#so like godspeed to her i hope she takes some time to just be herself and get offline and such

[six-of-ravens]

GYPSY ROSE TIME PREPARE FOR MY PROBLEMATIC OPINIONS

[qqueenofhades]

I KNOW he’s gonna find a way to worm his way out of it like the Worlds Biggest Bitch Baby that he is but… the thought of watching our future president absolutely eviscerate that orange sack of pond scum in a debate on national television make me feel indescribable joy. The mere thought of it makes me feel A L I V E.

I hope that if he refuses to debate her, she still stands up there by herself, looks directly into the camera and lists all the ways he’s a Scaredy Little Punk Ass Bitch.

Listen, Democrats might still have some understandable nerves (though listen to me, LISTEN TO ME: this is NOT THE TIME FOR MORE PANIC, THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO TALK ABOUT HOW SCARY THIS IS, WE KNOW! WE KNOW! THIS IS THE TIME TO GET TF IN FORMATION AND DO YOUR GODDAMN JOB!) but let me say this, the Republicans are LOSING it. They put ALL their chips on facing Sleepy Old Joe who don't talk so good anymore, and suddenly they have a 59-year-old lawyer and prosecutor who literally spent her whole elected career going after sex pests, frauds, and felons. (We remember how she made Brett Kavanaugh fucking cry at his confirmation hearing, right?) And suddenly, they have to bring it against Kamala. GODSPEED, DIPSHITS.

So yes, Trump is already whining SO hard about all the money they "wasted" going after Biden, laying the groundwork to escape getting his ass handed to him at the next debate, got stuck with a terriblawful VP pick (even Fucking FOX NEWS cut away from Vance's rally the other day because it was so boring) and suddenly realizing that he spent so much effort to make this election about age and mental competency when... now it's him. WHAT NOW, FUCKFACES. WHAT. NOW.

I'd also like to point out that abortion rights are going to be a HUGE issue, they have won everywhere they have been on the ballot (including in very red states) post-Dobbs, they will be on the ballot in several more important states (including Fucking Florida, not that I actually think we'll win there), and Kamala has a great record as a defender of reproductive freedom. Biden did his best, bless him, but sometimes the Old Catholic Man still leaped out. So the absolute fucking schadenfreude of having a black female president BEAT TRUMP IN A POST-DOBBS ELECTION??? MAGNIFICENT.

(As @silverbirching says: we wonder how many minutes it will take SCOTUS to row back the "president god-king" ruling if Kamala wins. We're guessing 15. That is, if Joe does not finally just embrace the fact that presidents are immune AND he is leaving office, and send Alito, Thomas, and Kav on a "special indefinite vacation" as an inauguration present.)

I am not overconfident. I know this is unprecedented. I know we don't have much time, and how hard this will be. This is not 2016 or 2020, and we all have to do the work and not let up. But if the Handmaid's Tale party is literally now trying to make "Kamala doesn't have children because she's an Evul Feminist" into their main line of attack, all I say is, Please proceed, chucklefucks. I'm sure that will go great.

[edgeray]

*presses my face against your tank* HELLO RAY !!! :D I AM FINALLY HERE !! MY BRAINCELLS HAVE COLLIDED AND PRODUCED A THOUGHT !!

or, er, sort of? more like a vague vibe, but i digress. basically, consider: pining arle. how does she realize her feelings for you? how does she cope? how does her behaviour around you change? does it? what is she thinking the whole time? when would she consider making a move? essentially i would like to see you psychologically pick apart this woman. go as in depth into her brain or inner monologue as you want !!! the set dressing can be canon or an au, i’ll eat it up regardless :)) and as a professional angst writer i know you can write some absolutely monstrous (/pos) yearning and i’m frothing at the mouth thinking about it 🤤🤤🤤 lookin forward to your thoughts but also take your time with it !!! godspeed 🫡🫡🫡

An Unfit Role 

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Oh sev… you spoil me too much. You truly do. Somehow this turned into very ‘Arlecchino is a person'-esque and I don't know how but oh well. I don't know if this answered your questions very well, but hopefully this is what you mean by psychologically picking apart her! Was this enough pining? Content warnings / info - uhh none I think. just a lil bit of angst, 1.4k words

Arlecchino is many things. The Fourth Fatui Harbinger, a Snezynayan diplomat, the head of the House of the Hearth, and simply ‘'Father.’ She takes on many roles, and enforces them with an iron fist, every facade meticulously practiced and rationalized. Perfected as if she were an actor on a stage, every action and step is calculated beforehand. And if external factors or unpredictable variables crop up in the midst of her play? Well, a good actor knows how to improvise. Arlecchino is well aware of her roles, has memorized the lines and drilled through every movement. The Knave has many feats from each character she plays. A flawless performer, in those aspects.

A lover is not a character she can play. Someone who loves. It is a role that she cannot hope to touch, one she cannot imagine assigning herself too. She is far too inexperienced in what it pertains to. Her perception would grossly mischaracterize it, painting a rather crude display of what she knows of but doesn't know. After all, how could one act without an adequate example? No actor would want to showcase a poor impression of an original source material, an actor presents only their most remarkable qualities. A good actor knows what they cannot act, and it is this where her talents reach their limit. It is what her role as a ‘Father’ stems from; this inability to express something far too fragile and flimsy for her to hold. 

Of the few showcases of others playing the role, Arlecchino is knowledgeable enough that they are simply inept showcases. The Tsaritsa, who has shown the capability to act, and yet chooses to conceal her abilities from her audience. Crucabena, an unqualified actor, whose words dripped with far too much venom for the soft-spoken voice that she used. Perhaps Clervie was the only accurate and genuine actor able to play the part, but one cannot appreciate the traits of an unfinished story. And the naive Peruere, who could hardly imitate her counterpart, was maimed by Arlecchino’s own hands. It is here that she learns that the role of a lover earns no applause, because it adds little to the plot, and so it lacks a function in her story.  

Despite this, she finds herself in this scene, where she plays a character unlike her usual, an entirely new character involuntarily thrusted into her by the cruel machinations of her mind. 

It is a subtle thing. First, she was just the Knave to you. But somehow, among your presence, her facade slips, and she dons another character. 

She becomes a character who knows of nothing but the way her sight is captured by a singular person, a character whose dead heart begins to beat, daring to flutter back to life after it was painfully wrenched out of her chest by her favorite story's ending. She becomes acutely aware of this role when her eyes linger on you a moment longer than need be, when she indulges your empty but no less engaging conversations, when she familarizes herself with the particular fauna scent you carry. When she closes her eyes, your smile flashes through her mind, she knows she's fallen. 

An actor knows when to quit, when they misfit the character they're performing. And yet her mind remains stubborn. Acting a role one does not fit will only damage the actor's reputation, and she intends on abandoning it. But it is difficult for her to dismiss how much she yearns for a warmth that the blood flames in her veins cannot bring. It is difficult to deny that she is not momentarily blinded and stunned by your beaming expression, even when you are not looking at her. It is increasingly more difficult to control the pulsing underneath her skin. This is a character she cannot control, instead, it often feels that the character controls her. 

It is an unseemly, disgusting appearance for her. If it were physically possible, she would plunge her very own cursed, clawed hands into her chest, to grasp onto this fickle, volatile organ and crush it just to exhaust the remaining embers of a futile hope. If only it were as simple as that. Love is far too much of a complicated role for her, and yet it is somehow inescapable. Some sort of torment placed onto her by the archons. 

She can long, she can reach, she can prance around you, but never can she touch. For love imprints its scorch marks deeper than any weapon or assault. One of the lessons her story has concluded to. 

So, instead, she reduces its role to a minor character. She lets her stares remain, but she observes you from a distance. She does not dawdle a second longer besides you if she needn't be. She dresses the role of a lover as an observer. Everything she touches with these wretched, blackened hands soon turns into nothing but embers and ashes, and so the only way that you will remain is away from her.

On her desk, sits a vase with a single flower. It is your favorite flower, the flower that you smell of. It does not move from its place, nothing is done to it besides being watered. Its stem is so brittle, and the petals are far too easy to wither away.

(It is a reminder, every time she sits at her desk. Oh, how'd she like to stroke the patels with as much tenderness as she could muster. How'd she like to cradle it in her hands, this source of life, despite being so delicate, is so beautiful. How'd she like to be able to wake up everyday, and view upon this blossoming flower. But she is not a gardener. She knows nothing of how to make a flower bloom.) 

Humans are the only viable actors for the role of a lover. A curse is not. 

(In her dreams, sometimes you are in place of Clervie. Yet, like Clervie, the only moment she is able to cradle you is when her sword impales you. She will not let another flower wilt, she will not burn another flower.)

It is why you baffle her. Why do you gaze upon her with that expression, as if her claws are not one one more inch from piercing your skin and ripping into your flesh? How do you take her hands in yours, somehow slotting them as if they were always meant to, when they’re soiled with vulgar blood? Her cutting words and sharp tongue, how do they not dissuade you? How do you see her blackened skin, and not be driven away by such a mark of impurity and depravity? 

How could you not tell that she is improper for the role that you seek?

She wonders if a flower is a poor description of you. She wonders if you are instead a Sundew ensnaring a spider, unwilling to let it escape. No, perhaps that is not fitting for you, because you are unaware how effortlessly she can char you–unaware of the imminent danger that comes with keeping such a venomous creature.

Arlecchino is many things. She is a coward, if only for you. She cannot abandon her role, but she cannot perform better, floating in the state of inadequacy that she so despises. Playing a lover makes her foolish, and it is a compromising role. 

She is foolish, but she is despicable. She is selfish. And though she is perfect actor, even performers must fail to succeed. One day, her mental will and patience crumbles. She requests you into her office, your doe-eyed expression widens when she gives you the flower that sits lone in a glass vase on her desk. She tells you that you plague her thoughts, every feeling and emotion is muddied when they concern you, a culmination of things not within her grasp, not within her control. 

It is your performance that finally teaches her what she lacked before: playing the role of a lover requires another. It is a role dependent on another character, otherwise it cannot succeed. It matters not how experienced one is with the other, as long as the characters are committed to it.

There is another lesson that she learned from you.

“I cannot act as a lover.”

“Why must you act to love me?”

Love is a fickle, unpredictable thing. There is no words to be practiced, no actions to be scripted. 

Arlecchino is many things. A lover may be one of them. 

[seigephoenix]

hey lovely, we both know what fandom i'm requesting, aren't we? So I'm requesting Fallout Ghoul fluff/smut, which Ghoul you can decide. I love all of them with my whole heart xD I trust you. Prompts I would like included: Forehead kisses, laughing, knife play (as explicit as you like), Use your teeth, “You make me nauseous.” “It’s called love. You’ll get over it.” (Generally add some snark, I know you're damn good at it xD). Godspeed! Love you haha

It is finished! I used my Sole Survivor for this cause I love her so much. She and Hancock fit well together.

Content Warning: snark, blood mention, wounds, first aid, oral, p in v, more snark. Length: 2.3k

Goodneighor’s neon sign flickered as the roar of an alpha Deathclaw echoed through the night.  “Deathclaw!” The cries from the residents broke the brief silence that followed.  No one would be stupid enough to take on a Deathclaw would they?  That’s what the residents asked themselves as they quickly rushed forward to reinforce the gate against the beast.

That was the exact question Georgia asked herself as she darted around the corner with the Deathclaw hot on her heels.  Her lungs burned from her sprint through the middle of Boston.  Roughened voices yelling about popping her eyeballs out reached her over the growls of the Deathclaw as she passed by the super mutant stronghold.  I could sure use Strong right about now actually.  Georgia chastised herself for going it alone, she hadn’t even let Dogmeat go with her this time.  Somewhere in her mind she had wanted to keep everyone safe…  To the detriment of her own health.  Georgia wheezed as a bullet grazed her ear.  She briefly felt the flash of pain in her side, one that almost stole her breath from the impact, but she forced her legs to continue.  Her body acted on instinct now, she just needed to go.

She zipped around a corner and saw an open doorway.  Thank fuck.  She curled down out of sight as the Deathclaw ran further down the road.  She knew the things could track her smell, but she hoped this one was just enraged enough to not notice she wasn’t in front of it anymore.  Georgia almost pitied the raiders that grabbed its attention but never had she been more relieved to see the crazy sons of bitches.  She used the distraction to rush through the piled streets and found her way to Goodneighbor.  The door was sealed.

“It’s me!  Georgia!  Let me in!” Georgia heard the chain and locks shuffling and soon she almost stumbled into the location as the door swung open.  She scrambled out of the way of the door and breathed out as she saw the chains and locks being put back in place.

“You sure chose a shit time to come calling.” Georgia gave Daisy a halfhearted thumbs up.  “That wound looks nasty.  Come on and patch up at the shop.”

“Thank a million Daisy,” Georgia wheezed as she slowly stood up.  Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the sharp throbbing pain stole her breath.  She just hoped the bullet had been a through and through, skilled doctor she was not.

“I’ve got it from here Daisy.” Georgia wanted to groan as she heard him.  That whiskey rough voice that had captured her attention the first time she’d visited Goodneighbor.

“You sure Hancock?” Daisy asked as the mayor joined them.

“Yeah, I think we can handle this one at my place.”  Georgia assured Daisy it was fine.  She shuffled off next to Hancock who wrapped an arm around her waist.  She groaned and glared at him as he put pressure on her bullet wound.  She knew it was going to be beneficial in the long run, but it hurt damn it.

“Lookin’ a little green there peaches.”  Georgia glared at him for the nickname.

“You make me nauseous.”  She eased her way up the steps with Hancock’s help, leaning on him just enough.  His laugh felt like a shot of whiskey, burning on her nerves but with a warm finish.  She clenched her teeth and looked at the flight of stairs ahead of her.

“You know what they call that around here?”  His voice in her ear did not give her any help in making it up those steps.  Heat unfurled in her belly that had nothing to do with the bullet wound.  “Come on sugar, you know what they call it.”  Georgia gave a dry laugh as she put one foot in front of the other up the stairs.

“Why don’t you go ahead and tell me mister smarty pants.”  Georgia hissed as she eased herself down onto the wooden chair by the kitchen counter.  She groaned when she pulled at her shirt to get to the wound.  She huffed when he beat her to the punch and lifted the shirt off her.

“Let me look at it.”  He crouched down between her legs, poking the wound despite her cursing.

“Is it a through and through?”  He looked at the back and saw the exit wound.  “Good Lord, at least one thing is going right.”  Georgia breathed and he gave her a look.  The same look he got whenever her accent thickened.  “Don’t.”

“You sound like molasses.”  Georgia arched an eyebrow as he reached for the first aid kit.  He leaned down until his mouth was right next to her ear.

“Slow and sweet.”  She gave a short laugh that morphed into a pained hiss when he applied the antiseptic.  Georgia sent him a vicious glare over her shoulder.  “Easy there, peaches.  Don’t make more work for me.”

“Call me that one more time.”  Georgia could hear how thick her accent was and she had to laugh at herself.  Only when she was mad, in pain, or around other southerners.  She’d gotten all sorts of ribbing from her companions, especially Hancock and Deacon about the way she sounded.  Even back before the war, the people she knew in Boston and C.I.T. would tease her mercilessly about her accent.  She was too used to it now.  Georgia flinched as he wiped the wound clear of anymore oozing blood.  She released the breath she was holding once the Stimpack was applied and bandage was wrapped around her.

“Thanks Hancock.”  Georgia smiled at him as the pain was settling into a dull throbbing ache.  He ran his hands up her sides, resting them on her collarbone as he leaned in.  Georgia’s heart kicked up a notch as heat zipped along her nerves.

“Only you can make my name sound sinful.”  Georgia flashed him a grin as she felt the pain easing from the wound.  “Let me get that ear looked at.”

“Ah damn.  I forgot about that.”  She looked at him with a sardonic smile.  “Had other matters to concern myself with.”  His hand brushed against her cheek, tilting her face until he could see her ear better.  Georgia swallowed around the lump in her throat as his thumb stroked over her pulse point.  She knew he could feel her heart racing, he was probably enjoying it.  The little shit that he was.

“Still feeling nauseous?” Hancock laughed at the cutting glare she sent him.  “Come on peaches, don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t push it Hancock.”  He leaned over her neck, right where her shoulder began and opened his mouth over her pulse point.  Her body threatened to melt under his touch when his tongue pressed against the warm spot.  Every time, she was so weak for this man.  She felt the moment his teeth nipped at her throat, fuck.  Georgia let out a sharp gasp, but the bite wasn’t painful, instead she felt her body heating up in a different way.  Her thighs squeezed together for some relief.  “Couldn’t have given a girl a shot of Rad-X?”  Hancock merely grinned against her neck before his hand slid down and cupped her breast gently kneading the softness earning him a swift gasp.  Her chuckle ended on a groan and her fingers dug into his coat.  His thumb pressed down on her nipple, teasing and toying with the hardened point.  Her legs trembled with need.  Too long.  It had been too long since they’d had time to do this.

“As many times as we’ve done this princess, I don’t think you need it.”  Georgia groaned as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to her feet.  His mouth pressed against her uninjured ear.  “Don’t you protest now.  You know what happens when you do.”  His hand slid lower until he grabbed the curve of her ass as they walked towards his bedroom.

“You love it when I fight back.” Georgia hissed as he eased her onto the bed.  A shaky moan left her lips as his fingers pulled down the old cargo pants that had seen better days.  Hancock pressed his mouth against her panties, already soaked from her arousal.  His tongue trailed up until he pressed it flat against the little bundle of nerves.  “Fuck.”

“Only you could make that word sound like a benediction peaches.” Hancock murmured before he pulled the soft fabric to the side.  His tongue slid inside her earning a keening cry from Georgia.  Her head fell back as her hands sought his shoulders for some leverage.  “No fighting me now.”  Hancock turned his head and bit hard on the inside of her thigh.

“Hancock,” Georgia whined as he toyed with her clit, lapping everywhere but the spot she so desperately needed him at.  “Please don’t tease me like this.”  Georgia’s head fell back as he turned his full attention on her.  Teeth and tongue toying with her until she felt that heat coil low and tight between her legs.  The warm throbbing was as addicting as any chemical, and he was the only one who knew to trigger that high.  Georgia’s legs tightened around his head as she clawed her way towards that edge.  Her neck arched, his name on her lips; she was right there.  He lifted his head just as that coil was about to burst.

“Not yet darling.” Hancock smirked as he rested his cheek against her leg.  Frustration cut her razor sharp and she bared her teeth at him.

“You absolute dickhead.” Georgia hissed between her teeth as she struggled to look down at him.  He pressed an open mouthed kiss against her thigh, just above the mark he’d left which was already turning a dark blue.

“Now, now.  Where’s the fun in calling me names?  All you have to do is use your words.”  He grinned as he heard the vicious curse leave her lips.  “Peaches, that voice of yours does things to me that shouldn’t be considered legal.”

“Hancock, put that mouth of yours to good use damn it, and let me come already.” Georgia whined as he rested his chin just above her aching clit.

“Now what incentive do I have to listen to you?” Hancock smirked as Georgia practically growled at him.  “Say please.”

Georgia narrowed her eyes at him as he merely smirked at her with those impish smile on his face.  Her body screamed at her pride to just say the damn words already!  Georgia clenched her jaw and glared at her lover in frustration.  “Please.”

“Please, what?”  Georgia huffed in outrage as Hancock chuckled.  “You can use your words, can’t you peaches?”  Georgia sneered at the ceiling but she had been so close.  She took a deep breath.

“Please fuck me Hancock.”  He rose to his feet and she already missed the feel of his body heat.  Georgia yelped when he picked her up and switched spots with her.  Her knees rested on the mattress on either side of his hips.

“Fuck yourself on my cock yourself princess.”  Georgia splayed her palms across his shirt as his cock nestled between their bodies.  She shook her head but he merely folded his hands behind his head.  She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You are so evil,” Georgia whined as she reached between them for his cock.  She slid his cock inside her body, relishing each thick inch that spread her lips.  “Making me do all the work after getting shot.”  Georgia’s head fell back as she sat down, moaning at the stretch of him inside her body.  Hancock grunted before he grabbed her hips.  She rocked back and forth, desperately trying to gain that friction against her clit again.  She wanted to chase that high with him.  Her body tightened around his cock as she found the rhythm.

“Good girl.  Who’s the only one who can fuck you like this?”  He grasped her wrists in one of his hands, holding them tight against his chest.  She groaned as her hips ground down on his, finding that friction against her clit.  Her back bowed as that languid heat coiled tight inside of her body.

Her body tensed with that familiar heated knot.  The steady climb towards release was all she sought.  The world fell away to just the two of them as she rode his cock despite the pain in her side.  That pain only added fuel to the fire in her belly, heightening the pleasure to overwhelming levels.  Georgia felt the tears welling up as her body was right there, but she couldn’t bring herself over the edge.  She needed him.

“Hancock.”

“Fuck peaches, you make my name sound like something holy when you speak it with that angelic voice of yours,” Hancock whispered as he reached between their bodies with his free hand.  His thumb pressed at just the right angle and Georgia almost sobbed as her released washed over her.  His name fell from her lips in a litany as the waves crashed over her in languid pulses.  Georgia registered that he arched his hips against hers but the heat and pleasure consumed her senses.

Sweat plastered her hair against her forehead and she leaned forward heedless of the pain from her wound.  Her lips brushed a trail of kisses over his chest and up to his neck.  Hancock gave her a weak chuckle before he eased her off him and settled her next to him.  Her breathing was choppy as she came down from that pleasure high.  Georgia turned so she faced him in the tiny bed.  His arm slung across her waist, careful of that wound.

Her fingers traced over his face, now so familiar and comforting to her.  He was her place of solace in this shitty new world she’d stumbled out into.  A respite against the chaos of the wasteland.  She smiled as he looked down at her.  “Penny for your thoughts.”

“Nothing much.  Just thinking nauseating thoughts is all,” Georgia teased as he smiled down at her.

“Well now peaches, that’s what they call love.”

[stewardofningishzida]

Stephen Strange Meta-Fic Sequel — Chapter 16: The Trials

It’s time for Stephen’s apprentices to advance and achieve Master Rank! What challenges will they face? Also, our cast of characters has expanded again. ;-)

TRIGGER WARNING: Scary situations, bad language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 16: The Trials

*After Broken Stephen’s return to his home universe, we focus hard on preparing for our Master’s Trials.  Loki visits a few times to help us with a few key points, as well as showing us a bit extra while Stephen and Wong are busy.  The Trials come upon us quickly and although we’re nervous and fully know what to expect, we did our best to study and get ready.  I feel a bit nauseous, but want to get this done.*

Me (tense):  So…we ready?

