#songbird just wanting to be free from being used as a living weapon

[benevolentvampire]

just finished the cyberpunk dlc. holy fuck.

[bigskydreaming]

I’m still thinking through names I like for Cass better than Orphan or Black Bat (which I don’t hate like I do Orphan, but I’ve always felt that the name Black Bat came more out of just ‘come up with something franchise themed’ than trying to find something for Cass specifically), for when she’s not Batgirl or Steph is instead. Not for any particular project or anything, I’ve just been stuck on that train of thought since falling onto it the other day.

I think I’ve given up on it being Red themed lol. My dreams for Batfam symmetry are doomed to come to naught. C’est la vie.

Currently though most of the ideas I have are all central to or revolving around communication or connection, because I honestly think those are thematically so PIVOTAL to who Cass is.....but the danger is something like that coming across as ironic due to Cass not being particularly talkative in a lot of peoples’ interpretations or views, and its absolutely not meant to be, not for the reasons I’m thinking.

Like because the thing about her childhood is....there’s so much to focus on that was fucked up about what David Cain put her through, its impossible to have a specific place to ‘start’. But I think something that definitely at least has to be way up there is the isolation he forced her to live most of her early life in. Deprived of even the POSSIBILITY of connection to others. Because connection is so fundamental to what makes us human. As well as to what makes Cass “Cass.” Cass THRIVES due to the connections she chooses for herself. Don’t get me wrong, she’s fully capable on her own, its not about suggesting she’s reliant on them.....for me, its more about the triumph of her having the freedom and CHOICE now to connect herself to as many people as she chooses, when originally her father had meant for her to basically exist APART from society. Emphasizing the importance of connection and communication to Cass is like, a definite fuck you to her dad and his plans for her, a symbol of her freedom and independence. 

But also its not JUST that, because its also just about the sheer joy of connecting for Cass, because its the fulfillment of dreams she never really expected to become reality. Because as much as her life with David defined a large portion of her childhood, she was also shaped in no small part by the years she spent on her own....where even though she was out from under Cain’s thumb, she was still influenced by the specter of him and everything he’d ever said to her. She kept herself apart from society for the most part, even though now technically she was free to mingle among it if she chose....because she felt guilt-ridden over the death she’d been party to though it had never truly been her fault and she was very much Cain’s victim there as well as the man who died, rather than him being her victim.

But the point is, a lot of the second half of her childhood was spent in silence as well, albeit self-imposed silence....except also no, fuck that, it wasn’t self-imposed because she was still suffering from the trauma of her worldview being so heavily shaped and influenced by her abusive fucknugget of a father, who’d essentially spent years convincing her that words weren’t for her, that communication, that connection, those were things for people other than her but would forever elude her because she just wasn’t BORN to partake in those things. She stayed outside of society, made no real effort to figure out if she COULD learn to communicate like others did, because her abuse in no small part had revolved around making her believe it was just her place to be silent, her role. That a weapon didn’t need words.

So in the family and fulfillment Cass found later in Barbara and Bruce and Steph and others, like.....it wasn’t just about her finding companionship or even a sense of purpose or direction......she found a voice. Even if she speaks more with sign than out loud or even if she has trouble translating her thoughts into words or sign language due to learning disability or the like, Cass very much COMMUNICATES, she connects, she has things to say, and she more than anyone understands the importance of a voice, whether spoken or written or signed, of the power inherent in just being able to use it and express oneself.

And its equally key that Bruce and Babs and others didn’t GIVE that to her, because how could they? It was something she had all along because the reality is no matter how hard he tried, it was something Cain couldn’t truly take from her. All he could do (and make no mistake, I use “all he could do” to emphasize the ultimate failure of his attempts to control her rather than to dilute the extent of trauma his abuse did inflict) - but even his attempts to cut her off from people and isolate her via an inability to communicate.....they relied wholly on denying her the tools and opportunities to learn how to make use of her voice, of the things she wanted and needed to say. 

So its not a gift that Babs and Bruce bestowed on her, because it wasn’t something anyone COULD give her anymore than it could fully be taken from her. But they did help her find that she had things to say and she had ways to say them. That she deserved to be heard and understood as much as anybody, and that she had so much in her that had just been waiting for someone to tell it to and ways for her to do that. They helped show her how to connect her voice to the right audiences for it, to communicate to people who would hear her and as Batgirl and Black Bat.....to people who NEEDED to hear her. For whom the things she could communicate via her actions and protection as much as anything else.....like that was a message they needed to hear themselves due to the abusers and villains in their own lives.

And I just see that as so.....triumphant for Cass is the word I honestly keep going back to the most.

I’ve called Dick’s approach to vigilantism his form of performance art. Carrying something that holds great importance to him even if others might overlook its significance, into what he does as a vigilante in ways that everyone he helps benefits from. Even if they don’t realize that his light-hearted performances even while sweeping them out of the path of danger is as much to help buffer them from the trauma of what is happening to them and how much they’ve already suffered.....those are as much a part of his aim to protect and make peoples’ lives better as his actual martial arts.

In the same sense, I consider Cass’ approach to vigilantism her form of connectivity. Its her message to people who need to hear, to see, to believe that there is help for them out there, that there is someone who wants to come for them, someone who wants to bring them out of whatever hole or isolation or danger they’ve fallen or been forced into....they need this as much as Cass needs it to be able to say look at me, look at my actions, I did that, I said that, that was ME.

For Cass, I feel vigilantism is about finding her voice, finding ways to put into message form others can understand even on a primal level the things she wants to communicate, that she wishes had been communicated earlier to her...that everyone deserves to be connected, to have connections, and to just....speak. In whatever form they can or choose to.

Its about the ability and freedom to use her voice, to impart her messages....and see those things have IMPACT. Be heard. Seen. Communicated.

And for those reasons I keep coming back to something like Songbird, but its ugh....its such a Catch 22. It would be so easy to misconstrue, but honestly I think it fits what I’m describing so well and like.....whatever, ultimately it doesn’t matter since this is just a headcanony thing anyway and not going to actually change anything, but like....I am The Undecided.

(Also I know Marvel already has a Songbird, but a) I dont care, like Marvel is stupid so umm why would that even matter yeah thats what I thought and b) I mean Songbird is an easy name to attach to any color one wants to make part of her name and ascribe particular significance to. Like she could be Red Songbird? Scarlet Songbird? Yes? No? Give up the dream Kalen, Big Red, Middle Red and Lil’ Red just ain’t it? Ugh, fine. Booo.)

But anyway, that’s what I’ve been musing on.

[sloppy-butcher]

Can I get some hcs for Freddy x reader who have like very love/hate reltionship? Like they annoy eachother constantly but still seek each others company. Thanks!

This is the first time I have ever tried writing for Freddy and to be honest, I am quite nervous I did him wrong. Please forgive any ooc characterizations i may accidentally give him - i tried my hardest to make him accurate to the 80’s version (yes, this one will be based on old freddy not the new one (2010 remake), hope that it okay <3) i also hope that you don’t mind if i make the reader a killer as i am only comfortable writing for freddy when the power dynamics are equal

Thank you for the request and i hope these are good enough for you 

Headcanons for The Nightmare (Freddy Krueger) with a Killer!S/O who have a Love/Hate relationship

When you are an obedient little dog, when you kill mercilessly and the Entity grows fat from your bountiful supply of food, the spider-god showers you with rewards. Most forms of these appreciations take a physical appearance (new and terrifying outfits to adorn during your daily workouts or new weapons for you to play with). But there were some gifts that were intangible, and otherworldly and oh so irresistible to you - dreams. The Entity lets you sleep if you do well in trials and sometimes even offers you sweet, beautiful dreams. They were indulging at first, so totally vivid in their detail and color that you could almost lose yourself completely in their daydreams. It was a spider web most wonderfully and intricately made. A labyrinth of the mind. But it did not take you long to notice the spider lurking in the corners of his creation.

You spotted him often hiding under the shadow of trees, just standing there in the corner of your eye - one look and he would vanish without a trace. You would have thought nothing of the strange occurrence had it had only happened once and in only dreams. During your walks in between realms, you’d spot the man through the treeline. He was unmistakable in his silhouette and in the way his eyes glowed a horrid orange. You did not fear him however, he was no worse a monster than you were. Rather you were annoyed by his presence in both reality and dreams. 

You bend down and pick up a rock, turning it over in your hands testing its weight and size. “Hey!” You shout at the man who halted his retreat into the dark, night wood at the sound of your voice. “Stay out of my fucking dreams, asshole!” You throw the rock at him, narrowly missing him and instead, striking a tree.

“Such a temper.” A hoarse voice coos from somewhere behind and you spin around to meet it. It was him, moving faster and quicker than air and appearing next to you, closer than ever before. You got your first good look at him. His skin was a sore pink leather and he smelled like smoke. “Trust me, sweetheart, I would if I could. Your dreams,” He takes out a hand covered in razor-sharp knives and mockingly strokes the hair out your face, “, are so boring.” You snatch his hand away from your face, barely noticing the sting of blades in your soft palm and the trickle of warm blood down your forearm. You did not grimace, did not cower, and did not back down. He grins at your defiant expression. “And here I thought you’d thank me for giving you the chance to live in such a wonderful world. I’m hurt,” He feigns agony, his free hand placed sorrowfully on his chest, “, good work always goes unappreciated.”

You scoff and show your teeth. “I would prefer nightmares if it meant I wouldn’t get to see you.” The man laughed and flexed his knife-fingers, fresh blood oozing out your wound.  

“Oh babe, you and me both. I don’t like this babysitter gig anymore than you do.” He leans closer grinning with his horrible yellow fangs, the scent of a recent kill seeping off his tongue. “I prefer nightmares anyway.” 

“You look like a nightmare.” You spit into his face, finally letting go of his weapon and glaring at him. He laughs again.

“You are a feisty one. I think you and I are going to get along fabulously.”

Of course, he did not heed your warning for that very same night you saw him again in your dreams. Though now, he made it a point, not to hideaway. He approached you and actively talked to you, following you around your dream like a resistant plague. He commented on your shit reality, on all the things you could have wanted to dream of, and yet you only wanted to be in an empty field at the brink of dawn. He shakes his head and degrades your poor taste with even more snarky comments. You knew you couldn’t do anything to him while in his dream but in the physical world - well, that is a completely different story. 

If he was going to bother you while you slept like a buzzing mosquito, you decided to bother him when you were awake. In the real world he was much less intimidating, that aura of cosmic power that bubbled around him while in a dream state, was not present in the night air and you smirked at his weakness. You mentioned his height, asking how anyone could be scared of such a small man. He’d lash out, swinging at you with both his blades and his harsh tongue.  He was easy to toil, easy to wind up but a task to deal with. Freddy could take a punch to his pride and deal out damage times 10. 1 mean-spirited remark deserves 10 more. 

Freddy thrived on this back and forth. Ordinarily, he would turn his nose up at the idea of bickering with another killer - sure, some of them were fun, simple minds with which to bend and manipulate in dreams but most were already so twisted in their own self-delusions that well, he just didn’t find them all that interesting. But your mind was sharp and quick, built in the skull of a hardened murder professional yet dainty enough to still yearn for the sunlight world of goodness. A perfect balance. It had been a very long time since last Freddy had had a conversation of equals - a real conversation where the table was not shifted in the favor of either one. If he said something that crossed a boundary or hit a nerve (a task he sought out to do almost every night) you would turn on him, shoot daggers at him with the sole intent of murdering his little ass. Sure, it never really scared him but there was no denying that in a way, to spare with an equal really turned him on. To be challenged. 

There were times when he would become too much. Like the static on a dead radio station, he would drone on and on about a certain topic he knew would heat your blood. Always poking his stick deeper and deeper into the bear until you’d bite. Luckily it was quite simple to turn him off - just don’t sleep. You never really needed to rest in the Fog anyway, tiredness never made its claim over your bones even after a long day at work. Sleep was merely a reward, after all, a gift that could be refused if so desired. If time could be recorded within the Entity’s world, then the longest you had gone without sleep, and without seeing that little creep, would have been 2 months. He had really pissed you off when in a dream he produced a small songbird and made you watch as he melted its skin off - all for sport. A sight that did not necessarily make your skin crawl but one that irked you. It was always a game with him, a competition to see who would break first and try to strangle the other. And, to be dead honest, it was starting to annoy you more than anything he could say or do. So you stopped seeing him, stopped dreaming, and stopped seeking him out in the woods. You were tired of always trying to be bested and frankly, his childishness was wearing you thin.

But there was no denying that in that quiet that ate up the space where Freddy used to stand, a strange loneliness would grow incredibly heavy and dreadful. You missed his rather repulsive company, his witty and sharp tongue always keeping you on edge and on your toes. There was no way you could stop your head from turning around to look for him, seeking out his small frame among the dark wood. It was lonely without the flies, silent and decaying slowly.

For the life of him, Freddy tried to move on. He had never tied himself to one person before, never allowed himself to latch on to anyone save for his favorite little toys. But with you it was different. It was fun to annoy you, it was fun to torment you in dreams. It was even fun when you reeled at him, hackles raised threatening to kill. It was exciting, it reminded him of the joy of being powerful and alive (in a sense). And when you never took his bullshit sitting down, when you'd raise to meet his call, oh how it set fire to his heart. To be challenged. He could feel himself wither away, the interest that you had sharpened only seemed to dull and break off in your absence. He’d hate to admit it, but he missed you. Missed your noise and missed that sweet dream of yours.

Both of you are too prideful to confess to the other that you were lonely. But when, one day, you find yourself dreaming a familiar vision, that built-up residue of solitude melted and you turned to face Freddy eagerly.

“Did you really think you could not sleep forever?” He crossed his arms over his gloating chest, a snake tongue flickering victories in between teeth. “I always get my prey.” You smirk, not surprised in the slightest by his rather rude welcome back. You look around at the grassy field surrounding you both shining a brilliant emerald, the sun feeling warm on your back, and the fresh, clean air carrying with it the scent of spring flowers. 

“Aw, you missed me, Frederick?” You tease him with his unused full name, casting a devilish side-eye to the dream-demon. You see a flicker of panic, alerting you that you had hit the nail on the head before he spits and loudly proclaims,

“Don’t be so far up your own ass!” His golden eyes gleamed pure hatred at you. “It's not a hat.” You laugh at the face of the fuming man, knowing that despite how his actions appeared malicious and distasteful, there was no feasible way to deny that the dream he had made for you was spectacular and expressed something deeper than just surface-level annoyance. 

[if-i-could-grow-wings]

Best Quotes of 2020

For the past two years I've listed my favorite quotes of the year and I'm doing it again! Here is the best quote (or sometimes a few...) of each book I read this year, in the order I read the books.

