#that. that's always given me a lot of hope honestly. keeps me going. forging ahead. for a better tomorrow.

[noxtivagus]

how do u interact w ppl again >////<

[collecting-stories]

Birthday - c. 13 - Georgia

Summary: Just a whole lot of feelings.

A/N: Sorry I didn’t post when I said I was going to, thank you guys for your patience though! Also, if you haven’t seen it, there’s a link on my page to help raise money for a friend of mine to get bottom surgery, if you wouldn’t mind taking a look and considering donating or reblogging to get out the word. 

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“Not who I expected to see waiting outside the pharmacy for me but, I’ll take it.” Tara called out as she walked across the small parking lot to her car. Parked right next to her four-door was Daryl’s truck and he was standing there waiting, leaning against the tailgate.  

“I haven’t heard from her in a couple days, just wanted to be sure she’s alright.” Daryl replied.  

“You mean after you told her you didn’t want to date her?” Tara asked, crossing her arms over her chest.  

“Ain’t that simple.”  

Tara groaned, already exhausted with both of you. “It is that simple, she really likes you and come on, I know you like her. You fucking stopped at the drug store to talk to me because you’re concerned about her. That’s pretty solid proof that you like her too.”  

Daryl looked away, scuffing his foot on the ground and taking his pack of cigarettes out to smoke, he needed something distract himself.  

“Can I have one?” Tara asked, already holding out her hand for one of his cigarettes. Her sister would probably kill her if she knew but Tara smoked occasionally, more recreational than anything else. “She’s staying at my house in Woodbury. Her dad’s supposed to be home soon, think she’s just waiting it out away from her mom.”  

“He any better?” Daryl asked lighting his and then holding the lighter for her cigarette. You’d be bitching about the smell no doubt, or pretending it didn’t bother you.  

“Not really,” Tara shrugged, “he doesn’t hit her or anything but he’s pretty dependent on her mom. I mean, the guy’s been in and out of rehab for years now, he can barely hold a steady job. Last time he was in the hospital he was on suicide watch cause he’s so miserable. Why are you asking me all this anyway? Why not ask Maggie?”

“Some friends ya don’t tell everything to.” He replied. “Ya let me know how she’s doing?”  

“Go to the diner and make up and see her yourself.”

“I already told her, she’s got enough shit going on, don’t need me adding to it.” Daryl replied.  

“Before you go,” Tara stopped him as he started to walk around to the driver’s side of the truck. “Just tell me, do you like her? Would you date her?”

He nodded, slowly. Not like he was unsure, just like he was trying to censor his answer. He settled on “yeah” because anything else would have been too much to tell kid. He would date you, hell, he was pretty sure that he would marry you if he was given the chance. He’d never thought much about liking anyone before. Daryl had seen Merle with different women his whole life but he’d never really bothered appreciating any of his own. People just came and went and he figured that was exactly how life would always be. And now there was you and he wouldn’t mind setting up a future, he’d already laid one out in his head. A nice one, like all the upstanding people in King County, the ones who whispered about him, had. There’d be a house, or a farm like Hershel’s, and kids if you wanted them though he’d never thought of himself as needing to bring any children into the world. It’d be nice though and you’d both be happy.  

“Don’t tell her I stopped by?” Daryl asked.  

“I won’t.” Tara replied, “think about it though? Cause she was happy with you and she was standing up for herself and she never used to. I don’t want her to lose that.”  

Daryl shut the door on the truck and Tara backed away as he started the engine, reversing and then peeling out of the parking lot. She took another drag of the cigarette and dropped it on the ground, smashing it into the white line with her shoe.  

You were working at the diner that afternoon and when you saw Daryl’s truck pull into Dale’s Autobody across the street you considered taking a ten minute break just to go talk to him. If you could figure out what was going on between the two of you, or even just apologize for what you said in the grocery store. You would’ve killed for a time machine that night, imagining the possibility of rewinding yourself back to the moment before you told him, of being able to pretend you didn’t feel the way you were feeling.  

If you could’ve done it over again you wouldn’t have said anything. Kept quiet until, and you hoped there was a possibility, he liked you so much that he couldn’t possibly reject you. And yet, you knew it was pointless to think that way. Standing in the parking lot with him, you had known that the only thing you wanted in that moment was him.  

-

Maggie sat on the top rung of the wooden fence with you, lanterns set out to illuminate the make shift camp site that she and Tara had put together for your birthday.  Glenn had come once it was dark enough that no one from the house would realize that he was there. You were usually wired, especially considering the amount of alcohol that Glenn and Tara had both brought with them. You had half a bottle of wine left, holding the nose in your hand as you sat there with Maggie, silently staring ahead to the porch light that looked more like a lightening bug at this distance.

“Glenn’s been talking about college,” Maggie finally said. Tara and Glenn had both punched out early but you and Maggie couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Or maybe she was just sitting up with you to be nice. “It’ll be nice to get away from all this. Have you talked about it with your parents?”

“My mom says the college fund is,” you sliced your hand across the air, “gone. Guess it’s waiting tables for me.”

“Woodbury has a college, maybe you could go there?”

“It’s not Emory...” you replied. “I don’t know any more honestly. I just wanted to go to college cause I wanted to get out of here. Guess I still do.”  

You had thousands of dreams of college as a kid. Getting out of King County and never coming back. You could be one of those kids who moves to the city without leaving a forwarding address, who disappears from the average existence of small-town life. Breaking whatever mold, you had been born into. It always seemed like it would be you, Maggie had the farm and she complained about the church but you knew she loved it. But now she was talking about life outside of King County and it seemed insane to you that you would be the only one contemplating all the things in your life that you thought about changing. Maybe some of them could stay the same.  

“I told Daryl I liked him.” You said, “told him I was gonna be 18, we could date.”

“What’d he say?” Maggie asked, reaching for the wine bottle to take a sip.

“Same thing he’s been saying, that I shouldn’t ‘get dragged into his life’.”  

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.” Maggie sounded too hopeful for her own good. And why shouldn’t she? Even if she thought about leaving King County everything about her screamed small town. The high school sweetheart, the southern twang, the pastor’s daughter dichotomy. She hit all the marks.  

“Means he doesn’t want to.” You replied, taking the wine back.

“Well take it however you want but, maybe it’s a sign? You been getting too close to something dangerous. I love you and you know that but you were spending all your time with him, not going to church, not doing stuff with me or Glenn or going to youth group. Maybe it’s a good wake up call. Your mama wouldn’t want you tossing it all away for a boy. Especially not Daryl.” Maggie stated.  

You knew somewhere along the way you had given up trying to keep up appearances. You weren’t the sweet kid who had sat all through Thanksgiving and then snuck out at the end, something had changed and you had stopped caring if people knew who you were hanging out with. Deanna had only seen you because you’d gotten too reckless.  

“Guess so.” You said, hopping down off the fence. You had never told Maggie about your mom and you certainly couldn’t now. You weren’t even sure that she would believe you.  

“What?”  

“What?” You asked, eyes meeting hers in the dark.  

“You got that look, like you did before you dragged me to Dale’s.” Maggie said, watching the slow smile on your face as you bit your lip.  

“Just thinking.”

She was right though, and you knew it. Even as you climbed into the tent you were sharing with Tara, laying on your back as if you could see the stars through the vinyl, your head was swirling with any sort of idea you could grasp at. Maggie could say whatever about you and what you cared about but at the end of it you knew what you wanted. Her pep talk wasn’t going to deter you.  

-

In the morning you stopped at Dale’s, church bells ringing as you got out of your jeep. You were supposed to be meeting your mom for service but you had pit stopped here. Axel was out front working on a car and he waved when he saw you. Daryl wasn’t overly forthcoming with information about his life so it didn’t surprise you that he would’ve neglected to tell anyone about the night at the grocery store.  

He was in the back, maybe just finished with something cause he was wiping his hands on a rag from the back pocket of his coveralls and you weren’t quite ready for the ache in your chest at the sight of him. Your heals on the concrete weren’t quiet and Daryl looked over when he heard them, jaw tensing.  

