley’s wtf expression is great here. No one tells him nuffin

Appreciating the difference in their backgrounds here. We even see Cas and his car, but Gadreel approaches humbly on foot. I guess he has a crumbling façade? Cas has a bit more of an imposing and clean put together skyline, but in the end he’s still parked next to the skip on the exact same ground as Gadreel :P

GADREEL Even though you and I are on opposite sides in this situation, I believe there must be honor, even in matters of war.

ILY 

CASTIEL Obviously, Metatron has someone inside my camp. It's how he knew we were meeting. Just fighting fire with fire. Consider my offer.

ILY MORE – you really go all out. I mean you could have found some other dumb angel like Ezra but nah, you have a weird personal connection to Metatron’s MAIN DUDE who has MURDERED SO MANY ANGELS and you’re like you know what if we need a turncoat I want that guy

Metatron and Cas warring over their playing pieces >.>

Ah, that final 10 minutes of a Buckleming episode feel. Dean tells Sam to go hang out in the basement, taking control in that “this is a dictatorship” way. He MIGHT want to protect Sam (from himself as much as anything) but I sort of feel there’s a lot of guilt there that he knows he can’t really stop himself at this point, and he’s kind of craving the violence and he just doesn’t want Sam to SEE him this way…

*long sequence where Dean busts in and doesn’t talk* Not at all like 12x11. (I’m still fixated on that. This is obviously the much darker example, but I think 12x11 might be fridge horror, realising how MUCH of a sameness these two instances have to each other, and what was going on with Dean here, and how he’s stripped down to a killer – just the next time a goofy one who gives a thumbs up…)

Weirdly amused by this

Reminds me of 9x17 and those souls in a jar except it’s just an empty water cooler bottle in an empty basement. Sam looking in all the wrong places to save his brother’s soul right now…

Blah blah Dean fighting Abaddon. The first implication Dean didn’t need the feather to fly, in like, implicit stuff they show, that he resists, has the glowy Mark, and force-pull the Blade back to him. The Blade is just a useful perk of having the Mark; the Mark is oh so much more.

(And Dean, probably quite rightfully tbh, never explores these powers ever again aside from enjoying the cheap healing while he’s a demon)

Anyway Sam misses everything except for Dean over-powering Abaddon’s push one final time and killing her.

You can always tell when they are worried something wasn’t dramatic enough so they totally ruin her death with the most OTT dying effects ever – even Eve and her ridiculous close up cuts back and forth was at least doing more than floating there screaming and she melted slower. I mean… It’s close in badness.

If Abaddon had died fast like a regular demon but maybe brighter and shoutier Dean’s reaction to keep stabbing would also look far more natural as he wouldn’t freeze frame with her, and could just kinda keep on going, as if it WASN’T satisfying enough and he WANTED the entire minute of her suspended in the air screeching.

Oh well. This show is sometimes terrible, and ends an interesting female character’s arc so terribly I literally have not had ANYTHING to comment on about her plans, what else she was up to, just, in general, how she’s been doing :P

AFTER she goes down it’s all really well acted though. Oh Dean. You’ve really fucked up this time :P Stupid death aside, it’s a great moment for showing how out of control he truly is and how completely in over his head with this power he is.

Which makes the way he begins to resist it in season 10 that much more powerful, because I think the Mark only ever gets stronger, Dean just gets better and better at resisting it. As I’ve said a few times, he’s remarkably much more human underneath while he’s a demon than he is at the end of season 10

DEAN I just still can't get over the fact that Crowley has a son. (to CROWLEY) How's he doing, by the way?

Dean appears to have got over it remarkably easy since this is the first thing he says. Conceal don’t feel… repress all that bloody murder under frivolous distractions :P

Nice of him to ask though I guess.

CROWLEY If the lad goes back, his destiny is to board a ship bound for America. That ship went down in a storm. All hands were lost. He had one chance in this world to change his life. You want that to all end in tragedy?

Yes, they know… They were there in 6x04

Unless it didn’t HAPPEN

SAM The lore all says the same thing -- you change any one thing in the past, the ripple effect impacts everything that follows.

