#so it's maybe the 'disasters that must be fled' part at least in part?

[elainemorisi]

for someone who has never and probably will never lived anywhere near them, wildfires freak me out to an irrational degree

[flowercrown-bard]

I Scream a Truth, You Hear a Lie - part 1/ 5

This is a gift for the most amazing @ban-aard <3

pairing: Geraskier

summary: When some bigoted man insists that Geralt can’t feel love, Jaskier blurts out that they are married - which they very much aren’t. So naturally, Geralt and Jaskier have to pretend to be husbands to convince people that Geralt is lovable, though no one doubts that more than Geralt himself.

word count:~3k

content warning: some self-deprication

read on AO3

next

Alright, so it hadn’t been Jaskier’s most brilliant idea. One might even go so far as to say it was one of his worst ones, but in his defence, he had been tired, a teeny tiny bit drunk and majorly pissed off.

All throughout the evening Jaskier had to listen to stupid comments about witchers. No matter how many tales of Geralt’s heroic deeds he sang, Erik, the man who had given Geralt the contract he was currently risking his life on, kept insulting witchers, the fucking hypocrite.

Throughout it all Jaskier was forced to clench his teeth and continue singing. The most he could do was through death glares at the man and hope he choked on his ale. It wouldn’t do to disrupt his performance, not when they still needed the money to rent a room once Geralt came back, even though it made Jaskier’s blood boil to know people still spread lies about his friend. He came far too close to just stopping his performance and call the contractor out on his lies in front of the entire tavern.

As luck would have it, he didn’t need to.

Just as Jaskier’s last song came to a close the doors opened and Geralt came in, heading straight to the bearded man whose eyes grew wide as he took in Geralt’s black eyes and blood-splattered skin.

He must have been too scared to protest or swindle Geralt into giving him less coin.

Jaskier watched on in smug satisfaction, though he couldn’t pretend not to feel a pang when Geralt didn’t even spare him a single glance before leaving the tavern. As the doors fell close behind him Jaskier hurried to follow him, but he stopped dead in his tracks when the hated voice chimed up once again, louder now that Geralt had left the room.

“Thank the gods we’re rid of him now. Gives me the creeps.”

Jaskier whirled around and fixed him with a raging snarl. “Maybe next time, he should just stay out of this town and not help you when your people are dying then?”

The man scoffed. “You know that’s not what I mean. I don’t mind his kind, but I don’t want them here for Marijan’s Day. No one does.”

“He just risked his life for you. If anything, you should be throwing a feast in his honour. The least you can do is not be arseholes and let him stay for your festival.”

“Listen, bard, this is a celebration of love. What does someone like him even want there? Everyone knows those mutants don’t –

“Finish that sentence, I dare you.” Jaskier’s eyes narrowed and he prayed Geralt was already far enough away to not hear any of what the man was saying.

“It’s true though isn’t it? Witchers don’t feel and no one would love them anyway so what would be the point?”

“Excuse me.” Jaskier’s voice became deadly cold. “Geralt is living proof that that’s a load of bullshit.”

Erik took a swig of his pint and fixed Jaskier with an almost pitying look. “Sorry to tell you, lad, but just because it’s painfully obvious that you adore the mutant like a loyal puppy doesn’t mean he feels anything for you.”

Jaskier could barely stop himself from flinching back. Those words hit too close. They were too true. How many nights has he lied awake wishing it were different? Maybe it would have been easier if it were true and witchers really didn’t feel. Then at least it wouldn’t have been Jaskier’s fault that Geralt couldn’t love him.

The thought hurt and it set his blood on fire and it made him lose all control over what his mouth was saying.

“Are you telling me my husband doesn’t love me? Is that what you’re saying?”

A wheezing sound left the man as he choked on his drink, but the small amount of satisfaction Jaskier got from it was short lived. “Your what?”

“My husband,” Jaskier said, firmer this time, consequences be damned. It’s not like sticking with what he had said would make this mess any worse. “And I will take him with me to your oh so wonderful festival and you can all see just how loving and brilliant and lovable he is!”

As soon as the words had left him, he regretted them. This could only end in disaster.

Convincing Geralt to accompany him to a celebration was hard enough, but with what Jaskier had just said? Geralt would rip his head right off when he found out. But like hell would Jaskier let these people continue slandering Geralt. He would do what he could to make them take back their poisonous words and if it tore his heart out in the process, so be it.

--

Geralt kept his head down as best he could as he entered the tavern. He had heard the whispers as he had approached and he felt his chest tighten as they all came to a suspicious halt once he entered the room. He didn’t need to smell the fear to know he wasn’t wanted here. Bitter guilt rose up in him. Only moments before, Jaskier had put on a performance and captivated the audience and now all eyes were on Geralt, no one caring about Jaskier the way they should.

He hurried to get his money and leave. It took all of his will power not to look at Jaskier. The thought of him waiting for Geralt’s return had gotten him through the fight and coming back to him was the best part of any contract.

And yet, despite all the times Jaskier had seen him dirty, with torn clothes and the toxins pumping through his blood, he couldn’t look him in the eyes now. Not in front of all these people. It was different when it was just the two of them in a room far away from prying eyes, but with everyone looking at Geralt … Jaskier wouldn’t want to be associated with the sight of him like this. It would expose any lies he told about Geralt’s valiant character.

So he left without chancing a glance at him, though he felt Jaskier’s eyes burning into his back.

Leaving the crowded tavern and the disgusted stares behind was freeing, though there was an insistent part of him that told him to go back. He didn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from lingering just outside the door. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would get to hear Jaskier strike up a new song, would hear the excitement in his voice as the rush of a performance overtook him.

What he heard instead made his heart sink like a stone.

“Thank the gods we’re rid of him now. Gives me the creeps.”

Of course. What else could he have expected? Geralt was used to hearing such things, but it didn’t make them sting any less. For years he had been able to just lock those comments away and pretend they didn’t bother them, but ever since travelling with Jaskier this seemed impossible. Because one could only hear so many times that the man they travelled with was a monster before starting to believe it themselves. One day, Jaskier would begin to doubt. He would realise that if so many people agreed on what Geralt was, maybe he was in the wrong saying that Geralt was anything better.

With a bitter taste in his mouth and a painfully tight chest he listened to Jaskier defend him. It eased something inside him, dislodged a strangling heaviness in his lungs that made it hard to breathe.

Until –

“It’s true though isn’t it? Witchers don’t feel and no one would love them anyway so what would be the point?”

Geralt staggered backwards. He couldn’t think, he just left -fled – those words ringing in his ears. He couldn’t stay to listen what Jaskier would say, if there even was something he could say.

For while the first part couldn’t be more untrue – the pangs shooting through Geralt’s heart all the proof needed that witchers could feel – no one, not even Jaskier who stood up for witchers where he could, could argue with the second part. Not when merely a minute ago Geralt had stood before him, his black eyes and unnaturally pale skin an unmistakable reminder of what he was. Not even Jaskier who was so full of love to give every one – everyone but him - would ever be able to love him.

For a sick second Geralt was almost grateful for hearing those words that had been said with such condescension and conviction. He had needed to hear them, needed the reminder. Too close had he gotten to letting himself forget. Too close to letting himself hope that Jaskier could –

He shook the thought off before thinking it fully and entered the inn, storming off into their room and shutting the door much louder than he would have if Jaskier had been there.

The loud bang of the door snapping shut did nothing to disrupt the thoughts still swirling in his mind. Even now with distance and walls between him and the venomous words he couldn’t shake them off.

What would be the point?

He scoffed into the silence of his lonely room. Yes, what was the point of all of it? Of letting Jaskier travel with him, of relishing every laugh shared and every moment spend together as if he could keep Jaskier in his life, when he knew that he didn’t even have him – would never have him. Not in the selfish and impossible way that he wanted.

His mind still hadn’t quieted down when the door opened again and Jaskier peeked into the room. Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at how carefully quiet Jaskier was.

“The potion’s still making everything too loud?” he asked softly.

Geralt grunted in denial.

Jaskier let out a relieved sigh and went over to him, sitting down on the bed. Geralt’s chest grew tight when he saw how much space Jaskier had left between them, how he avoided Geralt’s eyes and how his hands never stayed still. Geralt wanted to reach out and lay a hand on Jaskier’s to calm his fidgeting. Instead he balled his hand into a fist at his side.

All he had hoped for was some peace and quiet. Some rest, with Jaskier talking about his day while Geralt let his voice lull him off into sleep.

Now though it seemed he would get none of it. Jaskier was obviously nervous and uncomfortable with Geralt around. The words of hate and bigotry had finally seeped into Jaskier’s mind now that he hadn’t been able to find any plausible reply to the claim that witchers were unlovable.

“So,” Jaskier said after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence. “there’s a festival in a couple of days.”

Geralt grunted. Of course he knew about that. As if the bustling preparations hadn’t been enough to tip him off, Jaskier’s unceasing rambling about the festival and its renown that had people travel from neighbouring countries just to see the festivities made sure that Geralt knew about it. The knowledge that the festival was threatened by the presence of the monsters Geralt had been told to get rid of had only made him more determined to finish the contrast as fast as possible. There was nothing as motivating as the excited way Jaskier was grinning when he spoke of something he was looking forward to and Geralt hadn’t been able to risk the festival falling through.

“And – as I’m sure you can imagine – I would very much like to go.”

“Then go,” Geralt said, though his heart clenched painfully. “I won’t bother you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I- what? Of course you won’t bother me. You never do. I was just… you see the thing is…” Jaskier’s voice trailed off uncertainly and his eyes flickered over to Geralt for a brief moment. It was enough to see the hints of anxiety in them.

He had never been afraid of him. Not until now apparently.

“You don’t have to explain. It’s all quite clear,” Geralt said and turned his face into the impassive mask that he had hoped he wouldn’t need around Jaskier anymore. “You want to have a good time at the festival and me being there would make that impossible.” When Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, Geralt added, “I heard what that man said. I’m not wanted there. Or in this town at all. So I’ll leave.” I won’t ruin this for you, he didn’t say.

Jaskier’s brows pinched together and he turned to face Geralt completely, suddenly sickly pale. “Geralt….how much exactly did you hear?”

Geralt shrugged, though his throat had gotten tight. Don’t make me say it. Don’t make me say out loud that you can’t love me.

When he didn’t receive a satisfactory reply, Jaskier huffed. “Because I think you missed a crucial part of that conversation. Yes, I want to go to the festival – one might even say I need to – but I can’t go alone.”

Geralt huffed. “Because it’s a ‘celebration of love’? I didn’t think finding a partner would be a problem for you.” The words came out more bitter than he had intended and he risked a look at Jaskier, praying that he hadn’t noticed.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Very funny. If you need to know, there were in fact at least three lovely people in that tavern who I’m sure would love my company for the feast.”

“Go ask them then.” Geralt forced the words out from between his teeth. There went all hope of having a restful sleep that night. How could he sleep when he knew that other people needed to do no more than look at Jaskier to gain his heart?

“I’m afraid I need you specifically to come with me.”

No matter how much his heart ached or how much Geralt fought against it, he couldn’t keep the smirk from tugging at his lips. “Have you somehow managed to piss off someone already? Jaskier, we’ve been here for two days.” The smirk grew wider when offended noises left Jaskier’s lips. “And I told you I’m done playing your bodyguard. That was a one-time thing.”

Jaskier perked up. “Well, then it’s a good thing it’s not me we’d be protecting.”

Something sharp and ugly reared its head inside Geralt. “No,” he said, voice hard. “I am not going to protect one of your dalliances. Who you decide to bed is your business, as is what happens to them.”

Don’t ask this of me. Don’t make me watch you flirt and kiss and be happy with someone else, even if only for this one day.

And yet, even as Geralt said it, he knew he would do it if Jaskier asked again, if he shifted closer and his eyes took on that pleading look that Geralt wasn’t strong enough to withstand. If Jaskier looked like he really needed this of him, he would give it to him like the fool that he was, even as it would tear into his heart like the claws of a beast.

Jaskier let out a frustrated sigh and shut his eyes tightly.

“I need you to be my husband.” The words were rushed and quiet, as if speaking them like this would make Geralt miss them.

Geralt’s thoughts came to a screeching halt and his mouth went dry. He couldn’t have heard correctly. All of those stupid wishes and hopeless dreams must have made him mishear.

“Jaskier?” He couldn’t say more than that. Anything but that one name might show the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He feared the name alone could have been too much already.

“Not really, of course,” Jaskier added hastily and rubbed his fingers together. “I… please don’t be mad at me, Geralt.”

Geralt’s brows knitted together and his heart sank. “What did you do?”

“I – I might have said that we were married.”

“Us married?” Geralt let out a sharp laugh that held no mirth. “Us married. I thought you were a master of words, how can you come up with such an obvious lie?”

The words stung as he spoke them and the dagger they plunged into his chest twisted when Jaskier winced. How else could Jaskier react, having thrown his stupid lie back in his face, probably only just now realising how horrible being married to Geralt truly would be.

“You said you wouldn’t be mad.” Jaskier’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Geralt raked a hand through his hair, frustration eating at him. “I never said that. But I’m not. I just don’t understand why you would do such a thing.”

Jaskier’s eyes blazed. “Because they were being arseholes!” His voice got louder with each word. “No matter what I did, no matter how often I told them about how good you are, they just kept saying things and I – I’m sorry, but I panicked and the words just slipped out.”

Just slipped out. As if the sole idea of them being anything more than friends wasn’t enough to drive Geralt mad. But saying it out loud, letting the words just slip out, as if it wasn’t something earthshattering…

“That won’t change anything,” Geralt said as evenly as he could. “Just because you said that doesn’t mean you’ll have to take me to the festival. I’m sure you’ll come up with some excuse as to why your husband isn’t with you and you can still have your fun.”

“That’s not what –“ Jaskier bit his lip and a hint of red tinted his cheeks. “It’s not about me having fun. It’s about proving to them that you are not what they say you are.”

Geralt was almost tempted to ask him what exactly that was, to hear Jaskier say the words that dug into Geralt’s chest out loud, but Jaskier looked so crestfallen, as if the thought of what people said physically pained him.

And why wouldn’t it? The wonderful idiot had made it his life’s work to improve Geralt’s reputation, and out of all the things that could be said about Jaskier, he was stubborn beyond compare – likely the main reason why he was still suffering Geralt’s company after all these years. Of course Jaskier wouldn’t like hearing people slander the thing he had dedicated his life to. Though those insults and scoffs were aimed at Geralt, they too hit Jaskier, told him he wasn’t good enough at what he was doing.

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier, you don’t need to do something that would make you uncomfortable just to proof something to them. They – it’s not worth it.”

“It is.” Jaskier’s eyes were determined. “Geralt please. Just for the festival. Please pretend you’re in love with me.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. There were reasons why this was a horrible idea. There were consequences that would surely come off this.

But the thought of being allowed to show even just a fraction of what he felt for Jaskier, even if just for one day, overshadowed all rational thought. It would hurt, it would break him, but just for that one day it would be worth it if it meant knowing what it would be like to feel that look that Jaskier gifted everyone else on him.

Afraid of the emotion that he wouldn’t be able to hide if he opened his mouth, Geralt only nodded.

Jaskier beamed at him and Geralt’s stomach clenched uncomfortably. He was not going to make it thought this with his heart in one piece.

But he could do it even if it was torture. It was just one day.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 272: (Directed by Michael Bay)

Previously on BnHA: The My Child Soldiers Academia arc finally started to live up to its name as Tokoyami became the first (but I assure you not the last) victim of traumatic mental scarring courtesy of Horikoshi’s sick games! So he and Dark Shadow showed up to stop Dabi from murdering Hawks and were all “please don’t kill our mentor.” Dabi was all “AH BUT YOUR MENTOR KILLED SOMEONE ELSE, AND ISN’T THAT JUST LIKE THE HEROES THOUGH, THEIR HANDS ARE SO STAINED WITH BLOOD” and then he tried to set both of them on fire several times in succession. Hawks was all “Tokoyami just run away while he’s in the middle of his five-hour sermon” and so they tried but Dabi followed them! But then Geten was all “ALL RIGHT EVERYONE... CHILL” and fucking froze everything for no discernible reason, and Tokoyami fled the building with an unconscious Hawks in tow as the battle raged on. The chapter then ended with Gigantomachia being all “I smell my master!” and standing up, hahaha oh fuck.

Today on BnHA: Well you guys are not going to believe this, but it turns out that Tomura waking up is actually a very bad thing. A “worst case scenario” if you will! Because, get this, he has a quirk that can destroy anything, which spreads from whatever he touches to fucking everything and everywhere else. Gosh, if only we’d known about this since like 35 chapters ago. If only we’d had a spy among the villains who could have warned us, and three entire months to plan our attack, and literally every single hero in Japan on call to help us when the time came. Anyway so you’re really going to be shocked by this I’m telling you, but it turns out that when a crazy powerful person who wants to destroy everything finally wakes up, he immediately starts destroying everything with his crazy power. So X-Less dies and Crust dies and everyone else runs, and meanwhile the kids, who are on the outskirts of the city finishing up the evacuation, stand there in shock as the plot rampages toward them ready to swallow them whole. The chapter ends with Deku powering up to FORTY-FIVE PERCENT YEAHHHHH, and oh shit. Finally we’re doing this.

I am not even remotely done with all the shit I’m supposed to be finishing up, but fuck it, I need a break and reading the new chapter is by far the funnest thing on my current to-do list, so!

OH SNAPS MY BOY HAS FINALLY OPENED HIS EYES

IT ONLY TOOK HIM... OKAY LOOK I’M NOT GOING TO GO BACK AND COUNT ALL OF THE CHAPTERS, BUT LET’S SAY... FIFTEEN. ...HUNDRED. CHAPTERS TO FINALLY SNAP TO IT AND COME JOIN THE PARTY. BUT IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT! PROBABLY. AHH LET’S JUST READ ON

-- ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohm --

[puts on glasses and unfolds map while poring through a mess of scribbles on post-it notes] -- hold up, if my calculations are correct, I’m pretty sure “somewhere a bit further from the hospital” is, in fact, where a certain THREE TROUBLE-PRONE DISASTERS ARE CURRENTLY HOLED UP. AHHH

can it really be true. are we finally rejoining our protagonist and his buddy cop friends after 97 years. how will everyone react to Deku reacting to Tomura waking up ahhhh

so Burnin’ is yelling at the civilians to let them know if they have any family or friends who need assistance evacuating

god I hate the fact that this is a fucking understatement

they’re not taking any chances after Kamino and Fukuoka huh. fool them once, shame on you. fool them twice, oh shit. but there will not be a third time! no one fucking destroys three cities in the span of six months on their watch, no sirree

(ETA: ...)

lol the kids are trying to get the elderly citizens on a bus to evacuate, but a lady is trying to give them candy and Kacchan and Ochako are of two different minds on whether or not to accept

Kacchan is absolutely right about Ochako’s motivations, but in her defense, who the fuck turns down free chocolate

IIDA!!

FUCKING CHRIST JAPAN IT’S 200 YEARS IN THE FUTURE AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T SWITCHED TO DIGITAL RECORD-KEEPING? WHY IS THIS THE MOST REALISTIC THING IN THE ENTIRE MANGA TO DATE. MY GOOD SIR, IIDA IS LYING THROUGH HIS TEETH, ALL RECORDS AND BUILDINGS ABSOLUTELY CAN AND WILL BE COMPLETELY OBLITERATED IN THE CARNAGE TO COME. I’M SORRY TO BE THE ONE TO INFORM YOU OF THIS, BUT DAMN IT SOMEONE HAS TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY

(ETA: I sure hope these poor bastards had good insurance.)

also. this man here who looks like Beaker from the Muppets, who presumably has the power of Doing Anything Those Wacky Flailing Inflatable Tube Men That You See Outside Of Car Dealerships Can Do. ...yes. that’s it. that’s an intentionally incomplete sentence with a subject but no predicate. I just feel like we should all sit and stare at him for a good thirty more seconds before continuing on with our lives

OH MY GOD

THEY’RE EVACUATING THE PETS TOO AHHHH. EXCUSE ME CERTAIN SOMEONES WHO THINK ALL HEROES ARE “DIRTY.” I SEE YOUR ARGUMENTS AND RAISE YOU THIS ONE SINGLE PANEL. YEAH THAT’S RIGHT. NOW WHAT DABI. AT A LOSS FOR WORDS I SEE. YOU JUST SIT AND PONDER THAT FOR A WHILE

is... this... a space shuttle man

is this literally just a man with a Boeing for a head. FUCKING QUIRKS THOUGH!!!!! ~*~wild~*~

OH MY GOD AND WE’RE BACK

time for some HORCRUX SHENANIGANS!! IS YOUR LIGHTNING BOLT SCAR BURNING DEKU. I CAN’T BELIEVE HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED IS BACK AHHHH

so now he’s slightly hunching forward with his hands pressed together and Todoroki is immediately sensing that something is wrong ahhhhh

(ETA from like 5 days later: I had that as “Tokoyami” instead of “Todoroki” for the better part of a solid week you guys. SHOUTO YOU WERE GONE FOR SO LONG I FORGOT YOUR FUCKING NAME whoop.)

here come dat angst. here comes Horikoshi’s hand beckoning the trio closer and welcoming them to the pain parade ahhh. from now on that’s how I’m ending all my sentences btw. it just seems right. ahhh

OH MY LORD OH MY

ladies and gentlemen, YOU WERE SAYING DEKU DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT LATELY? HE’S NOT INTERESTING ENOUGH AS A PROTAGONIST, IS HE? well maybe that’s because Horikoshi has been saving this one juiciest of plot nuggets for a rainy day precisely like this! BRING ON THAT CHOSEN ONE ANGST AHHHHH

anyway so yes it is indeed OFA speaking to him in the form of Lil Bro a.k.a. the first user

lol I’m trying to think of commentary but it’s difficult seeing as I’M ALREADY SCROLLING DOWN TO IMPATIENTLY READ THE NEXT PAGE

lmao the fuck

okay Princess Zelda. can you get any more flowery with those descriptions though. A TRANSCENDENT BEING. A SUPERLATIVE ENTITY. A SUBLIME, PREEMINENT ORGANISM. FREED FROM ITS SHACKLES. UNFETTERED BY ALL EARTHLY LIMITATIONS

OH MY GOD

it absolutely boggles my mind that this guy is somehow still alive. ??! how many chapters and panels has it been now. he’s like the goat in the t-rex pen in fucking Jurassic Park. WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GET EATEN ALREADY

...

do you... want a blanket. ...?