Trix (slightly woozy): Honestly, this is feeling way worse than my bachelor’s.

Prettywitch: Same.

Me:  At least the written portion shouldn’t be that bad, right?  *I try to give a hopeful smile.*

Trix: Oh god, those were always my worst in school because I’d psych myself out. *She starts to panic slightly*

Me (soothingly):  Whoa, whoa.  Breathe, Trix.  Slow, deep breaths in and out.  We’ve been studying for weeks.  It’ll be okay.  *I pat her back.*

Trix (calming): Right. Deep breaths. I’m the book and word person, this is no problem! *Trying to hype herself up.*

Prettywitch: Good. Just keep telling yourself that and you’ll be fine.

Me (taking a deep breath):  Okay…Let’s get this done.  We know the material.  Hell, we’ve been through enough weird stuff to have at least an idea for each thing anyway.  All I know is that it’s a written portion and 2 practicals.  One of them is solo and the other is as a team.  So, catch you on the flip side?

Trix (smirking slightly): Godspeed Spider-Man! *She gives a small two-finger salute.*

Prettywitch: *Laughs.*

*I return the salute, Marine Corps-style, and then we go into a repurposed meditation room that they turned into an exam hall for our written portion.  Wong and Stephen have us sit a fair distance from one another and hand us the papers.  The written exam is underway.  We have 3 hours with a break halfway through.  It’s long and tough, but it’s a comprehensive review of everything we’ve been taught.  Most of it is theory, but some of it is safety guidelines and practical knowledge just to make sure we know what we’re doing before the practical.  We emerge from the first exam already tired.  My head is throbbing.*

Trix: Oh god, written exams are hell.

Me:  …I need painkillers.

Prettywitch: I need a hot bath and a decent night's sleep when we’re done. I hate studying!

Me:  …Did they say anything about when the practicals are scheduled?

Trix (pauses):……no…and that has me suddenly concerned because I was so nervous about the written portion that I didn’t think about that part.

Me:  Let’s at least get some food and water.  Make it quick.  I don’t like the way they were both watching us after the written exam.

Prettywitch: Okay. Okay. I’ll just grab myself some water.

Trix: *Pulling out her sling ring* Trust no one.  *She opens a portal to the kitchen and peeks through before swiping some snacks.*

*I accept them and rapidly down some water, painkillers, and a couple of snacks.  Right now, I’m doing it quickly because none of us knows what’s coming or when.*

*We notice some sparks erupting beneath us.*

Me:  Oh shi-

Trix (yelling): I knew it-

Prettywitch: Oh no…

*The three of us land in a large space.  We expected a training room, but this seems more like an open battlefield out in the middle of nowhere.  There are natural settings around us.  A few boulders, some scattered trees, and a small stream are nearby.*

Stephen:  Adepts Prettywitch, Trix, and Steward; you three are hereby challenged by your Masters to a duel.  We will test your skills and mettle as potential Masters.  By the will of the Vishanti, let this duel commence!  *He immediately casts the Flames of the Faltine at us, launching a wall of fire.*

*Trix jumps into action by casting a shield dome of crystal to cover the group.*

*Wong is nowhere to be seen.  Suddenly, the ground proceeds to crack open beneath the three of us as Wong swiftly ambushes us from below.  I telekinetically thrust down to force him back into the rapidly-forming hole and us into the air. Trix quickly closes the shield into a sphere while we’re in the air.*

Trix (shouting): What’s the plan?!

Me:  Incapacitate them as quickly as possible!  Whoever looks most vulnerable at any given time, we go for it!

PrettyWitch: Got it!

Trix: *The sphere is now floating for a moment before it begins to plummet* I’m going to release this and go offensive!

Me:  Right behind you!

PrettyWitch: *Forms a shield to protect Trix.*

*Trix breaks apart her shield but instead of dispersing the crystals, she condenses and summons them to her, creating a sort of crystal armor of orange and violet. She immediately directs her attention to Stephen and aims at him as she increases her falling speed.*

*Within half a second, a familiar red blur flies right at her, fully open to envelop Trix. The additional shield is quickly dispatched by the relic. Within a second, she allows herself to fall out of the crystal and continue falling, leaving the cloak to hold her previous shell.*

*Meanwhile, I use the Winds of Watoomb to blow a powerful air current down Wong’s pit to keep him there and direct Prettywitch to send the water of the stream into the hole to flood it.  Prettywitch allows the water to surround Wong and uses the Winds of Watoomb to trap him inside an ice sculpture.*

*Wong allows himself to be pushed down while trapped in the ice.  It seems like it worked when he falls out of view, but seconds later, he erupts out of the ground behind us.  He appears to rush at Prettywitch and me, but at the last second, he leaps in an attempt to have a go at Trix, complete with the Chains of Krakkan open and ready to attempt to capture her.*

*Trix quickly opens up a portal that takes her from her free fall to popping up from the ground behind him so she’s going upwards again.*

*Wong quickly kicks out behind him to try and sweep Trix’s leg out from under her as she emerges. It makes contact and she spins as she is catapulted upward again but takes the moment of weightlessness to right herself before creating another ball of crystal around her to fall again.*

*I release my telekinesis to save energy and begin to fall, but as I do, I cast the Images of Ikonn.  Soon, there are a dozen duplicates of myself and when they land, we all dart in different directions.  Some of us head for Wong and others for Stephen.  One of them casts Winds of Watoomb again to kick up a cloud of sand at Stephen’s face.  He shields himself before casting the Icy Tendrils of Ikthalon, taking a swing at any duplicates that come nearby to vanquish them in a poof of air.  Wong casts the Bolts of Balthakk to eliminate more of them.  However, now I’m nowhere to be found.*

*Prettywitch conjures several ribbons she forms into one giant cannon aimed at Wong.*

Prettywitch: Tiro Finale!

*Wong notices the cannon and quickly chants another incantation, suddenly becoming ethereal.  The blast passes harmlessly through him.  Once he draws breath again, he goes back to normal.*

*As the sphere begins to fall again, it begins to thicken and there’s a shadow where Trix is in the center. She takes aim at Wong this time and it shoots down at the sorcerer below. Other than some reflective light, the obscured crystal orb continues its descent.*

*Wong rolls out of the way and casts multiple shields in its path in an attempt to slow it down.  Privately, he makes a note to chide Trix for her recklessness.*

*The crystal sphere just punches through each of the shields like a cannonball, not slowing in its descent as it continues its trajectory. The sun reflects off of it, showing a couple sparks of light but it doesn’t look like it’s changing course.*

*Stephen is taken aback by what’s going on.  He’s on-guard for the other apprentices, but is concerned for Trix.  He redirects the stream to form a pool to cushion the sphere’s descent.*

*It does nothing as the sphere slams into the ground, shattering on impact in thousands of shards of crystals as a body can barely be seen through it all, bouncing lifelessly at the impact but immediately covered in the giant pile of shattered crystals.*

*Both sorcerers go silent and Wong rushes to check on Trix.  When he goes to look, there’s only a crystalline dummy nestled within the wreckage.  His expression goes quickly from concern to stunned, but as he’s looking at the dummy, I dispel my invisibility spell, casting the Mists of Morpheus on him from behind.  Wong lets out a grunt of annoyance before falling over unconscious.  Now, it’s just Stephen and the Cloak left.*

*PrettyWitch conjures her makeshift staff, again. Only instead of the Sealing Wand, it’s Sakura’s wand from Clear Card. So she conjures one of the Clear Cards.*

Prettywitch: Lucid! *The card cloaks her, making her invisible to Stephen’s eye. She then pulls out another. * Siege! *She traps Stephen inside the magic box.*

*Trix suddenly appears out of a portal above the cloak and casts a Conjurer’s Sphere, trapping the relic inside.  The Cloak attempts to escape, throwing itself futilely against the walls of the Sphere.*

Trix: Sorry!

Me:  Gotta catch ‘em all, Trix.

Prettywitch: Exactly. All’s fair in love and war.

*Trix takes the opportunity to fall into another portal to slow down her descent. She doesn’t reappear immediately.* 

*Stephen is surprised by this new development.  We turn to face him.  In the meantime, he’s been mentally probing the box and smirks, using his Sling Ring to portal out.  He takes a step forward to watch us with an almost amused look.  However, he doesn’t attack.  At least not yet.*

Me (purring):  So, one Master left…  

*Stephen watches us quietly.  He thinks I’m about to start monologuing and casts the Images of Ikonn.  Immediately after that, the duplicates all cast the Clamps of Containment at us, attempting to chain us from every angle.  I was, however, paying attention and cast the Shield of the Seraphim around us, blocking his assault.*

*Prettywitch digs her fingers into the ground and gives birth to two, giant hands made of roots that fly towards Stephen and grabs hold of him.*

*The “Stephen” that was grabbed poofs away.  Meanwhile, the real Stephen casts the Flames of the Faltine, burning the root-hands to a crisp.  His guard is back up as he keeps an eye on what we’re doing.  The duplicates start to surround us.  Though they can’t get through the shields.*

Me (smoothly, to the real Stephen while still holding the shield up.):  Did you honestly think you’d catch me monologuing?  *I look smug.*

Stephen (curled lip):  What was that line that The Ancient One used on me all of those years ago again?  Oh yeah…”Silence your ego”.  *He snaps his fingers and turns my shield into a swarm of blue butterflies before getting ready for another cast.*

Trix: *She appears next to Steward from a portal* You have to admit the ego is warranted in this case!

*He jumps back, startled, and watches both of us carefully.  I cast the Bolts of Bedevilment at him and he conjures a shield to dispel my attack.  Stephen is suspicious of Trix, seeing as she hasn’t done anything yet.*

*Trix tries to conjure some Crimson Bands of Cytorakk but only some sparks happen and she pales.*

Trix (exhausted): Shit. *She stumbles slightly*

*PrettyWitch gets an idea and conjures another Clear Card and stores it for later. In the meantime, she pulls out Neptune’s hand mirror.*

Prettywitch: Submarine Reflection! *A giant stream of water is sent blasting towards Stephen.*

*Stephen quickly conjures a shield around himself to withstand the blast and have air.  Remembering his duplicates, he sends his images after us, but as they close in, I inhale and cast the Flames of the Faltine around us, blasting them away.*

*Suddenly, Stephen hears someone behind him but it’s too late.*

PrettyWitch: *She pulls out the card she’d stored away and activates it.* Snooze!

*As PrettyWitch casts the spell on Stephen, Trix lets her illusion of herself fade away from next to Steward. She was actually back by Wong, just in case. Stephen falls unconscious.*

*After a minute, Wong stirs and awakens.*

Wong (groggy, but direct):  Congratulations.  You three have passed the written and teamwork aspects of the Trials.   

Trix (exhausted): Oh thank the Vishanti! *She allows herself to plop on the ground.* You guys are scary. *She releases the Cloak* Sorry buddy, but I had to!

*It zips over and nuzzles Trix gently, evidently forgiving her.*

PrettyWitch: Awe! How cute!

Me:  Phew…Okay, sweet…*I’m stubbornly trying to stay standing and look triumphant.*

*Wong turns to look at Trix.  It’s hard to read his expression.*

Wong:  That stunt with the sphere was extremely reckless.  I do not want a repeat of it again, understood?

Trix (raising a finger): Is it still reckless if I was out of the sphere before it even got to terminal velocity that last time? If anything, I think it worked perfectly and I was never in any danger!

*Wong stares her down for a tense moment.*

Wong (grumbling):  Fine, but do not scare us like that again.

*Trix’s bottom lip pushes out as she gets emotional that Wong was worried before she scrambles up and runs to give him a hug.*

Trix: Don’t worry! I wouldn’t do that again because an enemy wouldn’t care if I got hurt or not. I didn’t mean to scare you that badly as a distraction.

*Wong grunts as he gets glomped, but lets her.  He reluctantly pats her on the back.*

Wong (begrudgingly proud, but subtle about it as always):  Well done, then.  It was…effective, to say the least.

*Trix blushes before letting go.*

PrettyWitch: *She looks over towards the good doctor.* So what are we going to do about Stephen?

Me:  I’ll see if one of us needs to wake up Stephen.  Just a sec.

*I go check on him.  He’s starting to wake back up.*

Stephen:  Ergh…*He shakes his head and looks up at us.*  Congratulations, girls.  You passed the team practical.  By Vectron’s Kindly Claw, my back…*He gets up and stretches.*  

Trix (from her spot next to Wong): Looks like someone is feeling their age. *She’s teasing.*

Stephen (sarcastic):  Very amusing.  *He gets serious for a moment.*  That stunt with the crystal sphere-

Wong:  I already lectured her, Strange.  She won’t do it again.

Stephen:  Good.  I’m proud of you girls.  Keep going, but let’s please try not to give us both heart attacks, shall we?

Trix: I mean, it worked…and Wong hugged me but you were unconscious so……

PrettyWitch: Yeah…Sorry about that…

Me (teasing gently):  We love you both too.~

Stephen:  *Remembering something.*  Ah.  Right.  The Second Trial has passed.  Only the final one remains.  I hereby declare this duel over.  *He bows to us to indicate that we have met their challenge and passed this Trial.  Wong does the same.  My face flushes at the praise and ceremony.  This feels weird to me, but I’m happy.  I still feel awkward just standing there.  So, I bow back to show respect towards both of them.  Stephen gives me a small smile in response.*

Trix: *She’s grinning as she bows to both Wong and Stephen. Exhausted, Trix is running on fumes and praise but isn’t going to last much longer.*

Prettywitch: *She bows and decides she needs to check on Stephen and make sure she didn’t cause him any harm after.*

Stephen:  *Touched by Prettywitch’s concern*  It’s okay.  I’m fine, really.  *He looks at the three of us.*  We’ll call it a day for now.  I think you’ve more than earned a rest.

Me:  Thank you…*I wobble slightly, but remain stubborn for a moment before opening a portal directly to our quarters.*

Trix: Yeah, my legs won’t even get that far. *She opens a portal behind herself without looking and trust falls into her bed before closing the portal.*

*I watch tiredly and try to move through the portal I created.  My legs are no longer responding despite my desire to walk normally.  I sigh.*

Me (resigned):  Okay.  Fine.  Yeah.  Trix had it right.  *I copy her move and land on my bed with a pained grunt.*

*Prettywitch gets into bed and decides to listen to relaxing shower sounds on her phone to help herself relax and take a nap.*

Stephen (to Wong):  They make a great team.  I was worried at first, but I think they’ll be okay.

Wong:  Now to see how they handle things on their own.  You know as well as I do that they will have to work separately too on occasion.

Stephen:  Tomorrow, Wong.  Let them rest.

Wong:  It could realistically happen at any time-

Stephen (giving him a look, knowing his friend is just as tired as he is):  Do you REALLY want to arrange their last Trial tonight?

Wong (stifling a yawn):  Not really…

Stephen:  Then tomorrow.  

Wong:  Fine.

Stephen:  Good night, Wong.

Wong:  Night, Strange.

*They also retreat to their respective quarters.  The night passes uneventfully.  In the morning, we’re still achy from yesterday.  Stephen greets us after breakfast, still looking a bit worse for wear himself.*

Stephen:  Good morning, ladies.

Trix (sleepily): Sup! *She is facedown on the table but giving a weak thumbs up.*

Me (mumbling into my coffee cup):  Mornin’…

Prettywitch: Morning, Stephen.

Stephen:  It’s time I showed you a trick that the Masters use to maintain their stamina and relieve aches from previous battles.  It takes a bit of time and one cannot always afford this luxury, but there are some hotsprings with healing properties hidden away in the mountains here.  They are typically used after prolonged fights and during the rare day off.  I think a momentary soak this morning will be invaluable to you three before your final Trial.

Trix (her head lifting up): Stephen, I think I just fell in love with you, though my allegiance is still with Wong.

Stephen (patting her head, lip curled):  Points for honesty, I suppose.

Me (still slurring my words from fatigue):  I’d like that, yeah.  Thanks, Stephen.

Prettywitch: Yes, thank you. My neck could really use it; I think I’m starting to get a tension headache from how clenched it is.

Stephen:  I will meet you three in the courtyard momentarily.

*We finish our meal and summon our towels before meeting Stephen.  He opens a portal and guides us through.  Despite the icy wind buffeting the slopes of the Himalayas, this spot is warm and the gale-force winds are suddenly reduced to a gentle breeze.  The area of the hot springs, though surrounded by the rugged mountain environment, is encircled by soft grass and gently-sloping blossoming trees.  Steam rises slowly from the pools of water.  I look at the water longingly.*

Stephen:  Go ahead, girls.  *He turns to let us change and get into the springs.*

*I change as quickly as I can, aching joints permitting, before carefully lowering myself into the water up to my neck.*

Trix (as she’s changing): I think we just found out the best Master’s perk. We need to find our own hot springs at home, just saying.

*She finishes changing and slips into the water up to her nose as she practically melts in the water*

Me (eyes closed lazily):  Amen to that…

Prettywitch: *She slowly dips herself in, allowing herself to adjust to the heat little by little until she finally rests her head on the soft rock beneath.*

Stephen:  I’ll let you girls relax for a while.  I’ll be back to warn you before your Trials.

Me:  Mm’kay.  

Trix: My true enemy will be the lack of hot spring.

PrettyWitch: You can say that again.

*We soak quietly, enjoying the peace for a while.  It feels so good.  I feel the knots in my muscles steadily loosening as the warm water does its work.  The weightless environment of being submerged also relieves my joints.  I let out a quiet, relaxed sigh of happiness from not being in pain.*

Trix: Yeah, I understand why this is Master’s only. It’s like the adults only area on a cruise ship. *She smirks* Good thing we’re spoiled by our masters for letting us in here early.

Me (eyes still closed):  Yep…*I’m too relaxed to talk much right now.*

Prettywitch: Yeah. Might be a fun way to get Stephen and Clea together. *She smiles happily at the thought.*

*After around 20 minutes, Stephen comes by to check on us.*

Stephen:  How are we feeling?

Trix: Best secret spot ever. 

Me:  Much better.  We really appreciate this.

Prettywitch: Fuck yes…

Stephen:  Good.  It’s time you got back.  I can’t say exactly when your final Trials will be, but they’re soon.  All of you need to get ready.

Trix:…can we get ready without leaving the hot spring? *She’s only partially joking.*

Me (mildly reluctant, but acquiescing):  Okay.  Let’s do this, then.  *I start shuffling to prepare to get up.*

Prettywitch: Ah, okay.

Stephen:  I’ll come back to get you in 5 minutes.  Go ahead and get changed back into your robes.  *He leaves again.*

*Trix reluctantly gets out of the hot springs and changes. She uses a spell to dry her hair so it doesn’t freeze.*

*I do the same, though I had kept my head above water and my hair in a bun on top of my head because it frizzes easily when wet.*

*Prettywitch simply magics a hair clamp into her hand and puts her ponytail on top of her head, so as to let whatever did get soaked dry.*

*Stephen comes back and takes us back to Kamar-Taj.  For a moment, we expect to be either called or ambushed, but after around 20 minutes, we decide to go about our own business.  Then, Trix gets a psychic message.*

Wong (psychic contact):  Trix, your final Trial is about to begin.  Meet me in the library.

Trix (psychic contact): Okay!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*She cautiously heads to the library and peeks her head in before carefully looking for Wong.*

Wong:  Some of the more cursed tomes need to be cleansed on occasion.  I saved this one for you.  Follow me.

*She begins to follow him.*

Trix: I’m a bit surprised that we’re doing this in the library still. Unless you’re using a containment area that’s hidden only to masters as well.

Wong:  An astute observation.  This particular volume is contained within its own pocket dimension.  Not to forbid others from reading it, but to keep it from actively corrupting those who come across it.  *He utters a brief spell and the area in front of them starts to warp and shimmer.  He gestures for Trix to head in.* 

Trix (deadpan): Lovely. *She steps inside.*

Wong (from outside, his voice becoming distorted as she enters):  Good luck!

Trix (startled that he’s not even going to be in there): Wait-

*Her head starts to ache as the aura of the cursed tome permeates her mind.  As it begins to weave its influence, vague figures begin to dance in her vision.  They start out misty before rapidly gaining shape.*

Trix (wincing): Alright, first thing’s first. *She casts a spell to purify herself and takes a brief moment to focus in her mindscape where she was once trapped. After setting some fortifications, she’s back in the real world where she stares down her opponent.*

*It appears to be Loki, looking at her in disappointment.*

“Loki”:  I should have known better than to mentor a clueless mortal girl.  You don’t even know how far you’re in over your head.

Trix: You should have known better than to try and use the biggest mother hen other than Stephen to pretend to be disappointed in me. 

*She summons a large blank tome, each page backed with custom runes and mandalas that she has been testing out. As she opens the book, she raises her hand and pages fly out, encircling “Loki”. With a gesture, they gain runes on the side facing the fake god.*

*”Loki” claps his hands, the sound echoing everywhere throughout the pocket dimension.  The pages turn to sheets of crystal before falling to the ground and shattering.  Trix hears another, unfortunately familiar voice in her ear.*

“Agatha” (purring):  Too easily distracted, my pet.  *She jerks back and slaps Trix.  Hard.*

*Trix snarls in anger as she summons her own magic to form crystalline claws on her fingertips.*

Trix (angrily): You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this, but first I have to find that bitch book so I can permanently take care of you. *She pauses for a moment to cast a locator spell, while also staying alert of “Loki” and “Agatha”.*

*She hears mocking laughter around her.  Meanwhile, the locator spell seems to bounce all over the place.*

Trix (slightly resigned): Lovely. To be expected, I guess. *She glances over at her company before thinking better of it. Instead she tries to focus on casting to see if she’s inside the book or if it’s an object she has to locate.*

*The wave of energy that she releases in her cast goes a distance before seemingly dispersing into thin air.  As though it hit a wall and dissolved.*

Trix (relieved): Gotcha. *Creating a shield between her and the distractions, she creeps up to the invisible wall and searches for any magic that could be what’s causing this.*

*It feels as though a shadow is somehow behind her eyes.  Perhaps a fragment still trying to worm its way inside.  Meanwhile, as she looks, the many-faceted cage of enchantments blurs.  However, the shimmering blurriness seems oddly…regular?  Upon closer inspection, she can see that the boundaries of the pocket dimension itself are made of words.  Some of which are from runes so archaic that she’d need ages more of studies to decipher them.*

Trix: Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. *She sets up a large barrier between her and the fake Loki and Agatha before focusing on her mindscape once more. It seems…hazier. Trix takes some time to fortify her mind and put up some protections and barriers before returning back to her task.*

*She hears what seems to be her own thoughts.  They’re faintly in the back of her head.*

“Why bother?  There’s only going to be more problems.  You can’t solve everything and you can’t always have others save your ass.”