“What’re ya doing here?” He asked.  

“I thought about what you said.” You replied, a little less confident than you had felt when you stepped out of your car. “And I’ve come to a decision.”

“Am I supposed ta ask what that is?”  

“Yes.” You moved closer, he wasn’t running but he looked a little reminiscent of a caged animal.

“I got work.”  

“Wait, just hear me out,” you begged. He started to say something, no doubt telling you to leave, but you stopped him, forging ahead. “I know I told you that I liked you when we were at the grocery store but it’s more than that. I love you. And I think you love me too. I’ve been thinking about leaving King County and getting away from my mom for a long time and lately I been thinking I don’t care. There’s still some things I want, ya know, but I can get ‘em right here and mostly, I just want to spend time with you.”

There was a lot Daryl wanted to tell you, that you were right. He did love you. “Ya don’t know what yer saying.”

“I do.”

“No,” Daryl snapped. “Ya don’t! There ain’t a future here for ya. Yer wasting yer time and one day, you’ll wake up and yer gonna realize that’s all ya been doing, wasting time, and yer gonna want out. Save yerself the trouble and just go.”  

“I’m not wasting my time.” You insisted.  

“I got work.”  

“No, Daryl,” you grabbed his arm, stopping him from turning and leaving.  

“I told ya before, I’ll say it again, there ain’t nothing here for ya.” He replied, pulling away from you.  

“Fine then tell me I’m wrong.” You said, “tell me you don’t love me and I’ve just been imagining it.”

“I got work.” He repeated, brushing passed you.  

You knew what you should’ve been feeling. Depressed, angry, absolutely gutted. All of those fit the bill but you couldn’t make yourself feel any of those. As you climbed back in your jeep, pulling out of the parking lot, all you could feel was the smallest, fleeting, sense of hope. He hadn’t said that he didn’t love you. Nothing he said suggested that he didn’t feel the same way. You’d been thinking that he just didn’t like you back but it wasn’t that at all. He was just afraid.  

You knew how you felt. And now, you knew how he felt too.  

-

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[random-imagines-blog]

Over {Thorin Oakenshield x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @queenofmankind​ Wordcount: 2492 Summary: The dwarves have been debating an important issue for a few months now. What happens when you offer a solution that impresses a certain King?

The meetings of dwarves were always long and full of tension. Arguments always erupted between Thorin Oakenshield, and Dain, and there were some problems that even Fili, and Balin having trouble solving. You  had been thinking about the solution to the main problem that they have been addressing, but it was not your place to offer. You were just here as a secretary, on top of being both a human and a woman, both of whom never sat in these discussions. It was only because Thorin had vouched for you that you were here at all. It was a little terrifying, knowing how precarious your situation was and how you could be ejected from the dwarves at any time. You had been helpful during the battle of the five armies, suggesting strategy to Bard who then passed it on to Thorin and Thranduil, which helped to win the mountain back. This place was like a home to you now - and the dwarves like family.

The main problem was the injured and how to take care of them. There was more than enough wealth to go around and the dwarves who had suffered in the wars were well compensated - but at the same time, they were arguing that they didn’t want to just hang around in bed doing nothing. It was not the dwarven way to be lazy. But all of the reconstruction jobs have already been given to the more able-bodied, and they weren’t about to be putting them out of work to give into the needs of the few. It was a difficult dilemma, and though a few things have been suggested, they’ve either been vetoed or tried for a day and then shut down.

You had written down all that had been said that night, and the meeting was coming to a close, when a solution popped into your head. You looked around the room, hoping that there may be a lull in which you could say it. But the arguments gained in escalation, with Thorin saying that he was not going to remove his dwarves from their task because he is the King Under the Mountain and he makes those decisions, while Dain was defending his own who were hurt from the battle that Thorin had started.

“Oh, hello!” Balin said, standing tall. Or as tall as he could on his own. You hadn’t noticed that he had been watching you, but he had been keeping a particularly close eye. He had seen something go across your face. An idea, perhaps. Anything to stop these two from arguing. “I think that y/n has an idea, and I think that we should listen to her!”

“Ay, why should we listen to her human ideas? She knows nothing about the affairs of dwarves!” Dain complained, just as he had when you had first started joining these meetings.

“And neither did a hobbit, and look at where Bilbo brought us,” Thorin interjected on your behalf. He looked at you with his wise blue eyes, and gave you a nod to say what was on your mind. Dain crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, not interested in learning, while the others looked at you with excitement. It would be the first time you would be speaking at one of these meetings; and Kili and Fili did notice that it was Thorin encouraging you. That would come up later.

You cleared your throat as you realized that all of the attention was on you. “I - I was just thinking, I don’t have a thorough solution or anything...”

“Sometimes a thought can change the world,” Balin encouraged, leaning forward with a smile on his old features. He was being very kind and welcoming, and it pushed you to go ahead and say your idea.

“Well, dwarves aren’t the only ones working on piecing their land back together,” You said outloud, focusing your eyes on Thorin although it was his opinion that you were the most afraid of. If he dismissed you outright, it would hurt like mad. “Laketown and the surrounding area were destroyed by Smaug. And yes, they have the gold to repair it and make it grander than before, but they don’t have the men. Or the materials.”

“Yes, we’ve heard the complaints,” Dain interrupted. Dwalin shushed him loudly, but he continued. “Are you sayin’ that we should go and do the work for the humans?”

“That’s ... not exactly it,” You said, the wheels in your mind turning. This was your chance to be taken seriously and you were going to seize it. “I know that the injured are healing but some have ... disabilities. We can’t expect them to do the careful work of the healthy, working with forges and the like. They could hurt themselves, or others that way. But they are still more than capable of doing other work if they stop being so ... stubborn.”

“Ye think we’re being stubborn now, just you wait til I tell em about this-” Dain said, but was shushed once more. This time he seemed to listen.

“A trading post,” You said, just as the words popped into your head. “They still have control of the lake, which means that you would need their permission in order to get fish. And other food, because it’s not as if dwarves can live off of eating rocks ... can you?”

You looked over to one of the dwarves who was closest to you, Nori. He shook his head. “I didn’t think so,” You continued with a little laugh, which Fili and Kili joined in on. “So they might not be able to handle a hammer and anvil, but surely they can work a boat or carts, set their own hours, make their own pay? That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? They feel like charity because you’re just giving them gold without them really earning it? At least, that would offend me partly. I can’t speak for dwarves, obviously.”

“It is something that we will think on,” Thorin grunted. At least he didn’t outright dismiss you, which was more than you bargained for. “Meeting is over - we’ll talk about it next month.”

The dwarves bundled up their things, with Dain doing the most since he was going the farthest. He gave you a look that was most queer. You couldn’t read it, you couldn’t tell if it was a good look or a bad look. Before you could determine that, he looked away, and took off to head back to his own home, leaving you with your own company of dwarves for a little better.

“That’s clever, actually,” Fili said, turning up on one side of you, while his brother was on the other. They were who you would say you were closest to within the company.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, honestly,” Kili piped up.

“If you’re still trying to impress uncle, you’re doing a good job.”

“Hush,” You said quickly, clapping your hand over the prince’s mouth before he could say much more. You looked over your shoulder to see if Thorin had heard, but he didn’t appear to. He was talking with Balin rather animatedly.

That was another reason why you were the closest with them. Because, unfortunately, they had caught the looks that you had been giving the King. After that, it seemed like a better idea to be on their good side than on their bad. They might tell and poof, your position goes away because of a simple case of...

It was love, wasn’t it?

It had gone beyond the crush that you had when you first saw the blue eyes peeking out from behind the mounds of hair. Now you understood why so many of the people around him loved him. Why every one of these dwarves would have died for him. It was not only the cause that was great, but the dwarf behind them.

“‘Ello Uncle, good meeting today, wasn’t it?” Kili said, making you release Fili quickly and look towards the King. You smiled nervously, awaiting the verdict.

“I’d like to talk to y/n, alone,” He grunted, looking at his nephews. They looked at each other, and sheepishly smiled.