1. "Ugh, human emotions were like barbed wire. There are just no safe way to grab hold of them or get through them." - The Tyrant's Tomb by Rick Riordan

2. "If I were a tree, I would have no reason to love a human." - The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

3. "While I'm gone, dream me the world. Something new for every night." - The Dream Thieves by Maggie Stiefvater

4. "Honey, you're only twenty-five. You don't need to have it all figured out." - Roomies by Christina Lauren (note: I really felt this, especially being 25 at the time)

5. "Maybe it was good that the world forgot every lesson, every good and bad memory, every triumph and failure, all of it dying with each generation. Perhaps this cultural amnesia spared them all. Perhaps if they remembered everything, hope would die instead." - Blue Lily, Lily Blue by Maggie Stiefvater

6. "What a strange constellation they all were." / "If you can't be unafraid, be afraid and happy." / "I'm not asking him to stay. Only to come back." - The Raven King by Maggie Stiefvater

7. "It didn't seem right to me that his weakest self got to decide how my life was going to turn out, what my family was going to look like." / "Women will crush you, you know? I suppose everybody hurts everybody, but women always seem to get back up, you ever notice that? Women are always still standing." - Daisy Jones & the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

8. "In what universe is our compensation comparable? Because he's a man? Who knew a penis was worth so much?" - Dating You/Hating You by Christina Lauren

9. "Life is often simple, but you don’t notice how simple it was until it gets incredibly complicated" - The Flatshare by Beth O'Leary

10. "Dreams are not the safest thing to build a life on." / "This wasn't living, it was just giving up while still breathing." - Call Down the Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater

11. "I don't want them to change me in there, turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not." - The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (note: this was my 6th time reading the book)

12. "I am the mockingjay. The one that survived despite the Capitol's plans. The symbol of the rebellion." - Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins (note: this was my 6th time reading the book)

13. "What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that." - Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins (note: this was my 6th time reading the book)

14. "I don't care if I'm called Prince or Starborn or the Chosen One or any of that. The only thing I want to be called right now is your brother. If you'll have me." - House of Earth and Blood by Sarah J. Maas

15. "You’ve no right to starve people, to punish them for no reason. No right to take away their life and freedom. Those are things everyone is born with, and they’re not yours for the taking. Winning a war doesn’t give you that right. Having more weapons doesn’t give you that right. Being from the Capitol doesn’t give you that right. Nothing does." - The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins (note: I read this book twice back to back, first in Finnish and then in English)

16. "Just because it could be worse doesn't mean you don't get to acknowledge how much it sucks, you know." - You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson

17. "Do not let those who cannot see the truth tell you who you are. You are the flame that cannot be put out. You are the star that cannot be lost. You are who you have always been, and that is enough and more than enough. Anyone who looks at you and sees darkness is blind." - Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare

18. "Sometimes a girl must make her own magic." / "I imagine it would be freeing to care only about oneself. Alas, I am not a man." - The Beautiful by Renee Ahdieh

19. "You raised me to fight monsters. It took me far too long to understand that the real monster was you." - Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi

20. "I can't wait to forget what missing you feels like." - Love, Creekwood by Becky Albertalli

21. "As much as I hate him... I think I'm starting to like us." - The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren

22. "You know every time I called you 'bestest' that I really meant 'sister', right?" / "It's hard to drown your sorrows when the little bastards can swim." - Truel1f3 by Jay Kristoff

23. “You survived the Raid. The guards. You survived the wrath of a king. You’re not a victim, Zélie. You’re a survivor! Stop running away!” - Children of Virtue and Vengeance by Tomi Adeyemi

24. "You don't have to act cool with me. I'm the person you don't ever have to act cool with." / "You remember what the note said when we found Max? 'Who could ever love it?' We could, Magnus. We could love him. We do love him." / "You're my heart, Magnus Bane. Stay unbroken, for me." - The Lost Book of the White by Cassandra Clare & Wesley Chu (note: all from Alec "I-changed-the-world-for-the-love-of-my-life" Lightwood(-Bane), how is he like this? 🥺)

25. "Those who truly know us see the whole, never just a part." - Aurora Burning by Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff

26. "I decided as long as I'm going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly." - Midnight Sun by Stephanie Meyer (note: I pretty much laughed through this whole book...)

27. "No one or nothing can deny you your dreams or your goals. They can try, but they have no right. Fight it. Put everything in the game and never let them put you down." - Samu Haber - Forever Yours by Tuomas Nyholm (note: I translated the quote myself from Finnish, I don't know if this has been translated to English yet? This was also the only non-fiction book of the bunch)

28. "To be human is to move forward, to adapt, to believe in your ability to make things better." - The Tower of Nero by Rick Riordan

29. "Perhaps all the hatred in his heart was good for something after all." - How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories by Holly Black

Which one is your favorite? I have to say a love a lot of these, especially anything by Maghie Stiefvater and Cassandra Clare! Have a great reading year in 2021!

[alphacomicswriting]

Nightingale #1

Jane had been used to the shadows. Perched atop one of the skyscrapers in her suit, gripping the edge of the building with the bird-like talons of her prostheses that were central to her moonlighting as Inverness’ Nightingale. She remembered being confused why her parents kept her out of the limelight and away from their celebrity until she was about eight and saw the headlines “Johnny Snow, Snow Heir,  Born Wrong” or “Johnny the Freak.” Her legs had been formed wrong and bent backwards and necrotized before she was born. When her parents took their child out, it was as one of  their charity cases or to explain their lavish donations. Even her transition had all been optics to them. Look, the perfect Snows were perfect parents for supporting their daughter.

Behind closed doors had been different. And they weren’t happy when Jane had started getting politically active, especially not when she called her parents out for hypocritical practices, exploiting laborers, contributing to the extreme inequality of Inverness that allowed them to live their lavish lifestyles while so many were trapped in dire poverty in the city. They weren’t on speaking terms when a radical outside of one of the Inverness SnowTech manufacturing plants shot her parents.

As the heir of the SnowTech empire, she vowed to make changes: ethical treatment for workers, carbon neutral productions within five years funded by her parents’ estates, an end to the company’s participation in military-drone production and the end of all weapons trading by SnowTech, among others. And this declaration upset the board. She found herself pinned, powerless, despite her position within the company: be complicit in the ongoing production of weapons as Logan Exeter bought more and more of her company, or walk away. She walked away. She used the money from the sales to make investments in ethical tech companies and started her work as the Nightingale to undermine SnowTech being a puppet company for Exeter Industries’ continued expansion into the weapons market.

But the more she worked in the shadows, the more work she learned there was to do.

A scream came from the streets below. Go time.

She leapt off the art-deco building, a memorial to Inverness’s glory days, as her cape detected the wind resistance and her hands on the edge and firmed into her glider, allowing her to sail down to the earth harmlessly  to the bank below. She could already see the chaos inside.

Six walking skeletons, bursting with flowers in  their pelvises, rib cages, and spines, with vines wrapped around their legs and arms, held guns shooting by the security guard below.

Jane had been dealing with these for weeks. She burst inside and threw two smoke grenades into the room, firing off three sets of titanium rope  to wrap three of the skeletons up, preventing them from doing any more harm. “Rip the flowers out,” she barked to the security guard through the voice modulator, before she leapt through the smoke and utilize her immense martial arts training to quickly dispatch of the remaining three. It took several minutes and she had to dodge quickly out of the way of the hail of bullets from one of their automatic weapons, but she downed them fast enough.

But her focus had been pulled to the combat. It wasn’t until she heard the guard choking that she realized that something else was happening. And then she saw the smoke had a slight greenish hue through it with a swirl of glittery articles in it. Fuck. She knew what that meant before the woman’s figure walked through the smoke. She was here. Annabel.

“Dryad,” Nightingale spat.

A wry smile crossed her lips. “You keep flying back to me, little songbird.”

Jane didn’t know if Annabel knew who she was, but she knew her. After her exile from her family’s company, Jane found herself working with other organizations to try to make a difference in the world. One of them being Annabel’s lab. The two fell in love. And it took Jane way too long to realize the underside of Annabel’s lab’s intentions and work in ecoterrorism. Or that Annabel had… abilities. One of them was the use of her pheromones, which made Annabel wonder if she ever loved Annabel of her own free-will.

And it was enough to make her feel weak in front of her now. 

“Poor Songbird… lost your voice?” she teased.

Jane grunted and hurled herself at Annabel. She was just as capable a fighter, but she didn’t need to work as hard as Jane did as she just simply emitted more nerve gas. Even her air filtration couldn’t filter out all of it this close to the source, and it slowed her down.

Dryad just simply wore her down until she was on the ground, struggling to breathe, before she walked effortlessly into the bank to steal all she wanted to fund all her efforts. Nightingale had to make a decision: risk her life further, or save the guard’s and return the bones to their graves. She chose the latter. She brought them to a safe place, to a coroner friend of hers, Conroy Weskil, who was as distrusting of the Inverness PD as she was. He was able to treat the guard and her, and promised he would ID the bodies and return them to their homes. Jane would catch the Dryad one day, once she figured out how.

[silverlysilence]

Destinations Better Left Forgotten

Okay, this was an AU I’ve had rattling around in the back of my mind for some time now and I finally decided to just get it down.  Please tell me what you think because this is something I might come back to.  There is a lot of potential for further world building and it’s different enough from both fandoms that it is unique.

Jack gazed through the thick-doubled plated glass window of his compartment, not seeing the scenery at all. The white stone walls and gleaming stained-glass windows had long since passed, giving way to lush green fields full of crops and dotted with large majestic trees that towered over the lands. The tracks even went through the pastures where a heard of wild horses ran alongside train and keen eyes caught sight of a small regal foal in the mix, the white of her main only outdone by the glimmering purity of her golden horn.  

But as the day wore on and night creep closer, the lands they crossed faded.  The colorful wildflowers gave way to weeds and the greenery washed away to wilting yellows and then barren browns.  The chirping of songbirds turned to screeches of scavengers and more than a few red eyes gave the steam engine a second look.  However, with the wards freshly renewed, even the foolhardiest of monsters thought twice at the power emanating from the train.

Many of the passengers had rushed to the side and stare out the windows in awe as they passed by a gaggle of giants who’d rethought their plan to ambush the train and instead chose to turn tail.  It was the closest most of the people had ever gotten to a monster without fearing for their lives. Jack, for his part, had enjoyed listening to the children chatter on in excitement, unaware of the very real danger they could have been in if the fraying wards hadn’t been updated hours prior.

Regardless of how the luxury train’s amenities were and the attentive catering of their staff, they were far from the safest travel as they’d advertised.  Something the conductor was well aware of and despite his many pleas to the higherups for funds to update the wards and various safety enchantments throughout the compartments, they’d spent the money on charms that made the gas lamps burn different colors and expanding spells to increase the room sizes of their VIP compartments, one of which Jack was upgraded to.

The conductor had taken only look at his fine silk robes, embroidered with the finest silver thread and adorned with sapphires and had pulled him aside.  His economy seating was given away to a grateful woman and her granddaughter in favor of the luxurious sleeper cabin, all in exchange for a renewing the wards.  

Jack would have done it for free, he intended to when he took one look at the despicable deteriorating state of the ward the luxury line boasted as the best protection money could offer and knowing where they were headed, he didn’t want to put the lives of the people on board at risk.  Any other time, he would have reported the infraction to the magistrate and charged the company an exorbitant price for the services.  However, the Crown had already paid his guild an exorbitant fee in advance for their services and booked the first available train out for them. Going so far as to pay an extra fee to get the job done quickly and with such a hefty sum, he could not be the cause of any type of delay.

He’d already tried getting out of this particular assignment, but he was the only one available on such short notice.  Not only that, but Manny, the current Master of the Guild, had assigned him the mission. Jack couldn’t say no to him. Not after the man had taken a chance on a no named peasant and brought him into the folds of one of the most revered guilds in the lands that people had killed for just to get a chance at an opportunity to join.

Maybe, if he had been a little bit more open and honest with the master, Manny would have found someone else.  But Jack had never told a soul of his past, not even when it meant the difference between becoming a part of the guild or not.  He had held firm when Guardian North had questioned him and it was his resolve not to give in despite the alternative that gained him permeant membership in the guild.

If Master Manny or any of the head Guardians knew they were sending him back to the very place which gave him the nightmares that terrorized him most nights, they would never forgive themselves.

Burgess.  A hardy settlement that had managed to survive for decades in spite of being near the Dark Forest.  The people there were strong-willed—they had to be living where they did—and very superstitious.  There were those there that had kind hearts, but the kindness usually bled out of them—sometimes literally—over the years.

As a child, Jack saw the place as home.  Life was hard, but he and his family made due.  His sister and he had been out foraging through the nearby woods with his father, a supposed safe zone when a monster attacked. It clung to the shadows but razor-sharp teeth and claws tore viciously into flesh.  His father had held it off, screaming for Jackson to take his sister and run which he did.  Never looking back.

However, they’d fled across the frozen pond and while the ice was thick enough to hold their weight, it splintered underneath the weight of the large creature came after them. Jack didn’t know what happen, one moment he was pushing his sister forward, the next he was cold—cold—cold and water filling his lungs.  He vaguely recalled seeing icy blue eyes as he sunk further into the water then nothing.

He awoke on the side of the bank, frozen to the core and shivering and yet, alive.  The pond was destroyed, spears of jagged ice splintering up and outwards as if something exploded from beneath before freezing solid an instant later.  There were black fragments of what looked to be sand from a distance—Jack had not attempted a closer look in fear of what he might find the sand to actual be—encased in the ice and blood.

Jack had taken a good long look at the ice before pulling himself to his feet and making the journey back to the settlement.  Shivering all the way from the cold and the fear that his home had become a desolate battlefield in his absence. He should have been more worried for himself because as soon as he stepped foot in what would be his former home, all eyes turned on him and the whispers started.

He had stood there, not knowing what to do until his mother and sister made their way to the front of the gathered crowd.  Flee had made to run for him but his mother had held her back, horror on her face.  For when Jackson had left the settlement that morning with his father and sister, his hair and eyes had been that of earthly tones, but now standing before them was a boy as pale as the night, hair white like the moon and eyes of glaciers.

Jack didn’t know how he survived the next three months in the settlement.  Whispers followed him everywhere, his mother exiled him from the house but completely from the property in fear.  Instead, he lived out in his father’s tiny storage shed and feed scraps.  Though, to be fair, there wasn’t that much food to be had as the Dark Forest creatures grew ever bolder, creeping closer than they’d ever come before to the settlement.

The whispers became louder and fear gripped the people.  It was only when the whispers stopped when he strolled through town that the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise.  Something was coming.  Something big and he shouldn’t have been taken by surprised as he’d been when the lynch mob had come for him.

The people of Burgess were superstitious after all, and he’d come back from a watery grave with the hues of winter right as the monsters became more brazen.  It was not hard to figure out what their intentions were when he saw the rope and chains.  Jackson had fought tooth and nail, but he was a mere boy and they were many.

Tears had stained his faces, mixing with blood as they bond him with chains and rope to a stake near the edge of the Dark Forest.  His sobs muffled by the filthy gag that had been brutishly tied, pulling out more than several strands of hair.  Not a single one looked back as they left him there.  

A blood sacrifice to appease the monster in hopes of leaving the rest of them alone.

Jackson hadn’t known how long he sat there, crying well into the moonless night but his eyes never left the forest’s edge, which was why he immediately noticed movement as the most dangerous of monsters crept forth.