Trix (calmly): See, intrusive thoughts, that’s where you’re wrong. If anything I can always bullshit my way out of anything if I can’t figure out the ‘right’ way.

*She extends the crystalline claws over her entire hands as protection as she tries to peel back the first layer of enchantments as she pours power into her gloves.*

*The enchantments spread onto her gloves like ink, rapidly beginning to eat away at the crystals as though they were acid.*

Trix (blinking in surprise): Okay, alternate tactic. *She summons her tome once more and places it on the ground in front of her before trying to magically coax that enchantment to latch on the blank book instead*

*With the apparent curiosity of a colony of ants, the runes begin to flow onto the pages.  With this new position, some gaps and errors become apparent in the spells, some completely changing the meanings and effects.*

Trix (grinning): Alright. Time to go big or go home. *She creates duplicates of her original empty book after placing cleansing runes on the spines of the books before repeating the process of coaxing the enchantment into a new environment so she can break up the influence on the pocket dimension.*

*The walls begin to warp more and the figures lose their corporeal forms.  The intrusive thoughts still manifest, but they sound more…tinny?*

“Still overlooking crucial details.  As usual.”

Trix (calmly): Chill out, I’m getting there. Gotta go step by step. *After the walls are down, she takes a look at words and runes and other writings before she begins to fix them by using her magic to warp the incorrect markings to the correct ones. She takes her time and is methodical, making sure that all the details in a section are correct before moving onto the next one. After a while and after multiple double checks, she finally finds no more flaws.*

*As Trix works, the walls have faded more and more.  By the time she finishes, she’s simply standing back in the library with Wong watching her closely.*

Trix (realizing where she is): Oh. Hi! *She pauses a moment before prodding him gently with her magic to make sure he’s real first.*

*Wong looks her up and down and then nods approvingly.*

Wong:  Good.  It seems you have learned well.

Trix: Well, it pays to have a great teacher.

Wong (smirking slightly):  Flattery will not earn your promotion today, but your skills have proven your worthiness.  Congratulations, Master Trix.

*Trix grins as she bows out of respect first before launching at him in a hug after a moment.*

Trix (excitedly): Thank you!

*He is ready for Trix this time and accepts the hug for once.*

Wong:  Yes, yes.  I know.  *He untangles himself from her grasp.*  Now you may don your new robes.  Here.  *He summons an ornate garment box and bestows it upon Trix with a bow of his own.*

Trix: I will! Thank you again! *She excitedly pulls out her sling ring and portals to her room to change.*

*He lets out his customary grunt of acknowledgement.*

Wong:  You may wait for your friends wherever you see fit.

*Trix nods before she closes the portal and changes into her new robes.*

*They fit perfectly and look very flattering, not to mention are incredibly comfortable.  The predominant color is dark green and it has patterning and trim reflecting the orange and violet of her soul’s aura.  It is done tastefully without being garish.  The tag inside of the clothing to indicate its owner has her name in Norse runes to reflect her allegiance with Loki.  The trim itself is a Norse geometric pattern, delicately done throughout the edges of the garment.  It is enchanted to keep Trix dry and at a comfortable temperature regardless of environmental conditions.*

Trix (in awe as she stares in the mirror): I see why they never change out of their usual robes now. I’m rarely going to take this off. This is beautiful! *She giggles to herself before opening a portal to the cafeteria since she believes Steward and PrettyWitch would have likely wandered to other parts of Kamar-Taj. After grabbing a light snack, she settles in and waits.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Meanwhile, I’m looking at some last-minute additions to some enchantments while sneaking in a quick lunch.  I always like to do a bit extra.  So, even though I had decent coverage before, I want to do more just in case.  As I still have a bit of my sandwich raised to my mouth, I’m contacted psychically by Stephen.*

Stephen (psychic contact):  Steward, please report to the courtyard for your Trial.  

Me (psychic contact):  On it.  

*I send my books away and promptly get up to meet Stephen, who’s waiting for me.  He has his Sling Ring at the ready.*

Stephen:  Adept Steward, are you ready to undergo your final Trial?

Me (serious):  Yes, Sir.

*He opens the portal to usher me through.*

Stephen:  Good luck.

*He doesn’t follow me through.*

*The area is completely dark except for a small lantern lit with a candle resting on the ground next to a handwritten note. The cobblestone floor is damp and uneven and the air is stale but somewhat damp. A stifling aura completely smothers the entire place.*

*I listen intently for any sounds while casting a scanning spell to figure out what’s in the area.  Looking down, I see the lantern and cautiously approach it, watching my surroundings and still remaining silent.  When I see the note, I quickly pick it up, not wanting to leave myself vulnerable for long.  While in the light of the lantern, I read it.*

It reads:

You have an hour to escape and make it to the entrance without the use of portals. If you need an evacuation, return to the Kamar-Taj courtyard. Good luck. -S.S.

*I scan the area again, trying to figure out what’s going on.  I know something is here, but can’t quite place it.  To avoid giving myself away as a target, I cast a spell of night-vision on myself so I can see in the dark without emitting any light sources.  Then, I glance around the room.*

*While the rather short ceiling and floors are made of stone, the walls are completely made of bones. Skulls, spines, anything that could be used was used. There are thousands just in this room alone. There is a single exit which seems to lead to a hallway with two directions: left or right.*

*I think for a minute, suspecting the location.  Then, I decide to try something.*

Me (quiet to avoid too much attention, but enough to be heard in the room):  Excusez-moi, si quelqu'un est ici, veuillez vous révéler.  (Translated:  “Excuse me, if anyone is here, please reveal yourselves.”)  *I’m addressing any spirits potentially here.*

*After a moment, the tension of the room disappeared as a ghostly teen steps out of the wall. He seems rather gaunt but dressed nicely enough for the mid 1800’s.*

Teen Ghost (hesitantly): Bonjour madame.

Me (to ease communication):  Parlez-vous Anglais?  (Translated:  “Do you speak English?”)

*The teen pauses before meekly nodding.*

Teen Ghost: Y-yes. I do not speak…good in English.

Me:  C’est bien.  (Translation:  “It’s fine.”)  You can switch to French whenever it gets difficult.  I understand it well.  I can help us both get out of here, but we’ll have to work together.  Do you know what is in the left passageway?

Teen Ghost (frowns): I do not… *He pauses* Je ne souhaite pas partir. Il y a un monstre là-bas. Ici, je suis en sécurité. (Translation: I do not wish to leave. There is a monster out there. Here I am safe.)

Me:  A monster?  *I look at him.*  What kind?  I may be able to deal with it.  Je suis une sorcière.  (Translation:  “I am a sorcerer.”)  I can do magic.  *I cast a small mandala to show him.*

Teen Ghost (frightened): C'est une ombre, je n'ai pas vu son visage et pourtant elle mange les âmes. Ma mère et ma sœur en ont été perdues lorsque nous avons été enterrés ici pour la première fois.

(Translate: It is a shadow, I have not seen its face yet it eats souls. My mother and sister were lost to it when we were first buried here.)

*I nod thoughtfully.*

Me:  I will scout ahead, then.  If the way is clear, I will come get you.  Being trapped in here cannot have been easy.

Teen Ghost (Thankful): Merci! Les autres esprits vous aideront. ils ont peur car l'ombre a également volé les âmes des vivants. (Translation: The other spirits will help you. They are scared as the shadow has stolen the souls of the living as well.)

Me (nodding at him):  De rien.  (Translation:  “You’re welcome.”)   I’ll be back.  Hopefully with friends.  *I look at the passageways and cast a detection spell down each one in an attempt to figure out if it’s nearby.  For now, I’m staying calm, knowing that negative emotions can attract and fuel evil entities.*

*The right passageway seems to be clear, but the spell pings something down the left passageway.*

*I think before heading right, erring on the side of caution.  I’m still mulling over how to deal with the soul eater, but if I can find more spirits to free, I know that it’ll help.*

*The path winds and curves, the walls still completely made of bones except for the occasional archway made of stone. The air still feels charged with nervous energy and dread as Steward continues on.*

*I scuff “X” marks on the right-hand side of the floor of the passage with my shoe to indicate to myself where I’ve been.*

Me (quiet to avoid attracting the soul eater, but enough to be heard by any spirits I pass by):  If anyone is trapped here, please reveal yourselves and follow me.  I will help you.  I will free you from this place.  *I repeat myself in French so others can understand.*

*Three ghosts step forward from the walls. A stark difference from the first ghost, these three are clearly tourists. From their clothing, they seem to be from the 80’s. There are two men and a woman and they clearly seem relieved.*

Ghostly Woman: Oh thank god, someone who can see us.

First Ghostly Man (terrified): We’ve been trapped here forever. You have to get us out of here or that thing will eat us. *He looks around nervously.*

Second Ghostly Man (upset): It’s like being trapped in an eternal horror movie. We were just here on vacation and now we’re trapped!

Me:  I heard about the creature, yes.  If any of you remember how you got down here so we can find the way out, I’d love to hear it.  First, there is some business to take care of.  Stick with me and I’ll make sure everyone gets out.  I’ve been here before and if we can at least get to the main passageway, I know the rest of the way.

Ghostly Woman: Deal. I’m Stacey.

Me (polite):  Nice to meet you, Stacey.

First Ghostly Man: I’m Peter. *He shuffles nervously.* We’ve been stuck in this hallway since we died. We haven’t been able to go anywhere, it’s like an endless hallway.

Second Ghostly Man: *He nods at Steward.* Jake. 

Me (sincere):  Thank you for trusting me.  Do you know of anyone else down here or no?  Otherwise, I have one more person to scoop up before we get started.

Jake: Occasionally the older ghosts wander through. There’s hundreds of them. It used to be a lot more of them before that thing showed up. It was a while after we first ended up…*He hesitates to say ‘dead’.*

Stacey: *She leans up against Jake.* Yeah, we’ve heard the screaming and the horrible noises when it gets someone, but if we hide in the bones and don’t move it doesn’t notice us.

Peter: Kinda like Jaws…

Me:  Good to know…*I take a mental note of this.*  Okay.  You all can follow me.  I have a connection to ghosts.  So, you won’t be bound down here anymore.  *I turn back to find the first ghost, but first, I cast a detection spell as a precaution to avoid any nasty surprises.*

*Steward is easily able to get back to the starting room undetected.*

Me (to the first ghost):  Je suis ici.  (Translation:  “I am here.”)  Come with me and I will keep us safe.

Teen Ghost (hesitantly): Oui. *He cautiously follows behind Steward and stares cautiously at the other ghosts. Stacey is the only one who waves hello. All three males are tense.*

*Suddenly, the floor begins to rumble and dust and debris fall from the ceiling. Screams can be heard in the distance from the opposite way they had come from as well as a very loud and powerful roar.*

*A chill runs down my spine as I recognize what type of entity this might be…It was all-too familiar.  Whatever was trying to get at us via the rift in the mines more than a year ago, but this one is different.  It has been feeding in here for centuries and it is not only fully emerged from a rift, but stronger.  Knowing how fast this thing can travel, I look back at the spirits and gesture quietly.*

Me (whispering):  Come with me.  Hide and don’t move.

*I carefully hop up and crawl into the thick piles of bones, uttering several hushed apologies to the deceased as I do.  Then, once hidden, I stay still and silent, waiting for the thing to pass.*

*The four look horrified and quickly dart into the walls. The only indication that they are hidden in the skulls are the slightly darker eye sockets.*

*I wait in silence.*

*The screaming continues until suddenly, it goes quiet. Then, a dark aura floods the hallway as it goes pitch black. The creature seems to be huge considering it completely fills the hallway, but it is impossible to make out any features. It doesn’t seem to notice the group as it slithers through the catacombs, going the direction Steward just came from.*

*I wait for a few seconds to make sure it doesn’t double back before taking a breath.  The sounds were nauseating and I feel horrible about the victims of this creature, but at this point, I know nothing can be done for the ones it caught.*

Me (quietly):  Ancient One, are you still here as well?

*The Ancient One appears from the walls and seems to be confused by the location before focusing on Steward.*

Ancient One: I am now. You are completing your Master’s Trials, are you not?

Me:  Yes.  I was wondering if you, as a spirit, could assist me?  I know I can’t ask my master.  So, I figured asking you was worth a try.  There’s something down here with us.  A soul eater.  I’ve only encountered one other entity like this before and it almost killed Stephen, me, and everyone else involved in the incident.  We barely got out alive and I don’t know if Stephen even knows that this…thing…is lurking around down here.

Ancient One: *She ponders a moment.* I can assist you. There is nothing barring outside help if it is freely given, which I do. *She glances around again.* The Paris Catacombs are certainly a clever place to send you however Stephen would never set you against a soul eater knowingly. What is your task?

Me:  I was supposed to get out of here within an hour without using portals, but now I can’t just run my trial and leave these spirits at the mercy of that creature.  It’s beyond cruel.

Ancient One: Just so. *She gives her a smile.* If anything, he expected you to help the souls you came across anyway and never would have dreamed you wouldn’t stop to help everyone you could. 

Me (returning the smile):  As much as I want to succeed in this Trial, I can’t let a promotion cloud my judgment and let people suffer.  I need to find the rift this thing came from.  Maybe since I’ve gotten stronger and if I can borrow some energy from everyone, I can stun it and boot it back through the rift.

Ancient One: I will absolutely help.

Me:  Do you know how to seal interdimensional rifts?  If so, I’ll channel you so you can make sure it can’t come back through.

Ancient One: I will teach you the seal as we walk. *She looks to where the other spirits are hiding.* You may come out. We will protect you.

*The four spirits creep out again, still incredibly shaken from being so close to the soul eater, but willing to follow them.*

Ancient One: Now, *She turns back to Steward* let’s find its lair. Lead the way, Adept.

*I nod and slide back out of the pile of bones.*  

Me (whispering):  If there’s anyone else in here, you’re free to come with us too.  *I’m inviting anyone who’s trapped.  The more, the better for everyone involved.  As I walk, I listen to the Ancient One’s sealing lesson and occasionally cast a detection spell to make sure the thing isn’t lurking nearby.  While we descend, I continue to invite in more trapped spirits.*

*It takes some coaxing, but as they walk, fifty additional spirits join as they trace the dark presence in the catacombs. Finally, they reach a decrepit hallway that seems to be drenched in horrible dark energy, almost exactly like the mine. It leads to a large barren room filled with decayed skeletons, some unfortunately rather recently dragged down here.*

*Vomit starts to well up in my throat from the sheer horror of the situation.  I swallow it back down and silently thank the Vishanti that I can’t smell anything.  Then, I look around to see any sign of the telltale shimmering from an open interdimensional rift.*

*It takes some effort, but it seems the rift is coming from the ceiling. Black ooze and red liquid seems to drip from it occasionally.*

Me (taking a few deep breaths):  This is the place…So, now the thing has to come back here at some point…If it doesn’t come by in a few minutes, I’ll have to draw it in.  Spirits, come to me.  I won’t absorb you, but I do need to borrow your energy.  Also, the safest place to be so it can’t get you here will be in a physical body that can fight back.  It’ll take some effort, but if I can keep my sense of self in this crowd, it should be okay.

Ancient One (concerned): I would advise against doing this when you have only done so once before, but I know you have the same flaws as your master so I know I can’t stop you. Instead, I shall be the barrier between you and the tide of souls. If you get overwhelmed, you leave. Trial and sense of honor be damned.

*I pause at her words.*

Me:  Do you have any other recommendations that won’t potentially compromise anyone here?

Ancient One: Do not let it touch you. Your soul is going to be the most protected here, but if it manages to land a hit, it will steal someone away and consume them; weakening you and strengthening itself. That is why I urge you to know when to run. If not for yourself, but for the people you are about to protect. *She stares Steward in the eyes.*

Me (stubborn determination, all too familiar):  I won’t let it have another soul.  Even if a portal is considered “cheating”, if it’s between this thing claiming more victims or disqualification, I’m out of here.  

Ancient One: I believe Stephen and Wong would rather have you alive and redo the trial at a different date than have your soul consumed. The man is going to be horrible enough to himself that he didn’t realize a soul eater was down here, but the catacombs are extremely extensive.

*The rift begins to rumble as the dripping seems to turn into a steady stream. The soul eater seems to slowly be emerging with the abundance of food right outside its door.*

*I steady myself and call all of the spirits to enter my body, concentrating their collective borrowed energy into my own reservoir.  It’s a deluge of streams of consciousness collecting into one body.  I do my best to stay strong against the tide, keeping tabs on who I am in all of this and remembering to ground myself into my body.  I feel like my mind is being squashed deep into itself as my soul gets compacted by the crowd.  My head spins as it’s becoming hard to breathe.  I know I don’t have much time to acclimate at all.  So, I concentrate on the spell I plan to cast, mentally reciting it over and over and over as my eyes watch to see when the soul eater comes forth from its rift.*

*It doesn’t take long at all as a large shadow beast towers over Steward. It seems like a demonic cross between a wolf, a bear, and some other pieces of creatures. Its glowing green eyes are trained on Steward and it licks its lips with a dark purple tongue. They stand there, staring at each other for a moment, before the soul eater pounces.*

*I stare it down and as it pounces, I take aim and fire the cast directly at its jaws.*

Me (in a mixture with my voice dominant, but with The Ancient One and all of the 54 other souls mingled within it):  By the power that moves and breathes and flows and grows with us as one--May Nirvalon quash all despair through pure white light...Be done! 

*A blinding blast of pure white energy launches itself forcefully from my hands, the power is so intense that it sets everything in the room on fire as a side effect.*

*The soul eater yelps as it takes the hit directly to the face. It seems to weaken the creature considerably, shrinking in its pain, however it seems to still be at least fifteen feet tall. After a moment to shake off the hit, it snarls and attempts to launch itself at Steward once more and manages to be quicker this time.*

*I use telekinesis to push myself as I leap out of the way, boosting my speed.  I know that there’s limited oxygen with the raging fire.  So, I use the Winds of Watoomb to push the flames in a wall towards the soul eater, continuing my assault.*

*The soul eater takes another hard hit as the flames seem to do even more damage. It doesn’t seem to be bleeding, but the shadows that the creature is made out of seem to almost be…fading on certain parts of its body where it is the most injured. Meanwhile, from behind Steward, a portal opens bathing the room in bright sunlight as Stephen steps in, blinking rapidly at the change into lighting.*

Stephen:  Unfortunately, Steward, you-HOW WAS THAT THERE?!  *He rushes to get ready to defend me, but I turn and look at him, eyes glowing white and aura bristling with the energy of 56 souls.*

Me (with the many voices):  This is my fight.  I’ll handle it.  

Stephen (worried):  Steward, you don’t ha-

Me (multiple voices):  Stay back.  I’ve got this.  *I turn quickly to the soul eater, refusing to allow it an opening.*

*The soul eater screeched at the sunlight but it took the opportunity of Stephen’s arrival to slither forwards and attempt to take out the weaker target with jaw outstretched.*

Me (viciously, still multiple voices):  BY THE FLAMES OF THE FALTINE!  *I aim it down the creature’s throat and allow the spell to blast myself backwards away from it while giving the soul eater the full brunt of the incantation.*

*The soul eater doesn’t even get a chance to react before it implodes into flames, hissing and screeching as it burns to ash and finally ending its reign of terror of the catacombs.*

*I get thrown back by the power of the final spell and ram into a wall, slumping down.  After a horrible few seconds of stillness, I jerk my head up and gasp as I release the souls from my body.  It’s like taking a breath for the very first time and my body feels almost spacious to my soul as it takes up its rightful amount of space again.*

Me (slurring slightly from fatigue and most likely a concussion):  Thanks, all of you…*I give a dopey smile at the Ancient One since she’s close by.*

Ancient One (gently): You were magnificent. *She turns to Stephen urgently* Get her help. Now.

Me:  Mm’ fine, I swear!  Did I pass?  

Stephen (quickly, worried sick):  Yes, you passed.  Now don’t move.  

*He portals me to the sickbay and goes to give me proper treatment.  When he’s satisfied, albeit with my stubborn insistence that I don’t need anything but to sit down for a moment, he sternly instructs me to stay put.  After a brief battle of wills, I reluctantly agree to it.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*While Prettywitch is meditating in her room, she gets psychic contact from Stephen.*

Stephen (psychic contact):  Sorry for the delay.  Please report to the courtyard for your final Trial, Prettywitch.

Prettywitch: Oh! Uh, okay. *She gets up and cracks her knuckles while she exits the door.*

*Prettywitch arrives at the courtyard a few minutes later.*

*Stephen is there waiting for her.*

Stephen:  Adept Prettywitch, are you ready to undergo your final Trial?

Prettywitch: Yup. I’m ready.

*Stephen opens a portal and gestures for her to step through.*

Stephen:  Good luck.

*She nods and makes her way through.*

*Prettywitch enters an area filled with various statues and seemingly random objects.  It looks pretty straightforward, but there’s a note on the table next to her.*

*She picks it up and reads it.*

“Hello, Prettywitch.  Your task is to make it all the way across this course without using portals and/or leaving the boundaries.  You have half an hour.  Good luck.  — S.S.”