(ETA: do you ever just. wake up and you’re like “ah shit it’s cold”, and then you destroy an entire city. mm.)

do you all suppose X-Less is fully aware that he’s about to die though? he hasn’t even moved. I imagine that sitting next to Tomura actually is much like sitting next to a giant t-rex. like he has to know there is no getting out of this alive. poor guy

damn Mic isn’t even looking back he’s just running back into the main room where all the rest of them are

wow this fight is still going on

I don’t know why, I just expected it to all magically be over all of a sudden now that we have bigger things to worry about. do you guys remember when we were all worried about the High End Noumus being the biggest threat. hahahahaha

(ETA: moment of silence for ALL OF THE FUCKING HIGH ENDS lmao. that did not go how I expected that plotline to go AT ALL, but at least we got the best fucking battle in the entire manga out of it.)

jesus CHRIST ENOUGH WITH THIS

WE GET IT TOMURA IS DANGEROUS AND SCARY AND EVIL AND AWAKE!!! JUST PLEASE GET TO IT ALREADY GOD I’M BEGGING YOU

FINALLY

goddammit. my reaction to this should have been much more “!!!” and “OH SHIT”, but he dragged it out so much that my initial reaction was one more of relief than horror. maybe it’s because of the way I read the chapters, constantly pausing to do commentary as I go along, but whenever a chapter has a ton of panels of people just staring into the distance awash with dread, it really stands out to me lol. there’s only so much I can write about that kind of thing. ah well at least we’re finally getting to the action

I genuinely can’t tell if Ujiko is frightened that he’s about to be disintegrated by Tomura’s quirk, or excited that Tomura is awake

maybe both lol. well don’t worry you’re not gonna die that easily, much as you would not catch me complaining if you did

thanks Gran

lol where was all this speed throughout the rest of this arc though. “we’re only competent when the plot necessitates it” huh. is that right

oh shit it’s destroying the rest of the lab

those are all of Ujiko’s collected quirks, right? someone please tell me if this is a good or a bad thing. on the one hand if they’re all destroyed it means Tomura can’t get them and Ujiko can’t make any more Noumus. but on the other hand this means they won’t ever be able to give them back to the original users (if any of them are even still alive). and also that’s a lot of evidence that’s being wiped out as well

oh shit they didn’t know about this?!

even after Deika City, you didn’t put two and two together?? even with all of Hawk’s intel?? what the hell did you think happened there?

well this explains why everyone was so la-dee-da-no-rush about capturing him though. well that’s on you guys. next time maybe don’t waste 20 minutes uselessly battling redshirt Noumus while Mirko has to do everything herself

anyway so I feel like people other than X-Less are almost certainly going to die here, and fuck. I’m not ready for any of this

AHH THE KIDS

BIT SLOW ON THE UPTAKE THERE KACCHAN LOL. FOR A MOMENT YOU HAD ME WORRIED THERE WAS SOMEHOW A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THREAT APPROACHING FROM THE OTHER SIDE, BEFORE YOU TURNED AROUND TO LOOK WHERE THE OTHERS WERE LOOKING

ALSO JUST A FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT SHOUTO’S DAD IS IN THAT HOSPITAL, ALONG WITH THEIR TEACHER! HERE. COME. DAT. ANGST

LOOK AT THIS CONSPICUOUSLY INTACT BUILDING AS IT STANDS THERE ALL OMINOUSLY WITH THE NEARBY BIRDS AND CRITTERS FRANTICALLY FLYING AWAY

I want to see it crumble so bad. now this is the kind of foreboding cinematic disaster movie bullshit I can get into

FFFF WHY IS THIS PANEL SO HARD TO SEE

THERE’S TOO MUCH CHAOS AND TOO MANY PEOPLE LOST AMIDST ALL THESE SHATTERING AND FALLING TUBES, BUT I NEED TO MAKE SURE EVERYONE IS SAFE AHHH

...okay so I see Ryuukyuu in the top right, and I think that’s RockLockRock on her back. Thirteen is clearly there in the bottom center, but I don’t know who that is next to them. and then of course Gran and Mic on the left. and a bunch of others spread out in various other places, but... where the hell is Aizawa??

OH THANK GOD

FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI, I KNOW FULL WELL YOU’RE NOT JUST GOING TO KILL OFF THE WORLD’S PREEMINENT DAD STRAIGHT UP OUT OF THE BLUE HERE, AND YET I STILL FELT ANXIETY AT THIS LAST PANEL. HOW DID YOU EVEN

BITCH YOU BETTER LET THE FUCK GO BEFORE I --

!!!

oh my god I gasped in real life. stop making me fear for the lives of main characters!!

he. he --. crust. he. ...

I literally stopped reading and had to stop and cover my mouth with both of my hands I’m

silence. no screaming. no flailing. no freaking out. just silence

shit. rest in peace you old sedimentary bastard. respect to you for saving the father of my children in your last fleeting moments. I still have not the slightest idea how you rose through the ranks to somehow become the sixth fucking highest rated hero (HERO BILLBOARD CHART, IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT. ARE YOU FEELING OKAY), but you sure did go out with style though

also this may be tacky of me to point out during such an emotionally charged moment, but one second Aizawa is wearing his goggles like normal, and the next they’re suddenly pushed up onto his forehead so we can see the anguish in his bloodshot eyes. there was no reason to do that other than angst and we all know it. so yes Shouta you dramatic bitch, I am calling you out. why Horikoshi felt he had to add to your many accumulated traumas is beyond me. you don’t deserve this and I am so, so sorry

OH GOOD I WAS JUST ABOUT TO ASK WHERE THE FUCK ENDEAVOR WAS

seeing as we just went over this with Gran, I will take the high road here and won’t ask why you’re only this fast now and couldn’t have been this useful this ages ago back before Tomura woke up. oh wait does sarcastically saying I won’t bring it up count as bringing it up. well whatever. middle road, then

sob I’m getting flashbacks to the end of Return of the Jedi when they’re all frantically flying out of the Death Star as it explodes

friendly reminder that Ryuukyuu, clearly the fastest one here despite carrying like 20 people, was number 10 in the rankings for some unknown reason. again, r.i.p. Crust you well-meaning geriatric soul

also just a stray thought, I hope it’s clear now why it was so important to give Deku those additional quirks. at a minimum he needs Blackwhip and Float just so he doesn’t instantly die the moment he’s in Tomura’s general vicinity. sob I’ve joked so much about flying quirks and here they are becoming fucking prerequisites now

anyway so Ujiko is mourning the loss of his lab, which again, good riddance mostly. but r.i.p. that evidence though

(ETA: nah the “total loss” part is referring to how the heroes fucked up so soundly and thoroughly. anyway no one would blame Mic if he accidentally dropped Ujiko in the midst of all this chaos, I’m just saying. I guess they need any intel he could still provide now more than ever though.)

OH MY GOD!!

LAUNDRY HERO WASH?! THIS SUDSY BOI CAN ACTUALLY KICK ASS WHAAAAT

oh my god oh my god it’s still spreading??!

fuck fuck fuck at this rate it’ll reach the kids

(ETA: that happened really fast actually.)

-- oh FUCK NO you had better NOT FUCKING TOUCH FUCKING PIXIE BOB, I WILL MAIL MYSELF TO JAPAN PANDEMIC OR NO PANDEMIC. DO YOU NOT SEE THE SIGN THAT SAYS “OFF-LIMITS.” RESPECT THE SIGN

SOB SHE’S SO BADASS BUT IT LOOKS LIKE IT’S STILL DISINTEGRATING FUCCCCCK. FUCK MY LIFE, FUCK EVERYTHING

AHHHHH

I can’t tell if her earthbending was able to stop it or not?? god help us all if it didn’t, I’m not even sure what else could stop it at this point

SHUT UP UJIKO!!

they really did. only to fuck it up completely at the finish line. well, the man most singularly responsible for it is dead now, again r.i.p. Crust you useless old legend

lmao despite myself

“by a miracle, or maybe through sheer will” even he acknowledges that Tomura waking up was basically complete bullshit. yes blah blah yadda yadda got zapped by some exposed wires explanation science. because we all know that getting electrocuted will fix you right up when your heart has stopped and you have completely flatlined. you can definitely trust Horikoshi on this and there’s absolutely no need to google how defibrillators actually work

also is he somehow wearing a cape now. again by a miracle or maybe through sheer will

YESSSSSSS

(ETA: one has to wonder what Ujiko’s plan was, assuming this scheme had actually played out. were they just banking on Tomura not waking up cranky and disoriented and wanting to test out his power. his quirk doesn’t exactly distinguish friend from foe here I’m just saying.)

the part of me that goes all “ooh ahh” when all the buildings explode in Independence Day is singing inside. but never fear, the rest of me is appropriately horrified though. what was that Burnin’ was saying about the city becoming a large-scale battle zone? sob

also this page sure serves as a nice refresher for exactly why Tomura Waking Up Was Bad, which was inexplicably a topic of some debate in recent weeks. yes in spite of everything the villains are still the bad guys who’d have thought. almost as if the purpose of humanizing a character is to show that they’re human, not that they’re right

WHAT’S THIS NOW???

WELL I’LL BE. IT’S BEEN AN EVENTFUL THREE MONTHS, APPARENTLY!??

HOOAHHHHHHHH

IT’S A BIRD IT’S A PLANE IT’S A BADASS OH SHIIIIITTTTTT

finally finally finally!!!!!!

THE SHIT HAS HIT THE FAN, REPEAT, THE SHIT HAS HIT THE PROVERBIAL FAN. THE PLOT IS FINALLY HAPPENING, REPEAT, THE PLOT IS FINALLY FUCKING HAPPENING AHHHHHH

and there is no one coming to save them this time. no one to arrive at the last second and say “it’s all right now because I am here.” they have to save themselves. they have to save everyone. the training wheels are finally coming off. the safety net has been removed. after 272 chapters, the story has finally reached a point where these kids, these children, who in spite of all they’ve been through have been protected and shielded from the worst of it up till now, will finally have to be the ones to save the day all on their own

and they are not ready. but also maybe they kind of are??! but they definitely are not. and oh god oh god oh god, FINALLY WE’RE REALLY DOING THIS. TIME TO FIX THE MESS THOSE SILLY GROWN-UPS MADE, CHILDREN. YOU GOT THIS

[kaondecay]

Grab your yarn and pushpins, it's time for another round of Entle Kae's Critical Role Conspiracy Hole!

Today’s conspiracy: Ludinus, Leylas, Luctus, Consecution, and the Original Cerberus Assembly (spoilers ahead for C2 up to episode 125, and also EGTW!)

Ok so this theory hangs pretty heavily on another theory, that the Luxon and Tharizdun are more or less the same entity; Tharizdun is the "black hole" formed by the collapse of the Luxon's "star". Think Te Fiti/Te Ka from Moana, but instead of one gem, the Luxon's "heart" is scattered across an unknown number of Beacons. But because of this connection, it's possible to corrupt/"reverse the polarity" of a beacon so that it taps into the power of Tharizdun rather than the pure dunamancy of the Luxon. (We have two potential examples of this happening in canon: once when the Som Novum took the Cognouza ward to the Astral Sea, and once in the destruction of Molaesmyr... but i'm getting ahead of myself lol) Other people (and maybe also me? hell if I remember) have written more comprehensive posts about this theory but I don't have the attention span to go hunting for links at the moment :F

What we know:

According to EGTW, the *current* Cerberus Assembly, founded by Ludinus Da'leth about 250 years ago, is named after a group of mages that existed way back in the Age of Arcanum. How did Ludinus know about this group? While certainly some scraps of pre-Calamity lore must have survived here and there, a *lot* of knowledge, specifically about the destroyed mageocracies of the era, was lost during the Calamity. It's an *awfully* specific piece of information to have survived.

Aeor, Shattengrod, and possibly other Age of Arcanum civilizations had knowledge and possession of Luxon Beacons. The cities themselves may have been destroyed, but if any inhabitants were consecuted and the Beacons themselves survived the disaster, they could have been reborn within 100 miles of their respective Beacons.

Ludinus escaped the fall of Molaesmyr, a disaster that caused a horrific corruption to consume the city and the surrounding forest, which continues to spread to the present day. Recent clues (the corrupted forest in the A2 site, and Caduceus's dream of the Blooming Grove being devoured by a twisted horror of flesh and streets and teeth that resembles the current state of the Cognouza Ward) point to the corruption of Molaesmyr having the same underlying cause as the corruption of Cognouza.

So part 1 of the theory is, Ludinus was a founding member of the *original* pre-Empire Cerberus Assembly, who was consecuted using one of the Beacons discovered during the Age of Arcanum. He died either in the fall of Aeor itself, or at some later point in the Calamity, and was reborn ~600-ish years ago (with possibly a shorter life or two in between, who knows). He managed to locate the Beacon that allowed him to reincarnate, and proceeded to experiment on it, but screwed up big time in the process and the Beacon became a conduit of Tharizdun's influence, which is still seeping into the world through Molaesmyr. He fled to Bysaes Tyl, eventually relocating to Rexxentrum, where he used a violent conflict between the resident mages as an opportunity to found a new mage union, which he then named after his old group because coming up with names for things is hard lol.

Part 2: Leylas Kryn

Leylas Kryn, founder of the Kryn Dynasty, is one of the oldest (known) mortals in Wildemount, with at least 1,200 years of life experience under her belt. She led the drow out of the Underdark after the Calamity, preaching the gospel of the Luxon and wielding a Beacon to give credibility to her claims. She established a tradition of consecution among the Dynasty elite, and claimed the title of "Umavi", ie a "perfect soul" whose vast wisdom supposedly makes them ideal leaders.

How did she discover the powers of dunamancy, and specifically the process of consecution? How did she know about the Luxon entity at all, given that it supposedly hasn't spoken directly to anyone in the recorded history of Exandria? Such advanced research seems difficult to come by under the oppressive rule of Lolth, but is exactly the kind of shit the Aeorian mages were elbows-deep in before the Calamity.

Caleb actually hinted in episode 124 that Leylas (and possibly even the other Umavis) might be a "survivor" of Aeor, reborn via consecution. In that same episode, Essek, the foremost expert in dunamancy that we've met so far in this campaign, said more or less that there's evidence of the Luxon's *existence*, but not of it having any particular sentience or will. His whole motivation for giving the Beacons to the Cerberus Assembly was that there were aspects of the Beacons he was forbidden from studying within the Dynasty, and he suspects the religious practices at the core of his society have no basis in reality.

So the Leylas branch of this theory goes, Leylas was another mage of the Age of Arcanum who had advanced knowledge of dunamancy and the Beacons. If we've already established Ludinus in this category and pegged him as a founding member of the OG CA, it follows that the original Assembly was researching/developing consecution. The "Cerberus" part of the Cerberus Assembly kind of implies a "three-headed" nature, so it stands to reason that maybe Leylas received consecution in the same way Lud did, as another one of the three heads. So, at some point in the Calamity, the Beacon Leylas was tethered to either got yeeted deep into the planet's crust or just positioned so that its 100-mile radius extended beneath Ghor Dranas, and she was reborn in the Underdark as a drow. She took two key lessons away from the fall of Aeor: One, that the gods are all dicks who don't deserve the power they have, and Two, that trying to challenge all of them directly is a complete fool's errand. After such a traumatic experience, she approaches her new life with the singular goal of ensuring that nothing like that will ever happen again, and sets about creating a society that is free from the whims of the gods and *also* inoculated against the hubris of the Age of Arcanum. With the fall of the mage cities, she's one of a handful of people left on the planet who knows anything about dunamancy and its origins, so she's in an ideal position to build a cult around the mysterious power of the Luxon.

This explains several odd details about the Luxon religion and the Dynasty in general:

  The missionary zealotry. Every convert to the religion of the Luxon is one less follower of any other deity, and in a world where the gods' power and form seems to be at least partly derived from the beliefs of their followers, this tactic allows the Luxon cult to slowly starve out the rest of the pantheon. (That same power of belief might even allow the Luxon to manifest more traits of a "real" god as it gains worshipers, enabling Leylas to basically build an entire deity to her own specifications, one that will never raise a fist against the mortal races like the pantheon did in the Calamity.) Interestingly, there is no ban on worshiping "unapproved" deities in the Dynasty like there is in the Empire; as long as Leylas has the Beacon she's tethered to, she can afford to play the long game and draw outside cultures into the fold of the Dynasty (and into the range of the Beacons) without violence, knowing that their populations can be seeded with reincarnated Luxon-worshipers to erode their non-Luxon cultural traditions from the inside out.

The tightrope of dunamantic research that Essek was so frustrated with. Proficiency in practical dunamancy builds the Dynasty's technological/martial power and gives potential converts something to be impressed by, to strengthen their beliefs; however, digging too deep on the theory side risks unearthing inconvenient revelations, such as the Tharizdun connection, or any number of things that might prove that the concept of "Umavi" and various other religious practices are mortal inventions rather than the will of the Luxon itself. This is why the kind of research Essek wanted to conduct with the beacons is forbidden, and also why the technological treasure trove of Aeor's ruins have largely been untouched by the Dynasty even as they sent religious missionaries to Eiselcross to convert the locals (until the Empire started poking around).

Ludinus's hatred of the Dynasty, and also Leylas's willingness to raze the entire Empire to the ground. Ludinus knows that the Luxon cult is a scam, however well-intentioned Leylas may have been in crafting it, and clearly disdains the tactic as a whole; bowing before a fake god is even more undignified than bowing to a real one. Meanwhile, Leylas sees Ludinus's maneuvering in the Empire as an attempt to build a new mageocracy and repeat the mistakes of the Age of Arcanum- seeing how poorly that went the first time, snuffing an Empire to prevent the extermination of *most life on the planet* is not a tough call for her and her Lawful Neutral alignment. (The reincarnation madness certainly isn't helping her temper either, but her motivations might not be *just* bloodlust.)

Part 3: Luctus of the Som Novum

So ok the last part of this theory is partly based on the fact that one of the Som Novum members' names follows the same /L[a-z]*s/ pattern as Leylas and Ludinus, which would neatly complete the set of 3 implied by the "Cerberus Assembly" name. It's possible that Luctus broke away from the Cerberus Assembly to found the Som Novum, taking a third Beacon with them, with the intention of using the power of dunamis and the imaginative malleability of the Astral Sea to *become* gods themselves. The concept of 3 powerful Beacon-wielding siblings taking 3 completely different approaches to rebellion against the gods has quite the narrative ring to it (feels "myffic", as Nanny Ogg might put it).

Knowing that Aeor had Beacons, and assuming the Luxon/Tharizdun theory is correct, it’s plausible that Cognouza’s Tharizdun-flavored corruption was caused by an inverted Beacon. We might even have some inkling as to *how* the Beacon was corrupted: The space that people find themselves in when they gaze into the Beacons has a very similar starscape/nebula aesthetic to the Astral Sea. It's possible that this is because the Beacons are tethered to some remnant of the Luxon itself that exists in the Astral Sea. Bringing a physical Beacon from the Prime Material Plane to the Astral Sea may have created an effect similar to the feedback you get when you bring a microphone too close to a speaker (but with like, souls and dunamis instead of sound and electricity), and it "blew out" the Cognouza Beacon, basically "reversing the polarity" to connect to Tharizdun instead of the Luxon.

So yeah this whole theory is like, 90% circular assumptions based on other conjectures only loosely supported by the text, but man it's just very fun to connect random dots and try to spin a narrative out of it :P

[athina-blaine]

hey kids wanna see a fic preview??

(howdy! for readers of my tma fics wondering what the heck ive been up to the last month, here’s a little something for you-- yes, you! the full chapter will be posted next week)

(preview under the cut!)

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a man who wanted to save the world, and instead, nearly destroyed it. 

Before he was forced to commit this great evil, the man fled-- but the failed ritual inflicted him with a terrible curse, and he concealed himself inside a dark, lonesome manor. As the years passed and the solitude ate him, he never ventured to the outside world, ever again.

But that was alright. The man preferred it this way. For there remained not one person, living or dead, who was better off for having known Jonathan Sims.

-

"Aren't you lonely, Mister Blackwood?"

THE MONSTER OF MAGNUS MANOR

CHAPTER 1

THE FOG

“Blackwood.”

Martin lurched upright, unfinished letter sticking to his sweaty face. Mister Griffiths was standing in the doorway, his scowl deepening by the second as Martin scrambled out of the desk chair and onto his feet.

“If you’re finished with your nap,” Griffiths snapped, “make your way down to the kitchens at once. Lord Barclay’s guests will be arriving soon.”

“Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.”

With one last, withering look, Griffiths turned on his heel out of the servants’ quarters, and Martin’s shoulders lost some of their tension. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved, or find a good rock to curl under.

At least he’d only been glared at this time.

Martin sunk back into his chair, eyelids threatening to slip shut again. Hard wicker had no right being as comfortable as it was. In all fairness, though, the cold stone floor of the refrigerator would be just as soft right now.

Peeling the letter off his cheek, he flipped it over and groaned. Oh, perfect. He’d gone and completely smudged the thing. Half his face was probably covered in a splotch of ink.

No wonder Griffiths had looked at him like he was dog shite underneath his shoe. At least the dog shite wasn’t going to be late to its shift, now.

He huffed.

At least he’d snuck in a few winks before he needed to get ready. Something was always better than nothing– even if the thick, pulsing needle driving itself through his temples disagreed. Hopefully, it would be enough to get him through today’s shift.

Especially today’s shift.

He tucked the letter underneath his pillow; he’d have to rewrite it later if he wanted it ready to send out tomorrow morning. 

A new uniform was waiting for him in the communal wardrobe, one that Lord Barclay had ordered just for the occasion. His dormmates must have already grabbed theirs– aside from his, the wardrobe was empty.

Bit annoying that they hadn’t even taken the time to give him a quick tap on the shoulder. ‘Hey, Martin, rise and shine, big day today, don’t want to be late!’

Perhaps they’d figured it was best for him to sleep as much as possible. This wasn’t  the day to get sloppy, after all.

Or maybe they hadn’t considered him at all.

He hoped it was the first one.

Uniform slung over his arm, Martin hurried toward the servants’ washroom. He was making good time; with any luck, Griffiths’ scowl would never graduate higher than mildly disappointed. On the scale of the head butler’s ranking displeasure, it wasn’t the worst place to be.

In his haste, however, he bumped into the shoulder of another server. Martin turned, an apology already on his lips, then paused.

“Charles?”

Charles spun around, and his eyes brightened.

“Look who decided to make their way out of bed,” he said, giving Martin’s shoulder a playful pat. “You know Jefferies is going to have your hide if he sees you like that, yeah?”

“Please don’t tell him. He’ll kill me this time, he really will.” His eyes flitted down Charles' figure, brows shooting up. “You … you’re wearing the new uniform.”

“I am, indeed. How do I look?” Charles asked, smoothing down the front of his chest. “Fetching, right?”

“I-I, uh, you …”

It was hard to get the words out. Anyone would look good in a uniform like that; that was why Lord Barclay had bought the bloody things. But the dark red jacket, white gloves, and navy tie complemented Charles’ ginger hair and smile in a way that tangled his tongue something fierce.

Martin’s face warmed, and he hoped it wasn’t obvious.

“You look wonderful,” he said. Then, face growing even hotter, “I mean, um,” he coughed, “it looks really good.”

Charles’ grin widened, and Martin had to stop himself from slapping his own face. Get it together. There was something more pressing here.

“But you’re going to start serving? Today? You’ve barely even finished your apprenticeship.”

“Griffiths needs all hands on deck. I’ll be fine. You’re such a worrywart, you know that?”