CROWLEY Please. No one bends the rules like you two bend the rules. He's one misfit kid. He impacts no one.

SAM You don't bend that rule, okay? You don't. We'll take him back to the bunker, figure out the spell. That's the way it's got to be.

COSMIC CONSEQUENCES

I can’t believe they even fuckin’ said it and then literally never revisited it. Was Gavin’s actor busy? Could they not just recast him? 10x04 “oh shit now all that drama’s over, we need to find Crowley’s son”

Feeeeeelings

I always forget how funny that is

Crowley talking about having a trace of humanity in him and Gavin never being used for Crowley’s ulterior motives is meant to confirm Crowley well and truly is changed. Goes off and picks up Dean as well at the end of the season (who he was watching very curiously and chatting to while Dean was in his murderbloodlust state, as per usual with his fascination with Marked!Dean).

GAVIN The ship went down? Well, that's a good fit with the rest of my life.

I have become genuinely attached to him and I think it’s because he’s useless, cute, probably gay, and I hate this episode so much because I just want him to be dropped in the ocean where he belongs.

GAVIN So this is goodbye, then?

CROWLEY Yes. Forever. Unless, of course, I catch you smoking, in which case, I'll smack you stupid.

GAVIN Goodbye, then. And thank you...father.

Wonder if Crowley really has kept in contact – or kept tabs on him. Might be safer for everyone involved if he cuts ties and NO demons know that Crowley has a son alive in the 21st century who Crowley is too attached to for his own good…

CROWLEY Goodbye, Gavin. Oh, uh... Don't go mentioning that whole "Prince of Hell" thing. Doesn't play too well in most circles.

PFFT

I honestly think Crowley’s face is enough to add in the retcon that he’s not just looking out for Gavin or trying to avoid embarrassment about this but also… yeah :P

Oooh I forgot Dean actually explains. In my defence, it’s a Buckleming episode but normally it would be a bit more subtle – at least it gives them a few great soundbites for later recaps:

DEAN First time I touched that Blade...I knew. I knew that I wouldn't be stopped. I knew I would take down Abaddon and anything else if I had to. And it wasn't a hero thing. You know, it wasn't... It was just calm. I knew. And I had to go it alone, Sammy.

If you’re not horrified about the little journey Dean goes on there… A+ acting. He’s horrified and fascinated and guilty in turn.

In possibly one of the most terrible Winchester Miscommunication Moments filed under this very specific bracket, Sam misinterprets this as being about some sort of petty brother thing they’ve been arguing about all season and Dean lets him:

SAM Oh. Of course. So it was just another time where you had to protect me.

DEAN You could've gotten nabbed by Abaddon, and she could've bargained her way out. We couldn't afford to screw this up.

Dean giving more “normal” reasons why he’d leave Sam out.

Sam then, tentatively, and having ignored all the huge neon signs so far that tell him he should NOT be this tentative and shouldn’t have been for many episodes, suggests,

SAM Look...I'm glad it worked out, okay? I am. And I'm glad the Blade gives you strength or calm or whatever, but, Dean, I got to say... I'm starting to think the Blade is doing something else, too.

DEAN Yeah? Like what?

SAM I don't know. Like, something to you. 

He might just be careful for Dean’s sake, but there’s been a real pattern so far of him ignoring neon signs about Dean for one reason or another – maybe a lot of performing Dean related issues on Sam’s end of struggling to interpret him and known when he’s being deflected from for REALL serious reasons and when Dean’s just being Dean… Maybe he just doesn’t want to accept it because it’s terrifying and also BROTHER KILLING CURSE hey and you’re the brother :P

Anyway Dean vetoes Sam suggesting Dean chill with the whole blade thing, with a simple “no” once again dictating what they do, and that’s that. Onwards to 9x22 and all THAT nonsense…

Although I suspect the next episode I watch will be 12x13 and we’ll deal with a ton of nonsense for other, less fun reasons. >.> Here is a blank space for future me of Friday afternoon to scream in horror:

D:

[edit: wandering by a couple of weeks later to add a tag I forgot. Saw this blank space. Now know I should have left a much bigger one. I am pretty sure I rewatched this episode and Buckleming did not :P]