That was the night Jackson Overland died.

“I see you haven’t moved for quite some time,” a rough voice drew glacier eyes away from the darkened horizons and towards the cabin’s opened door where a tall man casually leaned up against the frame as if he owned the place.  Unlike the delicate silks that draped across his body, the man before him wore thick dark leathers well-worn and scarred from use.  A trained eye such as his could easily identify the various inauspicious trinkets and gems as the weapons and arsenal they were.  If it wasn’t for the black markings partly hidden by auburn hair on his forehead he knew was there and the unnatural shade of vibrant green eyes, Jack might have thought he was just another hunter.  

“Lord Haddock,” Jack nodded to the man as a pair of pretty ladies in their finest attire slow meandered down the corridor.  Their light giggles and hushed whispers a clear indication they were listening in and more likely than not had been following the lord for some time.  “Please do come in.”

The lord didn’t grace him with a response. Instead, he crossed the threshold with one large step and slid the door close, drawing the curtains closed for good measure before taking a seat. Vivid green eyes narrowed as they took in his paler than normal features and slightly trembling hands before darting over towards the small cart still laden with untouched food.

Jack saw the look and attempted to deflect.  “Hiccup—”

“You didn’t eat,” the lord shut him down before he could get any further.  Grabbing a cup, Hiccup poured the now room temperature cocoa and held the delicate china out to Jack.  After a moment, steam began to rise from the cup and the white-haired man finally relented, taking the now hot cup with both hands to prevent his trembling from spilling any of the exotic beverage and bringing it to his lips.

“Thank you.”

Hiccup didn’t say anything as he poured a second cup and stared the liquid down until it was boiling, only then did he drink.

“You need to eat, renewing the wards took a lot of energy,” the lord spoke once Jack finally finished his cocoa and his hands were no longer trembling.

“I wasn’t hungry, what with the giants still being as close as they are,” Jack shrugged, setting the cup aside.

“You don’t need to worry about them, they’ve been taken care of,” Hiccup grinned, revealing two sharp fangs. In an instant, the lord was across the cabin and in Jack’s space, a rough thumb trailing down the sharp lines of his cheek causing eyes blue eyes to flutter shut.  “After all, my pretty little gem, the prized piece of my hoard, is on this gods’ forsaken piece of garbage and I wouldn’t want any harm to come to him now. Even if he won’t allow me to rain fire down on the pathetic excuses for fleshbags that tossed aside such a precious treasure.”

“Hiccup, no.  They tried to sacrifice me once, but they won’t be able to again.”

“You’re right.  They can’t, after all, dragons only accept virgin sacrifice and you far from qualify anymore,” Hiccup smirked.

“And who’s fault is that?” Jack glared up into eager green eyes with no effect.  The red flush that spread from his face down his neck only made those vivid eyes darken as dark black plates appeared a crossed the lord’s cheeks. “Damn horny dragon.”

Hiccup sealed the distance between their lips, ravishing the white-haired man’s mouth and thoroughly exploring the moist cavern with his tongue, only pulling away when air became an issue. “Just for you, my pretty little gem, just for you.”

Not sure if i got this across correctly, but the world I envisioned is like a combination of D&D with its fantasy elements, RWBY with the dark creatures running about and the need for Guilds and hunters to keep the people protected, and Fullmetal Alchemist..

This also stems from the fact that dragons have hoards and Jackson is a precious gem that needs to be loved and draped with the finest of things because his dragon won’t see him in anything less than the best.  If his gem wants to learn magic from the best Guild out there, Hiccup will make it happen damnit, even if they don’t realize he’s one of the creatures they’re supposed to be hunting down.  But hey, it’s not his fault the fleshbags haven’t figured out dragons can do more than breath fire. 

[enfpguy]

BioShock Infinite MBTI and Enneagram — Booker DeWitt Booker DeWitt is the Main Protagonist of BioShock Infinite and the Secondary Protagonist of BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea. He’s part of two multi-verses so we’ll be segmenting this analysis into 2 parts. BioShock Infinite: The Main Story. Burial at Sea Booker: This takes place after the events of Bioshock Infinite with an alternate version of Booker. Dominant Function: Introverted Thinking BioShock Infinite: Booker Booker DeWitt is a prime example of an individual that’s driven by situational logic. His views throughout the entire game change drastically. At first, he’s introduced as a very cautious character who doesn’t trust his environment, but he immediately adapts to it. His main goal is to pay off his debt and to achieve that goal he must find Elizabeth and bring her to New York. As he embarks on his adventure, he ends up being caught in unique situations. Such as unknowingly entering the Pilgrim’s Rocket and being transported to a new society that exists within the sky. This alone would cause most people to freak-out and have a panic attack, but not Booker. Instead, he casually moved on as if nothing happened. He immediately then ran into another problem he needed to get baptized by Preaching Witting. He was unwilling but did it anyway because that was the only way into the city. After practically being drowned Booker runs into his first challenge and this is where we first see his TI function in action. He needs to get passed a locked gate to proceed on his quest. He solves this by trying a possession vigor that a hawker is offering free samples of. Booker quickly figures out he can use it on machines and uses it on the automaton guarding the door, therefore unlocking it. He then ends up accidentally entering a raffle and being forced to use yet another piece of unknown technology, the Sky-hook to protect himself from the officers who are trying to harm him. This adaptive style of learning is present throughout everything Booker does in Columbia, from trying new vigors to instructing Elizabeth where to best open “tears” so they can live another day. But that’s not all Booker also has other Introverted Thinking indicators. Such as suppressing his emotions, not because he’s unemotional but because he would rather stay level headed at all times to solve situations, this causes strain on his relationships with other people since FE is his lowest function. This especially affects Elizabeth, who’s quite a sensitive individual, and because of this they often butt heads. We have a lovely example of one of these situations. After rescuing Elizabeth from her prison, Booker lies and promises to bring her to Paris by stealing the First Lady Airship. Before they can do that they must go through the ticket station that leads to Soldier’s Field, this is where things get ugly, the receptionist stabs his hand forcing him to become violent which ends in the death of his assaulters. Elizabeth, experiencing death for the first time, becomes horrified and tries to run away. Booker catches up to a defensive Elizabeth and uses logic to reason with her. He explains that she’s an investment and that those men won’t stop coming after her so she has no choice but to leave Columbia. As the game progresses Booker becomes more comfortable with his surroundings thus starts asking Elizabeth more questions. Such as how do you make these “tears” or why does the Songbird always appear when he hears a specific melody. Before we get to the Burial at sea segment, I want to contest Booker being an SI-TE function user. The first indicator of not having SI can be seen in Booker’s poor attention to detail and memory, this occurs often he forgets about the actions he takes. For instance, the time he forgot he helped interracial couple at the start of the game or the time he forgot about Chen Lin’s tools and machines or the fact that he cares nothing for tradition, duty, or his experiences. Instead, he rather live in the moment. If Booker was a TE user, he’d share similarities to Elizabeth such as her love for facts, systems and seeing things in black and white. However, Booker sees the world in shades of grey, prefers to remain flexible, and follows his own internal logical framework. Although I can recognize why people would perceive Booker as a TE user and that’s because of his cautious and aggressive nature which makes him seem more rigid than he is. Next up we’ll be looking into his TI functional traits and examples within the Burial at Sea DLC. Burial at Sea Booker: We get to meet a unique version of Booker who uses the mentioned TI functional traits much more effectively here. Unlike in Columbia, this Booker doesn’t have a debt to pay nor is he constantly stressed by life or death situations we can see a more accurate representation of his personality. Even in a different environment, his core traits remain the same, and if anything they’re enhanced. Let’s look at some examples. During their adventures in Rapture, Booker becomes acquainted with Elizabeth and notices logical inconsistencies within her actions and speech. This causes him to question her intentions and ask about how she isn’t aware of Rapture's structural system. Such as the time she asks about Little Sisters or what are Splicers. This is common knowledge in Rapture and Booker knows this and calls her out for being a fraud. Elizabeth knows how Booker’s personality functions and evades his questions and manipulates him by using Sally as her leverage against him. Elizabeth also has many questions on why people take certain actions, and Booker always answers with situational logic. An excellent example of that occurs when retrieving the Shock Jockey plasmid. Elizabeth asks why Andrew Ryan imprisoned Fontane's men if he was all about the free market? Booker responds with “All those ideas lose their luster when the quarterly earnings come in and you find the other guy’s eating your lunch” Auxiliary Function: Extroverted Sensing Extroverted Sensing function is often associated with the one-man army trope or within over the top action heroes, and Booker falls directly into both those categories. He’s a man driven by action and can always adapt to every situation that comes his way. From learning how to use unfamiliar weapons and tools with ease. To blowing up blimps and escaping from a gigantic angry robotic bird. Booker definitely sees a lot of action. But the Se function is more than just action. It’s directly related to receiving information from the 5 senses accurately while other functions process that information at slower a slower pace. That makes Extroverted Sensing dominant and auxiliary users quite versatile with physical tasks, such as sports or surviving in a city full of religious fanatics who want to kill you. There are downsides, however, and we can spot many of these within our protagonist. SE users have a hard time with possibilities, unique ideas, or scenarios. Booker thinks the Luteces are absolutely insane and criticizes them for not living within the present but rather within the idea of possibilities. We can see this as fear when Booker discovers that Elizabeth could create “tears” which shouldn’t be physically possible, but as time moves on Booker becomes comfortable and curious with the idea of “tears” since he can interact with them. This makes Booker appear closed-minded, but that’s only because reacting to possibilities he never thought were possible. Another weakness of SE is taking information at face value. Booker doesn’t search for hidden meanings or symbolism within objects, people, or information like Elizabeth. Instead, he would rather be direct and pragmatic. Speaking of his pragmatic and direct nature, Booker often solves problems by doing he’s a kinesthetic learner. This is how he’s able to learn how to use the Sky-hook so quickly. The last example of Booker’s SE function will be an unhealthy one. Booker has three problems, he’s addicted to physical forms of risk-taking, pleasure, and escapism. This is how he got himself stuck in this situation in the first place. He was a well-known drinker and gambler before the events of BioShock Infinite. The reasons differ but, In Columbia’s universe, he drank and gambled to deal with the passing of his wife. In the Rapture universe, he just drank and gambled himself into debt for the pleasure which caused him to lose his adapted daughter Sally. Regardless of the universe, Booker will always drink and gamble. Time for a fun fact before we move on to Booker’s Tertiary function. The detective agency Booker DeWitt worked for is real and still exists today! It’s called the Pinkerton National Detective Agency and was established in 1850 by Allan Pinkerton. They were best known for foiling a plot to assassinate President Abraham Lincoln, working as his personal security during the Civil War and hiring the first female detective in America. However, fame soon turned into infamy during the labor strikes in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The efficiency of the Pinkertons prompted businessmen to hire them to infiltrate unions to keep strikers and unionists out of factories. To make matters worse, they hired goon squads to intimidate workers to prevent them from striking. Today the Pinkertons are known as the Pinkerton Consulting & Investigations, Inc and they’re of the oldest and most influential detective agencies in the world. Tertiary Function: Introverted Intuition Booker DeWitt’s use of Introverted Intuition is interesting, he often represses it to the point of it being an unconscious function because he doesn’t enjoy thinking too far into the future and prefers living in here and now. Yet somehow he’s constantly foreshadowing future events! Such as his dream of New York burning or Foreshadowing Elizabeth’s torture device that would brainwash her after she asked Booker why Comstock imprisoned her. Or the time Booker leaves Cornelius Slate alive and then claims that leaving him alive wasn’t mercy, Comstock’s men will capture and torture him. This ends up being true and Cornelius can be found mentally broken in an interrogation room in Fink’s jailhouse. Booker is either a brilliant detective who can deduce situations so fast that it looks like he’s predicting the future or his NI function usage is exceptional. Our last example takes place in Rapture after Booker collects the Old Man Winter plasmid. He stops Elizabeth after suspecting her of being a fraud and demands answers; She scoffs at him and lies. This causes him to predict that he’s being set up. Turns out he was right. Inferior Function: Extroverted Feeling Booker starts with an unhealthy usage of the FE function and slowly develops it throughout the title. At the start of his quest in Columbia, Booker remains disconnected from his emotions and closed off because he sees no reason to express them. We can especially see in Battleship Bay when Booker is trying to get Elizabeth's attention while she's dancing. He wants to leave Columbia so he can complete his mission, but first needs to stop her from dancing. At first he tries to be polite, then he tries using a more aggressive tone and finally he manipulates her by mentioning the First Lady Airship and how it can bring her to Paris. It’s an effective use of the FE function but used unhealthily. Booker lies to her for the first half of the game, telling her he’ll bring her to Paris, with the actual intention of bringing her to New York to pay off his debts. Or how he wasn’t able to empathize with Mrs. Lin at the loss of her husband instead he kept asking questions hoping she could give him an answer that would help track down her husband. As the game progresses, we can observe Booker loosening up and expressing his emotions in healthier ways by showing worry and care for Elizabeth during hardships. Such as the time where she killed Daisy Fitzroy. Booker recognized the look of horror in Elizabeth’s eyes, chased her down. He immediately attempted to comfort her by asking if she was okay and tried to relate to her feelings so she would feel better. Another example occurs after Elizabeth finds out her mother and the Luteces were killed by Comstock. She then says she’s just a specimen to be poked and prodded. Booker comforts her by letting her know she doesn’t deserve the stuffing she’s been through. Before we complete this segment, I’ll be mentioning 2 extra examples. The first one relates to FE grip that occurs when Booker realizes he’s Elizabeth’s father, he goes through a complete mental breakdown and irrationally wants to end it all. The second example is a moral example of FE. During the second half of the game Elizabeth and Booker run into a locked door that requires Lady Comstock’s finger print to enter. Elizabeth impulsively decides she will take it from her mothers corpse, Booker tries to stop her and suggests that it’s morally incorrect. But her decision is already made, Booker decides he will remove the finger for her. Our last FE indicator can be seen at the end of the game. Booker sacrifices himself to Elizabeth. He does this to stop Comstock from ever being born, Elizabeth takes him to Comstock's birthplace and Booker immediately realizes he’s both Booker DeWitt and Zachery Hale Comstock. He then allows the Elizabeths to drown him so she may break the circle. https://youtu.be/Dbjql-8coDw

[ginny-chase-shadeslayer]

Sleeping at Last - Saturn

I think it was a few months ago in calc class when I first came up with this, but it’s the corona house arrest that’s finally making me post it. 

Stay safe everyone, and have some more Percy angst.

Find it on FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13517771/1/Sleeping-at-Last

“I’d give anything to hear, you say it one more time, that the universe was made, just to be seen by my eyes”

________________________________________________________________

He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, the darkness reminded him of that pit and the pain of having to live through it. Sometimes Annabeth’s presence next to him helped, but tonight, she wasn’t with him. The sad truth was that as much as they helped each other heal their wounds, they also reminded each other of what they had been through. For the better part of eight days now, Percy was faced with the heartbreaking pain of choosing between seeing her and either being comforted or being triggered into a panic attack.