Of course Martin was worried. Charles had only been working in the castle for a few months, and Griffiths was going to have him start now? On the night of Lord Barclay’s autumn soirée?

Martin was about to remind him of that when a wave of dizziness crested over him, weakness shivering up his legs. He would have tipped over if Charles hadn’t grabbed his shoulder.

“Whoa, hey, are you okay? You’re looking a little …”

If Martin’s face was hot before, it was nothing compared to now.  “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Again?” 

“I’ll be fine once I’ve had a wash up.”

Charles’ eyes lingered on him so long that Martin was sure he’d well and truly pass out. After a moment, Charles gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and withdrew.

“You’d best. Well, I need to be off. Ol’ Griffiths is on the warpath. Good luck tonight, yeah?” He winked. “Drinks on me at the pub later.”

“Y-yeah. See you.”

Martin tracked him until Charles left the room, eyes drifting on the corner where he’d disappeared until another dizzy spell swept over him.

Focus. Charles hadn’t been kidding about what Jefferies would do if he knew Martin still hadn’t changed yet.

The reminder had Martin rushing through his wash. Throwing the new uniform on was a struggle; all those foreign buttons and straps kept tangling together, and he got stuck twice before securing the last tie. 

Martin paused in front of the mirror to check himself over. It was... nice enough, he supposed. The most expensive thing he’d ever worn, that was certain. Despite the custom fit, though, the torso still hugged too tight around his chest, and the material scratched at the sensitive skin on his neck.

Luckily, he’d only have to wear it tonight.

With one last glance, he smoothed down his hair and hurried out into the main hallway.

Chaos. The corridors were packed wall to wall with other servants, confused about where they should go, what they should be doing. The crowd smothered him; how had he managed to sleep through this? Now, in the thick of things, his ears were beginning to ring.

“Martin!”

Pausing, Martin scanned the sea of twisting faces. Angelica was elbowing her way through the swarm, drawing sharp cries of pain from her victims, but her expression of dogged determination didn’t change.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said, as soon as she was within earshot. “I just wanted to say thanks for setting up the guest bedrooms last night. I would’ve been up ‘til dawn if I’d had to do it myself.”

Martin, who had finished outfitting the last of the guest quarters just as the sun was rising, smiled. “I’m glad I could help. Wasn't really fair to you, getting assigned something you aren't used to.”

She nodded in agreement, sage-like. “I swear, Griffiths is out to get me. I’d rather stay in the laundry room where I belong.” Then she reached into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a bundle of cloth. “We had apple slices for breakfast this morning,” she explained, holding the bundle out. “I saved you mine. You know, as a thank you.”

Woken by the mention of food, his stomach spasmed. He hadn’t even spared a thought for breakfast– based on the sun’s height, the servants’ meal hour had long been over. 

Eyes burning, he accepted the gift. “Thanks, Angie. I really needed this.”

She beamed up at him.

From somewhere within the clamour, an authoritative voice rose up. “Come on then, to your stations!”

The tide of the crowd was pushing them apart before the last word faded. “Good luck, tonight!” Angie called as she turned to follow some of the others into the laundry room. Martin waved back to her, and once she had disappeared from view, unwrapped the cloth and bit into one of the apple slices.

Sweet and refreshing. Martin let his eyes slide shut, savouring the crispness. Thank God for Angie. There was no telling when his next meal would be; Griffiths had informed everyone last night that they wouldn't have time for their regular lunch. 

He finished the last slice just as he reached the kitchens. If the hallways had been chaotic, this was a scene straight out of a nightmare. Servers were shouting orders to the kitchen staff, the kitchen staff were dancing around the servers, and everyone inched a hair's breadth away from colliding into one another. It was only through sheer level of experience on the part of the servants that they managed to avoid absolute disaster.

And in the centre of it all was Jefferies, shouting directions and helpful threats in equal measure.

“If a single one of you even so much as serves a smudged glass,” he roared, “the Lord’ll have all our heads!”

The ringing in Martin’s ears had gone from loud to stringent. Bracing against a countertop, he dragged a hand across his face.

Focus.

Plate the food, take it to the dining hall, serve. He’d done it a thousand times. This was the exact same thing.

He just needed to stay focused.

“Here, Blackwood.” One of the servers pressed a tray of champagne flutes into his hands. Taking one more bracing breath, Martin shouldered his way back into the corridors.

Time to get this over with. The frantic noises from the kitchen fell away in increments until, at last, he reached the ballroom.

[mwolf0epsilon]

B lea se, pblea se give us a full continuation of the Cameraman comic I beg 😔🙏

Summary: After accidentally growing to the size of a giant, Cameraman makes some poor decisions that lead him into colossal trouble.

A written continuation of my one page Cameraman comic!

---

[[MORE]]

     It wasn't uncommon for the Society for the Shellacking of Souper Boris's HQ to suffer considerable damage on occasion, especially since there were three villains living there. Plotting their next big hit with varying degrees of ingenuity and force, which often left things quite the mess in general.

But nothing that the big burly wolf with the volatile temper, or even the twisted demoness with sharp tongue and coiled arms ever did, could come so close as to compare with the absolute madness of Cameraman's more, shall we say, cinematic plots…

It was true that he was the least aggressive and troublesome of the trio when working with them in causing mischief. More often than not he even opted for the easier things in their plans, like petty thievery and slight vandalism, while the Brute and Miss Twisted handled the flashier things that really got the cops angry with them. 

When he did things solo however… Well he'd wanted to make it big as a movie director once, and it showed.

His one-man plans were convoluted and honestly quite ambitious.

They also ended with him wrecking the base with whatever invention he came up with that week.

Never on purpose really! He was just a little clumsy.

Although, at this very moment, he was anything but little...

     By his reasoning, the plan would have been flawless. Finish calibrating his shrink ray that took him weeks to construct, use one of the Society's inconspicuous vehicles to cart it all the way to the city, and then use it to shrink Steven Spigberg's annoyance of a studio all the way down to miniature size. Knock it down to its actual level, since it did nothing but hash out the same stale unnecessary sequel plots over and over again.

A spectacular lesson in humility, or at least Cameraman had envisioned it as such.

He hadn't accounted for accidentally bumping and reversing the controls, causing his machine to zap him instead of the test subject he'd been placing upon a little pedestal (just to see if he didn't accidentally disintegrate his target), and ending up in a completely avoidable colossal sized mishap instead.

But then he supposed he could still make part of the plan work. After all, the idea was that he'd be able to fit the studio in his hand… 

  "Oof… My head…" he could really do without the aches, but then again he'd just grown a whole lot in mere seconds. The fact he hadn't simply exploded should be more than reason to overlook the growing pains. Patting his own head carefully to check if he hadn't cracked his casing, he felt his pinky brush against something odd and that should be there. "Hm?"

Feeling over it with his index finger, Cameraman carefully searched for some manner of grip before carefully pinching the unknown object between two fingers and bringing it over to his lens to inspect it.

To his great surprise it was the Society's base. Mostly intact, although missing a large part of the bottom from him outgrowing it. The upper floor looked intact enough, albeit the horn fixture he was holding onto was now bent from him gripping it.

  "My goodness it's so small… or rather, I'm the one who's quite big…" he squinted, shutter zooming in on the damaged windows. He could sort of see his two roommates staring out at him with expressions he couldn't quite make out. "Oh! Hello there, sorry for the state of the base. Things took quite the unexpected turn as you can see..."

Rather than get a reply, both of his partners in crime seemed to huddle up in a corner and cower.

That was odd… Missy and Brute weren't the type to be intimidated. Especially not by him. Maybe it was the heights.

  "Right… I'll set you down now. I've much to do still, even if not everything has gone according to plan." He carefully set the damaged base back onto the swamp grounds, being mindful of the shallows so his two friends didn't end up sinking and drowning. "It's as they say. The show must go on!"

Once the base was safely on the ground, Cameraman began standing up. He was surprised by the sensation of vertigo as he did, groaning as nausea hit him.

He felt… Heavy. Stumbled a bit as he righted himself, and nearly toppled all over again. Had gravity increased on him? Probably… his feet were sinking into the marshy ground as well, so his new height and weight were not any easier to handle on such unstable terrain.

  "Walk it off, it'll be fine you worrywart… Just a matter of getting used to this." he shook his head and took a few tentative steps forward. His shutters clicked in annoyance as he kicked up the murky water as he moved. "My poor socks are going to be soaked through… I hope to dry up once I've reached the city. It wouldn't do to enact revenge while drenched… I might catch a cold."

He kept on walking, finding it steadily easier to move as long as he kept himself going. Just a matter of getting used to it as he'd thought.

Luckily his growth hadn't just brought unpleasant side effects. It had greatly improved his perspective as well!

He could just about see the big city in the distance and he was quite excited to look it over up close.

The once-little camera toon had seen the rooftops plenty of times (mostly from being either thrown by his partners in crime or from being carried by that no-show lupine interloper, and then a chowder enthusiast of an angel), but never at this scale. He assumed it would likely be like looking down at an impressive maquette, a much more detailed one than the miniatures he'd whittled out for the base's planning room (which had been reduced to rubble he was sure). More detailed. More deserving of more than a slight glance.

Wouldn't hurt to take a few photos before he took what he wanted.

-

     Bouillonburg wasn't the largest of the cities in the country, but it was still considered a major location in of itself. It was home to several hundreds of toons, had multiple quaint businesses, and at least two very nice parks to fill in the picturesque idea of an urban zone. 

The perfect place for a myriad of Pluto's youngest legions to prove their worth through acts of both evil and mischief.

Today however, trouble presented itself not in a grinning imp with a head shaped like a half-moon, but in something tremendously massive lumbering towards the unsuspecting city at a slow but long-reaching pace.

The first warning was a slight tremor spaced out like rhythmic thumping. The kind that caused liquids to ripple in their containers. 

Then the intensity of the shaking gradually climbed, and people began to grow nervous when objects began to fall off shelves, or when the glass windows began to creak and shake against their frames.

When the shadow of what could only be considered a colossal sized monster fell upon the city, that's when folks really started to panic.

Crowd dispersal went as you'd usually see on a disaster flick, with lots of screaming and running as several hundreds of toons attempted to flee the giant's humongous steps. Not that Cameraman noticed this. 

He was much too distracted staring at all the buildings he was so used to look up at, rather than examining from up and above.

  "This is all so very adorable!" He marveled as he peered into an office building, squinting at the many workers in their little cubicles. "I wish I could make miniatures as detailed as the real deal…"

He reached over to poke one of the windows, and winced when his finger went through.

  "Oops…" he withdrew his finger and stared down at the many shards of glass embedded in it. It didn't hurt, the fabric had kept it from piercing skin, but it had still startled him. He was so focused on it he didn't see the toons inside running for the stairs and elevators in pure terror. "That's a lot more fragile than I thought… I should refrain from touching glass."

     Shaking off the shock, Cameraman's gaze went downwards and his attention was caught by a phone booth. 

Crouching down he peered at it with his curious lens.

At his regular size he needed his portable step ladder to reach the phone (yes he was quite short, so what?), but at this height he was more than capable of reaching over the rooftops of the tallest buildings.

  "Well it's not like I need to make a call right now either way… But it sure looks charming." He focused on it and took a picture. His flash went off with a loud crackle, all around him more toons fled from the noise and bright light that hurt their eyes.

With more effort than should be necessary, Cameraman got back onto his feet and carried on his merry way. He stopped on occasion to take more photos of the many buildings and tiny structures.

Completely oblivious to the damage he was causing as he trekked forward.

His footsteps caused the ground to quake violently, the sound of his reverberating voice made glass crack and ears ring, and his weight was splitting concrete apart as if it were made of styrofoam.

To him this was all in good fun. Good harmless fun, because he wasn't antagonizing anyone. 

Just seeing the sights and appreciating his new perspective on life.

This quickly changed when he reached his destination.

  "Right… There it is." The object-headed toon rubbed his hands together eagerly as he caught sight of his target. Steven Spigberg's studio. That fat swine's precious little cash grab factory was about to get literally uprooted by the very toon that horrid film director scoffed at and turned away. "Let's see who's insignificant when I'm the one owning your precious little studio…"

Sights set Cameraman walked on, not once looking where he was treading and his thick shoes making quick work of benches and parked cars (and really anything else) that were unfortunately in his path. It didn't occur to him that he should be watching his step.

     The studio was nestled between another office building and a coffee shop that also serviced object and object-head toons (a rarity since most others disliked non-food based smells near their pastries and beverages of choice). It had the best hydroquinone and nicest rolls of film he'd ever had, so it was a shame such a blight ruined it for him.

He wondered briefly what they'd build on the soon to be vacant spot. Hopefully a book store to compliment the aesthetic of the coffee shop.

  "Let's see… there's going to be pipework in there, so best to go down and up, like carefully picking a flower, roots and all." He rested the back of his hand on the ground and pressed his fingers against the very bottom of the studio and then, in one swift motion, he dug his fingers under and pulled up. He expected the building to just pop out of the ground with ease, not for his hand to pass through like it was made of sand. "O-oh!"

Startled by the destruction of the building he'd planned to steal, Cameraman pulled his arm back abruptly. Swinging it to the right and crashing right through a section of the office building.

Yelping in fright he moved back, his left foot coming down on top of the coffee shop and crushing it as if he'd stepped on a cardboard box. Bringing his hands up in horror Cameraman stepped back once more in a panic. He stared down at the rubble in dismay.

  "Oh goodness… I… I didn't mean to do that!" He knelt down hoping to find a way to correct his mistake, but as soon as he grabbed hold of any solid looking debris they crumbled in his grasp into fine dust. "F-fiddlesticks…"

He was too big to fix what he broke.

Looking back at the slightly damaged office building, Cameraman stood back onto his feet and peered inside. The stairs and elevators were blocked by rubble and there were several people trying to unblock the way out.

  "Oh… wait I can help you down!" He reached in, hoping that helping these people would compensate for ruining their workspace but, as soon as the toons saw his hand they began scrambling away, their high pitched shrieks barely registering in his audio receptors. The fear in their movements however… "You don't need to be afraid. That was an accident I swear!"

He tried to reach the group, leaning forward just a little bit more. Then gravity caught up with him and the camera toon's shutter widened as he realized too late that his balance was way off. He tumbled forward, taking out the rest of the building with him.

  "AUGH!!!" He hit his head hard on the ground, a sharp pain in his shoulder causing him to instinctively prime his laser and blast the nearest "threat".

Except there wasn't a threatening foe causing him any harm. Just the helpless cityscape.

Taking a second to sit up and shake his aching head Cameraman looked down at his shoulder, wincing when he saw a long metal bean stabbing through it.

His gaze then locked on with the damage he'd caused up ahead.

There was fire, a lot of it, and just now he could make out the terrified city folk scrambling all around like scared ants.

Glancing around at the path he'd taken, the object-headed toon noticed all the destruction he'd caused while having his silly little fun.

  "Oh no…" he was a villain, that much he accepted. But he'd never really done something so terrible that it hurt several hundred people on such a scale.

He'd never killed anyone before, or dreamt of doing such a thing.

Looking down at the three buildings he'd crushed, and the ones currently ablaze, he doubted that was true anymore. "This wasn't what I wanted…"

He needed to get out of the city, before he destroyed something or hurt anyone else.

Looking around once more however… well easier said than done.

     The path ahead was on fire, the way back was already in quite the state, and the only other exit he could see looked a little narrow. Still it was worth risking considering all the people heading towards where he'd come from in the hopes of escaping. Escaping, as if he were doing this on purpose…

Narrow streets it is. He'd just have to suck in his belly and keep his arms up for however long it took to get past this new hurdle. Hopefully his arms wouldn't tire before he was clear.

Taking a deep breath, Cameraman stepped forward, now very aware of just how cramped the tiny sidewalks and roads were.

  "Oof…" he winced as his heel just about crushed the front of a parked car "I hope that was insured…" 

His knee caught the side of a tree, snapping it like a twig, and he pulled his hand away from the way of a power line as he tried to maneuver through the streets.

Sideways should do the trick…He sucked in his gut and began side-stepping through the cramped pathway he'd picked.

What was it with apartment complexes and tiny balconies that faced alleyways?

The escape ladders he could understand, but why the balconies?

The camera toon groaned as his chest and back got poked and scratched by hard edges and sharp rails.

His aching shoulder was already bothering him enough.

  "Just stay calm and you'll be through in no time…" he told himself as he kept on moving. And then he gulped nervously as he felt the alley narrow further. "... Oh this is a problem."

Against his better judgement he continued… And immediately stopped as he felt his hips jammed against two buildings.

Trying to push or pull away made both buildings shake dangerously.

  "... Come on…" his arms were starting to tire. He needed to figure out how to get away without breaking anything else. Glancing down to see if there was a safer way to unwedge himself, his shutters fell upon one of the balconies of the building ahead of him. He focused on a tiny lady surrounded by several flowers that was staring up at him with wide eyes. "... Uh… hello?"

The lady shrieked and immediately started throwing her potted plants at him.

He winced and kept his lens well away from her range. Impressive that she thought a few hits with a few vases would save her from something more than twice her own size, but also quite annoying.

  "Please stop." If he tried anything he might just hurt her, and honestly that wasn't really his style. Taking punishment like this was also not his style. "If I could I'd be out of your hair already."

He leaned back from another hit and yelped as he felt his back bump against the other building. The pressure suddenly giving away and sending him tumbling back like a house of cards falling in on itself. Kicking up dust and debris up into the air around him.

Once the cloud settled he sighed. 

Great, at this rate he'd be known as Klutzzilla, destroyer of private property...

Blinking his shutters he looked back up at the lady with a glare. She seemed to get the hint and fled back inside of her apartment.

  "Right…" he went back to the laborious chore of getting back on his feet. He was really starting to get tired of this repetitive charade.

If it weren't the guilt keeping him from bashing through the city to get back home he would have already done it. "No, no that's not the correct way to do this, don't let this get to your head… the Society only needs one big brute…"

He wondered what his two friends might be doing. Likely fixing up the base and waiting to chew him out for making a mess of things.

They might want to wait for him to tell them how to rebuild his shrink ray so that he'll be easier to scold, rather than both yelling up at him.

     Back up and at it again, Cameraman left what remained of the alleyway and began to tiptoe over the various urban obstacles. Phone booths, more parked cars, benches, the occasional straggler running by and performing an impressive Wilhelm impression, and even a kiosk or two (the first one he couldn't help snap a picture of, despite the circumstances everything still looked gosh darned cute to him!). It was a little like being a child all over again, playing hopscotch. 

Only someone had strewn legos and other toys all over the rectangles.

He was also not particularly good at hopscotch, and jumping around with an injured shoulder was really not a good experience.

The people and infrastructures were also not liking the impact of each jump.

Cameraman winced when several clothes lines and other miscellaneous objects began to fall from the sides of buildings.

  "And they say misfortune only doubles on Friday the 13th, the moment I gained a few feet I've been nothing if not plagued by bad luck!" He poked the metal bean protruding from his shoulder and fought back the urge to scream. "I hope this doesn't get infected. I'd be very upset with myself if that happened… or worse, what if I get tetanus?! My shots aren't due until Thursday!"

Well if the clinic he frequented hadn't yet given out and collapsed from all his mucking around that is…

  "Ok Cameraman, don't freak yourself out like this... Think of home." Yes, home, away from this poor city. Back with his friends who'd no doubt take pity on him as soon as they saw him hurt.

Villains or not, they weren't heartless spawns of evil… err, well at least two of them. But even Missy had a heart. They weren't monsters. "Yes home. Home…. The swamp is that way, just avoid stepping on anyone."

Renewed vigor carried him forward, only stopping to make sure fleeing citizens weren't accidentally crushed underfoot. 

He really did not want murder to be added to his criminal records.

Although he was pretty sure involuntary manslaughter would end up there somewhere after this ordeal was dealt with.

  "There we go, nice and easy. No more tomfoolery." He was pleased with how the streets were opening up. The smoke back there was getting pretty thick in the air though... Was the wind blowing his way or was he imagining it?

It was irritating his ventilation system for sure. Irritating it quite a bit actually.

  "Gosh darn soothy smoke!" He scrubbed at the discrete vents irritably, almost like someone scratching their nose.

He shook his head vigorously, finding it difficult to see now that his shutter and lens were welling up with lubricant, trying to dislodge the sooth filtering in through the seams. "Oh it itches!"

Helplessly scrubbing at both the leaking lens and his ventilation system, Cameraman was suddenly overcome by the enormous need to sneeze.

Uh-oh.

  "Do not sneeze, you know what happens when you sneeze!" His desperate scrubbing and scratching increased in intensity as he tried to prevent the inevitable. The moment the mechanism to prime his laser sight clicked on, he immediately looked up as a way to prevent further devastation. "A-ah… Aah...AACHOO!!!!"

The laser shot out of his lens as he stumbled back, zooming upwards at high speed and hitting a previously unnoticed news blimp that had been flying overhead. The object-headed toon said nothing as he watched the darn thing fall out of the sky like a swatted fly, and collide with another building further away before bursting into flames.

He covered his face and groaned in frustration. Was there anything in this city he hadn't broken yet?!

  "Dang it…" If not take pity on his physical injuries, then surely Missy and Brute would take pity on his bruised ego instead.

-

It took far too long to get out of the (ruined) city. No matter how careful he'd tried to be, Cameraman had simply brought tremendous devastation with each tentative step towards being home free.

If he stopped to think about it, it made perfectly logical sense.

He was used to his actual stature and weight, so suddenly becoming some sort of titan had completely tipped the scales for him.

His regular clumsiness cranked up tenfold as he tried to navigate a world that was suddenly more fragile than he was accustomed to.

Of course in his current state he didn't really have the time to sit around for a moment of introspection, nor to contemplate on the fact he'd been an idiot and gone through with an idea that was doomed from the start.

From the moment he'd bumped the controls to this very moment in time, where he was tiredly stumbling back to the Society's HQ.

The metal beam stuck in his shoulder yet to be pulled out, since every instinct told him that doing that right now wouldn't be good for him. He needed to be sure he had help to deal with that.

And, as that thought entered his mind, something slowly clicked.

Stopping in his tracks Cameraman looked around in confusion.

Where… where was the base?

He was sure as all heck that he'd placed it in the shallows, and that was right there, next to that rotten log wedged by that one rock that looked like a hippo.

"Where…?" He scratched his flash's connection point in confusion as he glanced around. "I could have sworn I placed it here…"

He squinted, focusing on the murky water before crouching down to try to look for the distinct devil shaped building.

He even went so far as turning on his light, but it didn't pierce deep into the filthy water's depths.

Racking his memory to be sure he wasn't mistaken, he recalled placing the base right there and leaving.

He'd stumbled a bit, but he hadn't moved anywhere near the base, just splashed up a little water over his boots and… and…

His building sized boots…

Horror struck him as it suddenly dawned on him that what he'd perceived as little splashes were likely waves several feet in height, with the crashing force of a freightliner colliding with a steam boat…

"Oh no…" he carefully placed his hands in the water and began to feel around for the base, dragging himself forward and searching desperately not just for home, but for his friends as well. "Please be ok!! Please be ok!!!"