“Just like to say that was a very Queen-ly idea,” Kili stated, then bowed out of the room.

“I’d give her a promotion if I were you,” Fili said, leaving as well. You chuckled nervously at their attempts to win your favor with Thorin, but largely, you were worried that it would only have the opposite effect.

“Okay, now that the meeting is over, I’d like to apologize,” You said before he could tear into you for speaking out of turn.

“For what?” Thorin asked. You bit the inside of your cheek, expecting a reaction but not a question.

“I know that my position here is just to record the meetings, and not to give ideas. I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t been asked by Balin. I don’t have the experience to suggest such things, it was just something that came into my head.”

“You’re  not confident in your own ideas,” Thorin observed, stroking his beard with his rough fingers. He sat back down at the table and kicked out a chair for you to join him, across from him. Hesitantly, you took the seat. “I was going to ask you if you have anymore. I’m going to tell Dain to suggest the idea to the dwarves. Let them decide their fate.”

“You are?”

Thorin nodded in response. He wasn’t a man of many words, more so a man of displeased sounds, so the fact that he was talking to you now was a big deal. “There’s been some other issues that have been bothering me. I’d like your input.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you bring any of them up when the meeting was going on?” You asked, looking at your papers. The only real issue on the docket was the one that you might have resolved.

“I like to have solutions before the problems are brought up,” Thorin said. You nodded, supposing that made sense, and listened to him as he unloaded what was on his mind.

-

Bombur found the both of you two hours later, still talking in the room. He brought you guys dinner - some rabbit stew that was made. Fili and Kili found you two an hour after that, still in the room. This time you were taking down notes, and doing most of the talking while Thorin was listening. After that, the two of you were left alone because everyone else had retired to their bedrooms.

Thorin kept his eyes on you as you talked. You had a lot of motion inside of you. You drew things to explain your point, you waved your arms around, it was like you were putting on a one-woman show. You displayed passion, much like the way that Thorin had when he had set out to reclaim the mountain. And he was struck by how intelligent you were. All of your ideas seemed more than feasible.

You had ideas about how to solve the food shortage, how to better farm the area, and even how some of the disabled dwarves could help with both of those things. Thorin didn’t say much, only brought up a couple of questions which you explained.

It was only when you finally started to show signs of exhaustion that he stopped you from going on. He held up a hand when he asked if you had any other questions, then got to his feet. “You’ve worked hard enough for tonight, lass,” He said. “I have more than enough to bring to the council. And they will listen to their King.”

“Oh, of course, you’re right,” You said, remembering that it would be him who would be presenting your ideas, rather than yourself. Thorin, though rather clueless at times about what other people are thinking, saw a doubt rush across your face.

“So I will back your ideas, and make sure that you are heard.” Thorin finished. He liked seeing the excited look come back into your eyes, and the smile of triumph. “It is late - I will walk you to your room.”

“Thank you,” You said. The lantern was sitting on the table, the wick of the candle inside beginning to wane. You both reached for it at the same time, and your fingertips touched on top of the handle. You were the one to pull away after a couple of prolonged seconds, and Thorin just grabbed hold of it. It was difficult to pretend that he did not just feel a spark that sent his heart alight.

Queenly idea, Kili had said? Perhaps that was so. You had all of the makings of a great leader, and you were just beginning to make it known. An excellent choice, despite the fact that you were a human while he was a dwarf. “I pronounce this meeting to be over.”

Over. No more time with you tonight, but it must be done. There was work to do tomorrow, but perhaps, just maybe, he might be able to see you tomorrow.

He lead the way through the confusing halls of the inside of the mountain, before stopping outside of the room that has been claimed as yours. It was one of the bigger ones - as a lady, all of the male dwarves thought you should have it. He stopped outside of the door and turned to face you for the last time that night.

“Goodnight-” You started, but at the same time-

“Y/N,” Thorin had sputtered. You blinked, a little surprised that he was saying your name.

“Yes?” You questioned, looking up at him with your beautiful eyes.

“Would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow night, so we can discuss this more?” Never had he been so nervous to ask a question. He wondered how Kili ever talked to Tauriel without feeling the winged things in his stomach.

“Yes, I think that would be wonderful,” You said with a smile. “Until the day is over then?”

“Until the day is over. Goodnight.”

Thorin waited until you were safe inside your bedroom, with the door closed, before he went down the hallways to his own quarters. Sleep seemed a waste of time to him throughout most of his life, since he had so much to live up to. But now, he was looking forward to it. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he would be awake, and the sooner that dinner would come around and he could listen to you talk until the meeting was over.

[hermitologist]

My 20 Favorite Records of 2019

Lists! Everyone loves them. Here’s another one.

These are the records I liked the most this year. That doesn’t mean they’re the *best*, that means I liked them. You might not. That’s fine! You might be livid that Porpoise Corpse’s neo-classical folk prog double LP isn’t on my list because it’s an easy top 5 record for you, but maybe electric mandolin solos, blast beats, and harpsichord runs aren’t my thing. That’s fine too! It’s infinitely cooler and far more productive to let people enjoy the art they enjoy rather than wasting precious minutes of your life trying to convince the entire internet to have the exact same taste in music.

That said ... 

This years list is chock full of the usual, if you’re familiar with my taste at all -- tons of super heavy bummer jams, a handful of Radiohead-adjacent mid-tempo rock of the indie or emo variety, some hearty post-rock, some tried-and-true vets doing the thing they do very well ... again, and a few outliers. The honorable mentions list gets considerably more eclectic if you’re looking for stuff that sounds less like a soundtrack to various stages of the apocalypse.

As always, I welcome your suggestions for records and podcasts I might’ve missed the boat on. There’s way too much good stuff out there to keep up with, so PLEASE help me out.

Also: When I am not being a lazy pile of crap, I try to haul my dadbod around town for a run a few days a week and will listen to/briefly review a record in the process. Almost every record on this list has been a part of one of those posts, so if you’re interested in such a thing, please check out my Instagram.

BONUS: I put together a playlist on Spotify of my favorite song from each of my top 20 records, and a separate one for the 51 other records I liked this year, so if you’re overwhelmed and don’t know where to start, just needle drop a little and see if anything grabs you. And if anyone’s feeling productive and has time to do an Apple Music playlist, I’ll link and credit you.

Top 20 Spotify Playlist

Top 20 Apple Music Playlist -- Thanks, Austin!

Other Faves Spotify Playlist

But before we get to the Top 20, a couple of records that deserve a nod ... 

Record I Listened To The Most In 2019 Whether I Wanted To Or Not

Angel Du$t - Pretty Buff

This is my four-year-old son’s favorite record, and while I’m trying to round out his musical palate by throwing on all sorts of different bands while we’re hanging out, he insists on either “no music” or “The Basketball Song” (which is “Big Ass Love”). I have no idea how or why his little amazingly weird brain equates the song with basketball (a sport he doesn’t really play or watch or think about ever, to my knowledge), but it does. He LOVES IT. I’ve got to admit, I didn't care for the song all that much when I first heard it, but it’s an earworm, and some 3000 plays later, I love it, and I love the record. Funny how that works out.

Record That Came out in 2009, But I Didn’t Discover Until 2019

Self-Evident - Endings

Endings was neck-and-neck with my favorite record of 2019 for spins this year. Coincidentally, the it was recommended by someone from the band who made my #1 record, and it has moments where it sounds a whole hell of a lot like my #1 record. Blows my mind that a band that was/is so incredibly in my wheelhouse sonically, that has released nine LPs over an 18 year career, and operates in circles incredibly close to a ton of bands I love and respect and nerd out about music with somehow managed to elude me for the better part of two decades. At any rate I’m incredibly stoked to have finally found them, absolutely love them, and honestly might’ve listened to this LP 20 times in a matter of a few days when I got my first taste. It’s that good. 

And now for the list ... 