As much as he loved her, it hurt to be around her. He was being unfair he knew, expecting her to be the same as before, when he himself was only a shell of a man. But watching Annabeth shiver or snip and snarl at everything, only pushed him deeper still.

The argument that had resulted from that was vicious, and had left more than just the participants shaken.

Sitting up after an unsuccessful attempt at sleeping, he got out of bed and reached for Riptide. The weight of his loyal blade grounded him, pulling him towards the arenas.

…

THWACK!

There rolled the head, cleanly sliced off from the body.

Another strike. There were the disemboweled guts of a straw man.

It wasn’t enough. No matter how much he stabbed and slashed, it never helped abate the darkness. Riptide would cut through the clouds for a second, a shining streak of bronze. But then they would gather back faster than before.

It wasn’t long until Percy was panting, harder than he should have been. Taking shorter breaths than he should have been.

He tried blinking back the images. But the arena began to transform. He attacked a dummy viciously, face screwing up in determination, trying to fight back, but in vain.

Akhlys was laughing. Annabeth was crying his name. Bob was yelling for him, while Damasen tried to pull his sword out of the dragon’s mouth.

And Percy? He was on the floor. Staring at them from behind an impenetrable curtain. It took him some time to realize he was under water. He was looking at them from the bottom of a lake. He pounded the surface, trying desperately to break free. Even under water, he could taste the sulphurous air on his tongue as it burned his mouth, along with something more metallic. Every breath he took his poisoned his lungs, as if the water itself had turned into acid.

He heard Akhlys whispering as if she were next to him, “You killed me using your father’s powers. Here. See if they protect you now.”

His lungs began to fill. He was drowning. No, he couldn’t drown, he was the son of Poseidon. He choked and sputtered. But that only made it worse.

In front of him, Annabeth had gone blind again, and was desperately trying to call out to him through horrible coughing fits. She had her back turned to Damasen, and through his fading view, Percy saw Damasen yank his sword out from the Dragon and raise it against Annabeth.

Percy fought like a demon against the water then. He tried to control his breathing, but the water wouldn’t let go of him. He had to get to Annabeth. He had to. He swung his sword left and right, trying to fight the element that had protected him all his life. His eyes streamed, and he cried his voice hoarse. He swung his sword with all his might against the water –

CLANG!

His sword hit metal. But he couldn’t see where it came from.

The scene in front of him stilled. Annabeth had her face away from him, and Damasen still had his sword raised, so he hadn’t stabbed her yet.

A low voice from somewhere near him said, “Percy, snap out of it. It’s not real”

Slowly, the mist from his eyes cleared, and he realized he was on his haunches. His throat was raw. Riptide was still gripped under his white knuckles, as if the blade could cure his visions.

“Get up.” She ordered him. She didn’t hold out a hand, so Percy braced himself against the ground and heaved himself to a standing position. He regarded her cautiously, still trying to figure out if she was real or not.

“Do you still have the energy to fight? Because we need those dummies for practice tomorrow.”

Percy was weak, he needed a good night’s rest. His face still stung under the tear tracks. He wiped his nose, and glimpsed a streak of red on the blue of his shirt.

He nodded.

Clarisse raised her sword and swung at him.

Percy parried the strike, and his senses sharpened. He experimentally stabbed at her stomach. She easily dodged that, and returned with a blow of her own.

Slowly, they picked up the pace. Percy went from autopilot to actually focusing on the fight. He noticed that in the time he had been missing, Clarisse had gotten better at the sword. Or he had gotten worse.

He also noticed that Clarisse wasn’t really trying to fight him exactly. It was more like…leading him somewhere. He saw some mistakes in his technique that she could have taken advantage of, but she still let him move to the next position without taking the chance. Almost as if she were listening to him, to what his sword had to say, to what his tired body had to say. He had never heard of swordplay that was meant to be caring, and least of all, he didn’t expect Clarisse to know it.

He let his body go, slowly, but surely. Getting into the flow of their blades. They picked up the pace further, but that only calmed him more. This was sword fighting, it was something he knew. He was in control. In that moment, he was a blur of bronze, pouring his frustrations out into his weapon.

And Clarisse let him. In that moment, he had never felt so rested.

But when the deadly dance took him towards the armoury, a draught of wind transported the smell of gun powder, and with it, Sulphur. His eyes darted to the torchlight bouncing off her sword, flickering against the beams and columns, creating shadows that hadn’t been there a second before.

This time, there was nothing he could do. His mental shields had been down, and he had been too focused on Clarisse to notice the signs. The visions were brutal, as they were every time he thought he had finally evaded them.

He crumpled.

…

He found himself near the stairs of the arena, sitting up with his back propped against a pillar. He didn’t remember what he had seen this time, and he definitely didn’t remember losing consciousness.

“It’s going to take some time”

He was surprised to see Clarisse still there. She was sitting on the stairs next to him.

“What?”

“Your blackouts, your hallucinations. It’s going to take some time to get better.”

He stayed silent. Not ready to talk yet. Not ready to accept that he was not getting better, despite Chiron’s healing and Grover’s magic.

As if reading his mind, “Chiron’s ambrosia only works temporarily, and only on the physical pain you feel. Unfortunately, the Greeks either never thought about healing the head, or they never lived long enough to experience PTSD.”

“How do you know so much about this?” he asked, curious.

He had never expected Clarisse of all people to be sympathetic to trauma, especially not like the one he was experiencing. But if he was being honest with himself, he was grateful for her presence. Her familiar scowl surprisingly reminded him of life before Tartarus, and it comforted him. And he didn’t think he was ready to be alone just yet.

Clarisse just sighed. “Ares is the god of war, right? You want to go conquer a land, fight a battle, you make sacrifices to Ares and hope he favors you enough to let you win. At least that’s only how the Greek civilization chose to see Ares, and it stuck.”

She paused.

“But over the years, Ares has come to represent all battles, all wars.”

She looked at him knowingly, “including internal ones.”

They were quiet after that, watching the sun rise over the Long Island Sound. ‘It makes sense’, thought Percy. Although he berated himself for letting his guard down, he had to admit that dueling with her had felt good. Better than he had felt in a long time.

Finally, he asked, “that sword fighting technique, where’d you learn that?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t have to learn anything, punk. I’m a daughter of Ares, sword fighting techniques are instinct to me.”

He smiled lightly and conceded. Understood.

The dew on the strawberry fields glittered in the morning light. The Apollo cabin, naturally the first to wake up, began to stir, while the dryads in the forest softly greeted the earliest songbirds. Watching the life below him, he felt like he should have had some poetic internal dialogue about permanence and the transience of life. Or at least some epiphany prompted by the sun’s rays through the clouds.

But in that moment, he simply reveled in the fact that there were beautiful things still left in the world, outside his head. Like the tugging of his heart at the sight of a familiar blonde head that emerged from the cabins below, and the warmth of a friendship, reaching out from the person seated next to him.

________________________________________________________________

“How rare and beautiful it is, that we exist”

The title of this fic is from the song Saturn, by artist Sleeping at Last. They’re amazing you guys should go check it out if you haven’t already! 

Also, I haven’t personally dealt with PTSD, but I know that different people deal with / experience it in different ways. Nothing I’ve written here is meant to be harmful in any way.

[thenihilistofthevoid]

Small Fic

For @the-winter-dork-rp , @kitameguire , @frosthawkfantasy and @kudocookie with special mention to @verratenduo

A small fic split into two, the focus being on codewords. Part 1: Marvel Cinematic Universe, set during Civil War when Bucky’s codewords are activated by Zemo, an insight into Bucky’s thoughts and what it’s like for the Winter Soldier when the coding is active and Bucky’s desperate struggle to be free from the coding, watching from inside his own head as he hurts those he considers friends. He’s unaware of Zemo’s intent to use him to destroy the Avengers and is terrified that he can be reactivated so easily. Part 2: Yugioh 5Ds, set 20 years post end of series during a second Dark Signer vs Signer War after the seal between our dimension and the underworld is broken by a quantum experiment. Saburo Izayoi duels Chihiro Akagi, Chihiro has been manipulated by the Earthbound God that brought her back to life to hate Saburo, her memories being altered to believe that he killed her parents with his psychic powers. Saburo is unaware that his mentor is the leader of a dangerous cult and has installed programming into his head to make him a mindless killing machine with one sentence. The fic represents how both of them have been abused by a dangerous organization and turned into a living weapon. The 5Ds one is longer but that’s due to me knowing more about the series and needing to explain a lot more. Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe. Subject: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. Alias: The Winter Soldier. Location: [Classified], 2016. Codewords: Longing – Rusted – Furnace – Daybreak – Seventeen – Benign – Nine - Homecoming – One - Freight Car “You feel that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop…” Zemo offered, wanting to manipulate the position to his advantage. He just needed them to open the box and soon he could have the revenge he sought. His wife was gone, his son too… They had to be destroyed from the inside, all of them. The so-called enhanced, the Avengers lacked any compassion for the lives they destroyed. The tablet nearby beeped, the delivery was successful and now it could begin. “Don’t worry… We only have to talk about one.” The man stated, giving Bucky the impression he wasn’t really a psychologist, there was an ulterior motive here. Would the others watching this be able to notice it like he did or were they too busy looking for a way to punish him to see the truth… Leaving would be nice but it would make life harder for Steve, who was important to him or at least from what he could remember. His memories were a scattered mess, incomplete fragments like puzzle pieces without a guide to show you how it all was supposed to fit together, it made the supersoldier so angry deep down. The lights were down, the show was about to begin. “Why don’t we discuss your home? Not Romania, and certainly not Brooklyn…” Zemo continued, going into the messenger bag and retrieving a red book with a black star on it. He’d obtained the code words to transform the man from the Brooklynite Farm Boy into Hydra’s fist, their homegrown killing machine.“Желание.” Zemo started reading the words to Bucky’s horror. “Stop…” He snapped, trying to break the restraints he was put into. “Семнадцать. Ржавый. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный. Возвращение на Родину. Один. Товарный вагон.” Zemo continued, his Russian was rusty to say the least and the threat of this man ripping his head off was a real possibility. Struggling hard to punch the door down and rip his vocal chords out before he could say the last words, the door flew from it’s hinges a few seconds too late as the logic programming in his head activated, his blue eyes going cold and dark like the cryogenics chamber he’d been locked in before to freeze him for further use. “Cолда́т?” Zemo asked, wondering if it had worked. He’d broken free of the mental conditioning before, was it taking a while to activate? “Я готов отвечать.” Came the reply, it had worked. “Mission Report, December 16th 1991.” The man asked. The rampage soon began as the coding worked, his memories flashing back as it continued operations, he knew what he had to do as he fought without emotion, taking down all resistance that would stop him reaching the helicopter as his thoughts became single-file, pure logic overriding all. Love, pride, hate, fear, anger. All emotions were suppressed along with all memories not relating to his orders, the Winter Soldier was laser-focused on his task at hand, unaware his activation had a more malevolent purpose than just to cause havoc as his metal fist slammed into Sam’s stomach without any remorse, concrete shattering from his punches. The sonic weapon fired at him caused the man brief pain but pain was ignored, adrenaline rising to 50% and increasing. His gun was disabled but a punch to the gut took Tony down, not that the Winter Soldier cared who he fought, all those who opposed him were to be destroyed. Sharon was soon put through a table and Natasha felt the cold metal grip around her throat, T’Challa was enhanced and had to be destroyed too. Perhaps he also had access to the serum, they could find out when autopsy came in. Not even Steve caused a disruption to the purity of his logic programming, it wasn’t breaking down yet due to being recently activated. The other personality, Bucky hadn’t struggled enough to cause errors in the coding just yet. Maybe one day, he’d be free. But for now, once again he was the songbird trapped in a lernaean cage. Universe: Yugioh 5D’s, set 20 years after the end of the series. Subject: Saburo Izayoi (十六夜三朗). Alias: Black Rose Witch. Location: Satellite, Neo Domino City, Japan. Year Unknown. Codewords: “The entrance to the underworld is on the witch’s island.” He hadn’t asked for this, to become a pawn of destiny. Servant to the Crimson Dragon, a god that didn’t seem to give much of a shit about what happened so long as it’s chosen people, the Signers fought for it. Their allegiance to the deity marked by the birthmarks on their arms, he’d gained the claw on his right forearm like his mother before him, having inherited her psychic powers and aptitude for medicine. His powers to make the cards he used inflict real damage upon their world made him a social pariah, feared and hated by the rest of society. They wanted him to be a monster, so he became one. A violent, destructive youth who was frequently abused by the people who feared him. Death threats in the mail, stalkers, he once had a bucket of pig’s blood dumped over him in reference to Carrie. All that fame and money did nothing to stop the cyberbullying and the letters saying that he deserved to be locked away. His parents were never home, they were too busy with their nice paying jobs to notice how hard life was beating him down. His mother Aki was a doctor, too busy treating other children to notice that her own was suffering mentally. His father was a particle physicist, he provided power to a city but not the power to his only son to rise up against the systemic oppression. His parents saved the city and anything he did was just attributed to them, his individuality was irrelevant to these people. He was an extension, an accessory like the cars they drove or the house they lived in. Something to look pretty. So when the man who used to run the Arcadia Movement, he called himself Divine since his real name has no meaning to him anymore soon found the son of his first figurehead of the movement, Saburo Izayoi. He hadn’t inherited his mother’s pretty red hair but his powers were just as strong as hers, he would do nicely… The Arcadia Movement is a cult for psychic duelists like himself who had been ostracized from society turned to him and gave him the affection and love he craved, Saburo became so easy to manipulate, to bend to his will. Aki had escaped him but since Yusei had taken her from him, he would take their only child. He had gained her immensely strong powers and was going to make a fine soldier for the new movement, to turn people like them into soldiers so that they would run this society and those without their gifts would feel what it was like to be hated and harmed. Saburo’s latent powers were far too strong so they had to be controlled, put into a level where he could control them. But, sealing them permanently was never the intention. One sentence whispered in his ear and his true strength would be displayed to everyone, turning the emotionally damaged sixteen year old into a weapon of mass destruction. Unlike what he did with Aki, Divine kept his distance from the boy, only pulling the strings when required. A slave wasn’t a slave if he didn’t know he was enslaved after all. It happened all over again, the war of the gods with their human emissaries. The Earthbound Gods and the Crimson Dragon, their constant war for this planet. He had gotten involved in the last one twenty years ago and it cost him. He had every intention of making that bitch pay for what she did to him, her stupid deity had resulted in massive scarring on his face and being sent to the tyrannical prison system once he was caught but considering his young protégé had been drafted in he intended to make use of that, to once again show the power of psychic duelling against the emissaries of the underworld. The Dark Signers were dead people resurrected through the dark powers of the Earthbound Gods, brought back to fight against the chosen warriors of the dragon with fabricated grudges although this girl’s one seemed quite real.  The loser of these Duels involving dark magic lost their soul, a high-stakes game indeed. “You’re a murderer, Izayoi Saburo… You took my parents from me during your rampage in the Daimon area!” Chihiro screeched, the sclera of her eyes were black and she had red markings on her face, the purple outline of Nazca lines of the lizard on her left forearm, the lines being bindings upon the gods. The lines disappeared once the Earthbound Gods had chosen the person to represent them in this fight. “You’re lying!” He shook his head, her dark magic forcing those memories into him was painful. “The Arcadia Movement covers up all sorts of inconvenient truths. Neo Domino’s Police won’t even touch your organization due to the blackmail you have. They had powers like yours, your rampages got them evicted so they went to your organization. Your desire for destruction killed them. So, I’m going to kill you, the Servant of the Crimson Dragon!” The dead woman snapped coldly. “Your parents might have encountered me, but I didn’t know who they were! I didn’t know that they were involved in that incident!” He pleaded, his memories unsure. He changed his last name to his mother’s maiden name to avoid being hounded constantly. “You involved them unwittingly, don’t you dare think that excuses you!” The girl shouted, tears falling down her face. “I can’t…” The boy mumbled, his glasses misty with his own tears. “After my parents died, I… couldn’t take it. The world without them was so wretched. So I jumped from Daedalus Bridge into the water. You killed me as well!” Chihiro shouted, shaking with anger as she made him relive it. “NO! STOP IT!” Saburo screamed in pain as she forced him to watch, stumbling back. “I can’t fight… She has good reason to hate me… It’s my fault that she and her parents…” He thought to himself, stumbling back and tumbling towards a large shard of metal that threatened to cut into his spine and paralyze him when he was suddenly caught. “Pull yourself together, Izayoi!” A voice cut through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter, a man in a police uniform, the hat covering his face. “Who are you…?” Saburo asked, trying to wipe his glasses. “I’m on your side.” The man explained. “My side?” He replied, confused and in pain “It’s me, Saburo.” Taking off his hat, the man revealed his identity as Divine, the cult leader who had bewitched him unknowingly. “Divine, you’re alive?” Saburo asked, happy that his “mentor” was still okay after the man faked his own death to get the police to back off. “Now Saburo, fight.” He stated, still holding him as he kicked the metal away. “I can’t…” The boy pleaded. “Yes, you can. Your original latent abilities was far too strong, so I sealed those powers without your knowledge. Now is the time to unseal them and release your true powers.” The redheaded cult leader explained, bending down to whisper in Saburo’s ear. “And the words to awaken them are…” He stated, his breath hot against the boy’s ear. “The entrance to the underworld is on the witch’s island.” He whispered with a smirk as Saburo stood obediently, a tornado of wind forming around him and whipping the shards of metal and glass from the abandoned funfair into the air like a rain of destruction. “Yes, that’s good! Now defeat her! Your true powers are far superior to that of the Dark Signers!” The man laughed as the tornado intensified around the boy whose glasses were torn off by the shockwave and landed in the dirt several feet away, after several seconds the storm emanating from him died down. “Have you finally revealed your true identity?” Chihiro asked, a cold look on her face. “I am the Black Rose Witch. The only one disappearing from this world… will be you.” Saburo stated, his voice cold and robotic as he stared at her, his eyes a mixture of insanity and cold rage, his black irises boring into her like twin singularities, bringing destruction to whatever they gazed upon. “Battle. Sunvine Dragon attacks Bad End Queen Dragon! Poison Inferno!” He ordered, snapping his fingers as the huge tree-like dragon snarled and hissed, opening it’s mouth and blasting a gigantic stream of red-hot fire at the other dragon which burnt instantly, the flames blowing massive chunks of earth into the air and burning Chihiro’s clothing which she put out through dark magic, her arms and face showed third-degree burns, she screamed as she still felt pain due to the power of the Earthbound Gods although it was highly reduced. (Chihiro 3400 – 1800 LP) Chihiro’s scream of pain just made Saburo laugh, whatever the unsealing had done to him it had clearly given him a taste for sadism. “Let me hear more of it, your agony as I consign you back to the depths of hell.” Saburo mocked cruelly, the birthmark on his arm shone with a red light as his breathing became heavy. “That’s it Saburo, eliminate all in our way. You and I are going to resurrect the Arcadia Movement.” The man laughed coldly, having complete control over the boy at this point.