All that came up was random junk people had carelessly thrown in the swamp. The SSSB's base was nowhere to be found, and neither were Cameraman's only two friends for the matter… likely washed out into the deepest part of the swamp.

Likely… likely dead, from being trapped in a sinking base, because their friend was an incompetent fool.

"Oh goodness… no, I… I didn't…" the combination of the pain on his shoulder and exhaustion made him stop his fruitless search. As realization sunk in deeper, grief took hold. "I didn't mean to…"

Sniffling loudly, the camera toon hid his leaking lens in his hands and began to cry.

He'd ruined everything because of some stupid vendetta against a film studio! And now he'd be stuck as a klutz of a giant, alone and cold forever!

Sobbing loudly into his hands, Cameraman didn't notice the sounds of even splashes as someone rowed towards him, and was too caught up in his own sadness to register something beginning to tap against his knee.

He thought it was probably just flotsam that he'd loosened during his desperate rummaging.

When the tapping was replaced with a sharp jab, however, he did pull his hands away and rub at his lens to clear up the tears.

Staring up at him looking a complete tired mess, were Miss Twisted and Brute, both standing atop their base which they'd strapped to some sort of bizarre makeshift raft they'd fashioned up of logs, branches and whatever they could find that could make it as buoyant as possible.

The rows they'd improvised were also just several sticks tied together, and Missy had used the gripping end of hers to poke him to get his attention.

He was so dumbstruck he didn't say anything, which seemed to annoy the demoness.

"CAM YOU BETTER BE READY FOR A WALLOPING BECAUSE ONCE WE FIX UP THIS MESS I'M GONNA BEAT YOU SO HARD OVER THE HEAD YOU'LL BECOME AN INSTANT CAMERA INSTEAD!" He could just barely make out her high pitched screeching, but lord if it wasn't the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard! Shutters welling up all over again, the object-headed toon carefully scooped up the base from beneath the water and carefully brought it closer.

"HEY PUT US DOWN! WE'RE NOT A TOY YOU BIG… Big… Cammy are you crying?" The embers of Miss Twisted's ire were quickly extinguished by concern as she caught sight of the big fat tears dripping out of his lens.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE BOTH DEAD!" He cried out, choking back another sob as he watched them both flinch and grab at their ears in pain. "P-pardon my outburst… I'm just so relieved I… I thought I'd drowned you both accidentally!"

"No, but that almost happened! Cam what were you thinking, making yourself into some big behemoth? How's that gonna help you at all?!" She tapped her foot impatiently. "Take it from a demon pal, the bigger they are, the harder they fall! I've seen archdemons topple like dominoes because they thought bigger was better… it's a stupid macho sentiment that ends in tears and humiliation."

"This wasn't what I was going for, believe me… I err… I merely miscalculated the calibration of my machine and this sort of… Ended up being the result." He looked as sheepish as one could without an actual face.

"You messed up and tried to save face uh?" She deadpanned as she dropped her arms again at her sides. Brute merely watching the exchange.

"Yes…" he admitted hesitantly as he glanced back towards the city. He could still see the smoke. "In hindsight, I should have realized that was foolish of me… Where's the fun in being a villain if there's no city left to practice villainy upon?"

"Cameraman destroy whole city?!" Brute gawked up at him in dismay.

"Not ALL of it… just err… 75%?" An explosion in the distance made him flinch. "Make that 95%..."

"I'll say… there's also something frigging stuck to your arm!" Missy pointed out, grimacing at the sight of the embedded metal beam currently still on his person.

"I know… I didn't want to touch it until I knew for sure I could have it looked at… which I can't right now." He also didn't want to touch it again. It really did hurt quite a bit when he poked it!

"Uh… how do fix Cameraman?" Brute asked. "Me no think lab ok…"

"No, no it's not. Cammy crushed it with his big fat butt." Missy groaned. "Please tell me you know how to rebuild your machine so we can revert this…"

"I do recall how to recreate it, yes. However, at this size I can't do so myself…" he carefully set down the base onto his knees so that he could rest his arm a bit. Making sure to stabilize it, he brought his knees closer to himself and leaned his head down so that now his lens was overing close to his two friends.

His shutter clicked shut as both reached up to pat the rim lightly in an attempt to comfort him. "I know you've likely gone through an ordeal already due to my carelessness… but could you perhaps build it for me? I really don't think it'd be wise for me to ruin any of the building materials."

"So needy, you big dumbo…" the demoness chuckled "Fine, we'll clean up your mess. But you're so doing our chores for the next month."

"And help with Brute's and Miss's plans!" The beefy wolf added.

"Deal." He held out his pinky so they could shake on it. Once both the smaller toons grabbed it with their little (cute) mitts, he carefully raised it up and down.

"Right! Off to work we go!"

-

It ended up being more of a one girl job to build a replica of the ray gun that Cameraman had created, so while Miss Twisted busied herself with that particular task, Brute had gone ahead and repaired the base. He was used to doing it by now, with just how often it got wrecked.

It was only natural he was picking up a few tricks on how to fix it up nice and quickly, without sacrificing stability and comfort.

He thought it was nice to have a home for a change, rather than some dingy alleyway or a prison cell, so he made sure to maintain it when needed. He was sure his two friends appreciated that tender act on his part. His way of showing a softer less thuggish side while still getting to show off his impressive musculature.

Call him a meathead all you wanted, he liked showing off what got him somewhere in life (through his own effort).

Once done, Brute nodded to himself in satisfaction before going to check in on the others. He came out just in time to see the metal beam once piercing through his friend's shoulder crashing down into the water, and then the femme fatale of the group firing a well aimed energy beam at the wounded object-head looming over her.

Brute covered his one eye to avoid looking at the bright light, and then uncovered it once the world dimmed back to its normal lighting. Not that there was that much sunlight left anymore, the sun was setting pretty quick as it was late in the afternoon.

Still he could just about make out a familiar tiny figure just hovering up in the air for a few brief seconds, before gravity caught up and brought him back down and crashing into the freezing water.

"10 points for that spectacular belly flop! What's your score, big guy?" Missy grinned impishly as she watched their friend resurface and splutter a bit from the shock of getting drenched by the swamp's murky embrace.

"Meh… Brute gives it an 8. Brute has seen better." The lumbering wolf shrugged as he moved over to pick up the trembling toon that was barely able to lift his arm. The wound looked very nasty and needed to be disinfected asap now that it had come into contact with a direct source of filth and bacteria "Cameraman need nurse Brute now. Fix up arm real good!"

"T-thank you big fella… I do f-feel a little woozy…"

"You boys go on ahead, I'm getting rid of this hunk of metal… More trouble than it's worth." She pointed at the ray gun "From now on, no mucking around with sizes!"

"Yes ma'am" both replied at the same time before Brute carried the injured Cameraman inside.

Missy watched them go before simply reaching over to the main panel and ripping out the wiring, disabling the miserable piece of mechanical junk for good. Once that was done, she simply kicked the ray gun into the water and dusted herself.

Satisfied with the deed, she briefly glanced towards the thick smoke in the distance and shook her head.

"What a shame... But hey, at least Cammy brought some scrap metal back…" she glanced at the half submerged beam. It was stained by whatever chemicals the little guy had to pass for blood, but it was an easy enough thing to clean off "Should get to stripping that before it gets too rusty…"

She went inside looking for that one big saw she'd gotten as a reward from Papa Pluto, for ruining some rich snob's party by dumping laxatives into the punch.

That had been a fun night, and that saw could cut through almost everything including solid metal.

On her way back out, she peered into the Society's shared bedroom and nodded at Brute who had just walked out holding the first aid kit.

"How's that shoulder of his?" She asked.

"Cameraman will live. Him asleep now, like little baby." He stepped aside to show her this and, sure enough, there was the shorter of the three curled up in his drawer bed. Tucked in and capped lens tucked under his uninjured arm. It was kind of cute watching him sleep so peacefully after such a rough day.

"Aww… poor little guy tuckered himself out. Must have had a pretty long day playing in the city."

"Ah-yuh." Brute nodded in agreement as he set the kit aside. He looked back at her almost curiously "What do Brute and Missy do now?"

"Well I was gonna strip that beam for scrap, but that'll be noisy… Cammy needs his rest, so why don't we go to the city and loot some goodies while everyone is too busy to stop us?"

"Me like plan!"

"Knew you would, big guy! Come along then!" She made sure to carefully close the bedroom door, but not before looking at the sleeping camera toon one more time. Yeah, he'd earned his rest. "Sweet dreams, you little weirdo…"

And with that done, off they went to cause some more trouble.

All the while their friend dreamt of the simpler things in life, like causing minor mischief with his two (and only) greatest pals in the whole world.

No more dreaming too big, he'd stick with the small-fry stuff thank you very much!

[jade4813]

Resolution

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: Resolution

Rating: G

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Sequel to Fallout and Repercussions (and episode 7 of the series). Zoey has finally figured out how she feels about Max, but when she tries to get up the never to tell him, Everything. Goes. Wrong. Will the two of them ever manage to get on the same page?

The clock on the wall read 6:22 a.m., and Zoey was already on her third cup of coffee for the day. She remembered with some regret the way she’d once expressed surprise at Joan’s suggestion that they share a drink in the middle of the afternoon. Her day hadn’t even officially started, and she was already wishing she had something to steel her nerves.

All the caffeine she’d consumed was making her jittery, the coffee roiling around in her otherwise empty stomach until she felt sick. She briefly considered grabbing some cereal or perhaps a piece of bread to settle her stomach, but the thought of consuming food just made her feel slightly ill.

She pressed her hand to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. She could do this! She had a plan! When Max showed up to work, she’d take him aside and tell him that she’d realized that she loved him and wanted to give their relationship a shot! How hard could it be? After all, she already knew how he felt about her, right?

Except…he’d been even weirder than usual with her over the last couple of days, ever since their last conversation, when he’d suggested she should go talk to her mom.

“Zoey? Uh…what the hell was that?” he’d asked.

“What was what?”

His eyes narrowed, he looked at her in confusion and concern. “You…you didn’t just…you didn’t hear that? Are you messing with me right now?”

Completely at a loss as to what he meant, she shook her head slowly, “Max, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Hear what? Did something happen?” she leaned to the side to look around him, scanning the office for something out of place.

He stepped back, running one hand across his face. “I’m losing it. Lack of sleep or…I-I thought you…I must have imagined it. It’s fine. Never mind.” She threw him a reassuring smile, but he hurried back to his desk and avoided her for the rest of the day. And for the two days since, although she occasionally caught him watching her closely, like he was trying to figure her out. Or as though she might bite.

“I don’t bite,” she reassured herself in an undertone. But what if his strange behavior was because he’d realized his feelings were all a mistake? What if he’d realized he wasn’t in love with her anymore – at least, not like that? She hadn’t heard any of his heartsongs since the night he coopted a scooter for her, after her dad fell. Was it possible he just wasn’t romantically interested in her anymore?

Zoey pushed away the thought with a grimace and a stern self-reproach. “Not. Helping.” Desperate for a distraction, she grabbed for her tablet and tried to focus on her work, instead. Her love life might be a disaster at present, but this was a language she understood. This came naturally to her, in a way that navigating her love life did not.

In her very first computer course in college, Zoey had been tasked with programming a robot to wind its way through a maze. She had managed to complete the assignment faster than any of her other classmates, going on to earn an A+ in the course at the end of the semester. When she took a step back and considered her current situation, it wasn’t that different. She just had to get herself and Max through the maze of confusion brought on by intense emotion and miscommunication. And then everything would work itself out.

Reassured by the thought, she shot a quick glance around to make sure she was still alone. Her day hadn’t technically started yet, so she took her tablet to an isolation pod and curled up inside to craft some code. By the time she started to hear her coworkers filter in, her simple program was up and running – a digital Zoey and Max, her programmable “robots,” were winding their way through a complex maze. She smiled when she programmed the code directing the two to lean in for a kiss (hearts showing above their heads and all) when they finally made their way to each other.

It was a silly little program, but it made her feel better. Maybe she was overthinking things. She’d tell Max she wanted to be with him, and the two would kiss. How hard could it be?

Lifting the sliding door to the pod, Zoey stepped out and stretched, working out some kinks that had settled in her shoulders. With one last reassuring glance at her ZoeyBot’s progress through the maze, she closed the program and pulled up her notepad.

Any project was possible, as long as one went in with a plan. Almost every task could be broken down into straightforward, manageable steps. Like programming code. Just take each step in turn, one after the other, until the task was finished. With that in mind, she jotted herself a quick note.

Get Max somewhere private.

Show him MaxBot?? (He’ll get it, right?)

Tell him you want to be with him.

Kiss.

Four steps. Possibly three, if she decided she was too embarrassed to show him her computer program. Three or four completely simple, totally manageable steps. Completely doable plan. Now all Max had to do was to show up, and she could put her plan into action.

Unable to sit still, she dropped her tablet onto her desk and headed towards the restroom. All that coffee was taking its toll, but she also hoped that pouring some cold water over her wrists could help her stay focused and calm. She lingered a few extra minutes to give herself a silent pep-talk and practice an eloquent speech about her feelings before steeling her shoulders and heading back outside.

She returned to the office just in time to see Max grab his tablet from his desk and head towards the wicker seats – the pattern of avoidance he’d established over the last couple of days. Hoping to catch him before he got too wrapped up in code and she lost her nerve, she darted to her desk and grabbed for her tablet.

“Max!” she barked abruptly, a shade louder than necessary. He jumped, startled, and spun around to look at her. Softening her tone, she offered him a sheepish smile as she asked, “Do you have a second? There’s something I wanted to show you.” Her program was perhaps a little silly, but maybe he’d find it endearing? She could only hope.

Before he could come up with an excuse to turn her down, she jogged up to him and pulled him aside. “Okay, promise you won’t laugh. I know this is a little silly, but I wanted to show you – uh –”

Her voice trailed off as she held up what she thought would be her tablet and realized that, in her anxiety and rush to catch him, she’d accidentally grabbed her stapler instead. She actually had a stapler? Why? She couldn’t even remember the last time she needed to staple something!

Max seemed equally as confused. “Your…stapler?” he offered. “It’s…nice.”

Completely mortified, her courage fled. “Ah…yes. My stapler. I was…um…wondering. If you had any staples. I think I’m out.” That was unlikely. It was probably holding the same staples that had come with it when it was shipped from the factory, for all she knew. These things came preloaded, right? She had no idea.

“Ah,” he replied, drawing out the word for several seconds. “I don’t think so. Have you tried the supply closet? There might be some in there.”

Zoey forced a laugh. “The supply closet! Right! Makes total sense! Duh,” she waved the stapler wildly, almost clocking herself in the head. “Thanks a lot, Max…i...million.” She heard the ill-advised nickname as though it was coming from outside of herself, from someone else’s mouth, and looked at him in horror.

His smile was uncertain. “No problem. That’s not really a nickname we’re planning to run with, is it?”

“Nope! No, we’re not!” she promised. Trying to cover for her gaff, she aimed a playful shrug at his shoulder to break the tension, somehow completely missing and punching the tablet out of his hands, instead. “That’s…oh, sorry! I’ll…I’ll replace that if it’s broken.” Maybe discretion really was the better part of valor, she decided, not even wanting to see the look on his face as she backed away as quickly as she possibly could before she accidentally broke something else.

It turned out programming code was much easier than telling her best friend she had realized he might be the love of her life.

Later that evening, once she was safely back at home and unlikely to humiliate herself any further, Zoey scowled to herself and she pulled up her ZoeyBot/MaxBot computer program. It didn’t take her long to add a giant, menacing stapler that chased ZoeyBot down the first section of the maze.

Then, heaving a heavy sigh, she pulled up her To Do list. It hadn’t served her very well so far, but she still had confidence in the basic premise. Make a plan. Stick to the plan. Don’t break anything. Check. With that in mind, she reviewed her list.

Okay, so maybe she was too nervous around him to make a smooth job of it. Was there any way she could take the actual confession part out of her hands? She mulled over the question as she stared off into the distance. Finally, it hit her. Balloons! Everyone liked balloons, right?

Grinning at the brilliance of her new plan, she pulled up a web browser and search for a balloon delivery service in the area. Once she found what she wanted, she placed the order for the next day. In the morning, a courier would bring her balloons, reading “I Love U Max.” The last was a specialty balloon – they’d write in his name, and the sample online looked decent enough. Before pressing the button to finalize the order, she gave it one last critical look. Love? No, she should go with the heart instead. Less awkward, she decided, hitting “submit.” The plan was in place! He’d see the balloons and…that would be it! Not risk of ambiguity or bodily injury!

Well, maybe not it, exactly. If they were going to be in a relationship, she was going to have to talk to Joan. She would hardly be able to hide it, since she was planning on confessing in the middle of the office. Once the cat was out of the bag, she wouldn’t be able to continue to be his supervisor. It wouldn’t be right. But she was confident they could find a solution. Feeling much better than she had an hour or so before, Zoey made a few revisions to her list:

Get Max somewhere private.

Show him Maxbot?? (He’ll get it, right?)

Don’t break anything.

Balloons arrive

Tell him you want to be with him.

Kiss.

She didn’t know the exact time the balloons would arrive; more like a narrow window. So she might have to take things a little by ear. But with a plan this solid, surely nothing could go wrong, right?

Right.

The next day, Zoey realized she’d been humming happily to herself off and on all morning, but she couldn’t help it. She was in such a good mood! This plan of hers was going to come off perfectly. When she walked up to the elevator bay and saw Max waiting for the doors to open, she threw him her brightest smile. “Good morning!”

He looked a little taken aback. “Morning, Zoey. You seem to be in a good mood today.”

She nodded. “Yup! I think it’s going to be a fantastic day. It’s just a feeling.”

“Well, then, I hope you’re right,” he replied pleasantly.

She considered taking the moment of privacy to go ahead and confess her feelings, but then others joined them on the elevator and the window of opportunity was lost. No matter. She had balloons! The balloons would not fail her!

“I don’t understand,” she told the balloon courier with an askance look at the two balloons he held out for her to take. “Where are the rest of them?”

Not appearing to be terribly concerned, he shrugged and offered in insufficient explanation and complete lack of apology, “We were out. My boss said we can complete the order next week.”

“Next week! That doesn’t help! I had a whole plan and now all I have to show for it is ‘U Max’. What am I supposed to do with ‘U Max’?”

He shrugged again. Clearly, it wasn’t his problem. She took the balloons from him with numb fingers and briefly considered letting them loose in the stairway to hide evidence of her failed plan when she heard Max speak behind her. “’U Max’? What’s this about?”

Come up with an excuse! Fast! She ordered her poor, beleaguered brain as she spun around. “Maaaaax-i-mus!” Again? Seriously? What the hell was wrong with her? “I got you these!”

“I can see that,” he replied, staring up at the balloons in question. “I’m just trying to figure out what they mean. U Max? Max U? Is this a secret code?”

Her laugh was forced, high-pitched, and veering on hysterical. “No! Of course not! It’s just a new…management plan I’m trying. I’ll be randomly bringing balloons in to people on the team. To let you know that, uh, well, you know. We…see you. And we…appreciate…you know, you. That is, you. Max. I read it in a book somewhere, I think.”

“Really? That’s a little weird. What book?” She would have thought he was on to her, but he sounded more curious than suspicious.

“Oh…I don’t even remember now. Would you just take your balloons?”

He reached for them. “Sure thing. Well, thank you for reaffirmation of my name, anyway,” he teased.

Her answering chuckle was almost genuine. “We spend so much time in this building some days, I thought there was a chance you might have forgotten.”

“Is that the reason for the new nicknames? Because, for the record, I don’t think I like Maximus any better than Maximillion.”

“No, but duly noted,” she replied with a forced smile, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt as she returned to her desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joan look over at her, Max, and the balloons and shake her head in bafflement before returning to her own work. Zoey was almost pathetically grateful her boss didn’t call her in to demand an explanation. She wasn’t entirely sure she could explain what was going on with her right now, even to herself.

When she saw him walk away and thought he might not see her, she rested her forehead on her desk with a groan, tempted to bang it repeatedly against the hard surface if she wasn’t sure that would bring her too much attention.

Why did her efforts to sweep Max off his feel keep going so haywire? What was she doing wrong?

“Mo, this is getting out of hand. You have to help me!” she cried, pacing back and forth in her neighbor’s living room. Saying it was “getting out of hand” was probably generous. Things were getting downright dire. Her plan was on Day 4, and it had just been one disaster after another.

“I’m not sure there’s any help for you,” Mo offered, shaking her head. “Have you tried just talking to him?”

“Yes! I tried today!”

Mo sat back on the couch. “And?”

“Aaaaand…I decided I would casually drop it in over coffee. But I didn’t realize my ZoeyBot program was up on my screen, and he saw it and asked what it was. One thing led to another, I freaked out and tried to cover it up, and I accidentally…kinda…tripped and…threw an entire cup of coffee at him.”

He blinked. “Wow. I knew you were a mess, but I think you may be even more of a mess than I realized.”

Zoey moaned and sank to the couch beside him. “Really? It’s not even remotely a surprise to me.” Closing her eyes, she leaned back and mulled over her predicament. Then she bolted upright. “I know! What if I do a some kind of flash mob for him?”

“No.”

“What? Hear me out! I get a bunch of people together…”

“No.”

“…and we do some kind of song…”

Mo put a hand on her arm. “Let me stop you right there. So far this week, you’ve brought him a stapler. You got him exactly half of your love confession in balloons, but not even the half that would actually convey what you wanted him to know. And you tried to give him third degree burns. You really think you can get through a whole choreographed dance number without breaking something? Like yourself? Or him?”

Zoey had to reluctantly concede the point, but she wasn’t quite ready to let this idea go. Remembering how she’d imagined him singing outside her window, she suggested, “So what if it’s just me? I could bring a boombox with me and sing outside his window. I saw it in a movie I watched with him once.”

Mo threw her a skeptical look. “Do you even have a boombox?”

She shrugged. “No. Do you?” His answering stare spoke volumes. “Okay, no background music. Just me.”

“Uh huh. And what would you sing?”

“I don’t know; I’m sure I could come up with something. Like, ‘Oh, my lo-‘”

“Nope.”

“Okay. What about, ‘It’s a little bit fu-‘”

“Absolutely not. You should not sing for him. Trust me.”

“But I –” she began.

“No.”

She broke off with a groan. “Okay, what do you suggest?”

Mo sighed. “The same thing I’ve been suggesting all along. No props. No gimmicks. Just walk up to him and find a way to casually drop into conversation that you want to have lots of sex and babies.”

“Are you actually dropping a Love Actually quote on me right now?” Zoey asked in disbelief.

“I’m trying to speak your language,” he replied flippantly, breaking into a grin.

She rolled her eyes as she rose to her feet and headed for the door. “All right. Fine. I’ll just…tell him how I feel. There’s no chance that can end in disaster!”

The table was set. Dinner was in the oven. Zoey was wearing her best dress. She paused long enough to make sure she had matches to light the candles in the candelabra she’d borrowed from her parents’ house earlier in the day, then checked to make sure his jacket was hanging by the door.