20) Remote Viewing - It’s Better This Way

Super nasty, dark, sludgy, well-crafted noise rock out of London that fits somewhere in between KEN Mode and early-Kowloon Walled City sonically. You’d think it was pretty crazy to have a band be so locked in and fully formed as early as LP2, but then you find out they’re ex-members of Palehorse, Million Dead, and I Want You Dead and it all kinda makes sense. Unfortunately, the song on the playlist is from a previous LP (because the new one is inexplicably not on Spotify), but you can and should get the new record on Bandcamp.

19) From Indian Lakes - Dimly Lit

I’ve been a big fan of FIL for years, but have always been at a bit of a loss when it comes time to describe them. It’s hazy and dreamy, but not quite shoegazey ... it’s insanely infectious and pleasing to the ear, but not really poppy ... it’s forward-thinking and experimental, but not quite art-rock or groggy at all. It’s just excellent. Full stop. If you dig anything from Tycho, to Radiohead, to The Cure, to Slowdive you’ll enjoy this.

18) Stray From The Path - Internal Atomics

Furious, mathy, riff-heavy hardcore from Long Island that sounds like a reformed Rage Against The Machine had spent the past two decades doing steroids, mainlining Red Bull, and studying the finer points of Moshology. The breakdowns are massive, the drumming absolutely mental, and the vocals pissed as hell. At my advanced age, it’s rare that a record makes me want to pit and/or try to deadlift cars, but this one’s got that magic.

17) Glassing - Spotted Horse

Mostly spazzy, occasionally dreamy, black-metal sprinkled post-hardcore that fits in very well with bands like Portrayal Of Guilt and Respire in the rebirth of traditional screamo. It’s fits and starts of chaos and beauty, and it all sounds and feels like it could completely go off the rails at any time which is what made bands like Orchid and Majority Rule and Saetia so great back in the day. 

16) La Dispute - Panorama

It’s no secret that I’m a big La Dispute fan (Thrice has toured the US with them twice in the past decade), and I love all of their records, but I’m pretty sure I can say with full confidence that this is the best record they’ve ever made. Everything is firing at peak performance, and the way the record is arranged and sequenced makes it feel more like a film score than a collection of songs. It’s a complete work -- meant to be listened to as such, which is a daunting artistic task, but they pulled it off in grand fashion.

15) Russian Circles - Blood Year

This band has been in the upper echelon of post-rock bands for as long as I can remember, and Blood Year is another incredible addition to their already stellar discography. These guys are all absolute monsters at their given instruments, and one of the best live rock bands on the planet, so getting to hear them do their thing on a record that manages to actually capture that live energy and ambience really does the trick for me. 

14) Greet Death - New Hell

This one kinda came outta nowhere for me, as I (ashamedly) was not familiar with them prior to giving New Hell a spin. It blew me away. I’m a total sucker for bummer jams, and this record is full of top-quality sludgy, sad, shoegazey goodness. If you dig Cloakroom, O’ Brother, or Pianos Become The Teeth this is gonna be right up your alley.  

13) Sleep Token - Sundowning

Another record that came out of nowhere to knock me on my ass. I downloaded it before a transatlantic flight on a whim (after hearing about 30 seconds of the opening track), hoping that it would be a nice, mellow companion to ease my in-flight anxiety. And it was, but whoa was it so much more than that. It kinda sounds like a collab between Active Child and Deftones -- poppy, melancholic piano ballads, brought to crushing crescendos via super heavy drop-tuned sludge -- which sounds like a mess, but it works so well. It’s a killer record and probably would’ve landed higher on this year’s list if it hadn’t come out so late in the year.

12) Big Thief - UFOF

This one’s a bit of an outlier, and a damn good one at that. I came across UFOF via a friend’s recommendation before the hype train had left the station, and honestly didn’t know what to expect. Said recommendation simply said that it was good and infectious and probably a few other things that I can’t recall, but didn’t mention the folk thing (which is great because I probably would have passed). The friend was right. It’s good (maybe even great), incredibly infectious, and gave me a nice reprieve from the heavy stuff I tend to listen to on the regular.

11) Cave In - Final Transmission

I’m beyond thankful we got any new music from Cave In after Caleb passed. They owed us nothing, and had every right to walk away, but managed to rally to release a killer record that is heavy both sonically and conceptually, and still manages to give me chills despite being live demos recorded in a rehearsal room. There are few bands on the planet who’ve inspired me like Cave In have, and seeing them pull together to grieve and forge ahead to continue to build their legacy is even more inspiring. What a band.

10) Pedro The Lion - Phoenix

My favorite singer/songwriter of my generation decided to revive the project that made me a fan of his in the first place. That project put out a record for the first time in 15 years, and I had unreasonably high expectations for it. Phoenix delivered and then some. I remember sitting at my kitchen table, weeping into my cup of coffee the first time I heard Phoenix, the same way Control used to make it seem like the inside of the Thrice van was getting a little dusty during cross-country drives back in the early 00s. It blows my mind that David Bazan can be such a prolific artist, write such insanely powerful music, and seem incapable of writing a dud song. 

9) Coilguns - Watchwinders

This Swiss noise-rock band kicks unbelievable amounts of ass. Their Millenials LP made my favorites list last year, and when I heard they had a follow up coming out a little over a year later, my gut reaction was to worry they’d blow it with a new record that was either rushed and/or half-assed, or lose the plot and take a hard left turn and make something markedly un-Coilguns. They did neither. The made an absolute monster of an album, that was apparently written in the studio, and is full of live energy in rawness that is pretty tough to capture in a sterile atmosphere like a studio. Watchwinders dropped in late October, and if I’d had a bit more time with it, I could see it moving up to my Top 5. It’s that good. I find myself going back to it constantly.

8) Blessed - Salt

This record kinda defies description, but it reminds me of everything from Pile to Menomena to Interpol to La Dispute to Devo at times. As scatterbrained and incongruent as that might sound, I assure you it rules. It was in verrrry heavy rotation this year -- mostly for the utterly filthy drum groove on the final track. If you like your music catchy, but slathered in weird, this is definitely gonna do the thing for you. It’s an incredible record.

7) Herod - Sombre Dessein

I hadn’t heard of this band before they popped up on a Spotify playlist early this year, and when “Reckoning” hit, it absolutely flattened me. You know that nuclear apocalypse scene from Terminator 2? That’s what “Reckoning” did to me. It was undoubtedly my favorite ultra-heavy track of the year, and while it’s my favorite song on the record by a pretty large margin, the rest of Sombre Dessein kicks ass too. It’s 42 minutes of crushing heaviness that kinda sounds like a blend of Cult Of Luna, Meshuggah, and Gojira. Heavy. Pissed. Unrelenting. And Outstanding.

6) Pile - Green & Grey

Every time I try to describe Pile to someone I fail. On Wikipedia they’re described as “indie rock”, which ... sure, I suppose? There’s a little post-punk in there, a little post-rock, a little noise-rock, nods to classic rock (maybe?), a little of that southern magic that made Colour Revolt so great (but Pile’s from Boston so hmm ... ), some country even? Do you like weird guitars? Freakish musicians? Melancholic crooning? I dunno. It’s all over the place, but in the best ways possible. They’re a singular band, and so damn good. Green & Grey is stellar addition to a discography that is already full of incredible music ... even if the album cover gives makes me want to fold those blankets and put them away.

5) PUP - Morbid Stuff

Was this the year that PUP broke? Definitely seems like it, and rightfully so. Morbid Stuff is my favorite thing they’ve ever done, but I’ve absolutely loved everything they’ve ever put out, so that’s saying a lot. Per usual, it’s insanely infectious and anthemic without being traditionally poppy or relying on tropes to burrow into your skull and take up residence there. It’s uplifting musically, but kinda depressing lyrically, which does this weird push/pull thing in my brain that makes it impossible to stop listening to. The musicianship is fantastic, the guitar parts especially -- like the guitar line in “Scorpion Hill” wow. I really needed a record to fill the gaping void between the metal/sludge/noise and the ambient/downtempo electronica I listened to this year, and Morbid Stuff fit the bill perfectly.