[thesoundofmadness]

Why...? (OC fanficition)

I decided to write a fanfic about my OC Lyra. I’m putting it under the “keep reading” thing bc it’s kinda long. I worked kinda hard on it. Enjoy

Lyra sighed as she looked upon the little, old cottage. Her mind flashed back to everything that happened with the Hands of Time and seeing her mother, Luna, sadly running away from it. She hated the thought of it. She hated it because she was the reason her mother ran away that day. She was the reason of those tears. She was the reason why her father, Luther, had died. She hated it all.

She walked up to the door and tried the handle. Of course it would be locked. She thought. Who wouldn’t lock the door to a place of broken love? It didn’t take her long to find the key. After all, she already knew where it was. She took the key and opened the door, slowly. She took a moment to prepare herself before stepping inside. 

She took a step inside and familiarized herself with her surroundings. There wasn’t much of a smell, which surprised her for some reason. It had been nearly 20 years since anyone stepped into this place, why was she surprised it didn’t smell? Aside from that, it was a pretty cozy place. There were unlit candles everywhere, a few tables, a small, bluish-purple couch,and a bookshelf filled with old, dusty books. There was a kitchen right next to the living room. It didn’t have a refigerator. A refigerator was a thing of the future when this house was built. She didn’t bother looking through it.

Instead, she walked over to the bookshelf, and looked at the books. There were a few history books, but what mostly dominated the shelf was notebooks and books on music. She wasn’t surprised. A Master of Song once lived here, after all. 

After that, she climbed up the stairs to the bedrooms. There were 4 doors, two on each side, opposite of each other. The first one was pretty much empty, she didn’t bother with it. The second one...looked like a nursey for a...baby. This is..my room. She took a deep breath, and stepped in. 

The room was painted purple. There was a crib against the wall, with a bunch of stuffed animals inside and around it. There was a small, light blue, baby blanket hanging off the side of it. She walked up to the crib and grabbed the small blanket. It was soft, soft and fuzzy. She set it back on the crib and walked out. 

The next room, on the other side of the hall, looked like an office of some sorts. There wasn’t any computers or anything, but there was a notebook, a few pens, and a letter, all put neatly upon a desk. She walked up to the desk and looked at the letter. It was written for her. Gently, she picked it off the desk and started to read it. 

For my baby songbird, Lyra. 

I doubt you will read this, but if you are, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for abandoning you. You are everything I ever wanted. I wanted to take care of you, to raise you, and see what you would become. There’s no excuse for what I did. 

I, if you even consider me as your mother, didn’t want to grow up lonely and isolated. You need someone to be there for you when I couldn’t be. You need sunshine, not darkness. You need to be out there, out of this mountain, out into the world, not kept inside these big moutain walls. There was no way I could have given you that in this small, forgotten town. 

If you’re angry, I understand. There’s nothing in this world that could ever make up for abandoning you. Don’t feel obligated to forgive me, I don’t expect it. 

I wish you a life full of happiness and sunshine. I wish you to have the strength to overcome any obstacle or challage you will face. I wish you will not make the same mistake I did. 

With love, your mother, Luna Heartstrings.

She let go of the letter and it floated back down to it’s spot on the desk. Tears threatened to come out of her eyes. She placed her hand on the desk, and schruched it up into a fist. Overcome with more emotion she could understand, she beat the desk. Once, twice, and then a third time. She was angry. She was sad. She was surprised. She was anything but happy. 

She took a few deep breaths to try and stop herself from completely breaking down into a fit of tears. She wasn’t done yet. She managed to keep herself together up to this point, she can hold it together just a little longer. She wiped the tears from her eyes, and walked out of the room.

The next room was a simple bedroom. There was a bed in the center, up against the wall, with two tables on each side of it. Both had flameless candles resting ontop of them. The table on the leftside had a book on it, but she didn’t bother to look at it. In front of the bed, there were weapons, hanging on the wall. In the center of the wall were two swords, one dark blue and black, one white and light blue. They were in the shape of an X. Sitting above the swords, was a bow. It was black and blue, just like one of the swords. Below the swords, was a sythe, with a light blue handle and white blade. She didn’t think twice about grabbing the swords and putting them on her back. 

To the side of the weapon wall, there was a closet. It was filled with cloaks, all of them either black or white. On the shelf above it was a small box. She reached up to grab it, and took it off the shelf. When she opened it, it was empty. Maybe Luna took whatever was in this box when she left, she thought. She sighed and set it back on the shelf. She left the room and went back down the stairs. 

Once downstairs, she left the house using the backdoor, to behind the house. There was a lone grave. Luther’s grave. The headstone was nothing special. It simply said his name, Luther Heartstrings, and the years he lived. There were two candles sitting on each side of the headstone. There wasn’t a grave for Luna, which didn’t surprise her. It was never confirmed if Luna died, she simply disappeared. 

Lyra slowly walked up to the grave, holding the two swords by her sides. She wanted to speak, but she didn’t know what to say. What was she supposed to say? Nothing came to mind. Nothing except how badly she wished she grew up with Luther and Luna, instead of that...drunk fuck she once called a “caretaker”. She stared down at the grave, looking for the words to say. Finally, she spoke.

“Hey...” She said quietly. She wasn’t sure whether to say “Luther” or “Father”. It felt weird saying “father”, but it didn’t feel right to say “Luther” either. She shook her head and starting speaking again.

“Hey, Luther. Or, father, I guess...Luna, if you’re there, hello to you, too. I..I don’t know if you can hear me. If you can, hi. Wait, I already said that..goddammit...”

She was nervous, even though she knew no one would hear her. 

“Anyway, it’s me. Your, uh, baby, no, child, daughter, whatever. Lyra. I-it’s Lyra. Um...Mo-no, Luna..I found your, uh..letter. You have wonderful handwriting..I..I’m not angry. Well, I am, but...I’m not angry at you.” 

That was a lie. She didn’t want to be angry at Luna, not that she wasn’t angry. 

“I...I know you said that you didn’t want me to find out about the ‘failure of a mother’ you were..You made Master Wu promise not to tell me, right? Uh, well, it wasn’t him who made me find out..It..I came here on my own...Krux made me find out...”

That bastard...

“P-please, don’t be angry with Wu..He didn’t break his promise...”

Her voice was shaking. She tried her best to keep her voice straight, but it wasn’t working. She gulped, trying to hold back tears. 

“I...I just...Why?” She managed to squeak out. “Why couldn’t I have stayed with you? Why...”

Her throat hurt from trying to hold back her cries. She told herself she wouldn’t cry, yet here she is, nearing breaking down into tears. 

“...I just wanted the fighting to stop...I just wanted the screaming to stop...I just wanted silence...I didn’t ask for this...I didn’t want this...I just...”

Her vision blurred as tears filled and ran out of her eyes. She couldn’t hold them back anymore. “Why won’t the fighting stop...? Why can’t they just get along...?” Old, forgotten questions filled her mind as she thought back to her “parents” screaming at each other. She fell to her knees, sobbing heavily, wishing someone was there to hold her and tell her that it was okay. She hated being alone. She couldn’t stand it. Yet, it was all she knew. 

After a little while of crying, she finally managed to get herself together. At least, to where she could speak. 

“I...I..I won’t run away anymore. I refuse to run away again. I’ve been running for too long. I need to stop. I...” She took a deep breath and gulped. “I..I promise...I’m not gonna make the same mistake you did. I will make sure I will. I will fight until the end. I will make sure your legacy lives on, Mother and Father. I..I don’t know how I’m gonna do that, but I will. I swear on the tomb of the First Spinjeztu Master, I won’t run away anymore.”

She smiles with determination. “I will make you proud, Mother and Father.” 

She says her goodbyes, wipes the tears from her eyes, and heads for her mech, still carrying her parents swords on her back. 

[toynbeees]

Time for some OCs!

I have so many, pls send help. Feel free to ask me abt any of them!! 

Under a cut so I don’t kill u all lmao

Bioshock! (aka my absolute oldest OCs at uh. 5+ years) Loretta. She’s the only one I talk about but it’s only because I love her. Saved from being a Sister as a kid, she ended up splicing and running riot in Arcadia. Jo. He was Loretta’s favourite Big Daddy, but since he’s so old now he’s mostly broken and just drifts around Arcadia making sad whale noises :( Lauren is an ex-Sister circa Bioshock 2, who instead of going to the surface with Eleanor stays behind and is adopted by Loretta. Anna. Lauren’s closest friend since before they were Sisters, and stuck together once they were turned, too. Also “adopted” by Loretta.

Borderlands Quinn. Ex-raider, ass kicker, and all around asshole. She has the hots for Mordecai but won’t admit it. She also has a pet skag and stalker. Leo. Also an asshole but on a much more acceptable scale. He kind of unofficially joined the Crimson Raiders but can’t remember how. Sydney. They’re the most terrifying 12 year old anyone will ever meet. They were adopted by Leo after he found them stowing away on a bandit ship.

DA Inquisition Nadira. She’s basically a prophet that was given the gift of visions after she died and a compassion spirit felt bad for her. Don’t ask how because I don’t know :P Liv. Nadira’s best friend, and the one who sort of accidentally started a local legend about her. She’s also the blushiest baby of a Qunari ever. Myrae. Liv’s twin and the more serious of the two. She’s painfully anti-social but forces herself for the sake of the Inquisition.

Dark Angel (does anyone else know this exists?) Ambrosia. An over stressed medic who tries her best. She has a daughter named Sunshine but doesn’t know who the dad is. Angelica. She used to be a mercenary hired to kill shitty people like abusers and rapists. Now she’s a medic under Ambrosia’s wing. Gabriella. She’s a mechanic and supply smuggler on the side, and has been caught too many times. Has the hots for everyone and will make it known.  Tamara. The daughter of a rich business man, Tammy ditched her family to help those in need. Using money stolen from her father’s company.

Fallout Hartley. Another one I mention sometimes! She’s a hardcore Commonwealth lady who will kill for caps. She lives in Croup Manor with a bunch of others. Atlas. Hartley’s sort-of boyfriend and also a super mutant. He signed up to the Institute’s FEV experiments not knowing what that meant. Idiot. Nixon. The resident ghoul genius, this kid can make anything from the most basic scraps. He even made his own synth with stolen tech. Tequila. The synth in question. Technically only four, she has the intelligence of a twenty year old. She’s agender but uses all pronouns. Carrion. Travels with their pet/bodyguard deathclaw named Lazarus. They were part of a vault experiment to infuse deathclaw DNA into a human.

Fullmetal Alchemist Andrea. She’s a young State Alchemist using the moniker ‘Lightning Alchemist’ for the way she uses alchemic tattoos to create weather-like effects. Rosie. A self taught automail and car mechanic. Rosie is extremely anti-social and often communicates through her brother. Evan. Rosie’s twin, although they look nothing alike. Although he works front desk at Central Command, State Alchemists terrify him.