She’d gotten Max’s jacket from her mom when she stopped by to visit earlier that day. He’d apparently left it at her parents’ house by accident a few evenings prior, when he’d stopped by to bring her dad some soup from his favorite restaurant across town. It was as good a pretext as any to get him to Zoey’s place, where she would serve him a romantic dinner and confess. Everything.

Wanting to make sure everything was ready, she grabbed her tablet to review her plan one last time. Her (many-times) revised list read:

Get Max somewhere private.

Show him Maxbot?? (He’ll get it, right?)

Don’t break or burn anything. or anyone!!!!!!

Balloons arrive

Bring him coffee

Dinner at home??? “Ham is easy but shows effort”

Make it romantic (candles, yes! Flowers, no. Don’t take your chances)

Music! (Mo says no singing Sing if necessary)

Touch nothing hot until it’s over

No liquids either

Pretext of having his coat?

When he shows up, tell him you want to be with love him.

Kiss.

She took a quick glance around to make sure everything was set up according to her list. Perfect. Things seemed to be going according to plan, for once.

With a satisfied smile, she grabbed her phone. Of course, she probably should have made sure he was free before going through the trouble of cooking an entire ham. But it was too late for such regrets. She tapped her phone with her hand as she paced back and forth, practicing what she was going to say.

“Hey, Max! It’s me! Zoey. It’s Zoey. Do I even need to say that? He has caller ID. Okay, just go with hey, Max! Oh, but he knows who he is. Maybe just hey! Now I sound like a chipmunk. Heeey? No, that sounds creepy. Hi! Howdy! Ugh. Hey…”

As she paced back and forth, she lost track of what was going on around her and so didn’t notice the smoke billowing out of her oven until the fire detector went off, beeping shrilly in her ear. “No! No, no, no, no no…” she muttered desperately as she raced to the oven and pulled it open. On second thought, she should have kept it closed as a ball of fire followed another billow of smoke. “What the-”

She was catapulted out of the way when Mo came in from out of nowhere, shoving her aside to spray an entire fire extinguisher’s worth of suppressant into her oven. As he worked, she jabbed the fire detector with a broom until it fell silence. Then she returned to the stove to throw her meal a morose look. If her ham hadn’t been ruined already, it was now.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Mo demanded in aggrieved affrontery, pulling out her obliterated meal once he’d assured himself that the fire had been extinguished. Wiping off some of the chemicals coating the top, he poked around at the charred meal and exclaimed, “You left the plastic on?”

“What? No, of course not! I removed the plastic!” Zoey peered around Mo’s shoulder to look at the ham, poking it with one dubious finger. “There was a second layer of plastic on the back half of it?” There was, now both firmly baked into the outer skin of the ham and crispy from where it had gone aflame.

Mo sighed and looked around, taking in the scene. Zoey in her dress and heels, way beyond “stay-at-home casual.” The dining table, set for two. The romantic music playing softly over her radio.

“I-I-I-” Zoey stammered, trying to come up with some sort of self-defense, but Mo wasn’t hearing it.

“What did I tell you about props and gimmicks? Would you please go tell Max how you feel about him before you burn down this entire building?”

“I just thought…a romantic meal…”

Grabbing her gently but firmly by the shoulders, he steered her towards the door. “Go. Tell. Him. How. You. Feel.”

“But my meal!” she protested weakly.

He shook his head. “It’s already had a Viking funeral. There’s nothing more we can do for it now. Go take care of this while I dispose of the body. Go.”

Dejected that her plans had once again followed through, Zoey dug in her heels. “Wait! I need my jacket. That black one. And – and my purse.”

She gestured and Mo leaned over to grab both items, passing them over with a dubious look. “That’s yours?” he asked when she slipped the jacket on. It smelled like Max, and Zoey breathed in deeply, pretending it was his arms wrapped around her.

It was huge on her, but she nodded. “Yup! Okay, well…I should go, I guess.”

“Uh huh. Just try not to do anything weird between here and there. I don’t want to get any calls that you’ve been sent to the hospital. Or jail.”

“You won’t. Scout’s honor. You have nothing to worry about!”

Mo shot a pointed look over his shoulder at her demolished kitchen. “Uh huh.”

Zoey rocked back and forth on her toes as she stared at the door in front of her. Too scared to knock, she pulled her phone out of her purse and texted him instead. Hey, are you home? My mom said you left a coat at her place. I’m in the neighborhood, so I can drop it by if you’re there.

She could actually hear his phone chirp through the door. A few seconds later, she got the response. You don’t need to do that! I can swing by and pick it up later if you don’t want to go out of your way. Or you can bring it to work. Thanks for the offer!

He ended his text with a smiley emoji, and she spent much longer than necessary trying to decipher what that meant. Was he genuinely just worried about her taking a special trip? Or was this part of his efforts to avoid her?

She considered making a run for it, but she suspected Mo wouldn’t let her back into her apartment unless he was certain she’d told Max the truth and would theoretically no longer be a danger to herself or others. Before she could lose whatever shred of nerve she still retained, she shrugged out of his coat (admittedly reluctantly), lifted her hand, and rapped briskly on his door.

He opened it a few seconds later, his face a mask of surprise. “Zoey? Wow, that was…really fast.”

What she meant to say was, “Hey! Like I said, I was in the neighborhood.” What she actually said sounded like, “Hey, Ma-nipples.”

He was shirtless again. Didn’t he know what that did to her self-composure? To her ability to string a coherent thought together? Granted, it wasn’t exactly fair of her to blame him. He’d had no real reason to know she was lurking outside his door when she’d sent him that text. But still.

He looked adorably awkward as he lifted one hand to run his fingers through his wet hair, trying to get it in some semblance of order. She’d apparently caught him coming out of the shower. So he was standing in front of her both half-naked and damp? Good. Lord.

Oblivious to her sudden struggle for air, he explained, “Yeah, sorry. I just got back from the gym. I didn’t realize you were coming by.” He hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Do you want to come in?” As she stepped through the door, he looked over his shoulder like he wasn’t sure if he should go grab a shirt. Or like he wasn’t alone.

She stumbled to a halt, her heart seizing in her chest. “Oh, god. You’re not busy, are you? I mean, if you have someone here -”

He cocked his head to the side, throwing her a confused smile. “No, of course not!” Glancing down, he leaned in, his hand reaching towards her. “Oh, I should –”

His face was moving closer to hers, and Zoey’s brain backfired. This was it! The moment she’d been waiting for! Her little MaxBot and ZoeyBots had traversed the maze, avoiding homicidal staplers, menacing balloons, and boiling vats of coffee (and, after tonight, actual bursts of fire that she might as well program in when she got home), and it was finally time to do the thing she’d fantasized about all week! Success!

Completely forgetting that she was holding his coat – and that she hadn’t actually gotten around to confessing her feelings yet – she lurched forward, convinced he was about to initiate a kiss. A kiss she fully intended to reciprocate. The most perfect first kiss one could ever possibly imagine, she was sure.

Instead, in her haste and panic, she missed the mark. Instead of a romantic first kiss, she accidentally semi-headbutted him, her lips landing somewhere in vicinity of the air below his chin. He jerked back in surprise, causing her to lose her balance and stumble forward, stomping on his toe.

“Zoey! What was that?” he yelped, hand cupped over his nose, as he hopped on one foot. Is it broken? Am I bleeding?” She was too horrified at herself to respond, so he pulled his hand away to check for blood before throwing her a bewildered look. “Did you come over here to headbutt me for not being able to hang out lately? Because I really have been busy.”

“What?” she protested. “Of course not!”

He must have seen the misery on her face, because his grimace melted into a soft, reassuring smile. Clearly struggling to hold back a wince, he asked gently, “Okay, then, do you want to tell me what this is all about? Trust me. You have my undivided attention.”

She clutched her hands in front of her, trying to stop them from trembling, and tried to find the words to explain. She found she couldn’t look him in the eye and form a coherent thought. His lips also seemed a little too daunting. His chest was…nope. Still bare. She wasn’t even going to attempt it. Fixing her attention to a spot roughly around his Adam’s apple – that seemed more or less safe enough – she tried to remember part of the elegant speech she’d prepared earlier in the week to tell him how she felt. The only thing that came to mind was “You Max” and she’d already discovered first-hand how insufficient that was to get the job done.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged forward. “I’m…not very good with people. I think we both know that. The only thing I’m really good at is programming! And so I just thought…if I could get the Zoey-Bot and the Max-Bot through the maze…”

Even she could tell she wasn’t making any sense. His Adam’s apple moved as he asked, “The…Max-Bot? I-I don’t…You want me to build some-”

“No. That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Staring at his neck wasn’t helping, so she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to pull herself together. “I’m trying to say that I took your advice and I talked to my mom.”

Silence fell between them for a few seconds before he replied gently, “Oh. Well, that’s good! Isn’t it? What did she say?”

She opened her eyes, meeting his unflinchingly. “She said…after she met my dad, she could spend the rest of her life running from the way she felt about him, trying to protect her heart. Or she could take a chance that she might lose him one day, and cherish every moment they were lucky to have each other along the way. The good days and the bad, as long as they were together. She said that you can never know the future, but the happiness she found when she chose to take a chance on my dad, when she chose love, outweighed all the pain. Even the pain of losing him.” She had said that, no matter how much it would hurt to lose Zoey’s father, she would never, ever regret loving him.

Max didn’t move. Didn’t speak. As far as she could tell, barely breathed. So she took a tiny step towards him and confessed, “And Max…I promised I would be honest with you, so I will. I’m still scared. And I don’t want to ever lose you. I don’t know how I could bear it. But I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you…a long time ago. Even though I was too scared to admit it to myself. And, who knows? Maybe I never would have if it weren’t for my superpower. Maybe? What I do know is that being with you…it makes me happy. So I’m – I’m choosing love over fear. I’m choosing you. I mean, to be with you.” Her courage depleted, she finished lamely, “I, I mean…if that’s…if that’s still what you want?”

He reached out, trailing fingertips down her arm until she released the death grip she hand on her hands and took his in hers. Her skin felt cold and, she was afraid, probably clammy. But she could swear he was trembling, too, and it wasn’t just her. “What I want? Of course it is! Zoey, I’m not trying to push you into anything. We don’t have to go fast with this! I know you’re scared about what might happen. I’m scared, too. I don’t want to lose you, either! It’s why I didn’t tell you how I felt for so long. But I also know that when I think about the future – my future – I want you to be in it. And that’s worth taking a chance on. I don’t mind taking this slow, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Her breath escaped her with a whoosh, as she felt the tension drain from her shoulders. “Really?”

“Really,” he responded reassuringly, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “As long as you promise Manipples also isn’t going to be my new nickname.” That elicited a laugh, so he suggested, “I have an idea. Why don’t I…put on a shirt,” his mouth curved into that boyish grin that she loved so much as he gestured vaguely at his chest, “and then we can watch a movie together.”

“I’d like that,” she replied, rocking up onto her toes as she returned his smile.

“But first, if you don’t mind…could we try that kiss again?” At his surprised look, she smiled sheepishly and explained, “I’d like to be able to say that I managed it without nearly sending you to the hospital. I made a promise to Mo, after all.” Plus, it was pretty mortifying that he hadn’t even been aware that’s what she’d been attempting when she nearly knocked him out.

“Yeah, of course,” Max breathed, tugging gently on her hand to pull her forward. Stepping into his embrace was like coming home, she realized, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down towards her. With one hand resting between her shoulder blades and the other at the small of her back, he pulled her tight against him. Zoey closed her eyes as she savored the feeling of his lips as they brushed softly against hers once, then twice. She parted her lips and heard him groan deep in his throat as he deepened the kiss.

She thought she could stand there in Max’s entranceway, kissing him forever, but he finally gave her one last, tender kiss and pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers. “I love you, Zoey,” he whispered.

“I love you, Max,” she breathed in return.

[lonewolfel]

Fictober 2020, Day 6

Prompt: 30 - “just say it”

Fandom: KOTOR 2(Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords) 

Rating: G (Mentions of death, torture, and violence) 

Pairing: Unrequited Atton/Jedi Exile 

Third part of Fictober 2020, Day 3

Kora was meditating in the cargo bay. She couldn’t get Atton’s words out of her head. Different circumstances, but you have a bigger body count than I ever did. And I’ve been with you only a short time, enough to know that as soon as someone signs on with you, they don’t have long to live. Atton was right, everyone she got closed to died. Tredshe, Alek, Rean, and so many have died because of their closeness to her. Not for the first time she wondered if she should have joined in the Mandalorian Wars. The Republic might have been better off. 

“Can we talk?” Atton asked startling Kora. She looked up and nodded. “We didn’t finish our conversation.”

“I believe you were telling me why you left the Sith.” Kora said not wanting to discuss her part of the conversation. 

“Well, there was a woman. A Jedi. She..she gave her life for mine.” Atton said and he looked away from her in shame. Kora stood up. She wanted to reach out for him, but decided against it. “I never knew her name. She sought me out. She said she had come to save me.She was lying, of course - or I think she was. It doesn’t matter - she told enough truth to get my attention. She said that Revan was doing something terrible to Jedi within the Unknown Regions. That when we captured Jedi, they were sent to a place designed to...break them. And anyone in her service who showed any ability with the Force was sent there, too, to turn them, to break them into Dark Jedi… or assassins trained to kill Jedi. She said that’s what would happen to me - that I had the Force inside me, that’s why I was so good at killing Jedi. And that when the Sith learned of it, there would be no escape, no turning back. I would become an instrument of the dark side, forever. I had heard talk in the ranks, troops vanishing. I knew what she meant, but I didn’t believe her - or want to believe here.” Atton said and Kora couldn’t help but wonder what he did. Her death was obvious, but whether or not she was killed by Atton or someone else. 

“What happened?” Kora asked

“I did what I did with all Jedi. I hurt her. I hurt her a lot. And then, right when I thought she couldn’t take anymore - she showed me the Force in my head. And I felt everything she felt, and I heard just an echo of what the Force was. And how what I was doing…” Atton said and he stopped seeming to be choked up. Kora placed her hand on his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” Kora said and Atton shook his head. 

“I think I loved her, but it wasn’t that kind of love. It was the kind of love where you’re willing to give up everything for someone you don’t even know. I killed her for crawling in my head, for showing me that. But before she opened her mind to mine, my only thought was that I would love to kill her. And at the end, I killed her because I loved her. In the end, she sacrificed herself to keep my secret, to prevent the Sith from knowing about that touch of the Force inside me. She wasted her life to save me. Me. And I felt her die, when she opened her mind. I’ve killed Jedi like I said, but I was never there to feel it, to be on the receiving end. And after that, I couldn’t stop feeling things - before, guilt, lust, impatience, it had been orchestrated  to get close - now, it all just kept tumbling out - and I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing. So I left. I fled with the displaced war veterans to Nar Shaddaa and I lost myself there, until the war came to the end. I wanted no more of Jedi, or Dark Jedi, or the Force. I just wanted to be left alone. And then I met you on Peragus. And I thought, maybe, maybe she had saved me so I could help you. And if I can’t, then I have to try.” Atton said

“I welcome any help you have to offer.” Kora said and she removed her hand from his shoulder. She felt disappointed to increase the distance between them. She tried her best to hide it. 

“I didn’t want to tell you any of this. But...I had to. Because if something happens, I can’t let you think I was doing it for something other than the past.” Atton said and Kora felt disappointed in a new way. He was with her to make up for his past mistakes not her. The Jedi in her was pleased, but that part of her was nearly extinct. “Once a Jedi showed me the Force - I heard it, I felt it. At the time, there was too much pain to confront it - because if I did, it meant I would be changed into something else.”

“It doesn’t have to change you.” Kora said and Atton smirked slightly. 

“Now, I’m not afraid of it anymore. And I think that by learning how to use it - I can help protect you. Or at least buy you some time when disaster comes screaming in.I want to learn how to use the Force. I want to learn how to use the Force to help you.” Atton said

“If it is what you want to be trained in the Force then I will be happy to train you.” Kora said 

“What must I do? Is there some… some ritual, or…?” Atton asked 

“Close your eyes.” Kora said and Atton did as she said. “Feel it around you, feel its currents, its eddies. Listen to the echoes of your thoughts, your heart - separated from war, seperated from hate. Think of what you felt when you felt the need to help me. Atton, open your eyes.”  Atton opened his eyes and frowned. 

“I still feel like me.” Atton said and Kora laughed.

“The Force doesn’t change us. It strengthens who we are.” Kora said

[writersmacchiato]

Remnants | Harry Potter x Reader | Teacher!AU | Part Two

Summary: Harry is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who might possibly have a crush on the Astronomy professor, but he’s still healing after his breakup with Ginny and you know - being martyred as a child. 

word count: 2.5k+

There was something to be said about solitude on a Saturday night. It was brimming with potential energy, all the unknowns and possibilities waiting to be cast. Perhaps, years ago, you would have been out there. A night on the town, with your closest friends, laughing until it hurt and there was never an end to sight. Sometimes you missed those moments of being so utterly carefree, but the chaotic hurricane of it could only be contained for so long.

It wasn’t like you were alone. 

Your cat was a handsome boy, such a proud thing, and a faithful companion. His purrs often the only noise in your apartment, chest rumbling, as you read a book with little regard to anything else. He had been abandoned on the street as a kitten, pitifully mewling, you only hearing the cries after stumbling into the alleyway to throw up the contents of what had been your days digressions. Those were the days you drank more than you should have. His eyes regarded your reproachfully and in your drunken state, you had wrapped your jacket around his skinny frame. He was dubbed 'Sir Henry' thereafter and your days together intertwined. 

Saturday was your day to do absolutely nothing. It was rare you went home on the weekends during the school year, too many things to do with so little time. Stress was ingrained in every fiber at this point. 

The morning was spent sleeping in for how long you could bare it, never staying in later than nine. Sunshine and Sir Henry tickling at your face always woke you up, but there were worse ways to be woken. Sitting on your small balcony, sipping ice coffee and reading both the muggle and wizarding paper, Sir Henry perched on the patio table eating his breakfast. The rest of the day was unmarked by nothing, it was full of maybe's, perhaps, should I? A day could be spent caught up reading a novel, engrossed completely in the world that was being conjured. Or, even simpler, sitting in pajamas all day and watching movies. It really depended on your mood.

Despite insistence from your friends that you needed to get out, there was no need to. You were content to be in your own company - you, yourself, and Sir Henry. You lived an easy life, but that was bound to end after you met Harry fucking Potter - the boy who lived. 

It was inevitable that you wouldn’t learn about him, coming to be quite knowledgeable on the man. His confidence in you rose and so did your feelings, creating a whirl of guilt and confusion. The words he spoke to you were told in the mindset that you were a friend, someone that he could rely on. It felt like a sham to you, listening as he bared his heart to you, knowing that you could not share the same vulnerability that he did. Your feelings would come to light and that was not an option.

He told you one evening that he was looking forward to the weekend, because he was going over to visit Ron and Hermione. 

“I spend most of my free time with them,” he laughs to himself, "they must be sick of me."

"Anyone growing tired of you?" You gasp, holding a hand to your chest. "Unbelievable!"

"They're all I have," he admits, the traces of laughter gone. "Besides you and them, I don't really...have any close friends."

"We all care about you, Harry."

A smile finally crosses his face and you return it, trying to navigate the sudden sea of emotion that swept through you. He saw you as a close friend and it warms your heart, yet it also shot down any hope you had of him returning your more than friendly feelings.

You thought about inviting him over, on occasion, but decided against it. The sight of him in your home would be too much to bare. It was a line between friendly coworkers and more that you were afraid to cross. Of course, there was the oddities that were bound to happen. Neville coming over to your apartment, Harry in tow, with the pretense of spending a day with friends outside of work. Nights spent laughing long into the hours, a feeling of warmth and content - something so rare to feel - a constant companion to the events.

---

"Harry?"

He smiled at you, eyes squinting a bit. "Hello."

"Uh, hi?" You scan his attire; sweater tucked into jeans, the gel he put in his hair in an attempt to tame his curls, eyes sliding down his nose, and the beginning shadow of facial hair. He looked like every day, normal, Harry (outside of work, his robes did him justice).

"Can I come in?"

It wasn't as if he hadn't been to your apartment before; him and Neville had visited multiple times. Not at ten pm on a saturday night, unannounced, possibly drunk, and staring at you as if you hung the stars in the sky. 

"Yes, of course."

He smiles, shuffling in and letting out a soft 'hello' as Sir Henry pads down the hallway. It warms your heart the teeniest bit to see him crouch down and stroke behind the feline's ears, but that doesn't lessen your confusion.

"Harry," you start, crossing your arms. "I mean this in the nicest possible way, but what the fuck are you doing here so late?"

His eyes blearily meet yours and he at least has the grace to look sheepish. There is a tension in the room, but what exactly couldn't be placed. It felt like waking up to clear skies, but feeling the electricity in the air that signaled a storm coming. 

"I was at Ron and Hermione's..." he starts, "and we were talking about you."

Out of everything you expected, that was not it.

"What, why?"

His cheeks, while already flushed, seemed to turn a shade darker. "They think I should tell you."

"Tell me what?" You asked the question, hope flaring in your heart.

"That you're really pretty. Like, really, stupidly pretty. I forget what I want to say around you, because you're just so damned gorgeous." He rambles on, words slurring together but his expression soft.

Your heart thumped steadily in your chest. Those were the words you had fantasized about him saying, but not in these...circumstances.

"Come on, buddy." You pull him to his feet, leading him to the couch in the living room. He plops down with an 'oomph', head sinking into the cushion.

"This is soft," he rubs a pillow.

You smile slightly, despite the situation. Seeing Harry in this state, eased and unbothered, was refreshing from the usual stress he seemed to be plagued by. His green eyes watched you intently as you wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, the depth of them swirled with a mesmerizing emerald speckled with gold specks that resembled stars in the night. 

“This is soft, too.” He murmurs, eyes dropping shut.

“Get some rest, Harry.” You push the hair from his forehead, slipping his glasses off and setting them aside. “Goodnight.”

You whisper the words, but Harry is already asleep.

---

The next morning you awake with the odd feeling that something was wrong. Of course, it was Sunday, and nothing ever occurred on a Sunday. Sunlight trickled through the white curtains into your room, casting rising shadows along the floor. But, where was--

Sir Henry.

He was absent, his usual meowing in your face missing from the usual wakeup call. 

You shuffled into some slippers, throwing a light sweater over your pajamas, venturing out into the hall with trepidation. Sir Henry was rather taken with Harry and it was likely the former had decided to curl up on the sofa. The thought warmed your heart, despite the nerves that were bundled in your stomach.

Harry was still asleep when you crept into the living room, arm tossed over his eyes. Sir Henry, as predicted, was laying on his stomach on the back of the sofa. His green eyes stared at you with interest, perking up when you headed into the kitchen. Setting out his breakfast, Sir Henry brushed your legs as he passed by. 

Should you wake him up? Make breakfast, then wake him up? Casually asking if he meant what he said the previous night? Maybe it would be best to pretend like nothing happened - just a drunk friend staying the night. Totally normal.