4) Cult Of Luna - A Dawn To Fear

These guys belong on the Mount Rushmore of Post-Rock/Metal with Neurosis and Isis. Nobody has done it better than them over the past two decades, and A Dawn To Fear is arguably their best work to date. It, like any Cult Of Luna requires a great deal of patience, but man if they don’t make the wait worth it. They’re the masters of the slow build to an absolutely crushing climax, the dynamic shifts that leave you feeling like you got hit by a freight train, the nuanced instrumentation that tells a different story each time you listen to a certain section of a song. They’re absolute masters at their craft, and this record is them at their peak. 

3) Big|Brave - A Gaze Among Them

Another record that came out of nowhere to completely floor me. I hadn’t heard a single note from this band until a friend recommended I check out the opening track, “Muted Shifting Of Space”. I did ... and that plodding drum and bass pulse with dark, swirling, ethereal guitar swells/feedback and soaring vocals building into a huge release of sludgy, drop-tuned goodness checked off all the boxes for me. I was hooked. The atmosphere and dynamics Big|Brave have built their sound around give every song a cinematic feel -- if you close your eyes, can you see drone footage of landscapes too? . If you dig post-rock/metal that is experimental around the edges, moody, absurdly heavy, and has both feet firmly planted in sludge, this is a must-have record. 

2) Cloudkicker - Unending

If you’ve been following me on social media or reading these year-end lists for a while you’re probably pretty familiar with Cloudkicker by now because any time we get new music I can’t shut up about it and the record invariably ends up on this list. This instance is no different. Unending is the first LP we’ve gotten from Ben Sharp in four years, and it’s worth the wait and then some. He’s managed to pull from every era of CK and turn it into a masterpiece mash-up of styles without it ever feeling rehashed or uninspired. I’d go far as to say this tops Beacons and Fade for me, and comes awfully close to challenging Subsume for my favorite Cloudkicker record of all time and space. There’s soooo much progressive and djenty masturbatory metal garbage floating in the ether right now. Hearing the one of the kings do the damn thing properly is incredibly refreshing.

1) Town Portal - Of Violence

No surprise here. I’ve been crapping my pants about this band ever since my good friend Scott Evans shared their music with me a couple years ago. I’ve been unhealthily obsessed ever since. The magical progressive rock/metal these three guys are capable melts and massages my brain in a way few bands ever have. Of Violence is incredibly mathy without ever feeling awkward, it’s melodic without being conventional, it’s discordant without being abrasive, it’s heavy as shit without being overloaded with distortion, it’s progressive as hell without ever coming remotely close to devolving into a wankfest, and it’s damn near perfect in every way. Songwriting? Great. Tones? Phenomenal. Musicianship? Otherworldly. Execution? Flawless. Mix? Perfect. Replayability? (Not a word, but ... ) PUT THIS RECORD ON A GODDAMN LOOP AND NEVER TURN IT OFF. Can you tell I like it? You might too, so give it a listen. And if by chance you do not like it, please see a doctor. You’re broken.

OTHER STUFF I REALLY ENJOYED THIS YEAR

HEAVY JAMS

METZ - Automat

Buildings - Negative Sound

Helms Alee - Noctiluca

Minors - Abject Bodies

Periphery - Periphery 4: HAIL STAN

Employed To Serve - Eternal Forward Motion

Elizabeth Colour Wheel - Nocero

Defeater - S/T

Pelican - Nighttime Stories

Spotlights - Love And Decay

Great Falls - A Sense of Rest

Baroness - Gold & Grey

The End of the Ocean - -aire

Vous Autres - Champ du Sang

Brutus - Nest

Torche - Admission

Glose - The Second Best of Glose

Throes - In The Hands of an Angry God

Slipknot - We Are Not Your Kind

meth. - Mother of Red Light

SECT - Blood of the Beasts

Kublai Khan TX - Absolute

Seizures - Reverie of the Revolving Diamond

Dead Kiwis - Systematic Home Run

Norma Jean - All Hail

Refused - War Music

Chamber - Ripping / Pulling / Tearing

MIDRANGE JAMS

Jimmy Eat World - Surviving

Elbow - Giants of All Sizes

Raketkanon - RKTKN #3

Bad Religion - Age of Unreason

The Appleseed Cast - The Fleeting Light of Impermanence

DIIV - Deceiver

Idiot Pilot - Blue Blood

Microwave - Death Is A Warm Blanket

Low Dose - S/T

SWMRS - Berkeley’s On Fire

Self-Evident - Lost Inside The Machinery

B. Hamilton - Nothing and Nowhere

MELLOW JAMS

Trade Wind - Certain Freedoms

Square Peg Round Hole - Branches

Great Grandpa - Four of Arrows

Local Natives - Violet Street

Rhone - Leaving State

Shlohmo - The End 

Tycho - Weather

Bon Iver - i,i

Drowse - Light Mirror

Bonniesongs - Energetic Mind

Telefon Tel Aviv - Dreams Are Not Enough

GoGo Penguin - Ocean In A Drop

Bent Knee - You Know What They Mean

THE PODCAST QUEUE

The Deadcast (RIP) - sports, culture

Chapo Trap House - politics

The Rich Roll Podcast - health, wellness, endurance sports

Hang Up & Listen - sports

Effectively Wild - baseball

The Gist - current events

The Downbeat - drums, humor

To Live & Die In LA - true crime

FilmDrunk Frotcast - movies, culture, humor

The Modern Drummer Podcast with Mike & Mike - drums (duh)

The Trap Set - also drums

Song Exploder - songwriting

[artificialqueens]

Overpowered Part 3 (Branjie)-athena2

A/N: Thank you all for the great feedback on Chapter 2! This chapter is a little angsty, but I hope you like it! Any feedback you have would be amazing, it really means a lot to me. ***This chapter has a mild panic attack, implied abuse, and discussion of medication.*** I also made some Brooke and Vanessa moodboards for this fic! Find them on my tumblr @buffywhovianpotterlock.

I’m surprised you’re still functioning.

We made the drugs that made you.

Precious little Frost.

She throws the weighted blanket off with a sigh, Vanessa following. “Can’t sleep either?”

Brooke shakes her head.

“I want to read it now.” She’s been tossing and turning since she told Vanessa she was ready, and she’s ready now. She has to know. She digs through her dresser.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. You’ll do it with me? Please?”

Brooke can lift a car over her head, but nothing could ever be heavier than this folder.

“Of course.” They drop down at the kitchen table.

Brooke has been picturing this moment since she asked Nina for advice, the older woman’s voice filling her head.

The file might give you some closure. But, given what happened last time, it’s likely it could cause another flashback. We could look at it here, or you can do it on your own if you’d like, but be aware you might respond negatively.

It’s what she figured Nina would say, an answer that wasn’t really an answer.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay? Promise?” Vanessa asks, grabbing her hand.

“Promise.”

Her free hand flips the folder open. The vaguely familiar words burn her eyes as she wades through medical terms of the injuries from the plane crash last March. A broken leg, broken arm, 3 broken ribs, collapsed lung, internal bleeding, and several cuts to her body. Does she feel the pain from those broken bones now, or is she imagining it? She touches the thick white scar on her chest absently.

She suddenly remembers a drainage tube between her ribs (she has a small scar there too) and the long scar down her chest, and white tabs stuck to her skin, connected to monitors that beeped piercingly, and pain like someone had carved her chest open and pieced it together with Scotch tape. Then the doctor put something in her IV, and it all went black.

“You good?”

Brooke jumps. She’d forgotten Vanessa was there. “Yeah. So far it’s just what happened after the crash.”

Subject name removed from flight list. No survivors. Flight list not released, subject will be presumed dead if any inquiries. Subject’s public records here (pgs 2-8), scrubbed from databases.

She turns the page. Scans of her birth certificate and driver’s license. She’s Canadian? A fight between her and Vanjie runs through her head, Vanjie grinning and teasing her for saying “soar-y”.

Newspaper clippings. Maybe there’s something about her before, or her family— she hits two obituaries. Her parents. She can’t read the rest. She just can’t.

Brooke should feel something, she knows she should. But she can’t remember. Nothing at all, not even a flash. It’s just an empty space inside her where she knows the memories should be.