Mad Max (my BOYS!) Spider. He used to help the Organic Mechanic, but blood bags don’t cut it anymore and he’s close to death. Post-movie he has a raging crush on Capable. Crimson. The shittiest, most infuriating man on earth. He’s an excellent driver, with many battle scars to prove it.  Cable. He’s Crimson’s lancer. Given his name by the way he wears cables as jewellery, and the fact he was burned by an electrical fire. Hammer. He was born to Joe and a Milk Mother, though thrown to the Wastes. Now he’s a brutal lancer that uses his bulk to his advantage. Lagarto. He’s Hammer’s driver, although at only 4′11 he has to prove himself constantly. Crimson’s boyfriend, though the relationship doesn’t last. Cepheus. Cepheus was named after a constellation he found in a book. Entirely deaf since birth, but one of the Imperators’ most trusted Warboys.

Mass Effect Camilla. A Commander of a ship, a true leader, Cammy is a force to be reckoned with. Especially since she looks after four krogan kids, a human, and a salarian. Garst. Cammy’s ‘husband’ and an excellent soldier class. He used to live on Omega before Cammy picked him up. Hayley. Cammy and Garst’s adopted kid, Hayley is a bit of a wild child. She has a pet varren named Pickles, though no one knows how she tamed him. Chanyi. Hayley’s girlfriend, and an angel of a quarian. Her mother died on Omega and Garst took her in.

My Hero Academia Akari. Akari’s Quirk gives her incredibly strong empathy and the ability to influence emotions. She feels bad using her Quirk, though. Riko. Riko can rapidly grow bones from her limbs, snapping them off and fashioning them into weapons. She loves grossing people out. Takara. The daughter of a Pro Hero and a scientist, Takara is overpowered as fuck. She’s also horrendously arrogant about it.

Trollhunters Roisin. A teacher at Arcadia Oaks High, she accidentally got involved in Jim’s troll nonsense. She has a crush on Blinky, the madwoman. Una. Roisin’s kid sister, Una is actually a Krubera changeling that ditched the order because she loved her human family too much.

XMen Alina. Nicknamed ‘Songbird’ for the way her voice can put people to sleep - or cause brain haemorrhage. Her choice. Bethany. Definitely wants to bang Hank McCoy and is overly defensive about it. She teaches English at the mansion - and her nephew goes there too. Daisy. She literally got into a fist fight with anti-mutant protesters, which ended in her nearly dying. She still thinks it was well worth it. Lydia. She’s a nurse in training and ends up helping the mansion after an attack. She can induce hallucinations but prefers to use it to soothe people. Hayley. Literally Rapunzel, with meters of prehensile hair as strong as steel. She’s barely five foot and has never hurt a soul, but she can threaten. Cassandra. A lingerie model with a killer body, Alina uses it to take the attention away from the enormous eagle wings attached to her back.

I’ve Been Dreaming! (My first original project!) Delinna. Although not literally a demon, the red skin and horns have earned her species that nickname. Poly dating Red and Keavyn, who she loves a lot. Red. Extremely round and extremely shy. His name is actually Allistair but he goes by Red due to his bright auburn hair. Carisey. Delinna’s little sister, and a right troublemaker. She’s at college mechanical engineering, and is scarily good at it. Keavyn. He has his own Youtube channel where he posts gaming and ghost hunting videos. Once tricked Red into a ghost hunt and regretted it. Claire. She’s blind, and her eyes literally look like space; complete with tiny planets. She doesn’t know how, but sometimes her dreams are prophecies. Josh. A boy with too many eyes and not enough patience. Amusingly he’s dating Claire, and he’s all too aware of the irony.

Gator Land Khadija. Her father is basically a mad scientist that created loads of sentient “monster people”. Khadija is now best friends with all of them. Sebastian. Is he alligator or human? Both. Although he’s painfully shy it doesn’t stop him from wanting to live as a human. Or from crushing on Khadija. Coco. She has no mouth and a geode for a stomach. It’s unknown if she’s more living creature or more gemstone. Cloud. A fluffy skull-headed boy who’s fur changes colour with the seasons. He kind of looks like a humanoid cubone. Sonnet. A shy fish boy who loves poetry and fantasy novels. He will cry if you say anything mean to him.

[desolate-rose]

Chapter 8 magic is real!

I have a plan!

And it only took me two years and some change!

And that’s not the only thing i've done in the last two and a half years! (that would've been a very boring two years) I can walk AND talk! And through these new skills (which were a pain to get let me tell you! Learning to walk left. So. Many. Bruises.) I had discovered all sorts of things!

I had confirmed that I am in fact a princess, we do in fact live in a castle, and that I am indeed a hylian.

That knowledge had sent me into another one of my depressingly common panic attacks, but it wasn’t all bad!

My new skills led me to the discovery of, (drumroll please) A LIBRARY!

Oh sweet literacy how I missed you!

I may have given my parents the mistaken impression of being some sort of baby genius or something, but in all honesty I was just desperate to be able to read again. Again being a baby was very very VERY boring, and my rationale thought and impulse control had honestly been worn down by the lack of intellectual stimulation! I was sooooooo bored of baby babble.

Also it wasn't exactly out of character for the cannon zelda, she had repaired / created an incredibly advanced guardian as a child which was not only capable of showing a personality planing and a facsimile of emotion, but also TIME TRAVEL.

Should I have pretended to be the average three year old because I'm not actually some sort of genius? probably. Will this have consequences for me? most likely. Will I regret this later? Almost certainly. Do I care right now? NO!

Consequences can suck it!

Mama needs to feed her addiction!

Also it wasn’t like I had just started to read books bigger than my head either, I’m still learning to read hylian, it’s a whole new language writing system and alphabet! I’m still stuck on baby books and basic words, but it’s better then nothing!

And sadly the little i can decipher of the hylian writing system is also more advanced than the nothing that real three year olds know. So I’m now the castle's little genius, mom and dad are absolutely brimming with pride. Honestly it’s too much attention placed on little ol me but if it’s a competition between too much attention or not being able to read, I’d choose to read every time.

I’m currently trying to figure out a rough chronology for the events of breath of the wild and all of its proceeding events. (assuming I'm not in the age of calamity: hyrule warriors timeline, but that timeline only exists as a split off of the original timeline so for now i'm assuming im in the original timeline. Prepare for the worst hope for the best and all that rot. Also im not stupid enough to assume that i can be a baby genius and just yha know MAKE a time triveling gaurdian) so that I can best implement my plans. Here’s my rough ROUGH timeline.

10,000 years before the start of the game Gannon attacks and is sealed away by the hero and princess with the help of the 4 champions, the Divine beasts, and the guardians.

At some point after that the sheikah become distrusted due to their powerful magic and technology and are banished.

They split in two the yiga who hate the royals of hyrule for their betrayal and join forces with gannon, and those who remain with the spirit of the sheikah and give up their great skills to remain serving the crown

98,983 years later princess Zelda is born. Shortly before that link is born

At some point a prophecy announcing the return of calamity Ganon is made.

At some point Zelda's mom dies making her unable to learn sealing magic from her.

Zelda is pressured into praying and praying and praying to unlock her sealing magic, at one point even collapsing in freezing water nearly losing her life if it wasn't for urbosa saving her.

The sheikah rediscover the Divine beasts, guardians, and sheikah slate.

Zelda helps to study these ancient artifacts to the disapproval of her father

Link finds the master sword

Link is appointed zelda's personal knight

The champions are chosen

Zelda goes to the spring of wisdom on her 17th birthday and Gannon returns

The champions, king bosphorus, and thousands of innocent people die when Gannon turns the Divine beasts and the guardians against them

Link is mortally wounded and Zelda unlocks her powers.

Link is sent to the shrine of resurrection

Zelda returns the master sword to the lost woods and goes to face Gannon alone for the next 100 years

100 years later Link wakes up with no memories and the events of the game commence.

In the end my plan is quite simple. Make sure my mom doesn't die. All of Zelda's problems stem from her mom's death, Gannon could only wreak havoc because Zelda's mom wasn't there to teach her the sealing magic or deal with calamity Gannon herself. At best my mom could teach me the magic and we could seal Gannon away together or she could do it or I could do it, at worst I can use the magic because I'm not actually the girl who is meant to be the zelda incarnation of hylia. Either way gannon gets defeated, bada bing bada boom no great calamity no destruction of all i've come to know and love.

Does it sound stupidly simplistic yes. But in all honesty it needs to be. There are too many variables at work here to have a twenty step plan and have it all go accordingly. Life is messy and unpredictable and not exactly amenable to complex multi step plans that rely on everything going a certain way. There's a reason that the saying ‘the best way to make God laugh is to tell him your plans,’ is so poupar. This isn't a game any more, stuff happens, free will is a thing. I can't rely on what I think I know. Who knows how much the butterfly effect has already affected things. So simplicity is the name of the game, it allows for the flexibility a rigid multi step plan would not.

So my plan really only has two components: learn sealing magic as soon as I can, And make sure my mom survives.

simple but hopefully effective

______________________________

I toddeled determinedly through the halls ignoring the bemusedly indulgent granny trailing behind me.

Fun fact about being a princess, you don't get any alone time. Ever. i am constantly being monitored, be it by granny, spots, father, mother, or some other random sap assigned to guard duty. Literally the only times I am left alone is when I head to the restroom or am put to bed for the night.

It's only mildly infuriating.

Mildly.

But anyway, at this time of day I would usually be at the library attempting to read some of the less difficult books or in my nursery playing with my toys under the watchful gaze of granny or spots, but today I have a mission. I was going to get my mom to start teaching me sealing magic if it kills me. I had found the perfect excuse as well. An old story book depicting the great matrilineal line of queens and their unique gift bestowed upon them by hylia herself. Now to enact my plans and deploy my greatest weapon. puppy dog eyes.

I stumbled my way into the office where my mom was going over various papers with a serious look upon her face. “Mama!” I cried practically throwing myself into her lap. McGuffin clenched in hand. “What is it my little bird” she smiled blessing my day, watering my crops, clearing my skin, and healing my wounds. “I found something i don't understand!” I chirped, squirming myself into a more comfortable position, book tucked into my arms. “Oh and why didn't you ask ila?” (so that was granny's name, huh.) “mhhhmmm i wanted to ask you!” que puppy dog eyes version 37 bright, cheerful, innocent. Work that toddler arua!

Mother chuckled while granny rolled her eyes behind me, I saw that missy! Don't give me your sass! “Oh and what didn't you understand?” PLAN IS A GO “mama what's se-al-ing magic? Why does the book say I have it? I'm not magic!” I pretended to pout indignantly, flipping to the page in my book that referenced it.

“Sealing magic baby, is the reason our line has ruled hyrule since the hylians lived amongst the clouds, it's a special gift from hylia herself.” hook, line, sinker. “Really?!” “yes my little bird, it's a special magic that lets us seal away bad guys, banish evil, and protect our kingdom. It's proof that we descended from hylia herself” as mother said this she raised one of her hands allowing for it to be bathed in an ethereal golden glow, bathing her in light and making her look like something genuinely devine.

Before this there had always been a little part of me that had been denying the truth. No matter how often it was mentioned in books or stories. No matter how many things had pointed to this being the hyrule of stories, a small part of me had been screaming that magic isn't real and that the legend of Zelda couldn't be real. But now, bathed in divine light and witnessing true honesty to god magic for the first time I could no longer deny the truth. Normally this confirmation would chill me to the bone and cause hysterical fear, but the power before me was warm, comforting, and at the same time incomprehensible. I could not fear when this light this power was here to bolster my spirit. I had never been adamantly religious before, but in the face of this light, for the first time I truly believed in the divine.

As the light faded away and I blinked spots out of my eyes I reaffirmed my mission. I needed to learn how to do that. Yesterday.

“Teach me! Teach me! Teach me!” I chanted practically vibrating where I sat, eyes wide in wonder and awe. “Now now little one, not so fast!” my mother chuckled, ruffling my hair.

“Why not!” I asked indignantly and was a little worried. I NEEDED to know sealing magic for my plan to work. It wasn't safe to put all your eggs in one basket. No matter how hard i would be working to save my mother regardless of calamity ganon.

“You're not old enough yet, my little songbird.” NOT OLD ENOUGH! I WAS 17 YEARS OLD WOMAN WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT!? “I am old enough! I know how to read and everything!'' I frowned, doing my best not to show the inner turmoil starting to boil.

A little of it seemed to show on my face with the way mother immediately began to sooth me “zelda that's not what i mean.” my eyes searched hers, they were uncommonly serious. “Our magic is powerful and dangerous. There is a reason i can't teach it to you yet. Your not yet old enough in body or mind to be able to withstand the strain that kind of magic would put on your spirit.” my face must have still looked mutinous because she continued on. “Beyond just that, your power is not developed enough yet even if you could withstand the strain. You wouldn't be powerful enough to actually use your sealing magic.”

This is bad very very bad. “When can i learn it?!” mother chuckled at my assumed enthusiasm “Numbers hold power baby, when you turn seven you can start your lessons.”

Seven, SEVEN! That's years from now! The remaining calm and serenity from the glow of hylia's might drained from my body.

“Now i think it's time for your nap! Come on little bird i'll put you to bed, maybe afterward you can sing me a song hmm?”

Why do the gods hate me?

Also on FanFiction.Net! https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13547505/8/

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Crystal you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Xenophilius Lovegood!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Oh my goodness -- your application blew us away. Simply reading through it you could see how much you’d thought about every single aspect of Xeno’s characacter and really got a handle about how you’d develop everything that makes him tick. I love the idea of him balancing on a razor’s edge -- between two seemingly distinct sides of his personality, and the headcanon and para sample about his reasons for joining Aversio were beautifully written and thought through. We’re so excited to see Xeno on the dash and to see you develop him through the course of this roleplay!

application beneath the cut ( tw: drugs )

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION Hey, I’m Crystal! I’m 21, go by she/her, and am in EST time zone in the US.

ACTIVITY I’d say my activity would be a solid 6 or 7 out of 10. I can be on most nights, for at least a few replies.

TRIGGERS *removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US? Just through the tags, browsing for a quality group to join.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST? As cliche as it may be, i definitely feel like i identified most with Hermione. I’ve always been rather bookish myself and, like her, had difficulty finding friends in a sea of judgmental people. I can relate to the comfort she found in solidarity and knowledge, while also attempting to balance and cope with her her desire for companionship and acceptance.

ANYTHING ELSE? This group looks fascinating, and i’m thrilled for the chance to be a part of it. :).