[inadeepanddarkdecember]

[[ this is kinda rambly and piecemeal and out of order since its an edited convo off of discord from before cy’s heart got replaced, but i decided i wanted this Extra Large thalassemia infodump on my blog. go read this primer first for basic info on thal; cyrus’s form is beta thalassemia major. ]]

even with a perfectly healthy and functional heart, cy'd still have a too fast pulse and likely have arrhythmias; that comes with the territory of his anemia, and he could still develop heart failure again later in life. the problem with cy's current heart is that its been scarred to shit by the extra iron in his body from his blood transfusions and hes developed cardiomyopathy as a result, which at this point is virtually guaranteed to kill him before he turns 30, even if he takes perfect care of himself and never develops any other complications from his thalassemia ever (which aint fuckin likely). this failing heart just deals worse with arrhythmias he already has, especially under stress, and already struggles to keep up enough blood pressure.

bone marrow transplants are currently the closest thing to a cure for thalassemia we have and hellll no he has not had that done i doubt hes even on a waiting list. with his shit in the state hes in, its questionable if he'd even survive the process its pretty intense, nevermind the finances and healing and finding a match and even so much as qualifying to have it done.

cyrus goes in for a blood transfusion every three weeks. when transfusion dates get close, within a few days, hes more tired; he doesnt go out; he can be moodier; he can get headaches and dizzy spells. he feels best after a transfusion, then its just a slow decline till the date rolls around again. i tend to rp him within a week or two of being transfused most of the time simply bc its easier to get him out there interacting with people.

sometimes they coincide with transfusion dates, sometimes they don't, but he has longer appointments to check up on his other bodily functions every so often. theres general stuff, looking at his counts, then more specialized appointments to keep an eye specifically on his heart or check up on his liver and other organs as needed.

thalassemia by itself kills a person through not having enough blood to get oxygen around the body; this is solved through blood transfusions. chronic anemia means chronic transfusions. which would be fine! except chronic transfusions cause a build-up of iron in the body, and that shit is toxic and where the more fatal complications tend to stem from for thalassemia patients. also, being anemic means your body thinks it needs iron, so it's prone to absorb more from food than the average person, an added bonus. consequently, there are certain foods cyrus avoids. legumes, dark leafy greens, etc. look up any list of iron-rich foods, and thats a list of shit cyrus ought to be avoiding or indulging rarely. (funnily enough, these lists also are often advertised towards anemic people because those who arent transfused have the opposite problem.) part of his tea drinking habit is because tea inhibits iron absorption, along with he just likes it. coffee works too and he doesnt object to it, but he prefers tea.

another consequence of chronic transfusions is that you end up with a lot of old shitty dead blood cells in your system, and your spleen is left to clean it up. unfortunately, when faced with that much to clean, it can enlarge (splenomegaly) and become overactive (hypersplenism). so it starts removing healthy blood cells too quickly and too early, which can cause the anemic patient to need more blood when being transfused, which risks more iron, and not to mention its generally uncomfortable for the patient with the enlarged spleen. in short, this happened to cyrus, so his spleen has been removed. spleens, however, also play an important role in the immune system, so he was already kinda vulnerable as an anemic, but having no spleen makes him doubly at risk of infections. he takes antibiotics as part of his daily pharmaceutical regime.

during cold and flu season, docs tend to strongly suggest he wear surgical masks during school and whenever hes around a lot of people in public places, but he almost never does. he doesnt like the attention it gets him esp in school, but sometimes he'll do it when hes on public transit or anything. he does carry hand sanitizer with him a lot of the time tho

bc his immune system is fragile, he often goes in-patient for what would be minor sicknesses for us, esp if theres a fever. he tends to be hit hard by them, and being sick can make his counts plummet as his body tries to fight off the disease.