She moves on hastily. Hytes New Co-Director of Toronto Ballet Company. She remembers the feeling of her feet in ballet shoes, but co-director?

The clippings are ghosts of her old life and she can’t take the haunting anymore. Brooke moves to lists of dates, starting when they took her and continuing until this summer. Her dosages, her exams, her training, her missions. The first rows cover her progress healing and responding to the drugs. Drugs that the two men she met hours ago had made for her and countless others. Her stomach twists painfully and she jumps ahead.

5/30/2018: Subject at healthy weight, physically approved to begin training. 10% accuracy with ice blasts.

Brooke remembers the row of bright red targets. His voice thunders in her ears. “You have until October to get half those targets.” It’s a command.

8/13/2018: Subject having nightmares, inquiring about old life. Subject sedated, given 100mg dosage in IV overnight. Had no memory of asking questions after waking.

She skips over training logs, punishments, and medical data. It’s like reading about someone else. She has vague images of the events, but they’re getting stronger and clearer as she reads.

 10/1/2018: Subject achieved 65% target accuracy, no punishment required.

“Maybe that’s enough.”

“I’m f-fine.”

11/19/2018: Training complete. 100% accuracy, blast strength increased. Dosage (10mg) steady and effective. Subject compliant and approved for field missions.

It’s all here. Labs she’d broken into. Weapons and technology she’d stolen. Every injury, every new drug sample. Records of fights with Black Diamond, with Shuga Rush, with–her heart skips a beat–Vanjie.

And the last one. The very last one before Vanessa saved her and took her away from them.

7/7/2019: Vitals steady. Subject compliant. Dosage to remain doubled until further notice.

“Brooke?” She can hardly hear Vanessa.

“These are all the bad things I did. ”

“Baby, no. Those things weren’t you.”

She shakes her head, heart straining her chest.

“You want to make us proud on your first mission, don’t you?”

She nods.

“Remember, if you fail, that’s bad. You know what happens when you’re bad.”

“I won’t fail, General.”

“Brooke!”

Her lungs are on fire, burning all her air. 5 things she can see.

She sees the kitchen wall across from her but it’s tilted–Vanessa is holding her tightly, stopping her from falling off the chair she’s half-out of. She pulls herself upright, eyes absorbing the wooden table as her breathing slows.

“Are you okay?” Vanessa tenderly brushes sweaty hair off Brooke’s forehead.

“Y-Yeah.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“So do you,” Brooke says quietly. All Vanessa does is take care of her, worry about her, and Brooke knows she hasn’t done enough to help, especially with the vision. Vanessa’s been through bad shit like her and is suffering in ways Brooke can’t imagine, but she’s always so strong, iron forged in fire–

“Less thinking, more sleeping,” Vanessa insists, leading Brooke to bed.

Their bodies intertwine under the blankets, but neither sleeps. —

“Brooke, come here!” Vanessa yells around a mouthful of pumpkin brownie, tapping on the window.

On the street below, a sea of kids in bright colors weave in and out of pumpkins and decorations. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to look at, until-

“Are they…”

Vanessa nods.

Two little girls head down the sidewalk. One wears a red suit with a V on the chest, the other in familiar royal blue, and she can just see the neon F.

“We’re legit heroes now, baby,” Vanessa grins, but her tears mirror Brooke’s own.

Their lips meet and Vanessa tastes like chocolate.

She thinks it’s the first time they’ve both forgotten about the vision. —

There’s been small earthquakes and electrical damage around the city, but no sightings of Quake or Shockwave.

Their nights are spent tackling common criminals beneath an inky sky.

She watches Vanjie scream at robbers and would-be murderers while desperately beating the crap out of them like it’s the only thing reminding her she’s still alive. The only thing keeping her alive.

Vanessa is suffering but Brooke has no idea how to help.

It’s like watching someone drown but being unable to save them.

Vanessa isn’t eating. Her eyes are rimmed with shadows. Her skin is painted purple and blue from all the fighting.

She doesn’t want to talk about it, and Brooke doesn’t want to force her.

Vanessa is close to breaking, and as much as Brooke wants to shatter, she can’t.

Sometimes she can’t even look at Vanessa without wanting to cry because she may never see her again.

Brooke’s heart is made of glass, but she needs to let it ice over before Vanessa burns herself out.

Because even though they have time, Brooke feels like she’s losing Vanessa already. —

It’s probably a stupid idea, but it has A’Keria’s blessing, so there’s hope.

Brooke works while Vanessa showers. She moves chairs and couch cushions and blankets until she has a sturdy blanket fort. She arranges fluffy pillows underneath, lays out the potato-chip cookies she’d made, and gets The Notebook set up.

Brooke is waiting when she emerges from the bathroom in her pajamas. “I have a surprise,” she says, covering Vanessa’s eyes. “Sorry about the cold hands.”

“I’m used to it. And there better not be any haunted house shit in here. Halloween’s over.”

“Nothing scary, I promise.” She removes her hands and watches Vanessa’s eyes get big, Brooke’s heart growing with them.

“Brooke.” Her hand goes to her mouth. “How did you…A’Keria,” she answers herself as she slides under the fort. “Damn. I love you so much. I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Brooke says as she nestles beside her. “So, um, I wanted to ask how you’re doing? Be honest.”

Vanessa shrugs and stares at the cookies. Brooke’s never seen her at such a loss for words. “I…I don’t know. I’m pissed–not at Yvie, it’s not her fault–but at everything, I guess, and I’m confused and sad and really fucking tired of it all, honestly.”

Brooke nods. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But if you want to talk-”

“I know you want to help, but I don’t want to talk. Please.” Her voice gets small and Brooke’s heart aches for her. “I usually love screaming about my problems and feelings and shit, and I know everyone thinks it’ll help to talk about it, but I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“It’s fine,” she sighs. “I just want to watch this movie and have you hold me.”

“Of course.” She presses play as Vanessa curls into her side, Brooke’s arms steadying around her, feeling how tense she is.

It didn’t go quite as she planned, but Vanessa falls asleep with a smile on her face, so it wasn’t a total failure. —

“You seem a little distracted. Anything you want to talk about?” Nina’s voice drips with concern and Brooke wants to tell her. She should tell her.

She shrugs, fingers digging into the squeeze ball.

“Anything at all?”

“Meds,” Brooke mumbles, finally bringing them up like she’d told Vanessa she would a month ago.

“Something in particular about them?”

Another shrug.

“Can you give me a little something to go on?” Nina asks gently.

“I think I want to take them,” Brooke says eventually, eyes on her lap.

If Nina is surprised, she hides it well. “Okay. Did something happen that caused you to want them? You seem a little hesitant, and I want to make sure you’re confident and comfortable before I prescribe anything.”

She’s about to shrug again when she can’t keep it quiet anymore. “I…I’m just sick of it! I’m sick of sweating in the grocery store and thinking I’m gonna have a heart attack when I leave the house! I’m sick of the panic attacks and the headaches and not sleeping and I…” The outburst quickly drains her and her next words are a whisper. “I just want to be better.”

Nina is quiet.

“I’m s–I’m sorry I yelled. I didn’t mean to.”

“You don’t have to apologize for feeling.” Nina pauses. “Brooke, I’m so incredibly proud of you. I want to say that first because I think you need to hear it.”

Tears spring in Brooke’s eyes. Nina was proud of her.

“I understand why you’re upset, and why you’re scared. Anyone would be after what you’ve been through. But if you feel ready, I do think medication would help you.”

“But if I…” Her voice trembles as she releases a fear she hasn’t even told Vanessa. “If I take them, doesn’t it mean I’m not good enough? That I’m weak?”

“Oh, Brooke,” Nina says softly, and her eyes look slightly damp. “Not at all. You’re doing so well. There’s absolutely no shame in needing help. Asking for help and taking medication shows how strong you are, how hard you’re working to get better.”

Nina passes her the tissues and Brooke no longer hides her tears. “I’m ready,” she confirms.