Prettywitch: Okay…*She takes a deep breath.* Well, here goes nothing. *She makes her way towards the start of the course.*

*Two statues flank the entrance.  It’s calm.*

*She makes her way past them, noticing a mild aura radiating off of them before turning her attention to the road ahead.*

*Prettywitch hears a subtle creaking behind her and then a quiet whoosh.  A 2 meter-long stone spear whizzes dangerously close to her, catching at her hair as it passes, burying itself halfway into the ground a short distance in front of her.*

Prettywitch: Ah man! *She takes a few deep breaths and thinks about her options. This is when she decides to use her tarot deck. She pulls Ace of Cups (Past), Two of Wands (Present), & Two of Swords (Future). She groans seeing Two of Swords.* Well that’s not much help! Useless…! *She puts the deck back in her pocket and weighs her options; she could step forward, but there’s a good chance this could be a “Jehovah begins with an I” situation if she does, so she decides to either go right or left. She chooses the right pathway.*

*There is a chessboard engraved on a stone table, but nobody there.  The path continues past the chess table.*

*She starts to make her way past the table…only to hear a voice.*

Voice (seemingly from the table itself):  Care to play a round of chess?

*As she approaches the table, a mystical forcefield closes around her, trapping her there.*

Prettywitch: Eh!?

Voice:  You DO want to pass through here, right?

Prettywitch: Yeah…?

Voice:  Then play.  I’ll let you have the first move.

Prettywitch: Okay…*She sits down, trying to determine just how the hell she gets out of this unscathed? Especially since she sucks at Chess! But, she decides to take the first move, anyway.* I’ll start with one of my pawns. *She moves a pawn forward.*

*Inexplicably, the queen on the opposing side moves OVER the other pieces and takes out Prettywitch’s pawn.  An obvious cheat.*

Prettywitch: *Her eyes widened.* HUH!!!!? I’m…pretty sure you can’t do that!

Voice:  Says who?  Nobody else saw.

Prettywitch: *She raises an eyebrow. She’s starting to catch on.* Oh? Bit of a smartass, aren’t ya? Well, two can play at that game. *She moves her knight out in front.*

*The opposing pawn across from her knight moves forward and takes it.  She hears an unseen snickering.*

Prettywitch: *She smirks.* You just fell into my trap. *The Knight fades away to reveal a gag can with a snake in it, only instead of a snake it’s the Crimson Bands of Cytorak that burst forth from the can, ensnaring her enemy.* Well, that takes care of that. *With a little extra telekinesis, she flips the chess table for dramatic effect.*

*The field doesn’t disengage for the bound table, but it definitely goes down after the table flip.  The path is clear for her to advance to the next area.*

Prettywitch: Perfect! *Beaming, she starts to move past…until she hears the sound of a dog whimpering.* Huh?

*The chess board is laying on top of a translucent basset hound who is snuffling and whining, rather upset at his position.*

Prettywitch: *Her eyes widened, again.* Bats!?

*Bats startles and the chess board jolts off of him.*

Bats: What are you still doing here?

Prettywitch: Well, I can’t just leave you here. I love dogs! Do they even know you’re here?

Bats: I mean, Stephen does but he didn’t really think you’d come over here so he wanted me to guard the room just in case. *He shakes himself off and trots over to PrettyWitch and sits down at her feet, looking up at her.* I think this human game was supposed to do something else but the pieces looked chewy but important.

Prettywitch: *She’s trying not to squee around the dog, so she takes a deep breath and takes Bats in her arms.* Well, the trial’s done now. What do you say we go through the rest of this labyrinth together?

Bats (happy): I’d love to! *He starts wagging his tail.* My name is Bats! What’s your name?

Prettywitch: My name’s Prettywitch.

Bats: Nice to meet you! *He starts panting, just happy to be carried around by someone nice.*

*This current route splits.*

Prettywitch: *She groans.* Oh, great! What now!?

Bats: I think you have to pick where to go.

Prettywitch: Okay.*She thinks this over for a second.* Well we went right last time, let’s go left. 

*She ends up warped all the way back to the start of the course.*

Prettywitch: What the hell? *She sees the statues again and pouts.* Oh you have gotta be fucking KIDDING ME!!! What the hell am I supposed to do, go through the path, again!? *She sighs.* Guess we’re going through here, again.

Bats: Can I chew on more of the pieces?

Prettywitch: No, it’s no good for your stomach. Even if you are a ghost.

*Prettywitch walks back the way she came and makes the same right turn as before. She summons the Images of Ikkon to table flip the chess board and makes takes the right path, this time.

*She sees…herself?  The image is standing there in the middle of the path.  It moves when she moves, mirroring her.*

Prettywitch: Okay…that’s gonna take some getting used to. Is this part of the test or something? Or is this just Stephen fucking with me?

*She realizes pretty quickly though that this must be part of the test and so she goes to act.*

Prettywitch: *First thing she does is summon Sailor Moon’s Cutie Moon Rod and aims it at the mirror* Moon Princess Halation!

*The spell “short-circuits” and fails, fading into oblivion.  It has no effect.*

Prettywitch: What the…That should’ve worked.

Bats: It looked pretty! *He wags his tail*

Prettywitch: *She pouts but gives a big sigh.* Oh, I can’t get mad at you. *This time, she summons Sakura’s Star Wand along with a card. * SWORD! * She tries to slice the mirror in two.*

*The spell “short-circuits” and fails again, all summoned items fading into oblivion.  It also has no effect.*

Prettywitch: I…I don’t understand…*She can feel herself beginning to panic, as well as her brain overloading due to sensory output.*

*Bats whines and snuffles up to her.*

Prettywitch: *She takes him into her arms and hugs him.* Thank you. *She pets him to help herself calm down.*

Bats: I think I remember these… *He nods at the mirror* Stephen was chuckling to himself about how “you shall not pass!” And a bunch of weird stuff like you made didn’t work when he tried it too. Then he did something else and he could walk through it like a door. That’s the last time I saw him before I found the chew set. *He starts panting, clearly happy to be held.*

Prettywitch: *Her eyes widened.* So it’s didn’t work for him either… *There’s another thing she takes note of; “You Shall Not Pass!” She might not be a huge LOTR fan, but even she knows what that’s in reference to.  This makes her curious. *Hmmm…I wonder… *She summons Zakuro’s Cross Whip from Tokyo Mew Mew and aims it at the mirror.* Reborn ZaCross Pure!!!* 

*It fails, yet again.*

Prettywitch: Okay…So anything pre-existing is out of the question. Which means I’m gonna have to make my own spells. *This worries her, not because coming up with spells is hard, it’s just that she doesn’t have a lot of confidence in her own original work, but…well desperate times call for desperate measures. She sighs.* Well, here goes nothing.

Prettywitch: *She raises her hand. When that happens, an ornate looking mirror, one big enough to be held by both hands.* Mirror Change! *It glows a bright white and shapeshifts to form around her forearm; creating an arm cannon. She aims it at the mirror and uses her other hand to steady her other arm.* Eat laser beam, Motherfucker!

*The mirror of herself attempted to copy her moves, but couldn’t actually replicate her original spell.  So, it gets shattered.  She can now pass by.*

Prettywitch: I did it…Oh my God!!! I actually did it!!! Yay!!! *She jumps for joy and squeezes Bats.* Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, Bats!!! When we get home you’re getting as many treats as you want!!!*

*Bats barks happily and his tail wags furiously as he enjoys the hug.*

Bats: Happy to help, PrettyWitch! I love treats. Do you have popcorn? Stephen wouldn’t let me have any when he was making this.

*There’s only one way ahead now.*

Prettywitch: Sorry, boy; if Stephen won’t give you any, I’m not giving you any, either.

*As they progress, there is a subtle distortion that they pass through before they are enveloped by a shroud of mist.*

Prettywitch: Oh, no! Now what?

*She hears a familiar creaking somewhere in the mist.*

Prettywitch: Who’s there?

*Bats notices something and growls.*

*There is a quiet whooshing sound, much like the one she heard before at the start of the challenge.  A spear is incoming.*

Prettywitch: *She summon the Shield of The Seraphim to protect herself and Bats.*

*The spear collides with the shield and breaks, the pieces falling to the ground.  She hears heavy footsteps as the thing repositions itself, still unseen.*

Prettywitch: *She forms two, blue gauntlets that cover her hands and wrists with two holes in the palms.* Show yourself!

*Silence.*

Prettywitch: *She takes in the silence and waits, but always remains on guard.*

*Something shifts.  There is clearly more than one here.  Something is behind her and another is at her flank.*

Prettywitch: Shit! *She puts Bats down and places him in a protective bubble.* You stay right here, okay Bats? *She smiles and gets up, ready for her attackers.*

Bats: Alright PrettyWitch! I trust you!

*Still hidden in the mist, one of them launches a surprise attack, sweeping at the backs of Prettywitch’s legs in an attempt to knock her down.*

*Prettywitch jumps out of the way in time and shoots a burst of air at the creature.*

*The mist moves out of the way of the air blast, revealing it to be the statue that attacked her earlier.  Since it’s made out of stone, it isn’t knocked over by the air.*

Prettywitch: Okay. Well, that explains a lot. *She uses her gauntlets to create a giant current of wind she sends towards the statue.*

*It ducks down, making itself a smaller target.  The wind doesn’t knock it over, but it does clear the mist away.  The second statue is seen to be creeping up towards Prettywitch’s side.*

Prettywitch: *She runs towards the statue and uses it as leverage to jump into the air, then she raises both gauntlets high above her head and jumps again.* Arial Gumbo! *She thrusts her hands forward and a giant gust of wind flies at the creature. While that happens, she creates a pair of Angels wings to gently break her falls, and so she can land on her feet.*

*The one used as leverage reacts in surprise.  Meanwhile, the other one throws several spears in an attempt to hit her.*

*She reacts by shielding herself from the spears using the gauntlets. She does make a small portal for some spears to fly through, just in case. Then she opens another portal to send the spears flying towards the statue that attacked her.*

*The spears hit the first statue, chipping and cracking it in several places.  An arm falls off of it after a decent blow to its shoulder.  The second one goes on the offensive and rushes at Prettywitch.*

*She creates two jet streams of water, then flies up and uses her breath to freeze the creature charging at her in place. She’s even controlling the flow of the wind to ensure the freezing takes effect. When it’s done, she flies closer and flicks the statue, sending it falling.*

*It slides with its momentum, made worse by the ice.  Then, it shatters on impact.  Now, the one-armed statue attempts to come up behind her and whack her over the head.*

*She flies up and dodges in time. Once she’s behind the statue, she lifts her hands high up and jumps.* Arial Gumbo! *Her hands thrust forwards to create a giant burst of wind that goes off in all directions like a bomb.*

*The wind rushes through the cracks of the statue, widening them.  It’s very weak now, but still tries to go after her.*

*Prettywitch disassembles the gauntlets and allows them to form twin katanas in each hand. She draws a pentagram of light.* Holy Crucifixion!  *She stabs the pentagram with both blades which sends it hurtling towards the statue.*

*The statue shatters on impact.  The final stretch of pathway is clear to pass now, leading into a low-ceilinged cave, but the path suddenly ends in what looks like a chasm.  There is a continuation leading to another doorway on the other side.  It is too low to fly across and too wide to jump over.*

Prettywitch: Okay…So it’s a leap of faith…I hope…Come here, Bats!

*He runs forward in his ball like a hamster before he tries to stop but the ball keeps rolling.*

Bats: I’m here- *He cuts off with a yelp as the ball collides into Prettywitch and he’s thrown slightly.*

Prettywitch: *She pops the bubble and levitates Bats into her arms.* Sorry, I should probably be more careful, shouldn’t I?

Bats (happily): Probably, but that was fun!

Prettywitch: Yeah, I guess. *She looks down at the crater again and gulps.* Well, here goes nothing. *She closes her eyes and, just like Indy, takes one step forward.*

*The invisible path is solid beneath her feet.*

*She opens one eye and sees she’s standing, still in one piece. She smiles, but still walks over. For all she knows, she could trip and be a goner. Sure, Stephen would try to save her, but for all she knows it might be too late by then. So she walks briskly towards the door at the end of the path.*

*The path holds up.  She can see the sorcerer in question waiting for her just beyond the door.  When Prettywitch makes it across, Stephen smiles at her.*

Stephen:  Cutting it close time-wise, but you made it…Master Prettywitch.  *He smirks proudly at her.*  Look, part of why some of those obstacles were so tricky was because I wanted you to rely on yourself, not just references.  YOU are enough, Prettywitch, and I hope that passing these tests and the acceptance of your friends has helped you start to see it that way.  Be your own person and think for yourself.  It’ll help you and those you protect, understand?  *He gently squeezes her shoulder.*

Prettywitch: *At first, she doesn't know what to say and she's in shock. All she knows is that she’s grateful. She finally pulls him into a big hug.* Oh, Stephen! Thank you so much! I love you!

*Stephen hugs her back, slightly red.  It’s still a bit awkward expressing affection, but he’s proud of her.*

Stephen:  All three of you passed, by the way.  I’m not sure where Trix went off to, but Steward’s in the sickbay.  She had…a bit of an accident.  *He looks guilty.*

Prettywitch: Wait, what!?

Stephen:  She’ll be okay.  It’s just a concussion and some bruised ribs.  *He sighs*  During her Trial, a soul eater emerged from a rift and went after her.  The ghost of the Ancient One, along with a small army of other ghosts that she recruited managed to help her fight it off…I unfortunately arrived right in the middle of the fight.  She set off a large blast to get away from the creature’s jaws and although it killed the soul eater, she hit the wall of the passageway.  The healers are probably finishing treating her by now.  

*It’s clear that he blames himself and feels horrible for it.  He omitted the bit about not knowing that it was even down there in the first place.*

Prettywitch: Ah, don’t blame yourself, Stephen.These things happen. The important thing is Steward’s alive and safe.

Stephen:  Before you go see her, you should at least try these on.  I think you’ll like them.  *He presents Prettywitch with an ornate box containing her Master’s robes.*

Prettywitch: *She gets starry-eyed.* Oooh!!! Thank you, Stephen!

Bats: You really are a girly girl, aren’t you?

Prettywitch: *Suddenly remembers she has Bats in her hands* Oh yeah, how come you didn’t tell us you had a puppy?

Bats: Hey, I’m not a puppy!

Prettywitch: Yes, you are.

*Stephen raises an eyebrow.*

Stephen:  I see you’ve met Bats.  He’s a…recent addition.  Originally, I was doing some research on spiritual channeling, but came across him in my search.  I thought that you girls might like to meet him since the three of you clearly love animals.

Prettywitch: *She beams.* You got that right, Mister. Oh! You should totally introduce him to Clea! I’m sure she’d love animals, too!

*Stephen clears his throat awkwardly, blushing again.*

Stephen:  Erm, yes.  Let’s go back to Kamar-Taj so you can try on your new robes and talk to your friends.

Prettywitch: Okay!

***To be continued***

[thotsforvillainrights]

Hi! I'm not sure if requests are open or not, but if they are could I request some fluffy Magne headcanons with her S/O?

(I love big sis Mag asks! She deserves more attention!!!)

~Fluffy Magne~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-”Yeah that’s what I was telling him the other day. I literally just left out of that hell hole and the parking was still through the roof.” She rolled over onto her stomach and kicked her legs into the air while inspecting the dirt under the nail of her free hand and grimacing. “Look, if he wants to be that way then just let him. He should’ve known better than to come up there at a time like that anyway. It’s way too crowded and you could both get caught.” Right as she was chatting on the phone her bedroom door swung open. You entered with a frown and let your body fall onto the bed face first. You groaned into the blanket and she knew in that moment you must’ve felt like shit. “Hang on Toga, I’ll call you back later.” In a snap her phone was on her dresser and she pulled you into her lap. “We don’t need to talk about whatever is bothering you right now. You’ve got plenty of time to tell me.” You sat there and stared at the wall as she held you. That was one of the things you loved most about dating her. She was supporting but not overbearing. She gave you just enough time to talk to her and if you somehow decided to never tell her anything, that would be just fine too.

-She was much softer with you than the others a lot of times. Yes she was still a villain but she was also a romantic. A dreamer if you will. Meeting and falling in love with you was probably one of the best things to happen to her. It was icing on the cake to know you loved her and supported her as well. You find that being with her caused you to realize if no one in the world loved you ever again, she would still be the one standing there and waiting for you. This woman loved you so damn much that she even had ideas of marrying you someday (if you’re one to engage in marriage). On your worst days she was there for you to cry on. On the days where you were fuming with rage she offered herself up to hear you vent about the person that pissed you off. Godspeed to that person should Magne ever get the  idea to teach them a lesson...On your happiest days you sit around and soak up each others joy, bouncing energy off of one another. It’s called sappy when you bring it around Dabi but you can ignore his snide comments haha.

-At night she’s usually the last one in the bed because she’s waiting on you. If you’re one to struggle with sleeping on time then she’ll join right alongside you. In her mind she figures putting herself through it will make you start taking better care of yourself since you don’t want to see her struggle by default. She does the same thing when it comes to eating. No more skipping meals when it comes to you. Every meal you skip, she skips. You starve yourself then you’ll starve her too. Sickness? All the same to her. She’ll stay in the room with you and take care of you no matter what. Even if it means that she’s taking on your sickness with you. It’s often hard to get over colds when you start living together since the two of you pass them on to each other. 

-The other members of the League have passed the title of ‘perfect couple’ onto the two of you. Could you really blame them though? The two of you barely even argue but when you do...oh boy. She’s feisty. She speaks her mind in the midst of the anger and is a big name caller as well. You’ve got to have thick skin to argue with her or you’ll get your feelings hurt. Despite this, she’s apologetic. She is always the one to come apologize no matter what after the argument breaks. She sometimes doesn’t want to face you after saying vile things to you in the heat of the moment so she often apologizes through text messages while having her ear on the wall in the next room. She hopes to hear your reaction to know whether or not she should come in the same room as you or not.

-Gift giving. Gift giving is a must when she shows you how much she loves you. It’s not always store bought stuff (since she’s not made of money). She once taught herself how to finger knit and she made you a scarf from old yarn in the base she found. It was the idea of all that time she put into making it that makes your heart flutter. If you want to show her the same love then try words of affirmation. Just compliment her or express how much you love her. Literally anything will make her gush. Speaking of gushing, the others can’t catch a break when she’s around. A good lot of them were happy when you two moved in together and she moved out of the base. They didn’t hate her or anything like that. It was just rough hearing your name leave her mouth 24/7 when you weren’t there. She’s like that one annoying person you know that has to show you 38 pictures of the new puppy they got. Yes the puppy is cute, but I’m literally driving and need to focus on the road. Please stop.

[thexfridax]

Wynonna Earp Boss Hopes Syfy Finale Made You Feel 'All the Things' — Plus, Scoop on One Happy Wedding Accident

By Matt Webb Mitovich, tvline.com / April 9 2021, 8:02 PM PDT

The following contains spoilers from the Syfy finale of Wynonna Earp.

After four years of protecting Purgatory with her Peacemaker, Wynonna Earp got to quite literally ride off into the sunset. And she did so while straddling a motorcycle, with Doc Holliday seated behind her.

Mind you, the two almost didn’t wind up together. Following the simply beautiful “WayHaught” wedding, Doc (played by Tim Rozon) was determined to put Purgatory in Charlene’s rear view mirror and get to living life as “just a man,” and Wynonna (Melanie Scrofano) felt compelled to stay put as Purgatory’s protector. But with an empowering nudge from li’l sis Waverly (Dominique Provost-Chalkley), Wynonna caught up to her man and professed her love, after which they decided to travel light, for the first time in a long time, and pay their daughter Alice a visit in MIracles, Montana.

TVLine spoke with series creator Emily Andras about crafting this very fine finale, at least one “happy accident” that wound up stirring many emotions, and more.

TVLINE | The finale has just aired…. What emotions do you hope the fans are feeling at this moment?

Just head-to-toe body warmth, and love, and affection, and wistfulness…. And a little bit of bittersweetness. I feel like joy has to be paired with nostalgia, so I hope they’re feeling all the things. But hopefully not hungover!

TVLINE | At what point over the years did you ever envision Wynonna and Doc riding off into the sunset?

Ahhh! I almost never even let myself envision it, you know? It’s so funny — when you start doing a show, you have all sorts of ideas about what pairings are going to rise to the top, who’s going to end up with whom, and one of the joys of Earp is that so many different things have happened. But those two characters have certainly earned the chance to try to be happy, whatever that means to them. I never knew that I would be allowed to end such a romantic pairing with the woman driving the motorcycle and the guy on the back.

TVLINE | I’m watching that final sequence and it almost feels alien, seeing the two of them head off into what I think of as “the real world.” But I also found that viscerally exciting, to see so much ahead for them.

That’s so lovely, thank you for saying that. I feel like having the world ahead of them and being such an unusual couple, I would love to see what happens next for them. I’m sure there will be lots of crazy sex and crazy arguments and crazy laughter. So, godspeed! Godspeed.

TVLINE | When throwing a season-ending wedding, what is Emily Andras’ marching order? “Above all else, this wedding has to be…”?

It has to honor to all of the characters — and by that, I mean it has to try to find a moment for every special pairing on the show, not just WayHaught. I think it’s important to pay due respect to how far Waverly and Doc have come; she never gave up on him, she always saw a better man in him — and now he gets to be the best man! Nedley (Greg Lawson) and Nicole’s (Kat Barrell) relationship, that paternal/daughter bond is so special, so honoring that was very important.

And at the end of the day, I still think the real love affair of the show is the Earp sisters, so I ended to make sure that that was honored. I really love the parallel with the pilot, where Wynonna came into town against her will and was so hungry to leave but was forced to stay. And now you have Waverly secure enough in how their relationship has evolved, that she knows Wynonna deserves to leave again — because she’ll come back.

More than anything, it was about giving every character a moment of happiness. Even Jeremy (Varun Saranga) becoming deputy chief of Black Badge and maybe finding a new date…. It was all about finding everyone a moment of potential joy, after they’ve gone through so much after four seasons.

TVLINE | Talk about the decision to have empty guest chairs laid out with the names of those who are no longer with us or didn’t make it to the wedding.

That was such a happy accident. We were on-set, it was very much in the middle of the pandemic, and we knew we were going to have a limited number of people for the wedding. But then we put out chairs so you could understand where the aisle was, and they looked really empty. So my incredible director, Paolo Barzman, who also did the pilot, and my art director Trevor Smith, pitched this idea to me. I had sort of joked about, “Wouldn’t it be cool if you had the ghosts of characters past?” In the moment, they said, “What if we hung names on the chairs?” and it was just one of those goosebump moments, like, “That’s brilliant.” So then we have people writing up these cards, rushing them out, and it’s honestly one of my favorite things. Whenever I see that Dolls chair, I just can’t help but feel things.