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER Xenophilius Lovegood

FACE CLAIM Jamie Campbell Bower

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

Honestly, Xenophilius was never really a character that caught my attention during the movies or books. I loved Luna, of course, but thought that her zany quack of a father was mildly interesting, at best. That being said, your description of young Xeno fascinated me, because it was so far from the image of the older version, yet, the more i thought about it, such a believable transition. I’d never really put thought into what he must have been like during the first wizarding war, or his time at hogwarts, but i’m really excited to explore the untapped potential that lays here. I feel like i could really expand upon and develop him based on your given description, and that his unique personality could open up some really interesting interactions. I enjoy writing quirky characters, and have written quite a few in the past, but never ones with the darker, rebellious, loner aspects that you’ve attributed to Xeno. I’m really excited to write a character with such drastically different aspects of his personality. A combination of good-heartedness with a discontentment towards society is the basis for a wonderfully conflicted character who struggles with making the right choices in the horrible situation he’s stuck in. Being the accepting, tolerant, and loving person that i imagine him to be, but dealing with being an mistreated, misunderstood outcast would leave him constantly torn between attempting to merge with his peers and wanting to swear them off. I’m so excited for the chance to write Xenophilius, because every single one of his reactions will be teetering on a razor’s edge depending on the tiniest nuances of the interaction. Like i said, i never really gave him much thought before, but just from reading your bio of him, i’ve seen what a dynamic, complex, and life-like character he has the potential to be, and i’ve already got so many ideas i want to play out with him. Plus, the chosen faceclaim could not have been more perfect.  

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

I think Xeno would usually go by male pronouns, simply because they’re what people would opt for naturally, and he doesn’t really care what people view him as one way or the other. It’s just easier than correcting them and insisting on gender neutral pronouns would be more trouble than it’s worth to him. For Xeno, it’s less that he feels adamantly non-binary, but more that he feels gender to be irrelevant. Hence, whichever pronouns are applied to him, he just rolls with. While i fully intend to write him as a non-binary character, and make that aspect of him very prevalent, I’d prefer to use male pronouns, simply for ease of writing. Appropriately, he is also pansexual. Although, romance and sexuality have never really been high priorities for him. When he does fall in love, though, he loves fiercely and loyally. While yes, he does enjoy sex, it’s more about the emotional attachment and the passion than the physical pleasure, and he doesn’t really feel the need to have meaningless or constant sex. As for ships, I could see him being interested in Aurora Sinistra, for her intelligence and ambition. Other than that, i think i would have to see how his interactions with other characters go before seeing who he would be compatible with.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-A PLAYLIST https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLaxuQiftHJY10XBCI0DANwFfWT6cZpp_o

-A MOCKBLOG https://xeno-lovegood.tumblr.com/  (There are like 3 or 4 pages to look through, i think)

-A FEW HEADCANONS

He’s both a coffee and a tea person, depending on the day, his mood, and the weather.

Xeno doesn’t let anyone else cut his hair and, despite not being very good at it, insists on doing it himself. That is, on the rare occasions that he actually cuts it.

Among his many oddball collections, Xeno has countless gemstones and rocks, animal bones, foreign coins, and instrument pieces (strings, pegs, buttons, reeds, etc.).

When he was young, Xeno had a habit of tinkering. Taking apart, rebuilding, and remodeling his toys was one of his favorite pastimes. When he played outside, he devoted meticulous care to using twigs, leaves, and other found objects to build tiny home for woodland animals and “fairies”. His love for tinkering and, eventually, inventing never faded.

Xeno has always had a love for books, muggle comics, and especially fairy tales.

Xeno has insomnia, but doesn’t mind too much, as he prefers the night time anyway.

Xenophilius currently works at the Apothecary in diagon alley, but has been reprimanded by his boss a time or two for knicking a few ingredients. However, his charm and knowledgeable nature keep him from being fired.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it: “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have some sort of something that induces a sensation of levity? A potion, perhaps, that lightens one’s mood and eases the min- oh, wait, no, i suppose that’s just alcohol then, innit? Something better! Something easier on the liver. All of the happiness, none of the hangover. Hm.. A charm, maybe? Oh yes, yes, that’s very good. A levity charm! I can see it now, ‘Instantly brightens mood, lifts spirits, and opens the mind! Wear it on bad days or, maybe just chuck it at people who need to lighten up.’ Plenty of those in the world, eh?” ♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you: “Oh, well one person, that’s easy. Newt Scamander. The original clever critter catcher himself. I’m a massive fan of his work, brilliant man. A little closed minded on the existence of some lesser known magical creatures, but i digress. It’d be good to have an expert on board when trudging into the natural habitat of countless magical creatures. The object, now that’s the tougher one. Hm...it might be to my benefit to bring a weapon of some sort, i suppose. Muggles weapons, you know, are severely underrated. Wizards waving wands don’t give a single thought towards the merit of, say, a muggle gun, but in those woods, up against merlin knows what sort of creatures, i might just feel a bit more safe with one in hand.

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make? “Difficult to say, really. Is ‘all of them’ an acceptable answer? I’m afraid I can be terribly indecisive, Point and case, right here, indecisiveness on the topic of being decisive. Funny, that. To give a more legitimate answer, I suppose decisions that intwine the fates of others? Choosing a path for yourself is one thing, but making a choice that affects others? Significantly more weighty. Oh! Or choosing what to make for brunch. Difficult indeed.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you? “The worst thing i can imagine being called is generic. I can’t fathom what a boring life that would be.”

WRITING SAMPLE “How’s your dad doing these days, Philly?” Xenophilius opened his eyes and found himself looking at the poster on the ceiling. Through the smoky haze that filled the room, the members of Aerosmith stared back down at him. He had started adorning his ceiling with posters and hangings when all his wall space had become occupied. Between all of the band posters, stolen road signs, star charts, maps, anatomy diagrams, a listing of songbirds native to eastern europe, and a poster for something called the Chudley Cannons (which his muggle friends didn’t really understand, but they swore they had glanced the letters moving once or twice), there was scarcely any visible wall space left. His room couldn’t be described as tidy even at the best of times, but it was an organized chaos. To him, at least. Despite nearly every surface being littered with any and all manner of things, Xenophilius misplaced things very rarely. He may have lived messily, but it was a mess he understood.

“You know i’ve asked you not to call me that, Nina.” He replied, though with no real conviction. He’d accepted defeat in that battle years ago. He lolled his head to the side to face the girl. Her dark green eyes, a bit blood shot at the moment, and her amused grin met his gaze. He chuckled, realizing his eyes probably didn’t look much better. Their legs swung lazily off opposite sides of his bed, their heads and shoulders in the middle fitting comfortably together like simplistic puzzle pieces.

“He's doing okay, last I heard. Avoiding prison still, so that's good, I suppose.  I'm going to see him this weekend.” “Solid. Tell him I say hey.” “I shall. He asks about you, sometimes. Says you should come down and visit with me one of these times.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew the idea would never come to fruition. His father lived in a wizarding community. Owls filled the evening air, while lawns trimmed themselves and the sound of neighbors clinking together a few cold butterbeers filled the air. He could never bring her there. She shrugged. “Maybe.” He felt that she somehow understood, and was grateful that she didn’t press the issue.

Xenophilius’ parents had separated a few years back, and he now lived in the spacious and comfortable home of his muggle mother and her new husband. His mother was an impressive woman. When Xeno’s father had confessed to being a wizard, she took the news incredibly well and accepted having a wizard in the family with unprecedented indifference. When they discovered a few years later that their son was also magical in nature, it came as no big shock to anyone. His mother was an overwhelmingly accepting woman, and even as the only muggle in the household, she adapted and carried on with her life. Surprisingly, it wasn't the existence of magic or the collision of worlds that eventually pushed the couple apart, no. It was the drinking. Alcohol; the most potent and problematic of potions. She was hardly one to judge, having enjoyed and abused her fair share of substances back in the day. Xeno’s friends later swore that his mother’s habits were to blame for how strangely he turned out. But she had cut all of that out of her life when her son was born. His father, however, had a bit more difficulty. Xenophilius senior was not a bad man. By all accounts, he had a heart of gold, a smile that could light up a room, and a sense of humor that left his young son in fits of laughter. But he was a deeply troubled man. Eventually, his mother couldn’t take his father’s behaviour anymore, and they went through with a fairly civil and clean divorce. Although Xeno doesn’t see his father as much as he would like, they still get along well during the weekends they spend together. Knowing that his father is sensitive to the subject and would most likely be furious, Xeno keeps his drinking and drug useage a secret from his father.

A silence had fallen on the room. The girl, Nina, got up off the bed and strolled over to the record player. In one smooth motion, she lifted the needle, twirled the record between her fingers, and set it back in place. Zeppelin started crooning out of the beat up speakers and filled the room once again. “Sixteen, I fell in love with a girl as sweet as could be, It only took a couple of days 'til she was rid of me. She swore that she would be all mine and love me till the end, But when I whispered in her ear, I lost another friend, oooh.” Xeno sang quietly along, knowing every word by heart. The album was one of his favorites. He must’ve listened to it a dozen times since Nina bought it for him a month ago. It was one of the only presents he got that year for his 18th birthday. Fitting, since she was one of the only friends he had. She was fiddling with a few of the crystals and stones that littered his room. He loved that she never found his eclectic nature and strange collections offputting. Though, he supposed, it made sense. She wasn’t exactly your generic cookie cutter girl either. An onlooker might find it hard to believe that the two of them had met in a primary school chess club. Neither of them looked the type. Her, with her raven hair, shaved down the left side and falling in long natural curls on the other and a face adorned with half a dozen piercings. Him, with a mop of constantly tangled dirty blonde locks, a worn denim jacket, and the occasional guyliner. But they had sensed something in each other and gravitated towards one another almost instantly. He supposed they both drew comfort from sharing their outcast status. She was a quiet girl, soft spoken and concise. But she liked to listen, and god knows Xeno liked to talk. They worked well together. The judgement and name calling he received from his peers never really got to him, or bothered him terribly. It was just something that was impossible not to notice. He never in his life prioritized popularity or really stove to fit in. But it was nice, he had to admit, to meet a girl who had never called him a freak, or a weirdo like the majority of his other classmates. Naturally, he was eternally grateful to the girl for giving him someone around whom he could be himself. To an extent, at least.

Although he felt guilty about it every day, there was a part of his life that he could never share with his best friend. His quirks were one thing, but being a spell casting, potion brewing wizard was another entirely. He had a distinct feeling that even her threshold for weird wasn’t quite wide enough to encompass that little bit of information. As much as he wanted to tell her, he couldn’t risk scaring her away. It was bad enough being a social outcast, but being a wizard living among muggles made him feel even more disconnected from his peers. An acromantula in sheep’s clothing. Receiving his Hogwarts letter had been Xenophilius’ saving grace. He had been beyond dismayed to discover that he fit in no better with wizard kids then regular ones. He was still an unusual person, even by magical standards. But at least he didn’t have to hide his powers around them. He cherished his time at Hogwarts, reveling in the wondrous history and culture of the wizarding world. As much as the curiosities of the muggle world interested him, the wizarding world was infinitely more whimsical and beyond fascinating to him.

“Are you hungry?” Nina’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Upon hearing her words, he suddenly realized that he was, in fact, incredibly hungry. He swung his lanky frame upward off the bed and slipped his feet into the worn black boots that sat bedside. “Starving. Wanna run down to the mart?” He asked jovially. “I haven’t got much on me” She replied, picking through her pockets. “I’m sure we can figure something out.” He countered, shooting her a grin that might have been ever so slightly mischievous. She knew him well enough to know just what that look meant. They’d gotten into and away with more than their fair share of trouble together. Xeno had racked up a somewhat lengthy record over the last few years of his life. He wasn’t exactly know to be one to follow all of the rules.  Never anything extremely serious, of course. Petty theft, vandalism, trespassing. Minor offensives, for the sake of rebellion, fun, or ticking off the local crooked cops.

They both laced up their boots and headed out. Xeno lit up a cigarette as they walked. It was less than a mile from his home to the nearest snack shop. The trip was a nearly daily routine for them. They could walk it with their eyes closed. It was their go-to place for munchies. Between puffs of his cig, Xeno was passionately telling Nina all about a creature called the Crumple Horned Snorkack. She listened contentedly, counting cracks in the sidewalk as it passed below them. She was used to his overactive imagination by this point. Assuming that all of his stories were simply make believe, she found them incredibly entertaining. It was an unusually warm day, even through the overcast. Xeno was practically cooking inside the leather jacket he had adorned before they left, but the garment served a purpose. It was riddled with inside, hidden pockets. In a practiced motion, he tossed his hair into an effortless mix between ponytail and bun as they strolled into the corner shop. “Evenin’, mate” Xenophilius called over to the spotty teen behind the counter. The kid didn’t even look up from his comic. Ha! This was going to be easy. Xeno couldn’t help but grin, strolling up and down the aisles. He made a beeline for the candies in the back. He had one hell of a sweet tooth. He ran a slender finger over the shelf, deliberating between chocolate and jelly babies. In the end he opted for both. With a glance over his shoulder at the checkout boy, his slipped the candy bar into his jacket, but held onto the jellies. It allayed suspicion to actually buy a thing or two. He’d picked up a few tricks over the years. He meandered around the store a bit longer, stuffing a menagerie of things into his pockets. Satisfied, he cast his gaze over to Nina, a couple aisles over. She gave him an affirmative nod. They met up at the counter, laid out a few snacks each, and Xeno paid. The boy behind the counter seemed unenthused, but had at least bothered to put the comic away for the transaction. “Thanks a bunch…” Xenophilius squinted at the boy’s name tag. “Scotty.” With that, he gave a wave and spun on his heel. Feeling like Bonnie and Clyde, the two were practically glowing with pride at the feat they had pulled off. They strutted towards the door. Scotty sneered at their backs, annoyed at having been troubled to do his job.

It was when they were only a few steps from the door, from safety, that it happened. They all heard the smack of plastic on tile. “Oy! Whatchu- Hey!” The boy behind the counter shouted angrily. Nina looked down, horrified, at the few snacks that had slipped from beneath her blouse. Xeno saw them too. “Shit. Let’s go!” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards the door, but not before good ol’ Scotty pressed a switch behind the counter. They could just hear the lock click into place. Dammit. He swore under his breath, pointlessly shaking the door. He heard the angry employee threaten to call the cops, and began to panic. He couldn’t afford to get in any more trouble. Not right now. Not so soon before he was due back at school. Nothing could come between him and his getting to Hogwarts. With no other option coming to mind, he slipped out his wand. He tried his best to be subtle about it, but there was no hiding the stumpy branch, or the slight sparks it emitted as he hastily whispered the incantation. “Alohamora.” With a light pop, the door sprung open. Xeno bolted through it, dragged the girl behind him, and left the poor muggle boy gaping and bewildered.

For a bit, they ran without looking back. When Xeno felt that they had put enough space between them, he finally stopped. They both caught their breath in a secluded alleyway beside a bustling street. “Well,” Xeno started nervously, trying maybe a bit too hard to sound casual. “That was a close one, wasn’t it? The lock breaking like that,eh? I thought for sure we-” “What just happened?” The sternness in her voice stopped his words dead in their tracks. For the first time in a very long time, Xeno was speechless. She was staring at him in a way he had never seen before. There was fear behind her eyes.

“Xenophilius.” He winced. She never used his full name. “What was that back there? How did you do that?”

This was it, he realized. There was no hiding it from her anymore. If he lied, she’d know. And besides, not even the most cleverly constructed lie could be believable. There was no way to explain it other than the truth.  He was about to lose the only friend he had.