“Good morning…”

Had your nerves not been so frayed as they were, you might have cooly responded. Instead, a shriek - however short lived - escaped from your mouth and you were spinning, wide-eyed as you turned to look at Harry. He winced at the noise, mimicking your own (albeit for different reasons) cringe.

He squinted at you, or rather the general shape that resembled you, then started to feel around for his glasses. “Uh, not good morning?”

“No!” You burst, “I mean, yes, good morning. Not, not good morning.” 

Oh Merlin’s Beard, you are hopeless, you grovel inwardly. 

Harry, if he hadn’t been so hungover, might have further inquired about the weird state of being that you were currently inhabiting. Instead, the headache that stabbed behind his eyes took more of a priority. 

“I’m sorry - do you have any advil or ibuprofen?”

Anything to be taken from this awkward moment, “oh yes. Yes, right.”

The normally collect and cool professor that you were at the school was entirely missing as you fumbled through the drawer in search of the medicine. 

Unknown to you, the brave and diligent DADA professor was willing his red cheeks and racing heart to go away.

You were both the worst.

---

Harry stood on the stoop of your doorway with a bouquet of sunflowers and roses, enchanted by Hermione to not wilt. 

The previous week had been a disaster. 

It all started after the fiasco in the kitchen, the morning after his drunken confession and passing out on your sofa. The tension in the kitchen had been stifling; Sir Henry had even fled the room, unable to bear it. Words that wanted to be said was stuck in his throat, ironic after the word-vomit from the previous night. 

There was the smidge of hope that once he left that everything would be back to normal with you. On Monday, barely 24 hours after the encounter, Harry stood outside his classroom sipping his coffee. His eyes were trained on the corner of the corridor, waiting to see your smiling face as you drop by for a few moments of conversation. It never occurs and he starts his lessons with a sinking heart. 

Amidst all the awkward, sad, pitiful pining - there was a student who watched both of her professors miserably go about life. Curiosity piqued, Rose Weasley had asked him about her observations. Harry merely brushed it off, but it was obvious to anyone in the school that he was not okay and something was bothering him.

He didn’t dare to step foot in your office, wondering if that was worse than if he decided to show up. The only time he saw you was during meals and the contact was limited; you chose to sit on the far end away from him. 

This entirely could have been avoided if he approached you and properly told you his feelings. Hermione and Ron had boosted his morale the night he had dinner with them, to the point where he felt he could do anything. He could do anything but confess his feelings to you, it seemed. Truthfully, he was afraid.

Very afraid that once he laid out his cards on the table that you would walk away. Afraid that things would continue on as they did now, you ignoring him. Afraid that he’ll have to once again fix the hole in his heart that seemed so utterly hopeless until he first saw a flash of your smile.

So, now he stood outside your door. Flowers in hand and his heart on his sleeve, ready to confess all of the things that he thought about you - how amazing you were, how utterly brilliant you are, how stars twinkle in your eyes. 

He swore that nothing felt louder than when he knocked on the door, the echo bouncing down the hall. His hands felt particularly clammy in that moment, squeezing the flowers in his hand a bit too tightly. Hearing the door open made his heart stop. 

“Harry?” An array of emotion flash across your face, too much for him to pick out how you feel seeing him there. 

“I need to explain myself.”

It’s then that you notice the flowers in his hands, lips curling up in a small smile despite yourself. When seconds slip by and you haven’t slammed the door in his face, Harry feels the tiniest shred of hope. There is a soft ‘meow’ from behind you and you break at the sound, fully opening the door to let him inside. 

Harry spots Sir Henry watching him with curious eyes, as if he knew what was about to transpire. And, Harry, well...he just wished he had the same insight.

---

Harry fucking Potter was really stood outside your apartment complex with a bouquet of magically enhanced flowers looking like a kicked puppy. 

Or maybe you were dreaming and the tacos you ate earlier were definitely bad, you had food poisoning. That made more plausible sense than Harry being here. And, despite how much you wanted to close the door and pretend like this wasn’t happening, he was there - with flowers. Your favorite flowers.

Sir Henry coming up behind you to see who was at the door only cracked the last of your resolve. 

There was never a situation where you didn’t know what to say. But, what does one say when the man they’ve secretly harbored feelings for comes over to their apartment drunk and says you’re pretty, then pretend like nothing happened? Certainly not…

“Tea?”

___

Everything taglist: @venusstarlight108 @knivestheresnothingtoit @yajairayellow @awesomefaith14 @ardentmuse @salladwinston @maddieb97222 @anchy-bananchy @staygoldponebone @unique05sstuff

Harry Potter taglist: @p-adfoot

Series taglist: @clockworkherondale @notperfected @bluemadcnna @anxious-trashpanda @nat-arlett @daddyloonglegss @quinn-n-quill @mikariell95 @my-awakened-ghost @unique05sstuff @xphantomphanphanaticx @souhmhey @wicked-witchxx @cookies186 

[team-free-will-oneshots]

Inevitable

Title: Inevitable (part four in the ‘Reckless’ series) Summary: After falling through a witch’s portal that transported you a month into the future, you’re finally reunited with Dean. But of course, nothing good ever lasts - not for the Winchesters. Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader Warnings: implied smut... i think that’s about it ?? Word Count: 1,875

note; well well, here it is - the second last part in the ‘Reckless’ series! things are heating up... hope u enjoy ;)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“You’re a what?!”

“A fugitive,” you informed Dean casually, chuckling nervously as you rubbed the back of your neck. “Maybe. I, uh, kinda confessed to a murder in front of a complete stranger, thinking it was you?”

Dean groaned, but it quickly turned into a laugh. “Why am I even surprised? Since when have we ever caught a break?”

You smiled. “Well, I’ll hack into the system and see if they’ve got an APB out on me yet,” you declared. “But first, I need a shower.” As you spun to walk away, Dean’s hand shot out and snagged your wrist. A questioning expression creased your features as Dean laughed sheepishly.

“Sorry, it’s just… I thought you were dead. If I’m being honest I… I’m kinda terrified to let you out of my sight,” he admitted, and you felt a surge of sympathy as you realised exactly how difficult this must have been for him, as if his distraught state and the mess obscuring the bunker floor wasn’t enough of an indicator. When you found yourself imagining your reaction if the situations were reversed…

The very notion made your stomach drop and tears prick the corners of your eyes. You exhaled shakily, brushing off the thoughts because they weren’t necessary, not now - Dean was here, you were here, everyone was alive and there was no need to worry. Not anymore. At least, not until something inevitably went wrong.

“I get it,” you murmured, stepping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, feel his breath on your cheeks. Dean’s eyes fell shut as you ran your hands down his chest, pressing close to him until your lips found his.

He sighed into the kiss, arms snaking around your waist and hugging you close to his body as his mouth moved tenderly on yours; his gentle, soft motions had your knees weak and your heart stuttering. Dean’s tongue teased yours, and suddenly all tenderness vanished, leaving only raw desperation in its wake as Dean picked you up and sat you on the desk, coaxing your legs open with his hands so he could step between them. You eagerly complied, hands knotting in the short strands of his hair as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, lips never leaving your own as his teeth tugged at your bottom lip.

You moaned into the kiss, pulling him closer as his mouth met yours again, all tongue and teeth as he kissed you passionately, almost animalistic in his hunger. His shirt was hanging open now, and you ran your fingertips lightly down his bare chest before slipping it over his shoulders. The fabric quietly pooled on the floor, a puddle of maroon cloth that quickly slipped your mind as Dean’s hands found your hips, sliding up beneath your shirt to sink into the flesh of your waist, his greedy touch sending a spark of electricity across your skin as you hummed and dug your fingertips into his back, tilting back your head as Dean moved to press hot, desperate kisses along your jaw. His scruff bit at your throat as he sucked on the tender skin, leaving mark after mark in his wake.

“Maybe we should take this somewhere private,” you gasped, eyes flitting to the open door that Sam could walk through at any moment. Dean hummed in approval, lips capturing yours in one last lingering kiss before he pulled away, his forehead resting against your own.

“Good thing the shower’s big enough for two.” He smirked, and at your replying grin, picked you up and carried you down the corridor as if you weighed no more than a feather. He locked the bathroom door behind you, and when the spray of hot water cascaded over your skin, Dean didn’t hesitate to remind you of exactly what you’d missed the past month.

---

Some time later, you breathlessly emerged from the bathroom, wrapped snugly in Dean’s bathrobe and towel drying your hair as your bare feet complained against the cool hallway floors. Dean appeared behind you, a smug grin etched into his face as the waves of steam rolled out behind him. His pants hung low on his hips and his arms crept around your waist as he pressed a few soft kisses to the base of your throat. You hummed in appreciation before sneaking out of his grasp, leaving him with one last kiss on the lips.

“Maybe I should fall through a witch’s portal and unintentionally fake my own death more often,” you suggested breathlessly, and Dean growled, all traces of teasing fleeing his expression as quickly as the steam fled the through the open bathroom door.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispered. You smirked.

“What, you gonna punish me?” you purred suggestively, and Dean grinned.

“Maybe,” he murmured, his lips only a hair’s breadth from yours when-

“Oh! I-uh-”

The two of you jumped apart as Sam’s voice shattered the moment like glass. Dean cleared his throat, running his fingers through his hair as you tightened the sash around your waist.

“What, Sam?” Dean snapped in irritation. The youngest Winchester stood awkwardly in the corridor, not quite sure where to look. He settled on Dean’s face.

“Uh- I was just gonna get a start on dinner but- you know what? I’ll just order take out,” he dismissed, quickly spinning around and stumbling in his haste to escape. You laughed, offering Dean a quick peck on the lips. The moment was gone, dead and buried in a ditch - time to come back to reality.

While you headed to the library, Dean snatched a fresh shirt from his closet and was still buttoning it up when he met you in the cavernous room. You’d started cleaning up, clearing splintered furniture from the floor and packing fallen books back into the shelves.

“Hey, don’t worry about that - I made the mess, I’ll clean it up,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he took the debris from your arm. You nodded.

“Okay - I’ll take a look for that APB,” you decided, finding your laptop and hacking into the mainframe. You grinned cockily at what you found.

“We don’t have anything to worry about - looks like it was too dark to see me properly. The sketch doesn’t look anything like me,” you said, turning your laptop so Dean could see the distinct lack of resemblance between you and the drawing. Dean smirked.

“Awesome. First stroke of good luck in a while, then,” he reasoned, and you nodded, smiling as you shut the lid.

“We deserve it after all this,” you mused, getting to your feet and placing a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I’m gonna get dressed, then maybe we could watch a movie?” you suggested. Dean gave you a soft smile in return, nodding his assent and squeezing your hand lightly before you headed back to your shared room.

You scrunched up your nose at the sight before you - looks like it wasn’t just the library that had taken the brunt of Dean’s grief. You tiptoed through the rubble, avoiding the broken glass and torn papers scattered over the floor before dressing in a pair of sweats and shrugging on Dean’s favourite flannel. It was your favourite, too - soft and warm, and most of all it smelled like him. Being wrapped in it felt like being snug in a hug from the man himself.

That was when you heard the crash.

Metal grated on metal as something crashed into the wall near the bunker’s entrance. You froze, breath catching in surprise before you snapped into action, grabbing the gun Dean always kept by his pillow and cautiously leaving the room. Of course there’d be a disaster; it was inevitable. Since when did you ever get away scot-free?

You heard a movement to your left and spun around, gun ready, only to see the steely face of Sam who was mirroring your stance. The both of you relaxed slightly, lowering your guns while you took the lead, nodding for Sam to follow you.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice called. It belonged to a male, of that much you were certain, but as it echoed around the bunker you couldn’t quite pinpoint its owner. Sam shot you a perplexed look that you met with a shrug, and that was when the lights shut off.

The bunker collapsed into silence as total darkness enveloped the space. The only noise was the short gasps of your breathing and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, an echoing drumbeat as you slowly crept forward. It was only a few minutes until the backup generators kicked in, turning on the warning lights and casting the corridor in an eerie scarlet glow that seemed to drip from the walls like fresh blood. You could taste the sharp scent of the night air on your tongue, smell the last remnants of smoke and gunpowder trailing through the air.

“Where are you, Y/N?” That voice again - it had taken on a taunting edge now, a mocking song hummed in tune with the slow, heavy footsteps that grew closer and closer. “I will find you - may as well just come out now.”

You and Sam exchanged glances, and slowly, you crept towards the library door, pushing it open with your shoulder. A broad-shouldered silhouette stood over an unconscious body, and you bit back a cry as you realised the unconscious body belonged to Dean.

As the door creaked open, the figure turned around. They looked familiar, but it was almost impossible to make out their features in the dim light, and from such a distance. You could only see their wide, menacing grin as the red light bounced off their white teeth.

“Ah, there we are. Much better. Why don’t you come closer, dear?” he sneered. You raised your gun, flicking off the safety with a metallic click, but the man tutted. He raised his hand to reveal the clear silhouette of his own gun, before pointing it at Dean’s head.

“Weapons down, sweets, or your friend dies,” he ordered. You clenched your jaw, glancing behind you and indicating for Sam to stay hidden. He nodded, and you slowly walked into the library, hands above your head until you slowly placed your weapon on the ground. You kept your eyes low, scanning your surroundings for anything you could use as a weapon, any way out of whatever mess you’d found yourself in. You vaguely noticed that the front door to the bunker had been blown off its hinges and crashed into the bannister before it, leaving only hunks of twisted metal still oozing smoke. Fresh night air billowed inside, and a chill ran down your spine as it whipped at your wet hair. You bit back a curse as a pile of splinters dug into your bare foot.

“Good girl,” the voice praised. “Now, why doesn’t Sam come join the party?” he called, and slowly, Sam joined you, his weapon joining yours on the ground.

“Much better,” the voice said, and slowly, you raised your head. Your blood ran cold as you recognised the face, finally put a name to the familiar voice; a voice you’d grown sick of in the long time you’d spent with it, trapped in the cramped confines of his tiny car. Your voice was clouded in disbelief when you finally whispered…

“Darren?”

__________

Read part five (the last part!!) here!

Reckless tags: @tmiships4life @justagirlinafandomworld @galileeooh @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @sasbb23 @avengersgirllorianna @thewaywarddaughterblog @2dreamcatcher8 @xlplx @spaghettiwoes @gay-ghost-fights @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @mrspeacem1nusone @littleraton @transparentparadiseglitterzombie

Dean tags: @polina-93

Forever tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @stealingheartsswift13 @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme

If you want to be added to any of my tag lists, just let me know!

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/55126891

Chapter 6:

Nick started from his sleep, with the panic still pulsing through his veins. He had that disgusting smell of blood in his nose and the feeling that his hands were greasy. Rubbing them agains each other he made sure that they were dry,  but he still couldn’t fight the feeling that it was all very real. Pressing his hands against his forehead he listened to the maniac laughter that echoed in his mind and it made him very sick.

Joy. He needed his Joy now.

Seconds later he sat on his bed, all cramped and motionless and just waiting for the moment he got better. Joy helped him to sort his mind, but now it gave way to many more questions.

When he realized he was lying in his own bed again he wondered how he had been carried all this way back and forth. He wasn’t even sure if he actually walked all the way himself. His head was still foggy at that part. All he could remember was falling asleep at some point, after who knows how many hours of shaking in pain and crying in fear. 

Finally, he struggled to stand up and halfway out he found a piece of paper on his bed. That also happened with increasing regularity.

My dear Nick,

please forgive me the unpleasantness you had to endure during withdrawal. I hope you’ve learned your lesson, because I don’t want to be forced to use this method on you again.

Get well soon.

Yours

James

Nick felt like something hit him hard in the stomach. He let go of the note and it floated down on the ground while he realized what a shameful procedure it had been. And it could happen again if he didn’t get his shit together. But he kept failing. It seemed like all his efforts were to no avail. 

Devastated, he let his head sink into his hands and drowned in his thoughts, trying to fight the memories that feared and puzzled him. James came much closer to him than Nick had expected and he knew so much about him. He had found him, even though Nick hadn’t told him where he lived now. And he had carried him away and back again somehow. How many others worked for him? In fact, even if Nick knew the truth about James he wouldn’t have the chance to refuse him. He would find him.

Rubbing his eyes and turning his head Nick saw that his guitar was also lying in his bed and he asked himself what a show he had put on when he was high. One more glance and he saw the state of the entire room. It was basically nothing new, he thought while he walked around, eyeing the chaos. But that had been the whole point of moving here, right? If Virgil saw this…

Now Nick wondered how he could’ve been so foolish to believe it would help in some way. To believe that even Arthur could help him to get his shit together again. He shook his head in embarrassment and started to clean up, something he almost never did, but he also never had to hide the evidence before. Even though he probably chased Arthur away already, by revealing his true self and made sure that the other man never wanted to see him again. That was just how it turned out with everyone he met. They found out who he really was and fled him in horror, or disgust, or both. 

Nick stopped cleaning up because his view became too blurry to see anything. He let himself fall on the couch, shaking and sobbing. Why did he even bother? It always turned out the same way. Perhaps he would be better of dead.  At least an electrocution would’ve been a fast and painless ending. If only he wasn’t too coward to do it himself…

Arthur instead wasn’t sure why he returned to this living disaster once again. But he had a guess. Since he didn’t forget anything so easily anymore, he now was able to think about everything and everyone every time. Not quite a good feeling to get used to. Probably no one could imagine that it took him a lot of effort not to run into the next mood booth and say goodbye to all his worries. Maybe his Joy-free brain completely over-exaggerated everything, but especially Nick was sure to put himself in danger. Arthur told himself that he didn’t have to stay for a long time though, he could only peek in and vanish again. 

He came closer to Nick’s place and noticed that it was all silent. He hoped that was a good sign. But then he found Nick sunken down on the couch, similar to how he had seen him before in his house. This time however it was worse, Arthur noticed and froze hesitantly. He had been so quiet again that Nick didn’t hear him at all and he could see that he was shaken by uncontrollable sobs. Completely overwhelmed, he asked himself if he should stay and risk to turn this into an awkward situation or if he should leave and pretend he hadn’t seen any of this? But what if Nick was having a bad trip and was about to hurt himself? 

„Uh…Nick?“, he said not very wittily.

Nick looked up to him, with his reddened and shining wet eyes, like he was some kind of manifestation.

„Arthur“, he whispered in surprise. His voice was husky. Then he quickly turned his head and wiped away his tears.

„You’re still here…“

„Yes, uh…you weren’t there yesterday and I … just wanted to see if you’re ok. If you want some time alone I understand…“ 

„No, stay!“ Nick reached out for him, then he seemed to get second thoughts and sunk back down. 

„I can’t stand myself alone right now…“ 

Arthur walked closer and sat next to him on the couch, still unsure how he could even help him. 

„What’s wrong?“, he simply asked.

Nick sobbed again and spread his arms in a helpless gesture.

„I can’t do this anymore…Nick Lightbearer…that’s over. I’m out of energy and my head’s full of shit and I can’t stand myself anymore…“ 

He was interrupted by another sobbing fit while Arthur racked his brains to find something that could cheer him up.

„Don’t you still enjoy writing songs?“, he tried.

„Oh, Arthur, you sweet innocent flower, you! In the old days I did, yes! But now…it’s so much more…complicated…every song has to be the one…the one that brings me back…I just can’t keep this up anymore.“ 

Arthur looked around the place and got an idea of what was blocking him. All these golden records and trophies everywhere…as if he had produced nothing but smash hits. Perhaps he even did at the beginning, before it wore him out. 

„And if you imagined it to be like the old days? If you tried to forget the past for a moment?“

„Forget?“, Nick laughed bitterly. „No, it’s exactly like you said. I can’t forget some things, I can only forget all at once. And when I’m sober, my head is completely empty! I’m out of ideas! It’s over!“

Nick wrapped his arms around him and sobbed even more.

Arthur wondered if it could be just another whim of Nick, to be grieving deeply and it would be gone some time later. Still, he felt the urge to put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. He finally obeyed it, and soon he felt the soft cloth of Nick’s bright red jacket for the second time. But now Nick was awake. Arthur could feel him tremble, and the warmth that radiated from him. 

Nick felt the sudden touch and it sent a shiver down his spine. He turned his gaze to see if it was really Arthur who stroked his shoulder since he always seemed so unapproachable. It felt good to be close to him and it had been a long time since someone had given him this sort of attention. Even after everything he did, even though Arthur had all the right to abandon him he was still here and gave him a chance. Finally, his feelings took over him and he curled his fingers into Arthurs tight black suit and pulled the man closer, crying into his expensive cloth.

Arthur, who had been overwhelmed by this whole situation already, now froze completely and he needed some time to process what happened until he brought himself to pat the other man’s back. He was so close to Nick that he could now smell a fruity scent on him. A rather odd perfume, he thought. 

„You came here, because you hoped that it would change something,“ Arthur whispered into their silence.

Nick slightly loosened the grip and the other man was glad about it because his arms had started to hurt. Nick also straightened himself and backed away a few inches. Finally, he nodded.

„Damn naive I was…“, he muttered quietly.

Arthur put his hand back on Nick’s shoulder and gently squeezed it. The other man had to prevent himself from pressing his cheek against the warm hand.

„I don’t think it’s a bad idea,“ Arthur heard himself say and was immediately puzzled. Some minutes ago he still thought it was a horrible idea, too much of a risk and drawing attention. What was Nick doing with him, making him say such absurd things? 

Also Nick looked very surprised. And hopeful, as if he was hanging on Arthur’s every word. Just like when they first met. Arthur knew by now that there was something about him that made people set their trust onto him. They didn’t know how much he could disappoint them.

„It helps to change place…perhaps you should also…go outside? Undercover, I mean…and just…observe the town…maybe not too close though…but superficial…perhaps you even find something that inspires you?“

„Undercover?“. Nick winced. „That’s impossible! Everyone knows my face. I can’t walk on the streets anymore.“ He sighted deeply and bowed his head.

„But there must be something that inspired you,“ Arthur insisted, not willing to give up yet.

Nick seemed to ponder over it and his face started to lighten up a bit.

„Yes…Arthur, you’re right,“ he whispered. „I always had an inspiration, I simply forgot…“ 

The other man was glad that he had managed to say something helpful.

„And you think this works again?“, Nick asked him with an insecure tone and gave him this pleading look. 

„Well..why not trying it out? It’s a start after all…, i’d be surprised if you, of all people, can’t find back to your old shape,“ Arthur answered and, without thinking too much, gave him a playful punch against his shoulder.

Nick felt the impulse from Arthur’s fist and he liked how it ran through his body. 

„Thanks, Arthur,“ he sighted and came closer to him, looking at the folds he had left on the other man’s suit. „Thanks for staying here and listening to me…“ He lifted one hand and began to stroke Arthur’s shoulder and Arthur felt that the atmosphere was changing somehow and his heart started racing.

„Perhaps I’m not doing everything wrong…“ Nick purred and looked right into the beautiful brown eyes of the taller man before he made a decision.