TVLINE | But Mercedes (Dani Kind), to be clear, is still with us.

She’s just out, like, being her best vampire self. She’s out being an amazing vampire, yeah. I still have that spinoff if you want to help me sell that!

TVLINE | If anything caught me a bit off-guard, it was us getting a song from Rachel (played by Martina Ortiz-Luis).

The thing about Martina is that she is a phenomenal singer. She is the anthem singer for the Toronto Maple Leafs — so she’s quite a star here! — and she was on Pilipinas Got Talent back in the day…. It seemed like a waste to not have someone with such an exceptional voice perform! And what better song to lay over the necessary wedding montage than a WayHaught classic (Fleurie’s “Wildwood”), the song that was playing the first time WayHaught kissed. It’s a bit of an Easter egg for those hardcore WayHaughters!

TVLINE | I don’t think anyone would have ever felt like a “Dark Angel Waverly” detour was missing, if you hadn’t spent time on it the episode prior. Why did you feel it was important to go there during one of the final hours?

The truth of it is that honestly we’ve been balancing the spectre of whether we were going to have a Season 5 or not. When we started breaking Season 4 two years ago, we were looking down the barrel of about 24 episodes, so [when you get half that] you’re like, “What are we going to keep, and what are we going to pitch overboard? What can we live without learning about?” I would argue that this idea of Waverly having a darkness inside of her did have to be highlighted after four seasons. I completely agree that in a perfect world I could have done eight episodes of Dark Angel Waverly, exploring that and seeing it come to pass. But if we ever get more story, I don’t know if Waverly has complete control over that part of herself. I dont think it’s “gone.” If Nicole puts mayo instead of mustard on her sandwich, who knows what’s going to sprout out!

TVLINE | I mean, if only to see what other outfits Dark Waverly has.

As long as she keeps her thigh holster, she’s ready to go.

TVLINE | Looking back at these last few episodes, what are you most proud of?

‘m so proud of this cast. It’s so boring, but God, just to see them grow and thrive and shine…. performing comedy and emotion, seeing their commitment to the show, and the feelings…. It’s just been such a joy to see such an amazing group of people get their due. They really are that wonderful, off-screen as well.

I’m also pretty happy — in this day and age, and despite all the fights the show has been through — that if this is the end, I feel like that’s a pretty nice finale, a pretty good topper on the cake. I feel like the fans will feel like they went on a journey, and they left the characters in an interesting, good place. And look, that’s really rare in TV, to end your story the way you want. How can I be anything but grateful, at the end of the day?

TVLINE | When I was writing my tweet the other morning, I wanted to call it a “very fine finale,” but I worried you’d think I was saying it was only “fine.” But it was a very fine finale!

No, you have to keep me hungry! You get to challenge me, Matt. Listen, I just didn’t want to risk…. I’m the queen of 75 cliffhangers, but I feel like the fans have worked so hard for us, for so many years, that it was more important that they got closure, just in case. But there’s always another demon, there’s always another thing to trigger Dark Angel Waverly. There’s always more story, but at least you have this, no matter what.

TVLINE | And if some network or streamer does ride to the rescue, would there be something that brings Wynonna and Doc back to Purgatory? Or might a Season 5 be without the two of them?

Look, the show is called Wynonna Earp, so you need Wynonna Earp. She’s still the champion, she’s still got the magic gun and the best hair on the show — sorry, everyone else!

There are a couple of unresolved issues. We still have Eve, who we kicked out the the Garden very early in the season, and who can kind of shapeshift; she could take on the appearance of any one of our characters! That would certainly throw a wrench in the works in Purgatory. There are a million different reasons to bring Wynonna back, to help out her sister.

TVLINE | And lastly, was there anything you had to cut or just didn’t have room for, or any returning cast you couldn’t fit in?

Oh, tons. But look, you kind of hit the nail on the head earlier. I’m always striving to be better, and some stuff at the end felt a little rushed, with Dark Angel Waverly. I think if it hadn’t been a pandemic, there would have been more people at that wedding. I would have loved four more episodes to round the bend there. But look, that’s Wynonna Earp, man — perfectly imperfect! So that’s what we did, and what a ride it’s been. The ride of a lifetime for me.

[frobin]

Okey serious question here. How much do you actually believe that Oda ships Frobin? Like do you think he actually have like doodles/sketchs of them in a pairing kind of way? like for the strong world film riding the motorbug? (Personally i would love it to be true but he has stated one piece isn't about romance in that way)

Hey there anon! Thank you so much for your question and I hope I can answer it seriously enough. Also once more sorry for the late response. I felt like a question like that needs some research and that is what I did these last few days.

So... I think I'll start with the tl;dr because that way people can read that and ignore the rest.

So, long answer short: I 100% believe that Oda has one or more sketchbooks with drawings of his characters that are absolutely self-indulgent. I am 98% sure that he has drawn Franky and Robin in a romantic way at least once (and supported the ship). I am 80% sure he still is shipping FRobin.

Little disclaimer: I actually have no idea if any of this is true. I pull everything in my arguments out of my own experiences and knowledge and since I'm not a 46 year old Japanese Mangaka my perspective might be WAY OFF.

argument - reason- example - conclusion... behind the cut (or in the google doc)

So, why do I think that Oda has a secret sketchbook?

Simple answer is that he is an artist. He is drawing a lot and no artist will publish everything. That can have multiple reasons like imposter syndrome or because the artist thinks it’s not good or interesting enough or they just forget. There are even more reasons I forget and every person has their own.

For Oda I can imagine two big reasons as to why he would keep secret sketchbooks.

First: He is a horndog. You can skip this part if you don’t want to read about it, to the second reason.

Anyway, we know thanks to answers in the SBS, the way he likes to draw big-breasted women and how some of his characters are classified as perverts that he can be considered one too.

Let me show you a few of a few lewd SBS questions he likes to answer in a funny way:

Chapter 228, Page 46

D: How are ya, Odacchi? I know how much you like getting butt-naked, so this must be a favourite season for you. <3

O: Yes, yes. I just LOVE getting completely naked. In the summertime, after I take a bath I just run STRAIGHT OUTSIDE!! And when the girls' softball team running on the sidewalk looks over at me, they say, "Yup, it's really summer now!!" ... AS IF!! I'D GET ARRESTED!!!

(x)

Chapter 433, Page 68

D: If Lady Robin can use her Hana Hana Powers to make any part of her body sprout somewhere else, does that mean she can do it with her ample bosom as well? "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Boy, I'd like to take a hit from that sometime... P.N. Ero Ero no Mi Devil Fruit User.

O: "Ichirin-zaki" (Single Sprout) "Nirin-zaki" (Double Sprout) "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Very clever!! NO IT'S NOT!! STOP THAT!! I'm sure she CAN do it though ♡

(x)

Chapter 798, Page 64

D: Oddachi, I'll give you a pornographic book, so please answer my question. Sanji won't allow anyone to waste food, but what will he do if a woman does so? P.N. Smoker's Cigar

O: I think he would grab the plate and eat it up. Now please give me the pornographic book.

(x)

Nowadays I’m sure there is a focus on those lewder questions compared to the beginning because that is what 13 year old boys laugh about and we all know that is Oda's main demographic (of course).

I think a very good picture of that is given by Tekking101 in his breakdown video of SBS Volume 100.

“Let’s get diving into these questions (...) now, this is a huge moment. I mean, not many Manga manage to reach 100 Volumes, Okay? Now I know Oda usually starts these off with questions relating to boobs and things that don’t really… you know, aren’t really relevant but you know, this is a big celebration so we’re gonna dive right into it. I bet the most important things that we need to know about the One Piece Story are right here in these pages, okay? I printed them out. That is how important this is. So let’s start off, shall we? Epic voice, Barry!

‘Mister Oda, there is a UFO over there with huge big-breasted beauties on it. That memorable 100 Volume of the SBS is about to begin.’

[pause] Yeah, like the first five of these are all related to boobs in some way. You know what Oda? Sticking true to your guns! Godspeed, Sir Oda. Godspeed.”

(end at around 2:30)

So, Oda is a man who likes beautiful women and who draws.

Coming to the conclusion that he will draw his own characters in suggestive poses, naked and even doing adult stuff is not hard.

Obviously he would not show these sketches just around. He would probably keep them in a secret sketchbook that he keeps at a safe location. Maybe his wife and some close friends know about it? Maybe it is his and only his little secret.

I don’t think it would be unlikely to learn about this years into the future, maybe the next generation of Anime Fans will hear about this.

And it would not be the first time that something like this happened.

Not that long ago the daughter of Osamu Tezuka - groundbreaking Mangaka, known for his works of “Astro Boy”, “Kimba the white lion” and many more - found his adult Furry art. Source; Japanese article;

It’s a fact that many Mangaka did indeed start their career with art of the more risque kind and/or as doujinshi artists.

So again, I have no doubt that Oda, a known pervert, has one or more secret sketchbooks with „the p0rnography“ in it. Is there only hot stuff in there? Not necessarily.

The second reason to keep a secret sketchbook would be to collect information in there, that could be considered canon but he is not willing to use it in the Manga. Maybe they are not important enough or will be used later.

What am I imagining here? Anything that could be considered too weird for the normal sketchbook but isn‘t too risque. Funny things that might still not be „appropriate.“

Like a sketch of the male Strawhat ding-dongs with the sizes beside it. All the lewd jokes the fans did about Luffy's stretching qualities? I’m sure Oda thought about them too and drew that in the past if he had the time and it made him laugh enough.

But also maybe there are scenes in there that never made it in the Manga. The Strawhats interacting with each other in their daily lives, ideas for colorspreads and maybe chapter-titles. Oda probably has noted/sketched down a lot of unofficial stuff somewhere.

Another example, even an artist like Oda himself would have needed to exercise drawing two people kissing. Why not use Characters he thinks that might work out together?

Why not Franky and Robin? I would imagine he sketched up a few panels of Franky and Robin having a romantic date, going shopping together in Dressrosa, having a conversation that we never got to see because it was too on the nose.

Which brings us to the second point of me being very sure that Oda had drawn FrankyXRobin at one point.

I’m sure in those sketchbooks there is at least one drawing of them doing anything couple-related together. Again it does not have to be downright nasty but it could be them holding hands, kissing or even just Robin leaning onto Franky while reading, like all those fanarts that exist out there.

It’s not hard to imagine. Even for other Characters I think that is possible

And there might even be proof for that idea. The sketch of the Strong World movie you also mentioned, anon. The one movie that can be considered canon is Strong World. It was basically written/directed by Oda. Shiki the antagonist had an appearance in the Manga.

This sketch is drawn by Oda. Robin is holding onto Franky.

Can it be read as romantic? Yes. Can it be read as Robin holding onto Franky because there is nothing else to hold onto? Also Yes. But couldn't she just have used her power to keep herself secured on the bike without holding onto Franky? WELL YES. Could Oda never have thought in these circles like I do right now? I hope he did not because I hate it and I don’t wish it upon him.

In the movie Robin is NOT holding onto Franky. Now the really interesting thing - that is neither proof pro nor anti FRobin - is that we can see the sketch provided by Oda as a “between the scenes”.

In the movie Strong World the old trio is collecting information at the Pirate assembly. The next time we see them they use the Batta GT-7000 to slowly approach the destroyed village, which had been ravaged by the animals, and start to look for their friends. No need to hold onto Franky and no need for Brook to lean back. They are looking around.

The sketch is clearly not the same scene as the one we see in the movie.

In conclusion the drawing is indeed a between the scenes drawing. And yes if there exists one, who is to say there aren’t more?

Talking about Animal-Bikes...

Is there any meaning about the fact that in the opening scene (that is part of the talked intro after the opening ‘We Go’ - a huge thanks to antiherofangirl, ccb0nnet, JFL_Estudios and Maems, over at twitter!) Franky and Robin build another grasshopper-based vehicle? Maybe not but I still feel like it’s quite a callback.

Where did the idea to put this in the beginning come from? a) an editor had the idea inspired by Strong World; b) maybe it’s another sketch that Oda provided.

Neither seems very far-fetched in my opinion.

So yes, I am very sure that Oda has drawn things that we would consider FRobin.

Now to the last point (the first being Oda having a secret sketchbook, the second me arguing that Oda might have drawn FRobin).

As I said in the beginning I’m very sure that at one point Oda did and kinda that he still does ship Franky and Robin. Because even though every Interaction of two characters can be depicted as romantic or platonic, Oda used ROMANTIC TROPES with Franky and Robin.

They have never kissed on screen but we had

finishing each other's sentences

coordinated clothes

one using the others lap as pillow

hand on cheek caressing

and we can’t forget that Robin had answered Franky's invitation to ride on another animal-themed bike with a heart.

Edit: I didn‘t say anything about „no romance in OP“ so ask again if you want me to talk a bit about that. Sorry!

Those are things an author of Oda's level would not write or draw without being aware about how teasing this is. He has to be aware that every single line he draws will be analyzed to the end of the universe and back. People earn money by saying their opinion and interpretations about the Manga on Youtube.

These interactions are not something outlandish like “There was once an Anime Scene in which Robin was wearing something blue and exactly 28 episodes later Franky was wearing something violet and then 39 episodes later they both stood beside each other for exactly 69 seconds.”

Whenever I think about these facts, things that are not about interpreting but are factual, black ink on white paper but also about the little things, about how Frank and Robin help each other to become better, how they support each other… I want to say YES! ODA IS 100% on board! While in reality I’m 80% sure and 20% of me is wondering if I’m not actually analyzing too much into it. If maybe he really is abandoning ship. Maybe I will become the person who will curse his name and throw my Mangas and fanfictions in an active volcano?

I don’t know and it’s impossible to say what is going to happen.

And with that I've concluded this answer, and it only took me around 2k words and four days.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 288: ZOOM AND ENHANCE

Previously on BnHA: Tomura, AFO, Deku, and Nana all met up inside of OFA and were all, “wow this is awkward.” AFO talked a whole bunch about vestiges before realizing that nobody cared (EXCEPT FOR ME. I CARED!!), and was then all “anyway so just to get everyone up to speed here, Tomura is Nana’s grandson.” OFA appeared and was all “what up bro I see you’re still a dick”, and then everyone stood around for a bit waging psychokinetic war on each other and blowing up on the ground and shit. This didn’t really accomplish anything, so AFO shifted gears and started trash talking Deku instead, because he’s a whiny little punkass loser who can’t admit when his brother has gotten the best of him yet again! OFA was all “anyways Deku rules and haters gonna hate, peace”, and then everyone wooshed back out of OFA and back into the real world, Deku with his quirk still intact. Meanwhile Gigantomachia and the LoV stampeded ever closer to the city, and Toga started monologuing in preparation for a seemingly inevitable battle with Ochako! And then the chapter basically just ended there lol.

Today on BnHA: Imagine you are Uraraka Ochako. And you’re out here doing what you do best, saving bitches and being a badass, when all of a sudden some old lady runs up to you and is all “PLEASE HELP ME, MY HUSBAND IS ASLEEP OR SOME SHIT, YOU KNOW US OLD PEOPLE, WE’RE SO FUCKING FEEBLE AND HAPLESS.” And so you’re all “OF COURSE” because you’re a good fucking person, and then she speeds off like she’s got fucking wheels and it’s like damn, grandma, were you in varsity track or what, and then OUT OF NOWHERE she just spontaneously turns into HIMIKO FUCKING TOGA. And she’s all naked and shit, and it’s like damn, Toga, where are your clothes, and she just giggles and ducks into a nearby building. And so you follow her for god knows what reason, and she fucking pounces on you and starts interrogating you in like the most seductive way possible, and you’re all wtf is this. Like, can you even imagine. Anyway so Ochako is having quite a day.

okay lol so I’ve gotta kind of rush through this since I’ve got other stuff I need to wrap up today as well, so! fingers crossed that we get a nice, simple chapter with no controversies or elaborate revelations or anything like that! just give me lots of stuff to mindlessly keysmash about, Horikoshi. I’m counting on you bro

lol what

an actual fucking plane?? is that allowed?? how bizarrely normal. are we sure this plane does not shoot lasers or something or is powered by someone with like a fusion reactor quirk idk

and who tf is Takeo-san. some random guy Horikoshi is suddenly introducing after 300 chapters to come save everyone at the last minute? pretty sus. Horikoshi is this your self insert

GASP

NO WAY THIS IS ALL MIGHT, RIGHT?? holy shit I swear to god if it’s All Might this lady needs to TURN THE FUCK AROUND RIGHT NOW. stop at McDonalds, order a black coffee for herself and only herself, and drive the rest of the way back home without so much as a bathroom break. there are certain prophecies which we don’t need to be tempting right now, okay people?? holy shit

(ETA: OR, here’s a thought, WHAT IF IT’S BEST JEANIST. hope springs eternal lmao. anyways though surely it’s not actually All Might. he can’t die yet, he’s got like 5 million secret things he needs to explain to Deku, and also Kacchan is unconscious and he can’t just SLEEP RIGHT THROUGH ALL MIGHT’S DEATH like come on.)

oh look more heroes all lining up to be slaughtered by Machia

real talk, at this point their priority should just be evacuating any citizens in Machia’s path, and then getting the fuck out of his way. none of them stand a chance in hell at stopping him and they know it. the body count is already high enough as it is. regroup and live to fight another day, people

anyway, so Machia is apparently plowing through cities at 100km per hour. that... actually might not be fast enough. Gunga and Jakku were 80km apart, so at that rate it would take him nearly an hour to reach Tomura. that fight’s gonna be long done by the time they get there. huh

okay these guys are saying he’s going to reach them in about 8 minutes. ?? so are you telling me Tomura and Deku and the rest have been fighting for like 40 minutes already?? lmao Gran probably bled to death half an hour ago at this rate. Horikoshi please explain yourself. some of us spent our entire childhoods doodling comics instead of paying attention in math and science AND IT SHOWS

anyway so this is all very bad and this guy is really rubbing it in just how bad it is

I mean... yeah. obviously the villains are still to blame at the core of it all, but yeah. feels like you all could have planned a hell of a lot better for this. you knew there was the risk of Tomura waking up, and you knew there was also the risk of Gigantomachia waking up as well. and you pretty much had no contingency plan at all huh. society is really gonna be in shambles after this

lmao look at this shit. Machia is so big at this point that it looks like they’re having a picnic in the middle of some desert somewhere. at what point does it cease being a guy’s back and start being its own zip code

even has its own wifi. amazing

oh shit Compress apparently spotted someone and he’s asking Skeptic to “zoom and enhance” like it’s CS fucking I. that’s not how it works Compress you fucking boomer

anyway so OF COURSE,

was there a reason you needed to zoom in on them, other than to trigger Toga?? some people just want to watch the world burn

so Toga is now GEARIN’ UP!!

that honestly is so fucking handy. over at U.A. they have to carry their gear in briefcases like scrubs. does Compress actually have the best quirk in the world?? it flies under the radar so well that I always forget about it, but like WHAT CAN’T IT DO though, y’know??

WELL WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN MY DUDE

“oh hey is that the U.A. kids? Skeptic could you please zoom in on them for absolutely no reason? OH MY GOD TOGA IS RUNNING OFF TO FIGHT THEM, OH MY GOD WHO COULD HAVE FORESEEN, OH MY GOD”

now he’s all “DABI PLEASE DO SOMETHING” but Dabi is all “DABI DON’T CARE”

Dabi don’t care about NOTHING OR NO ONE!! Dabi don’t got time for this

lmao I literally forgot that Spinner was even there, shit

so are you gonna go with her then or not? because I got news for you dude, it doesn’t matter how heartwarming your speech is, nothing can stop this girl now that she’s gone full distracted boyfriend meme

AW BUT IT REALLY IS HEARTWARMING THOUGH

Spinner is the glue keeping this dysfunctional Addams family together honestly. too bad he couldn’t stop Compress from OPENING HIS BIG DUMB MOUTH ah well

lmao but he’s letting her go anyway though

Spinner for new LoV President. all in favor??

ANYWAYS LOL THIS IS BAD

“ACCELERATE EVACUATIONS” LOL WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO OCHAKO HE’S MOVING AT 100KM AN HOUR AND HE’S LIKE FUCKING GODZILLA SIZED FKJLK

“PLEASE RUN OUTSIDE OF THE VILLAIN’S PERIPHERY” well thank fucking god the people have you guys to guide them what would they even do without you lklkhlkds

NO HORIKOSHI DON’T YOU DARE

IF YOU HURT MY GIRL FROPPY I SWEAR TO GOD!! LEAVE HER ALONE YOU BRIGAND

OH THANK GOD

“sorry for SAVING YOUR LIFE” smh. anyway so how fucking badass is Ochako though?? can we just talk about this. THE GIRL POWER ARC STRIKES AGAIN hot damn

(ETA: and btw, seeing as Iida is nowhere to be found, I’d say odds are pretty good that they did in fact send him to go warn the Endeavorsquad of Gigantomachia’s imminent arrival. godspeed Iida! they need all the help they can get right now honestly.)