“Magic.” He stated simply. He pulled out his wand again, clearly this time, for her to see. To his surprise, she said nothing, so he went on. “I’m uh, a wizard, ya see. Spells and charms, potions and broomsticks.” As hard as it was to start, he felt like he had burst open a flood gate.  “I got to a special school. For wizards, like me, and witches. It’s called Hogwarts.” He was absolutely certain that she was going to freak out about all of this, yet he feel incredibly relieved to finally be telling her after all these years. He rambled on for a bit, speaking rapidly and excitedly. When he finally paused to gauge her reaction, he found that she was staring at him, mouth slightly agape. He couldn’t quite read her reaction, but his words had stunned her into silence. “Ah! H-here! Let me show you!” He took up his wand. He raised a free hand in a disarming gesture, silently reassuring her not to be afraid. He aimed at a nearby flower that was fighting its way through a crack in the concrete. A delicate looking thing, all the colors of a sunset. Swish and flick! “Wingardium Leviosa!” Nina let out a gasp. The flower rose, plucking itself from the ground and floated almost lazily through the air. He maneuvered it skillfully towards her. She froze as it approach. With a slight shifting of his wand, he landed it delicately in her hair. He smiled at her sheepishly, beyond apprehensive. What was she thinking? What if she just tucked and ran? He couldn’t blame her. What if he never saw her again. What if she called the cops on him, had his locked up in the looney bin?

“Magic? Real...magic?” She spoke, finally. He started to breathe again. Her voice was even, but in a controlled way. Her fingertips wandered up to caress the petals of the flower in her hair. She was quiet again for what felt like years. Then...a smile began to form at the corners of her lips. Xeno’s heart soared, or stopped, he wasn’t sure. Her face broke out into a full on grin.

“That’s fuckin’ wicked.”

-------------------------------------------------Present Day-----------------------------------------------

The shrill screams of the tea kettle pulled Xenophilius out of his thoughts. He discarded the Daily Prophet as he went to relieved the pot, tossing the paper onto the floor of his caravan home. From the front page, a vague headline announced yet another brutal attack from Voldemort loyalist. He realized that, lost in his thoughts, he had taken in very little of the article he’d been attempting to read. His mind had been wandering back to that day with Nina. He poured himself a glass of gurdyroot tea and took a long inhale of its fragrance. It had been four years since that day. A short time, relatively, but a lot can happen in four years. Wars break out, alliances form, fights ensue, and people die. The thing about Death Eaters, Xeno had quickly come to realize, was that they had no discretion. They couldn’t care less who or what got trampled on their violent paths. When they decided to attack, men, women, wizards and muggles alike were lain to waste. They represented cruelty in its most unbridled form.

He’d been thinking about Nina a lot, recently. About the day they met. About the day that he revealed that he was a wizard. But mostly? About the day that he saw the name of his hometown in the headline of the Prophet. The day he saw her name listed among all the other muggles who suffered the ultimate price in a wizard's war. The same day he join Aversio. 

[aion-rsa]

Zub Invites Baron Zemo to a Thunderbolts Anniversary Celebration

Marvel Comics’ latest “Thunderbolts” team was formed when the Winter Soldier (AKA Bucky Barnes) and several former team members banded together to protect the living Cosmic Cube fragment, Kobik, from S.H.I.E.L.D. and any other forces looking to exploit her abilities. But by doing so Bucky unwittingly put them all in the crosshairs of his former partner, Steve Rogers.

Kobik used to be under the thrall of Hydra and its villainous master, the Red Skull, who utilized her reality-altering abilities to change history. When she was done, the original Captain America had been a secret agent of Hydra for pretty much his entire life. Kobik broke free son after tweaking the timeline, and the Skull’s forces have been trying to recover her ever since.

Now, Rogers has discovered that the childlike Kobik is in the custody of Bucky and his team. This February, he’ll put his secret weapon against the group into play; a weapon that knows Bucky’s comrades better than almost anyone: Thunderbolts founder, Baron Helmut Zemo. It all happens in “Thunderbolts” #10, by writer Jim Zub and artist Jon Malin, which celebrates the team’s 20th Anniversary and kicks off a new arc titled “Return of the Masters.”

CBR: You recently brought back a long-time Thunderbolt, Songbird, and this February, you’re bringing back another in the form of Baron Zemo. How does it feel to bring him back to the book? And how important do you feel Zemo is to the larger Thunderbolts mythos?

Jim Zub: Zemo is obviously at the heart of the original Thunderbolts concept, so if we have an anniversary issue, we want to bring him into the mix. There’s an element of nostalgia to the series, but it’s not just about retreading what’s been done before. It’s about celebrating the elements at the heart of what has been “Thunderbolts.” There are all these different elements that have built this amazing series and we want to address them all, have them in play, and do some very exciting things with them.

EXCLUSIVE: Art from “Thunderbolts” #10

In short, having Zemo involved is absolutely crucial. He formed the team, instigating the original mystery behind them and their villainous reveal. He’s part of the DNA of villainy that drove the Thunderbolts from the start and that the team members eventually rejected in an attempt to become heroes in their own right. For this special 20th anniversary event he’s got to be at the center of it.

What’s it like writing Zemo?

It’s awesome. Zemo is such a great character because he’s powerful, but not in a raw, cosmic sense. He’s just got the power of personality. He’s pure intent, and I think the way he’s able to drive that leadership and push people towards different ends is what makes him such a valuable character when you’re building a story.

Whenever you put him into the mix there’s always something great you’re going to get out of it; an intense, emotional quality. Regardless of what the other cast members of the Thunderbolts think in terms of their own heroism, what he did for them and the way he was able to unify them at the start, and at a number of other points in their history, can’t be denied. He’s someone who gets things done and I think that’s what makes him such a great character. You add him into the mix, and there’s this instant spark of intensity.

Has Zemo’s personality changed at all in light of history being altered so he and Steve Rogers were childhood friends?

I can’t really speak too much about that. I don’t want to spoil any of Nick Spencer’s story stuff that’s coming up. There are some aspects, though.

One thing I really like about the way Nick is writing Steve Rogers, even when he’s loyal to Hydra and that organization’s ideals, is that he’s still Steve Rogers. He’s still this aspirational figure. He’s doing and planning dark things, but there’s still a charisma to him. He’s still this larger than life figure. It’s great that Steve didn’t just become a mustache-twirling villain. He’s much more nuanced and careful. He’s still a leader even if he’s leading a group that’s villainous or has darker ideas in mind.

Zemo is sort of the same. Helmut has been altered, but at his core he’s still this charismatic, capable, driven person. That makes this work a lot better. It’s not just corny mind control where a person is outright evil and doing dark things for the sake of darkness. They still have their core personality they’re just driven to a different end now because of that historical alteration.

Yeah, I always felt Zemo was a character who had admirable goals, but pursued them via deplorable methods. I think with history being altered Steve has become a similar type of figure.

Right, and that makes for a great villain. You may not empathize with them completely, but there’s a sense of purpose where you go, “I don’t agree with what you’re doing, but I can see how you’d come to this conclusion even if you’re walking the wrong path.”

Zemo has such close ties to the Thunderbolts. He’s been through more with them than anyone else in his history so he has a desire to return to that strength. He feels they have value, but if they won’t join him he’s going to do what needs to get done. I think that’s what’s going to make the conflict so rich here. It’s not just a matter of Zemo showing up and kicking everyone’s butt. He brings hard decisions in his wake and that intensity makes the whole thing spark.

Bucky’s version of the Thunderbolts is different from Zemo’s, but both have been unifying forces, they just put the group in different situations. They’re going to have to make some hard choices especially in the face of stuff we’ve got coming up in the months ahead.

How big a role will Steve play in the “Return of the Masters” arc?

EXCLUSIVE: Art from “Thunderbolts” #10

I can’t really say. [Laughs] The fall out of Bucky’s imprisonment in the just-released “Thunderbolts” #8 and Steve’s involvement there will answer that a bit, otherwise readers will have to wait and see.

In issue #7, we got a little bit of your take on the relationship between Steve and Bucky, but can you talk a little more about how Steve views Bucky in light of everything that has gone on with him?

“Thunderbolts” #8 gives you a stronger sense of that. I can’t go into too much detail, but the way Nick and I have talked about it is that Steve is fond of James. They have a bond there, and they’ve gone on missions together. It’s not that they have no history — it’s just that it’s different than before.

When Steve talks to Bucky in prison, he wants to get Kobik of course, but there’s also a bond between the two of them. It’s not just a cold, calculating kind of thing. Some of that emotion and intensity coming from Steve is genuine.

The way I’ve thought about it, and I talked to Nick about it and we agree, is that, like you said, Steve has his ultimate ends in mind. He doesn’t consider himself a villain. Bucky currently has Kobik, and it’s a huge danger for Steve’s plans to have her to be out there without Hydra’s control. So, when push comes to shove, Cap is going to break towards his ultimate mission, but if he doesn’t have to kill someone he’s not going to.

With Steve, Zemo, Bucky and Kobik all sort of converging together, this story feels like it could be both a milestone “Thunderbolts” story and a pivotal chapter in the long form Steve Rogers tale that Nick is telling in his book.

Absolutely. Nick and I have been working closely together. Before any of this Hydra stuff was announced, I was brought up to speed on where things were going so we could plan it appropriately.

In the first issue of our new “Thunderbolts” series, we laid in some of the Chitauri stuff Nick has followed up on in “Steve Rogers” as well. We’ve been back and forth building some of these different elements, and I think people are going to be surprised at how they pay off later on.

If you’re reading the “Steve Rogers” book, the “Sam Wilson” book, and “Thunderbolts,” you’re getting as complete a picture as you can right now. Obviously, we’re heading towards more dramatic things to come.

What’s it like bouncing Zemo off some of the new members of the Thunderbolts like Kobik and Bucky?

Zemo has interacted with Kobik before during the “Avengers: Standoff” event. He saw her merely as a Cosmic Cube; an object he desired. It’s not as simple a thing now, though. She’s a lot more complicated.

Zemo thinks the Thunderbolts are still his to lead. He knows how to push and pull them and he’s not wrong in some ways, but he doesn’t always have a complete picture and tries to sort of bulldoze over any of the things he doesn’t know about them or care about them so he can get to his ultimate goals

To me, it always felt like Fixer and Atlas had especially conflicted feelings about Zemo.

EXCLUSIVE: Art from “Thunderbolts” #10

Absolutely. They couldn’t deny that he was charismatic and capable. Plus, in some ways he provided them with a structure that they needed.

I’ve always looked at Atlas as a follower. He’s looking for guidance and an authority figure to say, “This is what we need to do, and if we get it done we’re going to win.” When he has that kind of structure he feels most complete, and that’s why he’s really enjoyed being on a team with Bucky. Bucky tells him what to do, and tells him when he’s doing it wrong.

Someone like the Fixer is the same, but his issue is literally fixing problems. It doesn’t matter if he’s doing it for good or evil. I always got the sense the Fixer doesn’t have strong moral leanings one way or another. It’s more, “You give me a platform to show off how amazing I am? I’ll do that for you. You deny my genius and treat me like crap? I’m going to go somewhere else or betray you.”

Since this is a 20th Anniversary issue, are there also nods to other incarnations of the Thunderbolts like the brief “Fight Club” version, and the groups that served as Norman Osborn and Thunderbolt Ross’ personal strike teams?

When I took over the book, I read every single “Thunderbolts” issue with a notepad by my side. I also read “Dark Avengers” — not because I thought I was going to bring everything into play, but I wanted to have a good sense of what had come before. The way I look at continuity is that it all happened, but what areas do I want to emphasize? Or what rings true to me when I’m writing a story? If I can put in little asides or those elements dovetail into the story in a way that makes sense that we can mention stuff from the past, great. I don’t want to shoehorn things in there or make it feel like the Greatest Hits collection; where all I’m doing is callbacks because I feel like that’s disingenuous. Our job as storytellers is to keep this thing moving forward, but the good and the bad of continuity is that it all happened. If an element makes sense, I make sure I bring it in.

The characters have a past and a shared history. I’ll include funny little lines where they talk about Zemo as a leader compared to someone like Norman Osborn. That kind of contrast is something I like to play with, but I’m not trying to check off boxes of every single iteration of the team. When you do that it just becomes a cold exercise in nostalgia. I know that’s not a direct answer, but I’m trying to keep from revealing too much.

How will the action in the “Return of the Masters” arc manifest? Is this a story where Zemo is coming directly at the Thunderbolts? Or is it more of a tale of machinations and subterfuge?

It’s not subtle. [Laughs] It gets pretty intense right from the first chapter. It’s funny because when we were planning it out I had to make sure it was going to work with some of Nick’s plans and I realized that, based on the timing, we had to kick it into gear quite quickly but that actually worked for the best. Rather than starting off slow I thought, “Okay, let’s just open strong and intensify it from there.”

In issue #10 Thunderbolts creators Kurt Busiek and Mark Bagley are coming back to do a short story. When we were bouncing ideas back and forth, I realized what would actually work best based on the pacing was for Kurt and Mark to do the prologue. They’ve created a 10-page opening story that tees up a bunch of cool things for me. It’s part of the big payoff, not just an aside.

We know your artistic collaborator, Jon Malin, can handle action, and it sounds like this arc will have plenty of that, but it also feels like we’ll see him stretch his character acting skills as well since it involves a lot of interpersonal conflict and conflicted feelings.

Yeah, what’s nice about this arc is there’s an emotional intensity. There’s fisticuffs of course, but there’s also a lot of harsh conversations dripping with tension. I think readers are going to be surprised where we take things with issue #11.

So, is it safe to assume that by the time the “Return of the Masters” arc comes to an end the Thunderbolts will be in a very different place as a team if they’re still together at all?

EXCLUSIVE: Art from “Thunderbolts” #10

[Laughs] Issue #12 will be apocalyptic. We’re going to be breaking and building all kinds of stuff. We’ll also be putting them in some pretty cool spots. I hope people who have read “Thunderbolts” are pumped to see the next chapter and excited to let us run with the ball and keep working with such an amazing concept.

The Thunderbolts concept is so rich because it has a complexity to it. They’re villains trying to be heroes and often failing along the way. There are areas of redemption and failure in the concept that I don’t think a lot of other books play with. I like that the characters mess up but keep trying.

I knew Thunderbolts and had read it back in the day, but before I got this assignment I’d never sat down and tried to take it all in at once. When I did that I realized these were the threads that spoke strongest to me and I think speak strongest to the readers. They’re aspects I want to explore, but not just retread. So how can we move things forward in a way that makes sense, but also isn’t too easy to telegraph? Answering those questions while playing in the larger sandbox of the Marvel Universe has been a ton of fun.

I love that a book like “Thunderbolts” can have a 20-year legacy. There was a while there where it became a wonderful gathering place for a lot of lost characters that didn’t necessarily have a home. The Thunderbolts became this weird family that doesn’t really get along, but have this bond with each other. That bond is that they’re all trying to be more than what they are. Sometimes that’s in a villainous direction. Sometimes it’s heroic. It’s a great platform for telling stories.

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