Nina smiles. “There’s one more thing I want you to try.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow.

“I want you to try not to apologize when you’re here.”

Nina might as well have asked her to pilot a rocketship.

“I know it’s a lot, and I don’t expect you to do it immediately,” Nina amends at Brooke’s bewildered expression. “It’s just something I want you to try.”

Brooke nods.

“And Happy Thanksgiving!” Nina crows. —

She and Vanessa wake at sunrise.

“Please tell me you don’t play Monopoly on Thanksgiving,” Brooke begs as they season the turkey.

“Oh no, that’s for birthdays only.”

“Thank God.”

“On Thanksgiving and Christmas we do bingo.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Mmm, you haven’t played with Silk. The bitch uses six cards. She used to keep a marker in her pocket and change the numbers. And she has to call out the numbers herself because she doesn’t trust us.”

“So I guess I’ll hide the valuables?”

Vanessa laughs and kisses her cheek.

Brooke knows what she’s thankful for. —

Silk barges in an hour early presenting her sweet potato casserole like it’s made of gold.

“Thank God we got Brooke to make the pies. Last year A’Keria was in her health-food phase and tried to poison us with low-fat nonsense,” Silk grumbles. “I almost wasted away.”

“And she brought that green shit white people love,” Vanessa adds.

“Kale?” Brooke guesses.

“That’s it.”

“She better not mess with my mashed potatoes. Last year she put cauliflower in them. Says you can’t taste the difference. Believe me,” Silk pats her chest proudly, “I can taste it.” —

“Everything good here?” A’Keria checks, glancing at the food covering every inch of counter surface.

“Yeah, I just hope Scarlet and Yvie like it.”

“Girl, you could go on the Food Network,” she declares, pointing to the pie-crust leaves on top of the pumpkin pie. “Everyone’s gonna love it.” A’Keria pats her arm in reassurance and the calm runs through her immediately. Brooke smiles in thanks, and A’Keria winks. —

“A’Keria, these potatoes are so good. What the hell is in them?” Yvie asks and Silk nods with her mouth full of them.

“Just butter and cream.” She pauses, grinning devilishly at Silk. “And cauliflower.”

Silk almost chokes. “You lying hoe!” She grabs a serving spoon and chases A’Keria around the table while the rest of them roar with laughter.

Brooke catches Vanessa’s eye, and she knows they’re thinking the same thing: Please don’t ever let this end. —

After a 2-hour bingo game resulting in 3 ripped cards, 2 spilled cups of coffee, one marker hurled out the window, Yvie flinging whipped cream in Scarlet’s hair, Silk almost swallowing a bingo ball, Brooke launching walnut shells like missiles, and Vanessa’s pumpkin pie fork nearly taking out A’Keria’s eye, everyone heads home.

“Brooke, I almost forgot,” Silk says as she leaves. “That Plastique girl? I found her.” —

She bounces her leg in her and Vanessa’s favorite coffee shop, because Nina had suggested they go somewhere she felt comfortable.

“You okay?” Vanessa asks. Brooke felt fine doing this without Nina, but there’s no way she’s doing it without Vanessa, even though Brooke feels guilty for dragging her along to something about her when they could be focusing on Vanessa.

“Yeah. It’s…she knew me before, you know? Not me now. And I’m not who I used to be. I don’t even know who I used to be.”

“Well, maybe you can’t focus on who you were. Because you are who you are now, and you don’t need to be anyone else. And for the record, I like who you are now a whole lot,” Vanessa bats her eyelashes and Brooke feels warmth spread through her.

Plastique looks exactly like she did in Brooke’s dreams–long black hair and a face so delicate it could be a doll’s.

She bursts into tears when she sees Brooke, touching her arm like she can’t believe she’s real. Which she probably can’t, Brooke realizes. She thought I was dead.

She gives Plastique the Silk-approved story: Brooke survived the plane crash with severe memory loss, met Vanessa, and has been trying to regain her memory. It’s not a total lie, but Brooke still sweats as she tells it, even though Plastique believes it and cries again halfway through.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t look for you. They said no one survived and I never thought…”

“Of course you didn’t. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Brooke, it’s my fault you were on the plane,” Plastique says suddenly, voice thick.

“What do you mean?”

“I was supposed to be on it, but there was a mix-up and there wasn’t enough seats, so I was gonna take a later flight. You wanted to stay with me, but I told you to go…”

For just a second, Brooke considers how easy it would be. To blame Plastique, to have someone to hate for putting her on that plane and in the lab’s hands. But she can’t. It’s not Plastique’s fault, just like it’s not her fault. Nina always tells her it’s no one’s fault but the lab’s, and it’s never felt as true as it does now.

“No,” Brooke says firmly. “Nina–she’s my psychiatrist–she told me if you wouldn’t blame someone else for something, you shouldn’t blame yourself for it either. It wasn’t your fault, I promise you,” Brooke’s voice is fierce as she grips Plastique’s hand.

Plastique nods, wiping her tears.

Plastique had been an intern at the ballet company that Brooke was co-director of. Brooke had danced professionally with the same company for 6 years. She was leaving on her first tour as co-director when the plane went down.

Vanessa’s eyes silently ask if she remembers any of this. She remembers twirling across a stage, costumes light against her skin. She remembers feeling free.

Plastique pulls out her phone. “Here’s a picture of you when you danced.”

Brooke sees herself on the screen but can’t quite believe it’s her. She’s in white from her tiara to her pointe shoes, lacey costume on her lean body, hair pulled into a bun. She looks confident, so far from the Brooke who flinches at loud noises and stutters when ordering food that they’re hardly the same person.

“I’m loving this short hair on you, girl. You cut it right before the tour. I’m glad you kept it,” Plastique says.

Brooke’s never thought about it. It was short when she woke up at the lab, and they had kept it like that so it wasn’t in the way for her training or their medical exams. She likes it short and A’Keria trims it for her.

They talk for another hour, and Plastique promises to keep in touch.

Brooke is quiet on the way home, her mind buzzing.

“You alright?” Vanessa asks. “That was probably a lot, huh?”

She nods. She doesn’t know if she should miss the Brooke in that picture when she doesn’t really know that person. She doesn’t know if she should try to be more like that Brooke.

She thinks of what Vanessa said. Maybe it’s not about who she was. Maybe she doesn’t need to be anyone else.

Just being herself is enough. —

The last day of November dawns unusually bright.

Brooke stands over the sink with a pill in her hand. She looks out the window and her stomach drops, pill slipping through her fingers.

She feels the urge to run outside, let the flakes melt on her tongue, let the cold steal her breath and freeze her cheeks.

But she doesn’t.

Because it’s the first snowfall of the season, and they’re running out of time.

[rkxsungwoon-blog]

☆ MGA5 EPISODE FOUR; JULY 18 #5008 HA SUNGWOON ; FT. JUNG EUNJI ( duos 2 ) performance: can you feel the love tonight - the lion king * starts at 0:33, music cuts out at 2:33, but sungwoon and eunji sing for a few more seconds before being stopped

it was only a matter of time, sungwoon thinks.

statistically speaking, at least one member of empty enigma was bound to get eliminated soon. they’ve entered the stage of the competition where each departure cuts deeper than the one before. talented people are being sent home week after week, and it’s the height of arrogance to consider yourself safe from elimination before the results are out. part of him is surprised they’ve lasted this long as a unit when people clearly aren’t happy about them being on the show—sungwoon has read the comments, even though he advised the rest of the band not to—but even if mnet is keeping them around for whatever reason, they’re still playing with fire.

minhyun is the first of them to get burned.

sungwoon’s eyes widen in shock as minhyun and yuqi are eliminated. he doesn’t personally agree with the previous cuts either, but these two come as a surprise, not only because of minhyun, but because yuqi had been acknowledged as one of the best by the judges the week prior. he half-rises from his seat to stalk over and—well, he wants to say something in outrage, but remembers a moment later that he’s still on camera and it probably wouldn’t tide over well.