coming back around to iron related bullshit, iron overload is treated by iron chelation, for which there are mainly two medicines, deferoxamine and deferasirox, and cyrus uses the latter because i have never been able to find out enough goddamn information about deferoxamine. deferoxamine is the more common and cheaper of the two medicines; its injected subcutaneously over the course of 8-12 hours and has its own list of side effects and the process itself tends to be kinda painful from the accounts ive read. its done at home, often while the patient sleeps bc... well, when else are you gonna get a child to sit still for 8-12 hours. its definitely the one cyrus was on for a while, when he was younger. bc ive had a hellish time finding info on the pump used for deferoxamine and more about that medicine generally, cy’s currently on deferasirox. slightly different side effects, but otherwise does the same job in pill form.

thalassemia patients who've been cared for properly should be healthier than cyrus is. most patients his age havent had a heart attack already and arent dealing with heart failure, not yet. his parents have always struggled financially to keep up with his medical bills, but there was a time when he was still young that they still thought they could manage if they just worked hard enough. they were too proud to accept help, and he suffered for it. they eventually gave in but even then still struggled to keep up. sometimes a sudden unexpected change in insurance policy would fuck em for a while finanacially. so sometimes they'd not fill a perscription for a while or wait longer than they should to take him in-patient, hoping he might just tough out a cold or smth. sometimes he'd manage to do that and have abysmal blood counts next time he went in, and a couple of times he got so sick he was legit on death's doorstep by the time he got to the hospital and needed way longer to recover. sometimes cyrus would be too fussy about the deferoxamine and they didnt have the energy that night to force him to accept it or he'd turn off the machine himself after they left. not too often, he was pretty good about just accepting it and did most of the time, but it def happened more than a few times. and if it had already been activated, they couldnt reuse it and had to throw the dose out, in which case that was it he skips it no replacement they cant afford it not in the budget.

and because the effects of iron overload are long-term ones for the most part, it was easy to be like "ehh he seems fine for now". like, they knew the risks, but it was hard to see them as anything but so far in the distance as to be irrelevant. cyrus himself isnt great about the whole self-care thing either; his depression has helped nothing. he's been known to just flush or toss pills in a small spiteful act of rebellion, all his parents care about is that hes still alive and their money, and medicine's expensive, so wouldnt it just piss em off to throw it all away. he'll eat foods he shouldnt for similar reasons, along with just the pleasure of it. and sometimes he hits the sort of suicidal low where he just.... doesnt see the point. each dose he takes is a choice to keep living, and sometimes that choice isnt one he wants to make.

no one quite realized how bad he was tho till his first heart attack. he was so young; the docs dont rly know when hes skipping, so they werent watching too closely for the effects of it. and the damage his body took over time was amplified by his frequent stress. the heart and liver are the ones most affected by iron overload; his liver is somewhat damaged too, but thats not too bad yet, not as bad as his heart.

other little thal things: hormone levels can get super fucked. cy's puberty was a bit delayed, and his testosterone levels remain kinda low compared to average, so hes not as hairy as his genetics might otherwise dictate. he will never be able to grow a proper beard; it'll always be way too patchy and uneven. and despite what his touch aversion and other factors like stress and said low testosterone might lead you to believe, hes got a pretty strong sex drive, though he suppresses the hell out of it.

he was homeschooled for his first few years of elementary bc health concerns, but that couldnt be sustained bc of cost. so he rejoined public school since then. i wouldnt be surprised if his peers used his puberty delays against him, but i'd expect they were making fun of him less bc he was a late bloomer and more at his general girlishness, esp since this would also be around the time he was growing out his hair.

he has had people do the "lookit me ive befriended the sad disabled kid arent i good <3" schtick (which esp pisses him off bc its similar to shit melinda pulls) and hes met the people who try to be nice to him for three days then turn a 180 on him when he doesnt immediately cheer up and get all buddy buddy with them. and hence he now treats kindness from strangers with extreme skepticism, suspicion, and aggression. (thomas also feeds into this but ye) it scares off plenty of legitimately nice people who he could have befriended, buuut.

Oh, a couple Fun Facts I forgot to mention. bc anemia, he bruises easy and injuries generally take longer than normal to heal. And in part bc depression and in part bc meds are prone to fucking with his appetite, either killing it entirely or just making him nauseated, he tends to not eat enough and is kind of underweight. Melinda put him in charge of dinner most nights as part of a genuine good faith effort to ensure he's getting at least one good meal and get him home when he's supposed to be.