EXCUSE ME BUT ARE YOU TOGA

IS THIS TOGA. THIS IS DEFINITELY TOGA OMG

“I IMMEDIATELY TRUST YOU AND I WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH” noooo Ochako nooooo

damn Toga you really drained some poor old lady’s blood just so you could pull this kind of sneaky shit. I forgot how much I loved you

ohhhh lol so it’s her “husband” that is Takeo-san lol

THE BETTER TO LURE YOU INTO A TRAP MY DEAR

lmao Ochako you rube

now you’ve done it Toga. there is nothing Ochako loves more than a good old fashioned Old People Romance. DID YOU KNOW SHE HAS SEEN THE NOTEBOOK LIKE FIFTY TIMES. AND NO MATTER WHAT, IT ALWAYS GETS HER AT THE END. meanwhile I just want to watch a movie where James Marsden actually gets the girl for once but we all know that will never happen

OH MY

ngl this page would be like a thousand times better if Ochako was still blushing omg. did I ship this before?? I honestly can’t remember but I sure as fuck ship it now goddammit

(ETA: pretty sure I shipped it back during the Forest arc too but I don’t have time to check right now lol. but Toga is just so horny on main for everyone, all the time, and so like, it’s hard not to ship it.)

so now Toga is running off all flirtatiously and Ochako is barreling after her lol

plot twist, Takeo-san is actually in there. and he has NO IDEA what’s going on. WHAT HAPPENED TO MY WIFE. WHY IS THERE A GIANT MOLE MAN BURROWING THROUGH THE CITY

Ochako why on earth would you follow Toga into this dark creepy house where she could spring at you from any angle out of nowhere. just go back outside and float up over it until you have a high enough vantage point to see all the exits and just wait for her to come out

Toga says she wanted to talk to Tsuyu-chan as well, but let’s be real, you and her don’t have the same kind of electrically charged kismesis energy that you’ve got going on with Ochako though

LMAO DEKU NOWHERE IS SAFE

getting dragged like a fucking wedding train and he’s not even there to defend himself, shit

blah blah blah just ask her your question already Toga

MY WORD

would someone please inform Toga that this manga is only rated PG-13

so now Ochako is all “seriously Toga wtf”

you see that’s what I wanted to know too, lol. I really like that the characters actually think about these things and ask these kind of questions. that’s exactly the contrast between the heroes and the villains right there. the villains care about each other, they’ll give each other heartwarming speeches to please come back alive, and yet they’re utterly indifferent to the thousands of people being killed as they demolish their way through city after city. meanwhile by contrast Ochako’s first thought upon being erotically waylaid by her sexy knife-wielding archnemesis is “but what about that poor old lady is she all right.” just completely opposite energies, almost to a hilarious degree. like maybe Ochako actually should worry about herself just a little bit more lol but heroes gonna hero

and so now what, Toga!! you’re gonna pout about it?? like she’s betrayed you somehow?

anyway so that’s the end of the chapter! and I’ll just come right out and say that I’m hoping that this fight ends up being something where Toga maybe starts to see things just a little bit more from Ochako’s point of view, and not the other way around, because otherwise I’ll be a little frustrated, ngl. the manga has done an excellent job of making the villains likeable and relatable and getting us to sympathize with them up till this point, but at some point it’s got to start refuting some of these arguments and making it clear that the villains do not actually have any kind of moral high ground here

and also! I really like Toga and would like her to have some kind of redemption arc! but as of now that’s looking to be really difficult if not impossible to pull off, because Toga hasn’t exactly shown a whole lot of remorse for anything she’s done so far, you know? because she doesn’t see it as bad in any way; to her it’s just her way of expressing love, and being true to who she is. but being true to yourself really should NOT involve, you know, MURDER, and so yeah. it’s a problem lmao

but who knows! maybe this battle with Ochako will be the start of something which eventually leads to some sort of change within her! I have absolutely no idea how that could play out tbh, but even so I can hope! either that or she will double down on the whole “villains are victims and heroes are apathetic cruel hypocrites” ideology and decide she wants to kill Ochako and Izuku for breaking her heart, in which case I will be very sad, but I guess if that’s the way Horikoshi’s gonna play it it is what it is!

and lastly, so is this going to be like the final battle between them or something?? surely not, right? like this is just round 2 of 3. well at any rate, it’s sure going to be interesting

[locktobre]

bcbd thoughts

right away I see that this is only an hour long, so... it’s not a movie, then. it’s a one hour special, again. I feel like I’m already gonna miss the extra 20 minutes just like dolphin magic but we’ll see I guess. maybe it’ll be a mercy that it’s shorter.

the opening credits/dream sequence was nice. the animation on the city is decent, and the monochrome thing was kind of cool.

her being on stage reminded me a little of Eden, and then immediately I missed Eden so much. they would never let a version of Babs be a bitch now and that’s such a shame.

so now we’re joking about George tracking Barbie’s cell phone? bc that’s fine and not at all an invasion of privacy or anything. also, you can check flight statuses on the internet so that’s really not necessary. also, why the fuck didn’t Barbie call them once she got off the plane? or at least text? I always text or call my mom when I land, and frankly I’m not even as close to my mom as Barbie claims to be to her parents. and I did that when I was 17 traveling alone, too, so it’s not just something I do as an adult. it’s part of the responsibility of traveling to let ppl know that you got somewhere safe so they don’t worry about you. what the fuck Babs.

was that honking supposed to be like censoring the cabbie swearing bc I would love that. let the cabbie say fuck.

I still maintain that this “summer program” thing is bullshit and Babs should have been going off to college. I know they won’t let her grow up but it makes more sense than this does. also, you’re telling me there’s no summer programs for acting/whatever in LA? seriously? she HAD to go across the country for this? and her parents let her? they don’t even trust her! they said that 2 seconds ago! or is tracking her cell phone the reason she’s allowed to travel across the country (to Willows and Florida and Hawaii) by herself in the first place? I hate this I hate it so much already

The Handler Arts Academy... oh I’m feeling emotions

“luck’s got nothing to do with it. you worked your tail off for this” SHOW ME FOR WHEN, PLEASE. this could have been an actual arc of the show, a goal Barbie was working towards that could thread thru multiple episodes... but no. this came out of nowhere. I’m STILL saying that Amelia bought Barbie’s place here bc FUCK YOU SHOW

“I hope I’m good enough” you’re a mediocre rich white woman, you can do literally anything you want.

why is her guitar shoved in a cardboard box and not, idk, in a guitar case? that’s stupid. also, that’s an open cardboard box, so how did that travel on the plane? a closed cardboard box, fine. should be a suitcase, but fine. but this just makes no sense and I am not going to let it slide bc I hate this continuity and everything about it.

however, I will give Brooklyn a pass for the open cardboard box bc she literally lives in NYC and didn’t have to take a fucking plane to get here. she can carry it like that if she wants.

“as long as you don’t break [my leg], we’re good” I’ve already seen Brooklyn in a cast, so... does Malibu literally break her leg later on? even on accident... jesus christ.

is this Russian(?) custodian lady gonna be the antagonist/villain? bc I’m already not vibing with that. not at fucking all.

how the FUCK could they show up a day early? why would they not show up on the day they’re supposed to? that doesn’t make any sense! and if they’re NOT supposed to be there yet, then there would be no staff there to watch them, so they should have to come back tomorrow! they shouldn’t be allowed to be by themselves in a school like this! I’m assuming this is to facilitate a day of bonding without stupid things like classes in the way, but they could have written an orientation day or something in that would have made more sense, and as I said, I am not inclined to give them a pass on anything these days. fuck you all.

so, room assignments are alphabetical... I guess that kind of explains them being in the same room, altho it does feel coincidental that they wouldn’t be, like, in neighboring rooms. also they didn’t animate little signs on the other doors, even with nonsense text if they didn’t want to put other names up, so their door really sticks out for no reason. also, shouldn’t it say “Barbie Roberts & Barbie Roberts” or some other way of having both names on the door? also, if the school knows they have the same name, couldn’t they put middle initials or something? we know Malibu is Barbie M. Roberts, and I will generously assume that Brooklyn’s middle name is something else, so that would have been fine. this really feels like the administrators don’t give a fuck, and in a supposedly prestigious school, I don’t buy that.

so, Brooklyn has been training every summer in different programs, very intensely, to get in here... and Malibu trained on the internet. what have I been saying about Malibu’s white mediocrity? hmm?

even after that (lackluster) montage, it feels way too soon for “Before Us.” I don’t believe they’re best friends who warrant a song about their friendship. I don’t believe that at all.

I like the bald fashionista being on the billboard, that’s a nice touch.

Malibu bringing up her vlog like that gives me hives. she has already stated multiple times that she does that to help ppl, not for clout, and yet. here she is. being a fake ass bitch once again.

Brooklyn and Emmie’s story is already way more interesting than this and I’m pissed that’s just backstory.

LOVE that green-haired dude. idk where you’re going with that drum but godspeed my dude.

I’m assuming that’s Emmie incognito in the back, but... what’s she doing here if she’s already famous? pulling an Erika Juno?

Dean Morrison seems cool

(is it too early to ship Brooklyn x Emmie?)

if pets are allowed in this school, I’m SHOCKED Malibu didn’t bring Taffy. truly fucking shocked.

Rafa reminds me so much of Jacques Rousseau

“the only labels we believe in are designer” so Rafa’s gay, right? Barbie’s first gay character? I can only assume

the ballet thing still doesn’t make sense to me, if their goal is to be on Broadway. ballet is an entire art and discipline in itself.

fencing makes more sense, bc stage fighting is a thing.

‘work it’ is even funnier than I imagined. Malibu you’re such a fuck up. and I can’t even cut you some slack bc earlier you said your training was “internet.” you didn’t work for this and you don’t belong here. die.

if this was PCS, Malibu would have been kicked out already. YOU WERE NOT PREPARED FOR THIS. WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS.

so, the ‘work it’ montage clearly showed the passage of time, it’s been at least a week, and... Malibu hasn’t talked to Ken at all during that time? this is the first time she’s telling him about Brooklyn?

ok, confirmed to be a week. and she hasn’t talked to Ken. of course. they are so close of course she hasn’t talked to him in a week, especially when she’s been struggling so much and would need to vent to a friend about it. of course.

so, Emmie is pulling an Erika Juno. at least she’s in disguise.

jesus christ, they’re really having Emmie be exploited by her own father??? JESUS.

ok Brooklyn x Emmie is sailing.

Brooklyn’s mom is an airline pilot, that sounds cool.

so the dresses are powered by the magic of friendship? cool. that’s stupid.

of COURSE Emmie’s dad is the board member. jesus christ I hate this dude.

okay, so she DIDN’T break her leg, it’s only a sprain. thank god. poor green-haired drum dude.

saying “epic fail” in 2021 unironically is not cool, mattel. unless I’m even more out of touch with the youth than I thought, but I’m pretty sure about that.

wait, so Brooklyn was dancing... and now she’s on crutches again? what is this montage? they fucked up here.

of all things to kick Malibu out for, they’re saying she pushed Brooklyn? why not all the fuck ups in her first week?

also, Rafa was taping that class so how do they not bring that up immediately? that’s the whole reason they were dancing over there in the first place! (so he might not have caught anything, but still, I have to assume that’s going to fix this bc that’s what these movies do.)

I really like Malibu’s leather jacket look, but she does look a little bit old I think. Brooklyn’s leggings look is nice, too.

okay, so Brooklyn suddenly believes the unnamed witness over the girl she sang ‘before us’ with? okay. I told you this friendship was a crock of shit. they don’t trust each other at all! Brooklyn should have been angry when she first fell, and it builds to thinking that she was sabotaged, but she brushed it off... and now she’s pissed. that makes no sense.

this friendship breakup song also means nothing to me bc their friendship fell apart for such a stupid reason. fate didn’t tear you apart, you tore yourselves apart by not trusting each other. stupid little children.

if Brooklyn’s ankle isn’t completely healed aka still painful, she should not be dancing on it, she could injure herself more or at least prolong the healing process.

ok, so NOW, after Malibu has already been expelled and sent back home, they remembered the video. these kids are so fucking stupid. and of COURSE the unnamed witness is Mr Miller! Emmie, you ALREADY KNOW that your dad is shady as shit and wants you to get the Spotlight Solo! HOW DID YOU NOT PUT THIS TOGETHER IN 5 SECONDS? I DID

so, Mr Miller thought Malibu was Emmie’s biggest competition for the solo? Malibu, the spectacular fuck up? not Brooklyn? or any of the background extras? I refuse to fucking believe that. I REFUSE.

how did George and Margaret just let Malibu get expelled without flying out there to fight the charge? seriously?

how is is Brooklyn singing ‘before us’ in-universe such that Malibu recognizes it? you’re breaking the conventions of musicals! I don’t get this!

I like Brooklyn’s mom being a pilot less after it’s been used to facilitate this bullshit part of the plot.

again, just “Barbie Roberts” makes no sense. where’s a middle initial to differentiate them! SOMETHING! I know they’re doing the finale together, but still, it’s STUPID.

shipping Rafa x green-haired drummer dude bc I can

where’s the Emmie doll for this movie?????? I’m so disappointed. also the other outfits, the leather jacket and leggings ones, I swear those weren’t dolls either. what the fuck

I see more fashionistas on billboards at the end! I really like that

so the custodian wasn’t a villain... then why that introduction for her? that went nowhere

is “Big City Big Dreams” supposed to be Emmie’s song? that Malibu lips-synced to on her vlog (apparently)? I can’t tell by the voice and they don’t list the voices for the songs in the credits

overall, once again it largely made no sense. idk if it would have benefitted from 20 extra minutes of screentime bc nothing really happened.

also, what the fuck happened to Mr Miller? he just keeps on exploiting his daughter? and for that matter, what happened to Emmie’s mom? bc she lived with her, and then all of the sudden her dad was in her life again and exploiting her, so... what did mom die? did he kill her? what am I supposed to think? and Emmie’s STILL stuck in that situation? girl. what the fuck

also of course they were too cowardly to confirm anything about Rafa. of course.

[turinn]

Naive

Ray Blackwell x M!Reader

Summary: An invitation at a party reveals that Luka had no idea you’re gay, and brings up a concern you hadn’t had before. Tags: Crack, fluff, secret relationship, mention of homophobia, alcohol consumption A/N: This is based on a dream I had where Luka and I had this exact conversation and when I woke up and remembered it I nearly threw up laughing. I did actual research for the girls outfit and hair bc im a fashion history nerd. the pocket watch i just thought was cute. Fenrir calls the reader fruity but its okay bc hes gay too god bless Word Count: 1.5k

The party was the usual affair expected of the Godspeed's, an air of elegance- present but not too overbearing- hanging over the large hall. Music drifted gently to your ears as you took everything in, a small smile settling on your face.

You couldn't help but feel a little underdressed. The officers had, of course, kept their uniforms on, but everyone else present was dressed to the nines. You'd thought the suit you wore was lovely when you and Seth had seen it last week, dark blue with a white trim, paired with a pale cyan tie and pocket square. The gold watch that settled comfortably in your pocket had been a gift from Blanc, supposedly made by Oliver to look similar to his own, to commemorate your decision to stay in Cradle. Compared to everyone else, it felt rather simple now, but you pushed the thought aside. Nobody was judging what you were wearing, they were here to enjoy themselves same as you.

"Would you like a drink?" Ray asked, voice soft enough not to startle you too much. This wasn't too effective, as you'd gotten lost in your thoughts, and sort of forgotten there were people around you, but it was kind of him to try. "Oh, yes, please." You smiled at him and a moment later he'd walked off, talking to Sirius about something, leaving you alone with Luka. Fenrir had disappeared to greet his family when you'd first arrived, and Seth was who knows where, but you didn't mind it being just the two of you. Luka rarely came to these, in fact this was the first he'd been to since you'd arrived in Cradle, despite it being your fifth, and you decided someone should stick with him so he didn't feel quite as nervous.

As you turned to say something to him, you noticed a lady making her way over to the both of you, looking rather flustered. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and she seemed to be muttering something to herself, but it was clear she had intent to speak to one of you. Perhaps she wanted to talk to Luka? He was cute, it wouldn't surprise you. What did surprise you, however, was when she walked up to you instead.

"Um, excuse me if this is far too forward, but... would you be interested in dancing with me?" She sounded so nervous, and you almost wanted to say yes. Any other man would have been lucky to get such an invitation- she looked stunning. She wore her hair in curls, gathered at the back of her neck, with a hairpiece of pale blue flowers was pinned at the front, a necklace donning the same type of flower hanging just above the neckline of her gown. The gown in question matched the colour of the flowers well, though the width of the crinoline supported skirt would have made you concerned about the logistics of dancing with her- if you'd had any intention of saying yes. Her cheeks were tinted pink as she chewed her bottom lip and waited for your answer, avoiding your gaze. A hand on your chest and a sincerely apologetic look on your face, you began to respond. "Oh dear. I'm terribly sorry, but you seem to have gotten the wrong end of the stick. You're a very attractive young lady but I'm afraid... how should I put this," You glanced at Luka for help, but he seemed to have no idea what you were trying to tell her, "I'm afraid I don't tend to set my eye on the ladies, so to speak." "You're... gay?" A sympathetic nod. "That's the ticket. Sorry, love." "Oh, it's not a problem! I'm really sorry to have bothered you!" She suddenly looked much less nervous, though a little embarrassed, and scurried off. You sighed. "I feel a little bad. I really hope she finds someone to dance with." Luka looked at you quizzically. "Why did you lie to her?" A confused laugh escaped you. "I'm sorry?" "You told her you were into guys. Why lie?" As he said this, Seth and Fenrir came up behind him, and hearing his question their eyebrows shot up. So did yours. Was he kidding? "Luka, sweetie, you have got to tell me what part of my personality made you think I was heterosexual, so I can set about changing it immediately." Seth choked on his drink, and though you flashed him a grin, you weren't entirely kidding. Going from Victorian London to a world where being gay was perfectly acceptable had been quite the change, but you'd been certain all of your friends had known. It's not like you were quiet about it, and sure, Luka was naive but... come on, now. "Wait are you... you were being honest?" "Yes?" "Luka," Fenrir began, stepping next to you and resting an elbow on your shoulder, "How have you seriously not noticed that he's gay yet?" "Well- there was no reason for me to assume!" "You watched me drunk make out with at least 2 different Black Army soldiers in my first month here!" Luka looked flustered, and utterly dumbfounded. The expression was one he wore often, usually when people insinuated that someone was in love- but somehow about five times more confused. He was unfortunate enough that Ray and Sirius returned at this moment, just in time to hear both your last remark, and his next one.

"I thought that was just something you did when you were drunk?" In another moment you were on your knees, legs shaking so much from laughter that you couldn't hold yourself up any longer. Fenrir was right there beside you, practically convulsing. Everyone else was laughing too- except poor Luka. You felt a little bad, truly you did, but this had to be the funniest thing you had ever heard. "He's completely straight, but watch out! Get a couple drinks in him and he turns fruity!" Fenrir managed to get out between cackles, and Ray was glad to have put your drinks down when Luka had last spoken, because he too nearly fell to the ground at this.

"Luka- Luka I'm sorry." You pulled yourself to your feet, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "We aren't laughing at you." Another fit of giggles overcame you. "Okay we kind of are, but it's not malicious or anything. That was just... hands down the funniest thing you've ever said." It took most of you 5 or so minutes to fully calm down from what he'd said, and anything that jogged your memories of it would bring you back to a state of uncontrollable laughter for the rest of the night. Luka came round to it being pretty funny after you talked him through the dozens of times you'd mentioned your sexuality to him since you'd met- every one of which had gone over his head.

Hours after the party had worn down and you'd all made your way home, you lay in bed, your head pressed against a familiar chest, and sighed. "What's up?" "I just... D'you think anyone else just hasn't realised?" Ray cocked his head, confused. "I'm gonna need a little more info than that, kitten." "I suppose I just... Back in London, it's not even legal to be gay, and I don't know if it ever will be. When I first came out to Fen, he told me that it was fine here, accepted and even celebrated. So, I guess I just thought that people wouldn't make the automatic assumption that I'm straight, y'know? I mean I talk about it a lot among you guys but- when I’m out and about... where do people think my final destination is? When I pick up a silly cat themed gift for you does the shopkeep think I’m buying it for my wife? It shouldn't be a big deal, I guess, but I'd never been able to be myself until I came here, and now it's like I can be me but... people will still only see who I am if I tell them. It's just weird is all. I dunno. Maybe I'm drunk." "You're not drunk. It's an understandable concern. I guess I've never thought about it, because whether or not people would accept that part of me has never been an issue, but the fact that you've had to hide it for so long and now that you're able to be open people still aren't seeing it must be hard. If you want we could... come out, so to speak?" Your eyebrows raised, and you moved back, propping yourself up on your arm so you could look your partner in the eyes.

It had been decided at the very start of your relationship, which had officially begun a few months after you'd made the choice to stay in Cradle, that the two of you would keep it under wraps for a while. Being from the Land of Reason was more than enough reason for people to take an unwanted interest in you, and you didn't need the extra attention being the King of Spades' partner would garner. Plus, anyone with a grudge against Ray would see you as a target the second you announced it. It had been a sensible suggestion on his part, one you hadn't hesitated to agree to, and as far as you knew only Sirius and Fenrir knew about your relationship. Fenrir because he had walked in on you sitting in Ray's lap while he worked late one night, and Sirius because- well, can anything get past that guy? And now, Ray was offering to tell the entirety of Cradle you were his, just so that you didn't feel like you were hiding your identity anymore? You could feel your eyes starting to burn, and you cursed the late hour and the alcohol in your system for making you cry so easily, but... "I don't think we need to be that drastic. You were right when you said it would keep me safe for us to not be in the public eye, at least for now. I'm sure Seth can come up with some better way for me to tell the whole world I'm gay." "I don't doubt that at all." Ray grinned, placing a gentle kiss on first your forehead, then your nose, and finally on your lips. "Tomorrow, though. You need your beauty sleep." "Ah, yeah, can't risk getting ugly. My boyfriend might not want me anymore." You quipped. "Exactly." He smirked at you, turning out the light and pulling you into his arms.

[atmilliways]

Dethentine’s Day 1

February 8th - A Romantic Getaway

Today I give you what seems to be the first Lavona/Trindle fic posted to Ao3. It, uh, gets kind of dark towards the end, mostly for star-crossed lovers reasons.  You’re welcome and/or I’m sorry, whichever applies.

What Matters

The late evening air of Paris is clear and crisp as the two women exit the small museum shop that marks the end of the Catacombs tour, arm in arm. 

“Well, Liebling?” the taller of the two asks in German as they cross the street. “Did you like it?”

“It was fantastic.” Her companion, who has a definite American accent, is absolutely beaming beneath her black, touristy beret. The studs in her nose and bottom lip glint silver in the streetlight. “I’ve never seen so many femurs and crania in one place before. Thousands of human skulls and bones. Skeletal remains of more than six million people. You could just . . . feel the dead, all around you.” She sighed. “This entire trip has just been perfect, Lavona. I’m so happy you were able to take the time off.”

“Anything for you, Trin,” she replies with an indulgent smile. “I wanted to make this trip special for you considering the sacrifice you’re about to make for the cause.”

“You’re doing an amazing job.” Trindle beams at the nickname, as she always does. “Where to next?”

“Cantada II,” Lavona confirms. “It’s a heavy metal absinthe bar in the 11th arrondissement.”

“Ooh. So they’ll be playing. . . ?”

“Almost definitely.”