Arthur watched him leaning forward and coming dangerously close to his face, before he jumped off the couch and took a few steps backwards.

„No hard feelings,“ he heard himself stutter for whatever reason and ran out of the room.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z Movie 12: Fusion Reborn (6/6)

One of the criticisms I’ve seen about this movie (From Team Four Star, because they seem to be the only ones still sleeping on how cool Movie 12 is), is that the Veku vs. Janemba part takes up too much of the film.   I find this absurd for a couple of reasons.

First, it illustrates the immense risk involved with the Fusion Technique.  If you screw it up, you may end up worse off than when you started.   As far as I can tell, Veku has greater power and stamina than Fat Gotenks, and he lasted a lot longer against Janemba than Goku or Vegeta did individually, but he’s still in deep trouble, and things could have gone even worse depending on how badly our heroes botched the pose.   

I think the presumption here is that Goku and Vegeta should have pulled it off on their first try, allowing time for an epic fifteen-minute brawl with Janemba to close the movie.    But that’s not how Fusion works in this franchise.    It’s a high-risk/high-reward manuever.   If you get it wrong, it’s a disaster, but if it works, you can overwhelm an opponent in minutes, if not seconds. 

The second objection I have is that every gorram one of these movies wastes a bunch of time on goofy stuff.   Movies 3 blows like a third of its runtime on a camping trip that has nothing to do with Turles or anything else.   And then Movie 5 goes on another camping trip,because I guess they still had camping stuff they hadn’t used the first time around.   Movies 1 and 2 had friggin’ musical interludes.  

The only exception I can think of is “Mystical Adventure”, which has a frantic pace very similar to “Fusion Reborn”, but I feel like that whole part set in Penguin Village was kind of a weird diversion, even if it did function as the climactic battle of the movie.      The point is that even if Veku was a big waste of storytelling time, it’s well inside the bounds for these movies.  And it’s not a waste of time, because this is part of the effort to master fusion.  

Anyway, when we last left Veku, he had fled Janemba to hide in what’s left of the Needle Mountain in Hell.  But now Janemba’s tracked him down.    To attack him, Big J uses a spike from the mountain and somehow transforms it with his weird powers, making it extend towards Veku like a spear.

It’s kind of hard to get this across with just screencaps, but you can tell by the look on Veku’s face that he’s in deep trouble. 

But then at the last possible instant, Veku’s fusion expires, and he splits into Goku and Vegeta, avoiding the impact.   

Janemba is shocked.      Maybe he didn’t realize Veku was his previous two opponents fused together?   Before he can figure this out, Goku and Geets sucker punch him and fly away,

I don’t know how smart Janemba is supposed to be, but by now he’s probably figured out that Goku and Vegeta are trying to combine together to keep fighting him.

As they run away, Vegeta is livid.   He didn;t like the idea of fusing with Goku in the first place, and that was when he thought it might actually work.  Then he goes through with it, and it ends up making them weaker.

Then King Kai contacts Goku telepathically, and explains how Vegeta screwed up the last part of the pose by not extending his fingers.   Goku’s all smiles, because now that they know what went wrong, they just need to try it again and it’ll work perfectly.

But Vegeta’s outraged that he would even suggest doing all of that a second time.   Bad enough that he had to do it once, and it nearly got them killed.  Well, they’re already dead, but you know what I mean.  Don’t you?   Look, Janemba’s not trying to tickle these two, that’s all that matters.

But they have to do it again, because this is still their only hope of winning.   They just need to get the pose right this time, because now there’s no margin of error.   

Trouble is, Janemba’s onto them now, and they can’t do the fusion dance because he keeps shooting ki blasts at them.   WIthout the element of surprise, or a decent place to hide, they won’t have time to fuse, properly or otherwise.

But then...!

Fuck yeah, Pikkon’s here!   I guess he sensed all the trouble they were having, or maybe the Kais asked him to run interference for Goku and Vegeta.  Yeah, that must be it, since he already knows what Goku is trying to do.

So Goku’s all grateful to Pikkon, and he thanks him as they move to a safe distance.

And I love this dirty look Vegeta gives Pikkon before he leaves.  “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you stay away from my rival, thot.”

So now it’s Pikkon vs. Janemba, and you’d think he’s screwed, right?  I mean, he got clobbered by Janemba’s first form earlier in the movie, so what good can he do against this red version?

Ah, but Pikkon knows exactly how to keep this guy off-balance, because he’s been dealing with Janemba’s barrier all this time, and so...

I’m pretty sure “mental defective” isn’t quite what Pikkon called him in Japanese, but verbal abuse is verbal abuse, and it works!  Janemba’s skin cracks up just like that barrier did.

I’m not quite sure what to make of this image.   Is this just shadow, or is the idea that Janemba is hollow on the inside, like a Faberge Egg?   I like that idea, even if it’s not what they had in mind.  Janemba’s made of the spiritual waste of a buttload of wicked souls.  For all his power, he’s just a shell of a person.   Maybe that’s why he’s vulnerable to harsh words.  He can’t stand being called out for what he is.

Then Pikkon shoots ki blasts at him, and I don’t understand that at all, because that didn’t do anything to the barrier, so why even try it on Janemba himself?  The insults were working, buddy.    Just call him a tiny-handed idiot and tell him his red trucker hat makes him look like an even bigger jackass than that stupid combover on his scalp.  Tell him that he’ll go down in history as a total joke, and he’ll rank among world leaders somewhere between the Roman Emperor who married his horse and the other Roman Emperor who clubbed amputees to death while pretending to be a gladiator.   Sorry, I got distracted there for a minute.

But Pikkon doesn’t do any of that, and I guess his harsh words are only effective enough to surprise Janemba, and maybe only hurt him a little bit.   Like the barrier around Yemma, Janemba seems able to withstand it to some degree, so he does the disassemble-y relocation trick, reappears behind Pikkon...

And boxes his ears!  Owwwwwww!  

But meanwhile! 

OH YOU DIDN’T KNOW?

Janemba would probably finish Pikkon off right here, except he’s seen that blinding light before, which means....

.... This thing!   What is it?  What does it mean?   I dunno! 

But then we see this badass mofo right here.    Who be bad now, Janemba?   WHO BE BAD NOW?

Pikkon looks over and sees that the fusion worked, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he passes out.  

So they did it.    Vegeta didn’t want to do this, but it worked.   Now he can defeat Janemba, but as part of Gogeta, not as himself.   There’s something kind of bittersweet about this, because there were no options for Vegeta to retain himself in this.  In death, he was doomed to lose his identity as a disembodied soul.   Restored as he was by Janemba’s tampering, he was too weak to fight Janemba on his own, which was the only thing that would have given his temporary resurrection any meaning.   He could have run away, or even helped Janemba to preserve his own existence, but doing that would betray his principles, and that would erase his identity too. 

The Saiyans are extinct.   Goku and Vegeta were the only ones left, and they’re both dead in this movie.   They’ve been dead for a while now, as far as I can tell.  But what they stood for, their ferocious martial skill and their boundless courage, will live on.   That’s what this is about for Vegeta.  He’s already gone, but he can at least see to it that someone can rise up to defeat a monster like Janemba.   If that warrior doesn’t exist, then he can at least fuse with Goku and create him. 

And when this is over, that’ll be it for Vegeta.     He’ll go back to hell, and eventually be reincarnated as a dolphin or something.    Eventually, even the legacy of Vegeta will fade from living memory, and no one will remember who and what he once was.   This moment can stand as a coda to his fleeting time in the universe.    Z stands for the end.  

But not yet.    Not yet.

Somehow, Goten and Trunks can sense their dead father’s fusion and it inspires them to do their own fusion.  I’m not sure why they didn’t just do this in the first place.  Given the crisis on Earth, maybe they didn’t want to risk using fusion early, in case they might be too tired to do it later.  

I also don’t understand why the boys need to go to these lengths to beat Hitler and his army of zombie Nazis, but they did it anyway.  Well now you got Gotenks, dummy.   Shoulda just stayed in the bunker.

Gogeta only gets a few lines in this movie.  Really, he doesn’t get a whole lot to say anywhere, because he has so few appearances.   This is his debut, of course, and then Toei brought him back for the fuck-finish of Dragon Ball GT.   Then he came back in 2018′s Dragon Ball Super: Broly, where he got a lot more time to shine, but it was after a 21-year drought.

Anyway, Janemba seems to know this is serious business, because he takes one look at Gogeta and powers up.

So other than promising to avenge Pikkon, all Gogeta has to say in the original script is this: I am neither Goku nor Vegeta!  I am the one who will destroy you!”  That’s how it was worded in Budokai 3, anyway.  

In the dub, Gogeta’s lines are a little different.   First he says “I am not Goku or Vegeta! I am Gogeta!   It’s over, Janemba. I’ve come for you!”   Then he says in this shot: “Every force you create has an echo.   Your own bad energy will be your undoing.”

I dunno, the lines are memorable enough that I managed to quote them without looking, but I would have preferred they stuck to the Japanese script more, mostly because Schemmel and Sabat sounded so cool playing Gogeta in Budokai 3.  That was the problem I had with the later Funimation dubs.   By 2004 I was playing video games that covered movies and GT episodes I hadn’t seen yet, and when Funi! finally adapted those scenes, they never seemed to hold up to the video game performances.  

In any event, I feel like there was a push at Funi! to have Gogeta a) identify himself for the audience, and b) provide some sort of explanation for what was about to happen next.   I’m not sure this was necessary.    Does it really matter if Gogeta says his own name?  Lobot was never identified in Empire Strikes Back, but I still know who he is.   As for the rest...

Well, these streaks of light jump from Gogeta and hit Janemba in the chest, leaving craters in his body.   At the same time, Gogeta slides forward, moving behind Janemba.

Then he just turns around and drives his knee into the back of his neck, twice.  Janemba manages to turn around, but he just eats a kick to the face for his trouble.

Then he raises his hand, and turns around to stare at Janemba, who doesn’t get it until...

Gogeta makes a glowy, sparkly ball with his hand.   Actually, Janemba seemed to sense this before it happened, so I guess he has some idea what’s going on here.

Now maybe this is some variation of the Spirit Bomb, perhaps combined with some technique of Vegeta’s.    All I know is that this ki ball shrinks and disappears, and then Gogeta closes his empty fist.    But there’s light coming out of the fist, so yeah. 

Anyway, it scares the hell out of Janemba, so he knows something’s up.

So he charges Gogeta, who throws his attack, but it just looks like harmless sparkles, and Janemba doesn’t even slow down once it hits him.

But you can see how nettled Janemba is.   He’s clearly afraid of Gogeta, for one reason or another.

When he closes the distance, he throws a punch, and it looks like it connects.    Gogeta doesn’t block it, and he doesn’t flinch.   Dude doesn’t even move. 

And for a moment, it looks like Janemba’s doing okay, and then he suddenly looks shocked, and his whole body begins to sparkle.

Then his back explodes.   Ouch.

In the games, this movie is called the Stardust Breaker, which I never totally understood until now.    The glowing orb always distracted me from the fact that the attack itself looks like stardust, and stardust explodes out of Janemba’s wound, and Janemba himself seems to dissolve into stardust.   The breaker part speaks for itself, though.

This shot confuses me, because it makes it look like Janemba’s fist never actually made contact with Gogeta’s face, although the previous screencap suggests otherwise.  Maybe Big J took a step backward after the attack got to him.   In any case, Gogeta ain’t hurt, and Janemba’s body is disintigrating.

All he can do is scream as he fades away.  

And Gogeta just watched like he knows exactly what’s going on.  

And then the Tank Clerk reappears.   Did Gogeta plan all of this, or is it just a lucky break?

Anyway, the Tank Clerk takes one look at Gogeta and runs in terror.   We can see from the scenery that things are already returning to normal.   All those jellybean things are gone.

And Gogeta seems amused by the Tank Clerk’s panic. The kid has no idea what just happened, and maybe that’s for the best.   So it’s a weird fight, and very short, but I think that’s what makes it so captivating.   We didn’t need a long martial arts clinic to put Janemba away.  The whole idea of this movie is that Janemba is this anomaly in creation, and that it would take something more than just a powerful warrior to beat him.   If punching were enough, Goku could have handled this on his own. 

This is why I’ve never been a big fan of Gogeta vs. Broly as a scenario, because no matter how strong Broly is, he’s still one Saiyan, so having Goku and Vegeta combine into this otherworldly character to beat one Saiyan kind of cheapens the concept.    It should be reserved for villains like Janemba, Omega Shenron, and Majin Buu, who demonstrate bizarre powers that defy reality. 

This is also why I’m not crazy about the dub’s effort to explain the Gogeta/Janemba fight.   It sort of defies explanation.  What makes Gogeta look so awesome here is that he not only beat Janemba in a few seconds, but he seemed to know exactly what he was doing the entire time.  It’s like his fused mind could sense exactly where and how to strike.   Why did he bother kicking Janemba in the neck?   Was that somehow part of his offensive, or was he just getting his measure?   We’ll never know.    That’s what makes it so cool.  Gogeta’s a man of mystery.   In thirty minutes, he won’t even exist anymore.

I think a lot of Gogeta’s mystique was calculated as a response to Gotenks.  When Goku first spoke of Fusion in the main story, he seemed confident that if he could fuse with Gohan or Vegeta, they would beat Majin Buu easily.  But that would be a fusion of adult Super Saiyans.   Gotenks is a kid, and the results haven’t been as great.   So this movie sort of shows what Goku originally had in mind.   With greater experience, Gotenks could eventually reach the same heights...

But as a kid, he’s limited to bizarre techniques based on whatever he thinks is cool.    Which is why he’s doing the Super Ghost Kamikaze Attack again, only this time with 100 ghosts instead of one or ten.

And it works.  The ghosts blow up all the bad guys, but it’s only a hint of the incredible things Gogeta is capable of. 

Thirty minutes later, the fusion expires, and hell looks like it’s back to normal, right down to the bloody pond.   Vegeta smiles at Goku and tells him he never wants to do that again, but somehow you can tell he doesn’t quite mean that.   It reminds me of his farewell to Future Trunks in Dragon Ball Super, where he says he never wants to see him again.   It’s not that he hates the guy, it’s more that he wants Trunks to become strong enough to handle his own problems without having to use the time machine to get help.    Likewise, in this movie, the only way Vegeta could ever return to fuse with Goku is if another Janemba popped up, and he doesn’t want that to happen.

Goku says he’ll see Vegeta “later”.   I don’t know if that’s supposed to be ironic or if Goku’s just not thinking, or maybe he’s got some faint hope that Vegeta will return somehow and Goku will meet him again somehow, some way.

Anyway, Vegeta fades out, which is kind of sad, but the smile on his face is a nice consolation.

And all the dead people on Earth fade out the same way.    So that takes care of that.

King Yemma’s back in business, and all is right with the universe once again.

Videl and the boys head back after a long day of punching the undead.   They don’t know what happened or why, but at least it’s over.   But Goten and Trunks claim to know who saved the day.   I guess they figure their fathers fixed things in Otherworld, since they could sense them fusing.

But they won’t tell, I guess just to mess with Gohan and Videl.   So why couldn’t Gohan sense Gogeta’s ki if Goten and Trunks could?   Oh, right, he was making out with Videl the whole time.  

Anyway, Gohan chases the boys, anxious to learn their secret, and Videl gets flustered because they’re leaving her behind.   This background is gorgeous.  

Oh my gosh this is such a good movie.This scene doesn’t even matter and it’s still beautiful.

So that wraps things up, right?    Wrong.   There’s just one last piece of business...

No one made any wishes, so Shenron’s still waiting patiently in Bulma’s front yard.  D’oh!

And then the credits roll, including this shot of Goku from Movie 8, for some reason.

I posted caps from the credits earlier, but hot damn I like these.   And the ending theme is just magnificent.   This is such a good-ass movie.   No wasted motion, villain shows up in the first ten minutes, and there’s tons of stuff going on that’s all tied into the main plot, so the supporting characters can get their hero moments in without getting in the way of the main players.   There’s tons of action, plenty of comedy, and the visuals are gorgeous from start to finish.   

The only complaint I could possibly have is that it’s too short.  A story like this could have easily been expanded into a 90 minute film, or even longer.  You could have Goku and Vegeta botch a second fusion attempt, or just pad out the fights that are already in the story, or add some other characters running around dealing with the dead villains.    Piccolo and Krillin fight Dr. Gero or something.   Dabura and Broly try to gang up on Gohan and he gets some bloody satisfaction.  Shoot, have Videl beat up some Red Ribbon Army guys.   By now she’s probably strong enough to take most of them.    And of course, Tiencha vs. Perfect Cell.  

But you know, as a 50-minute affair, this thing rocks.   I’ve sat through movies three times as long that weren’t even a third as good.    It’s just so good.    Ahhh...

Bravo.

[nightingale63]

When I get you alone, babe!

A/N Enjoy! This will be a multi-chapter story: steamy like the midsummer night air, sweet as an Italian ice bought on the fairway, with twists and turns like an antique wooden rollercoaster, complete with side trips to the fun house, where illusion reigns supreme (and romance can sometimes get even steamier).This is of course somewhat AU, but McKinley is basically the same, as is Dalton. Rated T for language, and situations.I don't own Glee, or any name brands or songs that crop up here!

Yes, Rachel, I'm here now! See you in the choir room. Kurt snapped his phone shut . I'd actually get there faster if you didn't keep hounding me! he grumbled to himself. Yes, he was (checking the time) three whole minutes late, but what the hell! First day of junior year, and yes, he was impressed by her enthusiasm, but why did it also have to involve waking him up extra early?His phone vibrated again in his pocket as he strode down the halls of William McKinley High. I have coffee for you! He smiled at the text message, and decided he could forgive Rachel for this summons to a meeting.

He was almost there when he was violently shaken out of his reverie by a brutal body slam into the wall of lockers

"Hummel! Gay much? What the hell are you wearing, your granny's cologne?" Not waiting for an answer, Karofsky sauntered away with a sneer as Kurt slumped to a sitting position on the floor.

Damn! Kurt thought he'd remembered what those slams felt like, but the memory didn't compare at all to the painful original. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and looked up in surprise when he felt his shoulder being lightly tapped

"Hey! You OK?"

Kurt shook his head, took the hand extended to him, and stood up to greet… a stranger. "Uh, thanks. I'll be all right." He looked, and was pretty sure he'd never seen this guy before. He wasn't someone he would have expected help from, for sure: whoever this was, in his black skinny jeans with a black rock band shirt (who the hell were Freelance Whales?), motorcycle boots, heavy silver chains dangling from his jeans and jacket in odd places, with slicked black hair, looked scarier than Puckerman.

"Good. Later!" The stranger flashed a gorgeous smile at Kurt, and then turned to go the other way down the long hallway.

"Yeah. Later." Kurt whispered. He smiled at the retreating form of the mystery boy. He'd barely seen his face at all. Kurt wished he'd looked at his face instead of his clothes

"Kurt! Come on! Your coffee will get cold!" Rachel scurried down the hall, looking for Kurt, her patience wearing thin as she waited to get their glee strategy meeting started. "Artie, Mike, and Tina are already there!" Rachel stopped to look at Kurt, noticing he looked a little stunned. Seeing no evidence of a slushie attack, her brows furrowed as she tried to figure out what was up with her friend. "Where's Finn?"

Kurt went along down the hall with her, as Rachel had gripped his arm, leading him to the choir room. 

"Rachel." She looked at him, opening the door. "I know my way, you know. You don't have to lead me around like some kind of frantic seeing eye dog!" He was about to launch into a snarky remark about Finn not living in his back pocket when Rachel handed him a cup from the Lima Bean. He took his first sip, pure heaven, and looked down at Rachel, whose eyes suddenly brightened: Finn had slipped in just behind them. "Sorry, Rach, you didn't deserve that. And thank you so much for getting me this."

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

Kurt was glad Mike was in his honors English class. It was right before lunch, and they both had the same lunch period, which meant he wouldn't have to go alone to the caf to find the glee club table. They'd chatted about the heavy reading list, gotten out their lunches (neither one of them liked the school food) and settled in to wait for more friends to join them at a table outside.

"I said get away from my stuff!" 

Their heads snapped at the very angry,very loud voice a few tables away, on the outside rim of the enclosed courtyard. Kurt recognized the boy who was yelling: the stranger from this morning..

"Hey! it was an honest mistake, all right? My bag looks just like yours. Sorry!"

 Mike recognized the boy who was backing away fast, Justin Mara, from his AP Bio class.

"Maybe we need to make them look a little more different, asshole!" Justin watched fearfully as the boy reached to throw something at him, and Kurt and Mike were horrified to hear the thunk of a knife thrown with great force at the bag, right in front of Justin's chest.Kurt looked on, terrified. 

Slushies and getting slammed were routine occurrences at McKinley, as was the occasional trip into a dumpster. But knives? He hadn't seen anyone with one at this school, let alone witnessed one being thrown like that. The jocks clustered at the table near where Justin had been standing just sat there, mouths opened wide, as Justin fled without another word. They moved away a bit as the boy sat at the table next to them that Justin had just vacated.Finn and Brittany sat down next to Kurt, as Mike leaned over, saying, "I'm going to go check on Justin. Catch you later, Kurt."

"Everything OK, Kurt? You, um, don't look too good right now." Finn frowned at Mike's retreating form

."Fine. I'm fine. You didn't see anything, did you?" Kurt glanced over to where the new boy was calmly eating his lunch. He really wanted to get a better look, but brought his gaze back to Finn.

"No! What? Did I miss something?

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

"Porcelain!"

Kurt turned, sighing, ready to see what Coach Sue Sylvester wanted this time. The first glee meeting had gone about like he'd thought it would; Mr. Schue had weird ideas to increase their numbers, Rachel wanted to start planning right away for Sectionals (and of course had songs picked out); not much singing this first day. He was tired; ready to go home, thirsty, hot

."Yes?"

"I'm hoping you've reconsidered your ill-advised decision from last year. You know you want back in."

Kurt could only shake his head. "Ah, Coach Sylvester, by the way, the name is Kurt, and I think I'm going to say no to what I can only assume is your invitation to re-join the Cheerios."

Sue's eyes narrowed as she considered the teen in front of her. 

"You're making a mistake, Porcelain, but I'm sure you'll come around. I've got some numbers planned out for you, and you know you loved it." She smirked at Kurt. 

"See Becky to get your measurements re-done; looks like you've grown some since last year."

Kurt rolled his eyes. He knew his measurements in detail; how else to create his own fashions? As if he'd let Sue's minion put a tape measure anywhere on his body! He had, in fact, enjoyed some aspects of his time in the Cheerios quite a lot, but he really didn't have time for this. He smiled at Sue sweetly. "Bye Coach." 

He was almost giddy at the Coach's look of frustration as he walked away from her. 

Glee let out almost as late as the sports practices today, and he headed towards his beloved Navigator in the nearly deserted student parking lot. Kurt's mind was preoccupied with anticipating getting home, getting rehydrated, and maybe vegging out with reruns of Project Runway.

"Nice ride." 

Kurt blanched as the new kid from earlier today suddenly came up behind him.

"Thanks." 