Lavona watches her eyes light up at the prospect of drinking to Dethklok music, and knows deeper than bone that Trindle was the right choice. The young woman has the right history, the kind that the band’s manager won’t think twice about when he orders the inevitable background search: goth since middle school, tattooed and splashed all over social media photos of copious concerts from high school onwards, putting herself through life as a cosmetologist and esthetician. She is, by all accounts, a member of one of Dethklok’s many key demographics. 

Which is exactly why Succuboso Explosion had reached out to her in the first place. She’s perfect. So perfect, in fact, that Lavona sometimes finds herself wavering in her single-minded pursuit of Nathan Explosion’s seed. . . .

Only sometimes. But it’s in moments like right now, drinking in the way Trindle’s normally pale face flushes with whole-hearted excitement. Poor girl has never been out of the United States before in her life. There’s a whole world to explore, and she has an enthusiasm for taking it all in that Lavona had lost a long time ago. If things were different, her first instinct might be to protect that spark, to nurture and tend to it until maybe, just maybe, some of it might rub off on and infect her too. 

But they had both agreed. The mission is what matters. Once they all truly become vessels that hold the future, maybe then there will be time, as pregnancy allows, but for now Lavona knows it’s best to remain as dispassionate as possible. 

So she hails them a cab, and they go to a moodily lit bar with blood red walls and unsettling artistic renderings of monsters and zombies on the walls. Trindle says she recognized it from some Anthony Bourdain thing, whoever that was—Lavona doesn’t own a television, so all she gleans from the comment was that the man had died since filming it, which seemed to heighten the appeal somehow. Excited to try everything, Trindle insists on working her way systematically through the drinks menu. It’s a good night. 

They returned to the hotel late, both slightly unsteady on their feet despite Lavona’s attempts to keep her head. Trindle had insisted that she take at least a sip of each with her, and Lavona hadn’t had it in her to say no. 

It’s far from a fancy suite, the group’s finances being mostly directed in other directions. Just a standard room with two double beds. Until tonight Lavona has kept to her own side of the room, but when Trindle tangles their fingers together and hesitantly tugs her to cross the invisible line with a hopeful smile . . . Lavona follows the pull. 

Later, after Trindle had fallen asleep on her side, Lavona sits up in bed and watches the gentle tide of her bosom. The sheets are thin enough that she can make out the heavy black shapes of her tattoos. A stray lock of hair drapes across her cheek, fluttering with every exhale; gently, so as not to wake her, Lavona brushes it back behind her shoulder. 

How odd to think that soon this view will be Nathan’s. She should be jealous of Trindle. She is—and isn’t. She’s jealous of them both, with a fierce ache in her heart and between her legs, but she also feels a peacefulness that she’s never known before. Dispassionate as possible. . . . Well, apparently that had always been relative. Maybe if the silly girl hadn’t mainlined lessons on both Duolingo and Babbel for several months and then surprised her with rough but promising conversational German, Lavona might have stood a chance. 

If she could, she would suspend this final moment of their romantic getaway in amber and wear it like a jewel. 

But Trindle had agreed. 

Lavona leans across to the nightstand between the two beds and retrieves a slim black case from the top drawer. Unzipping it reveals a pre-filled syringe, which gleams in the moonlight as she uncaps and flicks it to make sure there are no air bubbles. One quick injection and Trindle will stay asleep long enough for the next step. 

When it’s done, Lavona leans down and kisses Trindle’s forehead, kisses her closed eyelids, kisses her slack lips. “I’m sorry, Liebling,” she whispers. “Godspeed. The sooner the mission is complete, the sooner we can reunite. I . . . I hope you can forgive me.”

Then she dresses and goes to the door that connects their room to the one next door, knocks, waits to hear a reply knock, and opens it. The other four members of Succubosso Explosion file in, dressed in surgical scrubs, pushing a narrow stainless-steel table, and carrying trays of sterilized equipment. 

They had outvoted her on this, arguing that the mission was of the utmost importance. Ever since their initial failure with the Loin Extractor, knowing that an outsider would have to be recruited to infiltrate Mordhaus, most of the group’s budget has gone towards the development of behavior modification technology to ensure success even without the rigorous training they’ve all undergone for years. Trindle is merely a tool; this implant will endow her with a single-minded desire to collect Nathan’s spend as often and as diligently as possible, as well as adding a certain amount of “bimbo-ification” that will put her even further beyond suspicion than her otherwise innocuous history already does. 

It hasn’t been tested on human subjects, there simply wasn’t time. They have one slim window of opportunity, a rare and coveted backstage pass which Trindle will use to approach and ensnare her target. 

All Lavona can do now is hope that the plan will go off without a fucking hitch.

[rinadoesstuff]

Secret Soldiers

Chapter Fourteen

Georgia, Camp Toccoa, 1942

The next morning, Maggie woke up with an unusual smile on her face. The night before had been different but a good different. Though she wasn’t planning on falling asleep with her shoulder resting on George Luz’s shoulder, she was glad she had. The moment had shown her that she could trust the men, they’d allowed her to sleep even though she had been vulnerable in that moment. Although she hadn’t expected them to do anything untoward, they hadn’t seemed like the type, the thought was always in the back of her mind when it came to all men.

Letting out a yawn, Maggie checked the time on her watch that was still sitting on her wrist and realised she still had almost an hour before breakfast that morning. The sun was slowly rising, some light peeking through her window into the small bunker she lived in. Deciding now would be a good time to grab her mail, Maggie quickly changed into her OD’s and made her way toward the mailroom. 

As she had thought, Maggie didn’t pass anyone on the way over - most of the men would still be asleep, getting as much in as they possibly could. She didn’t know how long they had been up the night before but they had all been playing poker still when Maggie had woken up. Although she offered to walk back over alone, George had insisted he make sure she got back safe. 

Wanting to build that bond up even more with the men, Maggie allowed him to walk her over. It had been a nice feeling, not any hostility between the two as they walked to her small ‘home’. She was hoping that the men would be kinder to her, let her join in with their laughs a little more. 

Entering the mail room, she had a quick conversation with Rice before he went to grab her mail. She had two letters, one with the SOE seal imprinted on the back and one she recognised as Camilla’s handwriting. Bidding Rice goodbye, Maggie left the mailroom and tucked her letters into her pocket. She wasn’t usually one for a cigarette but Maggie took one from her pocket, stuck it between her lips and lit it. 

The nicotine rush was one she needed, still feeling the tiredness from the night before. As she took a drag, she noticed a group of soldiers coming her way. Standing off to the side so she wasn’t in the way, Maggie tried to work out if she knew them. The faces weren’t familiar, they could have been from one of the companies she hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. 

As some of the men went into the mailroom, one of them came over toward Maggie with a small smile on her face. “Bum a cigarette, Lieutenant?” Maggie gave the man a look, raising an eyebrow as she grabbed her pack and tossed it at him. 

“Do I need to give you a light as well, private?” She wore a lazy smile as she took another drag, the soldier laughing gently as he leant against the wall beside Maggie. He grabbed his own lighter, showing it to Maggie with a grin before lighting his cigarette. There was a silence before Maggie spoke. “Which company are you with, Private?”

She turned her head gently to look at the man, significantly taller than she was. “Dog company, ma’am. You’re with Easy, right?” Maggie nodded, taking a final drag of her cigarette before dropping it into the ‘butts’ bin beside her. 

“I best be off, have a good day,private.” The man gave a lazy salute, making Maggie smile gently. Even though the man had no idea who she was, he hadn’t seen her as just a woman. He had treated her as an officer and even a friend, giving Maggie the smile that she now wore as she headed back toward her bunker. She had a bit more time before breakfast, giving her the chance to read the letters that had been sent to her. 

Settling down on her bed, Maggie opened the one from the SOE to begin with. 

Agent Walters,

With intel received, we are pleased with the progress you have been making with the US airborne. We have received some more intelligence about the plan of attack for the US airborne however you do not have the clearance for us to tell you. All we can tell you is that there will be another operative in the future, when a move of base is pushed ahead. There is not a lot we can tell you except we wish you luck and hope the two of you will work together before joining this war alongside the US troops. 

GodSpeed, Agent. 

Agent Frost, SOE.

Dresden, November 1942

The snow from the previous day wrapped the city of Dresden in a beautiful white one could only describe as almost magically but the blonde woman had something different on her mind. Looking down at the watch on her wrist, Claire let out a yawn before hiding her bare hand again in the warmth of the pockets of her coat. “I definitely have to sleep more.”

“You have absolutely no reason to complain, Clara.” Despite his own obvious lack of sleep, Hans was quick to respond. Leaning against the brick wall, the man let out a groan as he closed his eyes. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to get through my classes without falling asleep.”

“Well,” Claire started as she pulled her blue scarf further up into her face. “Maybe you should take a break from going out so often at god forbidden hours.” 

“Yeah, just wait until you see what we did. It was worth it.” With a proud smirk on his face Hans rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get some warmth. “You’ll like it.”

Just humming in response, Claire shifted her gaze up towards the window on the third floor of the building they stood in front of. She freshly falling snowflakes made her task of making out movements on the other side of the window quite a bit harder but nevertheless a quickly moving shadows caught her attention. “Does Ilse know? You know, what happened a few nights ago?”

“Yeah I stopped by last night and spoke with her about it. She thinks it’s pretty amazing but don’t worry, she swore not to tell anyone.”

Nodding, Claire turned back to Hans with an unsure smile on her lips. “Alright, uhm, thanks for still trusting me. It means a lot.”

“Considering that you kind of held a gun pointed at me, I took the best chance by avoiding making you mad.” They both knew that it wasn’t meant to be serious but Claire couldn’t help herself and as a response she smacked Hans against his shoulder. The man only chuckled as he playfully rubbed his arm. “Oh you know that I love you too much not to trust you.”

Hearing this, a big smile formed on Claire’s lips. It was by no means the first time that she heard this from him and usually she knew that it didn’t mean much but weirdly enough this time it felt like more. She was about to respond but a door falling into its lock behind them caught both of their attention.

“Sorry that I’m late. My alarm didn’t go off.” Ilse had a hint of pink on her cheeks as she hurriedly closed her jacket. After a quick exchange of glances the brunette woman pulled her bag a little closer to her body. “Did I interrupt anything?”

When no response came from neither Claire nor Hans, Ilse just nodded in a dismissive manner and interlocked her arm with Claire’s just like they always did. It felt so normal to them by now that just like usually they started walking and chatting away, leaving Hans to follow them looking almost like a lost puppy. 

Due to their lateness today, Claire expected the promenade leading up to the university buildings to be rather empty but the closer they got, the more they had problems passing the groups of students. 

Claire reached behind herself and grabbed Hans’ hand out of fear of losing him in the mass as Ilse also tightened her grip. Not being able to see enough, the blonde woman stood on her tiptoes. After her eyes scanned the walls of the entrance her gaze fixated on the formerly well visible swastika on the right side of the wooden entrance doors. Half of it was broken out of the stone and it has been over painted in a thick black while a certain word was written right next to it.

Letting out a gasp, Claire quickly got down on the heels of her shoes again. Looking at Ilse and her desperate tries to see past the crowd all while having a curious look on her face, Claire was quick to realise that Ilse had nothing to do with this.

The brunette gave up after a few more tries to see something and instead looked at Claire expectantly. “Vive la révolution?” After not receiving an answer Ilse turned to Hans who wore a proud smirk on his lips “Are we starting one?”

Hand just pulled the two women closer to him as he leaned down so only they could hear his voice. “What do you say, Veritas? Are we starting one?” 

With a mischievous grin, Claire turned from Ilse to Hans. “We are starting one.”

With a sudden burst of pride flowing through her, Claire squeezed Hans’ hand as she turned back to the large letters painted on the wall.

Veritas

It was her name. 

Now the Nazis know who they are up against.

• • • • • •

Taglist:

@wexhappyxfew @pierrespandas @trashgoddess600 @junojelli @kmorecoffee @vintagelavenderskies @order-of-river-phoenix @adamantiumdragonfly @happyveday @alrightnicelighter @easy-company-tradition @keoghans @ultralillylove @pxpeyewynn @pinkesfaultier @madstertb

[cruelfeline]

I’ve probably written about this before in some fashion, but good luck to me finding it in my got-dang Hordak tag. And I’m not sure if I addressed it specifically. And I have time and energy and the desire to bleat. So here we go. This goes out to all the antis out there who seem to have significant trouble understanding this concept. And to the rest of you who might be curious.

So: why didn’t Hordak, upon arriving on Etheria, simply stop with the destruction and the conquest and just settle into being a Good Boy? If he truly were capable of being a good person, he’d have done that, right? The fact that he made a new Horde and tried to take over Etheria proves that he is, at his core, an incorrigible imperial warlord with no hope of ever just being a normal person, yes?

Y’all know me by now: my answer to all of this is no, him doing what he did on Etheria doesn’t condemn him to Pure Evil Status forever. First, two factors that affect Hordak on a more “baseline” level:

1. The Clone Thing. Go read that. Oh, and also go read more about it. To give a general idea: being a clone, rather than a regular, independently born person, completely changes what Hordak understands to be good and bad. It alters how easily he is able to lead a new life. It alters what he understands life and its purpose to be. It alters what he sees as possible for himself.

2. The Morality Thing. Briefly put: what you and I understand as moral and ethical and good is not a universal constant. It is heavily dependent on our life-long socialization in our respective human societies. What is terrible for us may not be terrible for a non-human. This obviously alters what does and doesn’t seem like appropriate behavior to Hordak. 

By themselves, the two above factors can answer why Hordak tries to conquer Etheria without necessarily labeling him as “hopelessly monstrous.” But I think the more nuanced, certainly more human aspect of the answer lies in another question: why doesn’t Catra stay in the Crimson Wastes with Scorpia?

I mean, look at her: she was happy, right? So why leave?

If you can answer this question, you can essentially pin down the personal reasons behind Hordak trying to conquer Etheria.

Catra elects to return to the Horde not because she’s super into subjugating the populace and ruling the world, but because in her mindset, in the mentality that trauma and emotional dependence and abuse have cultivated, she needs to rise in the Horde in order to be okay. Or, at least, she thinks she needs to, which is pragmatically the same thing at this point in her story. 

Staying in the Crimson Wastes, ruling a wasteland gang, hanging out with Scorpia: none of these things fill the hole she has in her. None of these things conform to the ruleset governing what success and happiness mean to her.

In her world, happiness and comfort and security come from winning against Adora and proving herself to Shadow Weaver. Her actions are bad and reflect extremely poor decision making, but they come from a place of deep pain and are shaped by an understanding of the world created by her own awful past. They don’t mean that she’s a horrible, evil person at her core: they mean that she’s emotionally sick. They also don’t mean that she can’t rise above this mindset, but it is markedly difficult to do so. Choosing to “be a good person” is not as simple as it sounds. We’d all like it to be, but it’s just not. Especially not with all of the baggage attached.

Turning back to Hordak, the situation is the same. It’s easy for us to say “just be a nice person and build a new life on Etheria and stop being an imperial dick,” but it’s not that simple for him.

He, too, has a warped worldview shaped by awful trauma and deep emotional pain, alongside clone and alien morality. His understanding of what will bring him security and happiness is tainted by his (possibly literally programmed) emotional ties to his brother/abuser. It’s not a simple matter of “oh, this is how to be good!” when a certain set of life-rules have been programmed/manipulated into you since you popped out of your vitrine, assigned to further your brother’s war. 

To you and me, it is blatantly obvious that one doesn’t have to conquer a bunch of sovereign nations in order to be branded “worthy of life,” but this is not the case for Hordak. I know this sounds bizarre, because he is a grown man-clone-bat-thing, but it’s true: he needs to be taught, probably multiple times, that he doesn’t need to do this in order to be worthy of existence. Because that’s where he is at, mentally and emotionally: in order to be worthy of life, one needs to conquer for Big Brother.

In short: Hordak doesn’t lead a normal life because he’s just not able to. Not without strong emotional/social support and pretty hefty re-education on what he is and could be. Which he was starting to get from Entrapta until things all went to shit. 

also antis if any of y’all read this and are able to understand Catra’s position while still condemning Hordak then I simply cannot help you you are beyond my reach godspeed

[aion-rsa]

Clark Gable and His WW2 Death Wish

https://ift.tt/3oDIaDK

Clark Gable did not intend to see action when World War II came to America. Which is not to say he ignored the war. Gable was there that day in 1940 when President Franklin Roosevelt gave his famous “Arsenal of Democracy” speech from the Oval Office. And, indeed, the first thing the movie star did when he heard about the Pearl Harbor attack was cable FDR to offer his full support—and, tellingly, the besieged president promptly answered right back.

But then in the 1930s and early ‘40s, Gable was “the King of Hollywood;” the reigning movie star who could sell more tickets than anybody this side of Shirley Temple, and he didn’t have to sing or dance to do it either. He was a mustachioed and muscular alpha who appealed to everybody, even presidents, and was one of the few leading men who would tell Louis B. Mayer no (at least until casting for Gone with the Wind came along). The government saw the value in that kind of celebrity when the dark storm clouds of war gathered over Europe and the South Pacific, and so did Gable. Still, he was practically 41 when the bombs fell in Hawaii and more than happy to support the war from afar.

As he told fellow MGM stablemate Jimmy Stewart at the latter’s going away party in 1940—Stewart had just happily joined the Army—“You know you’re throwing away your career, don’t you?” When Stewart answered yes, Gable added, “You won’t catch me doing that, but I wish you godspeed.”

Gable had success, Gable had power, and for the first time in his four decades on this earth, Gable had something approaching peace thanks to his marriage to Carole Lombard, the firecracker screwball star. Yet in less than a year, all of those things turned to ash following Lombard’s violent death. When her plane went down in a fiery blaze, it was treated as a national tragedy around the country, and for her husband it was the beginning of the end.

The King became broken, despondent, and finally disillusioned enough to enlist in the U.S. Army Air Corps. To this day, some say he went to Europe with a death wish, and on at least one bombing raid, Capt. Gable almost had it granted as a Luftwaffe shell passed right between his feet.

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard posing for photographers shortly after their marriage in 1939.

The King and Queen of Hollywood

Women were always easy for Clark Gable, and for a time so were wives. The first Mrs. Gable was Josephine Dillon, 17 years his senior, and she was introduced to him as an acting coach by another woman who was his then-fiancée. As a handsome, if unrefined son of an Ohioan farmer, the 23-year-old Gable was perfect clay for Dillon. She turned him into her greatest student, teaching him how to lower his voice and hold your attention. As his patron and wife, Dillon also introduced Gable to all her Broadway connections and the adjacent stock companies. It was even as the star of one of those companies that he met Maria Langham, a wealthy widow and oil heiress who was also 17 years his senior. 

As the second Mrs. Gable, Ria introduced Gable to Manhattan’s high society and exquisite living, teaching him social etiquette and the value of a finely tailored tuxedo. One wife taught him how to play at being an actor, and the other taught him how to play at being a gentleman. They served their purposes and they were both brushed off.

But Lombard? He couldn’t brush her off ever.

The first time Clark met Carole, it was a surprisingly chaste affair. The two were cast as the leads of 1932’s No Man of Her Own. Unlike many of his leading ladies in the 1930s, Gable made no passes at Lombard, who was married to movie star William Powell at the time and intended to remain that way. Nevertheless, they hit it off, as the breathlessly quick-witted Lombard did with almost everyone.

Gable wasn’t yet “the King of Hollywood” then, but he was well on his way. Two years later, he’d star in the film that popularized screwball comedies, It Happened One Night (1934), which won him an Oscar for Best Actor, and two years after that he would lead the granddaddy of all disaster movies, San Francisco (1936). By ’38, he was already Tinseltown royalty when then-gossip columnist Ed Sullivan overheard Gable’s drinking buddy and sometime-rival, Spencer Tracy, affectionately refer to him as “King.” Sullivan immediately lit upon the idea of holding a national poll for the “King and Queen of Hollywood.”

More than 20 million people voted and, by a huge majority, Gable was crowned “King” for the rest of his career. Meanwhile, Myrna Loy was elected “Queen of Hollywood.” The fact they were then filming MGM’s Test Pilot (with Tracy) certainly suggests the results might’ve been tampered with. It also likely struck Loy as ironic since her first encounter with Gable ended with her pushing him into a hedge bush after he drunkenly bit the back of her neck while his second wife, Ria, was sitting in a nearby car. Gable refused for years to talk to Loy socially after that rejection, including between takes on film sets.

So yes, the King was a womanizer—complete with a secret baby born out of wedlock to co-star Loretta Young—in a sham marriage at the beginning of his reign. But things began changing when he finally ran into Lombard again, and at last he found his matching monarch.

It was at the White Ball in 1936 that the pair’s paths crossed a second time. By now, Clark was fully estranged from Ria, and the two lived in separate houses. Lombard, meanwhile, had risen to her own stardom by bringing her transgressive life-of-the-party persona to recent screwball comedies directed by Howard Hawks and Ernst Lubitsch. Vivacious, whip smart, and an eventual inspiration for Marion Ravenwood in Raiders of the Lost Ark, Lombard was a hard-drinking and giddy star with her own orbit.

According to Clark Gable: A Biography by Warren G. Harris, when Gable saw Lombard on the dance floor, he went up and said, “I go for you, Ma.” After a moment’s confusion, Lombard realized he was quoting their characters’ nicknames for each other in No Man of Her Own from four years earlier. She responded, “I go for you too, Pa.”

For the rest of their lives, they’d always refer to each other as “Ma” and “Pa.”

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard play with horses at the Encino ranch in 1939.

The Love of His Life

That first night on the dance floor actually ended in the pair’s first of many fights. But in a trick that would come to define the pattern of their relationship, Gable woke up the next morning in his hotel room with two doves sitting on his chest. They’d been secreted there with a note on one’s leg: “How about it? Carole.” 

Unlike Gable’s other romantic entanglements, Lombard always controlled the tone and tempo of their courtship while Gable offered Lombard an escape from the glamour goddess, society girl image she’d molded herself to in Hollywood. She was an athlete growing up and, alongside Pa, she picked up outdoor-living again.

Clark taught Carole rifling, skeet-shooting, and camping. In ’38, she joined what had up to that point been Gable’s all-male hunting club with fellow actors and Hollywood talent. When the other men complained about a woman being present and sharing their bathroom, she brought along her own trailer with a private bathroom—taunting Clark and the others by then keeping him out. She crawled in the mud next to the dudes, and would soon be on all of the Gables’ hunting trips.

The pair eloped in ’39 after three years of courtship. This occurred in large part because Photoplay magazine revealed the two were living in sin (Gable was still married and too chintzy to get a divorce). Shortly after the embarrassment, however, Gable paid off his second wife and Lombard became the third Mrs. Gable.

“I just think of that husband of mine all the time,” Lombard once said with her usual candor. “I’m really stuck on the bastard. And it isn’t all that great lover crap, because if you want to know the truth, I’ve had better. No, I’m nuts about him and not just about his nuts.”

When the two moved into their Encino ranch, Gable made his gun collection the centerpiece when you walked in the front door, and Lombard began raising chickens and cattle. It was about as far from Beverly Hills as you could get, or as Lombard enthused, “The best little shit house in the San Fernando Valley.”

It was here that Lombard planned to soon retire, beginning with a one-year sabbatical in an effort to have children. Yet after a year of trying, they only had two miscarriages to show for it. They agreed to keep trying, but they’d soon run out of chances.

Clark Gable and wife Carole Lombard circa 1940.

The Loss of His Life

When the bombs fell in Pearl Harbor, it was Carole who urged Clark to telegraph Roosevelt as soon as possible. She was also in the White House for the president’s fireside chat in 1940. And unlike Gable, she was furious when the president responded, “You are needed where you are.”

With the war finally here, Lombard urged Gable to join the Army in December 1941 while she hoped to join the Red Cross. For Christmas, instead of her usual lavish presents she sent all her friends engravings announcing she’d made a donation to the Red Cross in their name. And when she got wind of MGM publicity chief Howard Strickling trying to position Gable for a safe desk job in Washington D.C. for the course of the war, she told both men, “The last thing I want for Pappy is one of those phony commissions!”

Gable preferred helping the war where FDR told him he should—from the comfort of Hollywood. On Dec. 22, 1941, he presided over the first meeting of the Screen Actors Division of the Hollywood Victory Committee as its newly appointed chairman. The committee functioned as a way for Hollywood stars and leaders to organize all activities in support of the war effort. His wife was the first at the meeting to pledge her cooperation in donations, bond rallies, and touring the troops.

When a request came from the Treasury Department for the Victory Committee to launch Indiana’s participation in the national campaign of selling war bonds on Jan. 15, 1942, Gable recognized his Indiana-born wife as the perfect talent to send along. Carole was thrilled to go, although apprehensive about leaving Clark behind.

Gable couldn’t join his wife on her journey by train because he was about to start work on Somewhere I’ll Find You: his second film with Lana Turner. Up until then, Carole had been very open-minded about Gable’s continued infidelities and little affairs, even after they were married. She turned a blind eye to more than one rumor of him sleeping with a co-star here, or a starstruck journalist there, because she assumed you had to let Clark Gable be Clark Gable. But she drew the line over rumors about Clark and Lana, the latter of whom was infamously dubbed the “Sweater Girl” when she was discovered at a soda fountain at age 16. Blonde and buxom, Turner was 20-years-old when she first worked with the 40-year-old Gable. These stories did get to Lombard.

The evening before she left for Indiana, the couple had a huge blowout during which Clark failed to convince his wife he never slept with Lana Turner. The last night Gable and Lombard were under the same roof, they slept in different beds. The next morning, he did not see his wife off to the train station.

As with many of their fights, things cooled almost immediately. Before she left, Lombard still delivered a pack of handwritten love letters to her live-in secretary Jean Garceau to deliver to Clark, one at a time, everyday she was away. She also had the prank she planned before their fight still be delivered, so when Gable returned home from work that night he found a naked blonde dummy in his bed with a note. “So you won’t be lonely.” Gable reportedly laughed until he had tears in his eyes.

According to Garceau when the two talked by phone the next night, they sounded like “lovebirds” again. And according to the You Must Remember This podcast, Gable had Carole’s hotel room in Indianapolis be covered in red roses when she got in. But before even then, Lombard’s train stopped in Salt Lake City where she saw the troops marching and immediately telegraphed her husband, “HEY PAPPY, YOU’D BETTER GET INTO THIS MAN’S ARMY.”

On Jan. 15, Lombard intended to raise $500,000 in war bonds. Instead, she raised over $2 million. Afterward, she was so eager to get home to Gable following their fight that she decided she’d fly back to California instead of returning by train. This was expressly forbidden by the Treasury Department. Commercial travel was still relatively dicey, and they feared she’d be a target for Nazi saboteurs. Additionally, she was traveling with her mother Elizabeth Peters, a superstitious woman who’d never flown and was deathly afraid to start now. She was also there with Otto Winkler, Gable’s publicist and buddy who was best man at their wedding.

The morning their flight was to leave Indianapolis, Otto got Carole to at least agree to a coin toss. Heads they fly, tails they take the train. Carole won. From Indianapolis, they would make multiple stops, including Wichita, Albuquerque, and Las Vegas. TWA Flight Number 3 never reached Burbank.

That night Gable arranged a surprise party to welcome the three heroes back—as well as a surprise male dummy with an erection waiting for Carole upstairs. He was reportedly giddy waiting for the phone call from limo driver Larry Barbier, who was supposed to report when they landed. Instead, Clark got a call from MGM fixer Eddie Mannix.

“Can I get back to you?” Gable asked. “I’m expecting word on Ma’s arrival any minute.”

Mannix cut him off. “King, that’s why I’m calling. Larry Barbier just phoned from the airport. Carole’s plane went down just a few minutes after it left Las Vegas.” She was gone.

Clark Gable stands next to co-pilot Lt. Col. Robert W Burns beneath B-17 “The Duchess” after bombing raid in September 1943.

Clark Gable Goes to War

The fallout from the literal wreckage of Lombard’s flight was national news. A bewildered Gable joined Mannix and other MGM brass for their own chartered flight to Vegas. He could see the burning debris that Lombard’s flight smeared across Table Rock Mountain from the air. Locals in the city described it as “apocalyptic” and like an “inferno.”

Mannix refused to let Gable go on the rescue party climbing the mountain—convincing him Carole, Otto, and Bettie might have survived and were now walking to the city. So the star stayed behind and drank. The next morning, he received a cable from Mannix. “NO SURVIVORS. ALL KILLED INSTANTLY.”

In truth, the bodies of Lombard and everyone else on board had been more or less cremated by the fire after impact. And while Mannix couldn’t be certain, he believed he found what was left of Carole: a decapitated, charred body with a few blonde strands of hair and the remnants of a ruby and diamond pin Gable had given his wife the year before. He never told Clark about what he saw, but brought back the hairs and piece of ruby.

The next day, FDR sent Gable private condolences and publicly awarded Lombard a medal as “the first woman to be killed in action in the defense of her country in its war against the Axis powers.”

The official and (likely) reason for that flight’s crash is it was overloaded with servicemen and movie star luggage, and the pilot failed to see the mountain in front of him, on which all lights had been turned off to preserve wartime power. Although, according to Orson Welles (as per You Must Remember This), Hollywood and government insiders all knew Nazi saboteurs did in fact bring down the plane, and Roosevelt covered it up to prevent a nationwide panic.

In the months that followed, Gable grew quiet and despondent, losing 20 pounds despite drinking untold amounts of Scotch every day. He dined alone for all meals and began wearing a locket with Carole’s hair and ruby remnants within. According to household staff, he rarely slept and stayed up all hours of the night watching 16mm prints of Lombard’s old movies he had sent over (she’d given him the projector as a Christmas present). Now he had time for no woman except the one he lost.

When he discovered MGM was still trying to keep him from being drafted—with the age range now being raised to 45—Gable grew furious. A scriptwriter pal put him in touch with Col. Luke Smith of the Army Air Corps, who told Gable he should consider applying for training as an aerial gunner since it’s one of those jobs no one seems interested in.

“Everybody wants to be a pilot,” Smith told Gable. “Your becoming a gunner would help to glorify the plane crews and the grease monkeys.” Gable made up his mind to enlist in spite of the wrath of MGM head Louis B. Mayer. He also defied the constraints of his age of 41 by passing the physical—save for the need of getting triplicates of his new dentures (Gable had false teeth his whole career).

On Aug. 12, 1942, Gable enlisted into the Army air force. Right beforehand he told Jill Winkler, Otto’s widow, “I’m going in, and I don’t expect to come back, and I don’t really give a hoot whether I do or not.”

Capt. Gable posing for the press with a gunner’s weapon in June 1943.

The Aerial Gunner with a Death Wish

There is still much speculation over whether Gable actually wanted to die in World War II. His superiors eventually reached that conclusion based on his cavalier attitude, and he at least seemed ambivalent about the whole affair. However, it is interesting he joined the air force considering that, after Lombard’s death, he developed a fear of flying for the rest of his life. Following the war, he would always prefer to make his transatlantic crossings by ocean liners instead of planes.

But during the war? Frankly, he didn’t seem to give a damn one way or the other.

Gable’s biggest fear during the whole conflict was his struggle to pass officer’s training in a 90-day course stateside. A high school dropout, Gable was challenged by the academic course work, which he ultimately got around by treating each textbook like a script he needed to memorize.

Once he was an officer (and allowed to grow back his trademark mustache), he seemed in relatively good spirits for the first time in months. Before going overseas, he told Garceau, “I have everything in the world anyone could want, but for one thing. All I really need and want is Ma.”

In April 1943, Gable was shipped off to join the 351st Heavy Bombardment Group in Peterborough, England, about 80 miles north of London. Gable also received an automatic promotion to the rank of captain, although this had as much to do with the heavy losses of Allied officers as it did with Gable’s leadership.

In truth, Gable likely enjoyed playing the part of officer more than he entirely became it. The military loved letting him pose for the press as a gunner with a bombardier’s bullets wrapped around his neck, but that wasn’t his actual job. While Gable did on at least two occasions take on the role of aerial gunner in combat, his official role was as an observational gunner—he was there to pick up the weapons in the side or rear of a B-17 if the gunner operating it was injured or killed (which did happen).

Otherwise, Gable was there because the Army wanted him to film footage they could use as propaganda, glorifying the role of gunners. While in officer’s school, the Army reunited Gable with cinematographer Andy McIntyre, who would become his sidekick and cameraman in the air. And after his graduation, Gable arranged the transfer of his scriptwriting buddy John Lee Mahin, then a lieutenant serving as an instructor in Combat Intelligence, to join them. In all, Gable and McIntyre built a film crew of six men to film the other fliers on B-17 missions. They were called “the Little Hollywood Group.”

More than twice the age of many of the pilots and gunners he flew with, Gable found himself facing heavy skepticism in his early training.

“None of the kids believed he was going to do anything at all,” Mahin recalled in Warren’s Clark Gable biography. “They never thought he was going to expose himself to any kind of danger. They said it was all a lot of bullshit. It really killed Clark that the kids shunned him.”

The brass, however, loved Gable at first. Many of his superiors invited him nearly every night to dinner, an annoyance he’d soon relegate to one evening a week. And while he welcomed the press to photograph him at the planes, he also refused the special treatment of having private quarters set up, which earned him more respect from the young fliers.

He’d also soon prove himself as a member of Col. William Hatcher’s Chickens (a nickname for his bombing group) when he went up in the air on May 4, 1943. Hatcher was onboard the same B-17 that day as group commander and co-pilot; the 351st were tasked with taking out several factories in Nazi-occupied Antwerp, Belgium.

During Gable’s first combat mission, flak from ground defenses took out one of the plane’s four engines and its stabilizer. More unnervingly, after delivering the plane’s payload, a German’s 20mm shell pierced the center of the plane, with the corner of the shell passing through the heel of Gable’s boot—lifting it clean off—and then exiting the aircraft inches above Gable’s head.

On another mission, Gable took over for gunners who were wounded or killed (there was at least one of each that day). Fifteen holes were found in the fuselage. For Gable, such horrors were also a vindication, as he fully won the respect of the kids around him.

“They adored him,” Mahin recalled. “They couldn’t stay away from him. And he was proud that they accepted him.”

Portrait of Capt. Gable after arriving in England in 1943 as part of the the 351st Bombardment Group.

Hitler’s Prize

At Peterborough, Gable grew increasingly chummy with the other fliers serving. He bought a used motorcycle and would make small talk on trips around the base. And on more than a few weekends, he would head to London to screen at MGM offices some of the footage he shot in the air. He also would meet with his pre-war Hollywood chum, David Niven, who was serving as an instructor for British Commandos and had recently married and had a son.

“From then on our cottage became Clark’s refuge from military life,” Niven recalled. “With Carole’s death, he had been dealt the cruelest of blows, but on the surface at least, he was making the best of it. In his own deep misery, he found it possible to rejoice over the great happiness that had come my way, and he became devoted to my little family.”

Niven added, “Clark’s personal wounds seemed to be healing, but Carole was never far from him, and the very happiness of our little group would sometimes overwhelm him. [My wife] found him one evening on an upturned wheelbarrow in the garden, his head in his hands, weeping uncontrollably.”

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Still, Gable seemed to be settling into a new happy rhythm of camaraderie on the base, frequent trips to London, and even playing the field. He renewed an affair with a pre-Lombard paramour in London, the English (and now married with children) Elizabeth Allan. Nonetheless, he may have been enjoying himself too much for his superiors’ liking.

Robert Matzen, author of Mission: Jimmy Stewart and the Fight for Europe and Fireball: Carole Lombard and the Mystery of Flight 3, told me he believed Gable had a death wish.

“Carole Lombard, his wife, wanted him to go fight and she’s killed,” Matzen said. “So he then decides, ‘Alright, I’ll go fight and hopefully I’ll be killed too.’ That’s why he wanted to be in the Eighth Air Force, because he wanted to die in a plane crash.” Also, unlike Stewart, Matzen stressed, Gable never fully adapted to military culture.

Said Matzen, “Gable was much more interested in being Clark Gable in England than Jim Stewart was interested in being Jimmy Stewart in England.” This weighed on the mind of Col. Hatcher, as did the growing understanding that every B-17 Gable was on became a prize for Nazi Germany.

The day the 351st arrived in England, Nazi radio propagandist William Joyce, aka “Lord Haw Haw,” broadcast from Berlin the following: “Welcome to England, Hatcher’s Chickens. Among whom is famous American cinema star, Clark Gable. We’ll be seeing you soon in Germany, Clark. You will be welcome there too.”

Adolf Hitler apparently adored Clark Gable, considering him his favorite American actor. A movie nut with a love for British and Hollywood cinema, Hitler even allegedly smuggled a film print of Gone with the Wind before it opened in the UK. Hitler therefore marked Gable as one of the most prized “war criminals” in the Allied Forces, offering a handsome reward to any German soldiers who can bring Gable to him alive.

The actor was terrified of being paraded through Berlin like King Kong and was only half-joking when he told a friend, “If Hitler catches me, the sonofabitch will put me in a cage like a gorilla and send me on a tour of Germany. If a plane that I’m in ever gets hit, I’m not bailing out.”

While his superiors might’ve appreciated the sentiment, they feared the humiliating spectacle of one of their gunners becoming a Nazi political tool—or the actor putting a bigger target on their bombing group. Additionally, Gable didn’t follow protocol as intended, at one point threatening a military doctor after the physician apparently said nonchalantly that Gable’s pal had hours to live while the young man was awake and listening. And, again, the opinion became that he wanted to be shot down.

So it was in October 1943, after only five combat missions, Capt. Gable was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Air Medal for “exceptionally meritorious achievement while participating in five separate bomber combat missions.” Hatcher apparently pulled the strings to get Gable out.

Clark Gable in 1960 on the set of his last film, The Misfits, with Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift.

The End

Even though Gable’s time in combat ended in October of ’43, he still wound up with 50,000 feet of film at his disposal. He was apparently shocked when he learned the air force really didn’t care what he did with the footage since gunner recruitment was up. So he returned to Los Angeles, having been reassigned to the city’s photographic division. Allowed to cut the film at MGM, Gable put together five short films that could be used for instruction on operating B-17s. But by the time it made its way through the Pentagon’s chain of command… the war was over. The footage mostly still lies unused in government archives.

After finishing the films, Gable had expected to be assigned to a new bombing division in the Pacific Theater. As he waited months for the orders to come in, he found out on the news about the D-Day landing in Europe on June 6, 1944. Feeling forgotten and discarded by the Air Corps, he requested to be discharged on June 12, which was his right as a volunteer over the age of 42. A captain named Ronald Reagan granted Gable his discharge after 670 days of service.

Clark eventually re-acclimated to Hollywood and restarted his career, but by 1945 his days as “the King” were waning, and he saw more flops accompany his diminishing hits. He also had many more affairs with leading ladies, extras, and socialites. But for years he refused to marry, telling friends, “It wouldn’t be fair. I have nothing left to give.”

For the rest of his life, Clark mourned Carole, including on Jan. 15, 1944 when he was on hand for the launch of the SS Carole Lombard. Gable was supposed to speak at the event. Instead, he mostly cried.

Eventually he did remarry, twice, and finally had one child who wasn’t disowned in secret. But after the star died of a heart attack at age 59 in 1960, his fifth wife, Kay Williams, honored his final wishes: Gable was interred at Glendale’s Forest Lawn Memorial Park. Next to Ma.

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[toloveawarlord]

Day 2: Sacrifice

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Event: Spooktober

Trick: Shadows, Mask, Cemetery

Characters: Eden Bright & Finley Godspeed Ft. Sasha Hyde

Tagging: @christmaswarlock​ @plumpblueberry​

A/N: Some angst for the lovely requester! I hope you enjoy this little bit of Finley and Eden! I aged them up just a little bit for this fic! Finley is 7, Eden is 6, and Sasha is 9.

[Spooktober Event is CLOSED]

Although peace had been brokered between the two territories, bias and anger still remained, even a year after the threats of war.

Jade eyes darted between the three masked figures towering around the two girls in a semi-circle. They wore mock army uniforms and crisp silver masks to hide their identity. “Please-please leave u-us alone,” Eden stammered, reaching a shaky hand out to clutch the back of the other girl’s dirt-stained shirt.

“Get the hell out of our territory, you red bastard!” The leader spat at the younger girl trembling behind Finley. His irritation clearly etched on his face as his brows creased.

The second one of them moved a step closer, Finley countered. It shouldn’t be so damn hard to fend off a seven-year-old, but they found it nearly impossible. She’d land pointed punches to the jaw, throat-- the slight girl having to be hauled off by both the other boys. They hadn’t the opportunity to attack their actual target.

“I won’t let you touch her.” Finley raised her fists again, defensive in her actions unless one of them moved first. They were familiar to her, but the moon cast a shadow across their mask, making it hard to remember.

Eden’s gaze flickered toward the town just beyond the trees. How long would it take for anyone to realize that they were missing? With the large crowd, perhaps they simply thought the children lost among it.

A decisive look between the three boys made the young Godspeed tense in anticipation. Their only real option would be attack all at once, but she wouldn’t allow that. She lunged, effectively toppling over the leader. The other two less likely to act without his guidance.

His arm thrust up, palm connecting with her chin to put distance between them. “They’re the enemy! You’re a traitor for protecting her!” He shouted, turning his head to avoid a direct connection of her knuckles to his cheek bone.

“You don’t deserve to have on that uniform! Hurting innocents isn’t what the Black Army stands for!” Amethyst eyes caught the movement to her right, and the girl reeled back with her elbow. The crunch of the other boy’s nose worth the pain that radiated through her arm.

It was her voice.

That sweet voice filled with absolute terror that Finley couldn’t ignore.

She’d only taken her eyes off her target for a split second, but it was enough. The leader shifted their weight, managing to plow is foot into her abdomen and throw her slight form off him...

right into a headstone.

 The rough granite greeted her head with a sickening thud, not giving a single inch in the hard ground. The world blurred. It was distant. And yet, it hardly hurt in that moment. 

Get up. You have to get up.

One had Eden securely in his arms, easily keeping her under control even as she struggled. Through the haze, Finley could see the tears spilling from her jade eyes. The pang in her chest, heart clenching at how despaired her love looked.

“Traitor!” The leader, enraged, struck his boot down into her rib cage. Twice. Three times. The fourth nearly caught with sluggish hands but managed to slip through once again. He observed her, cocking his head to the side before completely turning again. “We’ll rid Black Territory of all its enemies!”

“F-Finley!” Eden was desperate to escape but lacked any skills to do so. Her shaky cry for help drowned out by the disgusting cheers of the three boys.

The ache in her body begged her to rest, digging into her muscles to make every movement more painful than the last. Even her eyes betrayed her when she made a feeble attempt to stop their cruel game. Finley lurched forward but with little force.

“Why won’t you stay down!” The leader shouted, easily tearing her weak grip off his arm. One half-hearted shove sent the young Godspeed to the ground, knocking what little air she could get out of her lungs. 

As much as she willed herself to stand back up, she couldn’t. Her fingers dug helplessly into the soil, clinging to it as if it could aid somehow. Her ears rang, registering the screams before Finley realized that it was her own voice echoing through the cemetery.

A calculative error.

The sword unsheathed not wooden as she’d believed but painfully real. It skewered her to the ground, glinting in the moonlight.

Darkness descended upon them. Shadows springing from the forest, silently slithering across the open space toward the group. Following like a wraith was an older girl. One with a reputation.

“That’s- That’s the one they say can summon demons!” One boy shouted, leading the retreat without the permission of the leader.

The leader shouted of cowards but the closer the shadows came, the more his legs trembled in terror. Without a second thought, he, too, sprinted away with screams of a demon.

Sasha gave a passing pat on the head to Eden before she knelt by Finley. Her accompanying shadows dispersing like the wind, like a question of whether they’d truly been there or not. “You’ll live.” Her fingers ghosted around the wound.

Amethyst eyes turned upward to her favorite person. “See? Nothin to worry about! I’m gonna be alright so no more cryin’, okay?” A grin pushed her lips up, happy that the tension seemed to leave Eden’s shoulders.

“I’ll- I’ll go get Fenrir.”

Finley let her cheek rest back against the dirt once she was out of sight. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down onto her lip. “Sash, I-”

Sasha hummed in response, sitting on back on her heels beside her. “I know. The feeling here-” Her index finger tapped down her left leg and then back up her right. It was quiet. Nothing indicated flow to her lower half.

“It’s gone.”