He had no idea what to say, and this throat was instantly dry, noting that he was completely alone with this guy – who'd been nice, friendly even, this morning, and then revealed himself to be a scary, knife-throwing nut at lunch.

"You all right?" 

The guy was looking at him with concern. Kurt relaxed a little. He certainly didn't look like a threat, for now.

"Yes! Fine!" 

Why was he here? Kurt decided to try talking to him as he were any other new student. He was glad for an excuse to look at the boy's face. "My name's Kurt."

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson." 

Kurt saw his face light up with a smile. And those eyes – he had hazel eyes framed by long lashes, topped with black triangular eyebrows. Why, Kurt wondered, did he look so damned amused? Had he done anything funny? How did someone dressed like such a fashion disaster manage to look so amazingly hot?"You're new here, aren't you?" he managed to say, congratulating himself on not slipping into his highest register.

"Yup," Blaine said. "Moved here this summer. I'm a junior."

Well, Kurt thought, this conversation was going surprisingly normally. If you can call normal having a conversation with a guy in goth-meets-biker gear who throws knives when he gets pissed normal. Somehow he didn't feel like he was in any danger, and part of his mind wondered why that should be so. 

"Junior. Me too." Brilliant, Kurt, he thought to himself. He must have paused too long, as he noticed Blaine started to speak again.

"Well, Kurt. Nice to know the name that goes with the face. See you around!" With that, Blaine nodded in a friendly way in Kurt's direction as he started towards his motorcycle parked further out.

"Right! See you tomorrow. I guess." Kurt watched him walk away for a moment before getting his keys out. Damn! Maybe those pants at least weren't a fashion disaster. Not on him anyway. OK! he thought, enough! I don't even want to know what would happen if he caught me staring at him in those skin tight jeans!

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

Blaine pulled into the driveway of the little house he and his mom had moved into a couple of weeks ago. Her family in the area had all offered to take them in, but she'd gently turned them all down, preferring instead to move into their own place a couple of weeks before the semester started. It was smaller than he was used to, but he liked it more: his parents' fights, which alternated with periods of uncomfortable chilliness, had been hard to be around. Much as he'd hated the idea of them divorcing, he couldn't help but see that his mom actually seemed more relaxed now.

Letting himself in, he dumped his bag into his room and shed his outfit in what his mom would describe as the messiest way possible: jacket, shirt, socks, chains, exploding all over the room. He did use care however, with his knives and holsters, laying them out on the top of his dresser. He didn't regret losing the one he'd thrown at lunchtime: he grimaced for a moment, musing that it was a worthy investment. The table full of jocks? They hadn't said a word, including the Neanderthal who'd pushed that boy into the locker first thing this morning.

Blaine peeled off his sweaty socks, leaving them unceremoniously on the floor, as he loped over to the shower. He'd waited after school, so long he thought maybe he'd missed him, but had been glad to find that he hadn't: he'd wanted to stay to make sure the beautiful boy from the morning made it to his car without getting bullied again. Kurt. He'd seemed nervous, but when he'd finally smiled – wow. Blaine made a mental note to ask Justin about him later tonight

.A/N: So, badboy!Blaine ... consider yourselves introduced, dear readers. I will update again soon, and would welcome any feedback, comments, speculation 

This is the first chapter, written so long ago, in a fic I wrote that is now on Chapter 117. Check it out if you’re in the mood for a long fic...

…https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8315415/1/When-I-get-you-alone-babe

[slapmeagain-blog]

COVID-19 LIFE

18 May 2020

How can it be 12 days since I last posted?  It must be the distraction of improving weather, the amount of time I am spending on the garden, and getting ready to enjoy the outdoor season: bringing all the outdoor furniture up from the basement, cleaning the porch, patio and deck, putting covers back on all the cushions, moving all the plants that have been hibernating in the sun room out of doors; ferns for the urns on the front steps, and hanging from hooks above the balustrades on the porch, potted palms next to the wooden furniture facing Pearl street.  There are the big self-watering planters filled with semi-tropicals on the deck off the sun room and the giant urns on the blue-stone patio.  New plantings in the bare spots in the flowers beds, potting a new lime tree, an on-going losing battle with crabgrass and other unworthy competitors to my lawn.  I could have a booth selling dandelion leaves for salad at the Wall Street farmer’s market on Saturday morning if I had the time.  Re-seeding bare patches under the copper beech tree and the corner near the vegetable patch, seeding herbs and greens in tiny compostable pots that have to be misted twice a day.  Cutting away dead leaves and growth from everything and moving the potted plants from beneath the living room windows to their appointed positions out of doors.  Ahh....

The weather had been so cool, damp and dreary, that I had to take matters into my own hands and say enough is enough, that it was about time we moved from bare hints of spring to full on spring mode on May 14th, mainly to keep Marco from packing his bags and moving back to Tuscany, where temperatures are already well into the high seventies and eighties.  Temperatures here rose as ordered.  We hit 80 a couple of days ago which has delayed Marco’s imminent migration.  I even enjoyed a pitcher of iced tea!

Meanwhile, in the wider world, 90,000 Americans are dead, and there have been 1,400,000 confirmed cases of the virus. 36,000,000 Americans have filed unemployment claims (Marco and I are not eligible) and armed civilian militia have overrun the Michigan state  legislature and shut down Oregon’s demanding that the governments re-open the economies. Who are these people?  They are clearly a small but vocal minority of the disparate groups of supremacists, right wing Christians, and hard line second amendment defenders who are being encouraged by the man in the white house (note to my great-grandchildren: many people in these times refuse to even speak the name of the current resident of the White House.  Something we borrowed as a form of protest from the Harry Potter novel series where people were afraid to even mention the name of the antagonist -- Voldemort.)  We’re not ‘afraid’ to mention his name, we just feel that he shouldn’t be given any form of legitimacy, not as a man, and certainly not at as a president.

Closer to home, here in Kingston, NY, a barber in a hipster-retro shop on John Street, has been cutting hair on the sly, in defiance of the shutdown, and has been diagnosed with the virus.  Officials are searching for anyone who might have had their haircut by him (eye roll). On the brighter side, Liberato (Marco’s niece's fiance was finally able to legally open his brand spanking new barber shop in San Querico (Tuscany) this week and is booked solid for two weeks -- 97 appointments.  It’s curious that the Kingston barber made international headlines.  We heard about it from as far afield as Siena (IT) and Geneva (CH, not NY!)  Most people are taking the shutdown seriously, but many are not, and it’s a very divisive topic.  One security guard was shot, in Michigan, for telling a customer to put on a mask or leave the store.  Another liquor store owner in Flint (Michigan clearly has anger management issues) was shot in the ankle for the same reason.  Many people feel that the lock down is a useless exercise, that we should just open up and get it over with.  It’s not killing as many as we thought it might, and cases have started to fall off in the worst hit places.  But the whole point was to ‘flatten the curve’ to prevent the health care system from getting overwhelmed and to protect the vulnerable.  That part has worked.  So where do you begin, and how much is enough, to get the economy started again without creating new spikes and hot-spots of the disease and risk overwhelming the hospitals?  The scientists argue that it can’t be done safely until we have tested most of the population to get a handle on how many people have already had it.  Supposedly, 60% is a magic number for ‘herd immunity,’ above which the virus will slowly die out because it can’t sustain itself in a smaller pool, but that assumes that once you’ve had it, you are immune.  The jury is still out on that.  So much information, so little reliability.  Example: Marco read in the Italian press today that the US had come up with a vaccine and was testing it.  Here, however, the medical professionals are saying we are at least a year, maybe two, away from a vaccine.  It’s no wonder people are acting crazy.  Anyone can  pretty much find someone out there who is saying exactly the thing that appeals to their fears and some of us act on those fears, with the encouragement of the 12-year old in chief, who says he is now taking hydroychloroquine, the efficacy of which is questionable and is said to have potentially harmful side effects.  A couple of months ago, a couple in Arizona took it after he touted it.  The husband died and the wife was hospitalized in serious condition.  Well, let’s hope he manages to kill or incapacitate himself soon.

That’s plenty on that topic.  I don’t know if it is because we are safely ensconced in Kingston in a big house surrounded by lawns and stone walls and flowers that I don’t feel particularly under threat by the virus.  But at the same time, I don’t feel the loss of human contact (other than with Cole, Ashe and Carter and the hugs). My time is my own, and I’m enjoying finding ways to fill it -- cooking, reading, planning for reopening my hospitality locations, gardening, studying, watching movies....  My biggest fears, really, are economic.  When this is over, what will my investments be worth, what will the townhouse in Brooklyn be worth, how will I support myself, help Marco, and leave something to my son and grand kids when I go?  Up until now those were not serious issues for me. 

 I do miss eating out in places where I know people or places where the food is particularly transcendent, but cooking at home and really investing in keeping food interesting, has been a pleasant challenge.  And as I settle in to lock down -- it’s been two months now -- I find I am seeking less amusement in martinis, mushrooms, and space cookies, and more in reading, writing, studying and cooking and actually having a schedule for those activities.  I also love the efficiency of online visual visits, both personal and for study and business.  I’m staying in closer contact with so many of my friends than I did before lockdown.  We have a call tonight at 7 p.m. with Joe and Vicki in LA which I am looking forward to, and we are doing a weekly family call on Sundays with the kids, Roy and CT in Hawaii, Maud in Brooklyn, Hedy and Firth and M and me here in Kingston.  

Hawaii, by the way, is pretty safe.  And here, in Ulster County, we’ve had fewer than 40 deaths and 1500 cases.  And considering how many people like me have fled from the city to Kingston, I’m surprised it’s not higher.  East Hampton, for example, was a hot spot because of all the rich NYC types that have homes there and left the city.  Sorry, sorry.  I promised to stop.  Times article says that wealthier neighborhoods in NYC have lost 40% of their population!  I’m so glad the kids are at our place to keep an eye on things.  And Marco’s finding a rhythm, too.  Check it out.

I finally plodded though to the end of Thomas Campanella’s book, “Brooklyn: The Once and Future City”.  It was very, very informative, even if many parts of it would be far more interesting to civic planners and architects than to casual readers, but it really did put a lot in perspective on Brooklyn’s economic and social trajectory through nearly 300 years with some interesting segues into geological formations that impact the place still today.  Sadly, as interesting and appealing a place as Brooklyn is, very little scholarly work has been done on it’s history.  Until very recently, the focus has always been on Manhattan.  It did correct a number of my own misconceptions.  Importantly, despite the fact that Robert Moses was not thrilled at the design for the proposed Dodger Stadium at the intersection of Flatbush and Atlantic Avenues, it doesn’t appear that he, on his own, could have stopped it.  Research suggests that it was the disappearing fan base (fleeing the crime-ridden city in the 50s and 60s) that made the move to LA more an economic decision than has otherwise been speculated.  And I’m no fan of Robert Moses. The study group, in the end, actually wanted to put the stadium complex in Park Slope, bordered by Sterling, Bergen, Vanderbilt and Boerum Place.  What a disaster that would have been on so many levels!!  Not the least of which would have been the United Jet that crashed in that spot in 1960. And the Weisberg’s wouldn’t have been my neighbors for 34 years because their house would have been razed.

Other non-essential slightly amusing details. Deer ‘resistant’ plants are not deer ‘proof’.  And our herd doesn’t seem to be made up of fussy eaters. So, we are frustrated by the number of our plants that are being ravaged.  Apparently, based on an internet search, Marco has discovered that piss and cayenne pepper are good home garden deer deterrents!  Well...  I am putting it to the test with a mixture of BOTH.  I’ll keep you posted on results.  (I won’t go into detail on how the mixture is obtained/prepared, interesting as it may be.)  Hungry?  Peanut butter, honey and banana -- not since I was 10 years old.  Think I’ll write a kids’ Covid cookbook!

[ansheofthevalley]

I’ve seen a few “book enthusiasts” seriously believe that Dany will burn down KL and then find redemption in the battle against the dead later on. And during the battle of Winterfell, Dany, Jon and Tyrion will each ride a dragon. I’m sorry, but that entire thing sounds very silly to me. How could she possibly be redeemed after killing hundreds of thousands of people at once? And Tyrion? (a pretty vile book character) will be a “hero” at Winterfell? What?! Is any of this strange to you too?

Hi nonny! I’ll devide the ask in two parts. 

But to answer your question, no, I don’t find it strange. Simply because Jon, Daenerys and Tyrion are three of the most popular characters of the saga (if not the three most popular). But being the most popular doesn’t mean they’ll have a hero’s journey or that they’ll end up being the heroes in the end (especially in Dany and Tyrion’s case).

Dany’s redemption

I’ve seen this theory float around. But from what I’ve seen, I think it leans more on the redemptive death trope. Think Darth Vader in the third act of Return of the Jedi. So let’s say that Dany burns KL. After doing so, she has some sort of epiphany about how she turned out to be the very thing she was fighting against. And to even the scales a bit, she does something selfless: she goes North to fight the Others without expecting anything in return. But since she commited mass murder and no act that bad can go unpunished, she dies for the greater good, thus “earning” redemption. I think the theory goes like that or at least that’s my interpretation of it.

Thematically, Dany’s arc parallels the history of her ancestors. The Targaryens (and the Velaryons) fled Valyria (an empire built with fire, blood and slaves) before the Doom (a natural disaster that might have some connection to magic destroying the largest empire in the known world in a single day). Years later, Aegon began his conquest of Westeros with his sisters and their dragons (Fire and Blood). The Targaryen dynasty ruled for 300 years with dragons and the famous Targaryen Exceptionalism to keep everyone in check. But the Targaryen dynasty ended with Robert’s Rebellion. Only two Targaryens survived (three if you count Jon). Targaryen history is deeply linked with hubris. Every time they’re set on building an empire, it ultimately ends up badly for them, either by a supernatural cause or by human conflict. In terms of narrative, Dany has links to the history of both the Valyria of old and the Targaryen dynasty. That’s why I think her end in the books will be similar to the Valyrians/Targaryens, only that her end will be a bit of both: her arc is about conquering, it’s political, but it’s also magical because of her dragons. So the conflict that might end up in her death could start as a war (the westerosi lords resisting her rule), but when (I say when because it’s practically a given she’ll burn KL) she burns KL with her dragons, it could somehow parallel the Doom. 

In a general sense, ASOIAF’s ending will be the same as GOT’s. So that means Dany will die. It’s the how that we still don’t know. I don’t think Jon will actually kill her in the books (I have my thoughts on how Dany’s death scene played out but I won’t get into them since it will be a lot and that’s not what you asked, nonny). I believe she will die when she burns KL. Fire cannot kill a dragon, but wildfire might...

Daenerys, Jon and Tyrion as the three dragonriders

This theory is very popular and one of the first ones from the fandom, if I’m correct. It connects to the whole “the dragon must have three heads” speech. A lot of people that believe in this theory also believe in the “Tyrion is Aerys’ bastard” theory. It’s basically about Targaryen Exceptionalism.

I personally don’t believe in the theory for a number of reasons. 

First of all, it’s been confirmed (from a Doylist POV) what the Song of Ice and Fire means: Ice and Fire are the threats Westeros face from north of the Wall (in the form of the Others) and from the far east in Essos (in the form of Daenerys and her dragons), respectively. Still talking from a Doylist POV, I don’t see how one of the threats can be absolute evil while the other can be conceived as “good”. That certainly happens from a Watsonian POV. That’s why Daenerys and House Targaryen as a whole are so popular. The threat they represent is oftentimes veiled, hidden behind POV traps and the very well crafted notion of Targaryen Exceptionalism.

Secondly, I don’t believe there will be any other dragonriders apart from Dany, except maybe for f!Aegon and Jon. The thing about dragonriders is that 1) they rely on bonding with the dragon and 2) most of the time (but not always) only a Targaryen could ride them. So, it’s not like you could just hop on and go for a ride. Take the Dance of the Dragons, for example. The Dragonseeds (Non-Targaryen dragonriders) were baseborn people. But even the dragonseeds are questioned, some believing them to have valyrian ancestry. That was the whole thing about Targaryens committing incest, so they could be the only ones to control the dragons.

Thirdly, and going back to my first argument, the dragons are not perceived as a good force of nature. Quite the opposite, actually. GRRM has referred to them time and time again as WMD. GRRM has said that the dragons represent power, but the power they represent is not the kind you build upon. The dragons represent destructive power.

Lastly, the “three heads of the dragon” are tied to TPTWP prophecy and as we know, prophecies are not what they seem in the world of ASOIAF. From a Watsonian POV, they can be tricky because characters involved with prophecy make important (sometimes game-changing) choices based on their interpretations of certain prophecies. And those interpretations turn up to be wrong or inconclusive because prophecies are not as straight-forward as the characters believe. From a Doylist POV, prophecies can be used as a device to make the characters make a fatal error which ends in their undoing. Rhaegar is a perfect example of Hamartia in ASOIAF. He was obsessed with TPTWP prophecy. He was convinced that the Promised Prince would come from his line. So, when he married Elia Martell, he was dead set on having three kids: TPTWP and two more that would help him, since “the dragon must have three heads” (again, Targaryen Exceptionalism). Since Elia wasn’t healthy enough to give Rhaegar a third child, he kidnapped Lyanna Stark and raped her (yes, I’m saying he raped her since she was 14/15 years old and he was a grown-ass adult, thus making it statutory rape, even if she gave consent) so he could get the third head of the dragon. As we all know, this is the reason why Rickard and Brandon Stark went to KL, where the Mad King killed them both and demanded the heads of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon, thus initiating Robert’s Rebellion and ultimately ending the Targaryen dynasty. All the choices Rhaegar made, he made them while having the prophecy in mind. All those choices led to his death, the death of his family and the end of Targaryen rule in Westeros. All of this could be considered a fatal error if we keep in mind that Rhaegar could’ve been wrong about TPTWP prophecy. And Rhaegar is just one of many, many characters connected to this prophecy. In the present, you have Daenerys and Stannis as the two clearest examples of characters that might be going down Rhaegar’s path.

As for Tyrion, there’s just no way he’ll end up being a hero. People just assume that because they see show!Tyrion as a(n overall) faithful adaptation of his book counterpart, which is simply not true, like, at all. Book!Tyrion is a rapist, a sexual molester and vicious. He’s a very dark character, always after what’s best for himself. GRRM himself has described him as a villain. So no, Tyrion won’t be a hero in the books. He won’t be the voice of reason. Like, show!Tyrion from s4 to s8? Don’t expect him to appear in the books, simply because that’s not how GRRM writes him.

Thanks for the ask!

[djinmer4]

Headcanon for EW!Verse

Here’s a quick description of two continents of the EW!Verse.

General note: The assumption is that EW!Verse takes place in the Marvel reality . . . after about half a dozen catastrophes and disasters (no nuclear war, but some nuclear engagements included) that completely changed the landscape and geography of the world, and at least 50,000 years in the future.  Is EW!Kurt our Kurt, just rendered completely insane by becoming immortal and forgetting everything as a defense mechanism?  Not even he knows by this point.

1. Genosha:

Genosha is a continent in the Southern Hemisphere, where most of the action takes place.  There are three countries on it, Genosha which takes up about 2/3 of the continent, the northern, tropical country of Laurentia which makes up about 1/4 of the continent and the remaining area in the south-west is the country of Silla.

Genosha is the powerhouse of the three, with the most land, the greatest amount of resources, the largest economy and the highest population of the three.  There is a large variety of environments.  Its capital is Hammer Bay, located on the east coast.  Historically, Genosha was established as a colony by Kurt’s empire at some point (Hammer Bay being the first landing point) but no one remembers that now.  (Except, Kurt.  Maybe.)

The political structure is a parliamentary monarchy, tilted to favor the ruling family of Magnus rather than the Diet.  All rulers are called Magneto (with the current ruler being Erik Magnus, Magneto VII).  He has 3 children, Prince Pietro, Crown Princess Wanda, and Princess Lorna, and 1 grandchild, Wanda’s daughter Princess Talia.  Heirs are chosen by the ruler, who must choose one of his or her descendants in the succeeding generation (so if Erik had a sibling, he could not choose that sibling as heir.  But he could appoint a grandchild instead.)  The ruler must always be a magic-user.

Genosha is noted as being the first country to develop the Guild Adventurer system and all major cities and large towns will have a Guildhouse in them.  It’s noted as being part of Genosha’s pro-magic policies (which include things such as public schooling for awakened mages and a preponderance of magic users in upper levels of administration and the military).

Laurentia is mostly tropical and noted for being rather swampy.  People in Genosha like to say there are only two seasons in Laurentia, “Wet and Hot’ and “Drowning in Boiling Water”.  It’s separated from Genosha on its southern border by a moderate (think the Urals) mountain range.  They export agricultural products and finished goods, but import mineral resources from Genosha.  Their political system is a democracy, with a president elected for 1 term every 5 years, and senators for 5 years staggered out terms.  No senate elections (aside from emergencies) are held during presidential election years.  Senators can be elected indefinitely.  Like Genosha, they are strongly pro-magic and have adopted the Guild Adventurer system.  They are noted for having a robust navy, both military and mercantile fleets are considered the best in the world.  Also, this is where Logan was born.

Silla is in a cold, heavily forested region of the continent cut off from the rest by  a mountain range around the height of the Himalayas.  The country is highly secretive and has strong isolationist tendencies.  Due to physical separation and isolationist culture, not much is known about it by outsiders.  What has been established: 1) they have a theocratic ruling system, 2) they are strongly anti-magic, with magic users being executed upon awakening, 3) they are very hostile to the other two countries that share the continent with them.

2. Shi’Ar

The Shi’Ar continent is north-east of Genosha, and straddles the equator of the planet.  The entire continent has been united in the Shi’Ar empire, which is another hereditary monarchy.  The current ruler is Emperess Lilandra.

Not much happens here in the story, but historically it was very important.  This was the continent Kurt built his empire on and continued to terrorize even after he decided that ruling the world wasn’t for him.  It’s left the entire continent with a very strong anti-magic bias, and they are also noted as being very hostile to Azurites (the race that shares features with Kurt).  Over the centuries, most Azurites fled to Genosha, where they are now a thriving minority population and have no clue that they originally came from another continent.  The only Azurites now found in Shi’Ar are tourists and travelers and viewed with heavy suspicion.  As for magic users, the Shi’Ar have loosened to a sort of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ policy.  As long as you don’t practice magic in public, the government ignores you, but anyone who gets ‘outed’ is liable to lose their job and any awards/honors they’ve received and be shunned socially.

3. Azurites

Human ‘subrace’ descended from the Neyaphem.  Not all from Kurt, despite having lived for at least several thousand years.  Jia is an Azurite (but definitely not Kurt’s daughter).

All sapient races in this world are of human descent.  Biological warfare, nuclear fallout and wide-spread X-genes may have produced more variety in the human population, but every ‘race’ is human and all are interfertile with each other. (The Shi’Ar might have been descendants of Shi’Ar trapped on Earth after the first disaster, but since Prof. X and Lilandra can have a daughter, for all intents and purposes they are just humans now.)

There is at least one other continent, that was never invaded by Evil Wizard Kurt.