instead, he remains seated, back ramrod straight, his hands clenched into fists as the new duos are announced for the next round. his protests are lodged in his throat as he watches the ceos, as if that in itself will help him understand their decision. it isn’t fair. minhyun is a good singer. minhyun is a fair dancer. minhyun is handsome and charming with a good personality. all things sungwoon wouldn’t say out loud to his face but believes with all his heart. minhyun doesn’t deserve this.

if it had to be someone from empty enigma, it should’ve been him.

he feels obsolete here; daniel is their representative, the undisputed face of the band. woojin is slowly rising every week, kenta has the talent and charm and has somehow already befriended everyone in the competition. minhyun is the total package, the perfect idol already. all four of them are brightly shining stars. meanwhile, sungwoon is coasting, not good or bad enough to stand out. he’s a member of the ensemble, but is all this worth it for a background bit part?

more than that, he’s done this once before. minhyun hasn’t. doesn’t it make more sense for him to go home and for minhyun to forge ahead? it’s not self-doubt that makes him question what he’s doing here but sheer frustration. does sungwoon deserve to be in this competition, to survive up until this point? absolutely; he’s never doubted the fact that he belongs on stage. but should he be here? that’s a different question altogether.

he wishes he could give this seat to minhyun, wishes he could say, hey, the stage is yours and you don’t have to say goodbye yet. but the judges say as much for him when they indicate that there’s a shot at redemption for the eliminated contestants. sungwoon desperately tries not to get his hopes up for minhyun. anything can happen, after all, but that can work in their favour as much as it can against it. squeezing his eyes shut, sungwoon offers up a silent prayer. please let minhyun come back; he needs to be here.

(the nagging voice in the back of his mind asks, do you?)

-

sungwoon’s partner for the next episode is eunji.

dread settles in his stomach for a different reason than previously. while he didn’t know jaemin at all, eunji is too familiar. they’re neighbours and, in his mind, friends. he likes eunji as a person and admires her as a performer; her stages have been some of sungwoon’s favorites so far. honestly, he should be elated at being given the chance to perform with her. together, they can deliver something special.

and yet—he doesn’t know where they stand. the empty enigma reveal fucked up a lot of things. granted, sungwoon never interacted with eunji as squall, never lied about the band because it was never a topic of conversation to begin with. most of her ire seems to be reserved for daniel (for reasons sungwoon doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know), but sungwoon is nervous none the less, apologies poised to spill from his lips the moment eunji arrives at the band’s practice space for their first practice together.

they don’t turn out to be necessary, though sungwoon gives them anyway. a lie by omission is still a lie, and eunji deserves better from him. still, he’s relieved to put the awkwardness behind them and gives her his first unabashedly happy smile of the competition, knowing they’ll pull off a great stage. he doesn’t pry into her issues with daniel, but does promise to tell daniel to steer clear of the practice space until filming on thursday. it’s probably better for the both of them to put all their focus into the upcoming performance, anyway, and daniel is a naturally distracting presence.

song selection takes precedence shortly after their talk. eunji’s a powerhouse singer and dancer from what he’s observed so far. on the other hand, sungwoon gives her a wry smile and tells her that asking him to dance is a crime against humanity. sure, he feels like he’s improved a lot from last year, but he’d still look like a sack of potatoes next to eunji; she’s at such a high level that he would only bring her down. so a vocal performance it is, and sungwoon’s content with that, though he’s eager to show a more dynamic image this time around. after a ballad and an acoustic arrangement, he wants to do something exciting.

however, if there’s anything sungwoon learned from last week’s performance, it’s the art of compromise. he wants this stage to be one both he and eunji can take pride in, so he listens to her desires and soft nos and tries to meet somewhere in the middle: showtunes. musicals aren’t something sungwoon is all that familiar with. he remembers going to one on the university campus, maybe, but it was badly acted and sung. their numbers are certainly dynamic and entertaining in the right hands though, so he’s willing to give it a shot.

they settle on summer lovin’ from grease at first—an iconic classic even sungwoon is familiar with. danny zuko is a role squall could play with his eyes closed, but sungwoon is reluctant to channel him fully in front of eunji. out of embarrassment, yeah, but latent guilt as well, perhaps a smidge of this is a part of me i don’t want you to see? he remains mostly sungwoon instead, and maybe that’s why both he and eunji can’t hold in their laughter while rehearsing. summer lovin’ had me a blast—

“it’s because i’m too handsome, right?” sungwoon says in mock despair. “you’re afraid you might fall in love for real… i get it. you need to laugh to save yourself.” admittedly, there’s something about the number as a whole that strikes sungwoon as hilarious, the whole boy meets girl in the most contrived way part. he thinks he can act pretty well, but perhaps caging squall kills any momentum he could’ve had. sacrifices and compromises, though.

summer lovin’ gets trashed when they come to the conclusion that they can’t keep a straight face throughout their performance and the search for another song continues. at some point, sungwoon and eunji end up talking about the lion king remake and whether they’ll be watching it and—it’s a musical, with an iconic duet right there. can you feel the love tonight all but falls into their laps. it’s funny that the song itself is a lot more romantic than summer lovin’ could ever hope to be, but sungwoon is confident they can pull it off if they take it seriously enough.

the different style of singing throws him off initially, but sungwoon adjusts to it easily enough. the theatricality suits him, and eunji is a fun partner to play off. they look and sound good together, in his opinion. most of their rehearsals go off without a hitch, and for once, sungwoon feels positive heading into thursday’s filming. his throat is in good condition, he’s been watching the lion king non stop for the past week, and he knows the song like the back of his hand. even if he hasn’t solved the question of whether or not he should still be here, sungwoon is still going to give the performance of his life. he owes it to eunji, and to the people who’ve been supporting him till now.

(other distractions can wait).

-

he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to being separated from the rest of the band. sungwoon tries to catch a few of their eyes when he arrives, but they seem understandably busy, possibly anxious. the building never gets any less intimidating, nor does the sight of the judges seated above the rest cease to faze him. there’s an added heaviness in the air tonight when he thinks about the eliminated duos of last week. no doubt everyone, including himself, is curious to find out who survived for a second shot at the competition. he still hopes it’s minhyun. if the universe it fair, it will be minhyun.

unlike last time, he and eunji will be performing near the end, which leaves a lot of duos to get through before it’s their turn onstage. sungwoon is muted, watching the performances with controlled interest. he cheers for his friends, of course; woojin’s performance is exciting, and kenta is a joy to watch as always. daniel and hyojin’s creativity and synergy leave him impressed. it’s obvious they’ve been working hard to show the best sides of themselves, and looking at their dedication, he doesn’t understand how people can question their intentions for being here. maybe he cheers extra hard out of spite, whether consciously or unconsciously.

when it’s their turn to take the stage, he turns to eunji and whispers, “good luck! just remember,” and here he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye as he croons, “summer lovin’, had me a blast.” sungwoon fails to hold back his laughter as he faces the ceos and bows before making their introductions—they decided to introduce themselves as simba and nala, though eunji did manage to talk sungwoon out of ending his introduction with a growl (probably for the better).

their performance isn’t as flashy as some of the others; it’s stripped down and bare. seated on two stools, they face each other for the duration of the song. everything else falls away from the first notes of their backing track. his brows furrow momentarily—it sounds a little different than usual?—but his expression smooths over a second later, figuring he must be imagining it. the song itself is beautiful, equal parts romantic and nostalgic. his pronunciation is flawless, their harmonies and ad libs weaving into the instrumental perfectly. they’re able to pour enough emotion into their voices and their expressions to sell the song to the audience—

and neither of them laugh. that’s a bonus.

sungwoon is beginning to enjoy himself. there’s an ease to singing with eunji. he trusts her to match where he’s going and feeds off the energy he’s giving back. the corners of his lips begin to curve up in a smile when it happens. the music stops. sungwoon’s head tilts, but when eunji powers through, he follows. malfunctions happen all the time, after all, and a true professional would finish the song, right? but his mouth snaps shut rather abruptly when he hears one of the ceos call for them to stop. confusion colors his face as he turns to hear hyunbin tersely  informing them they’ve gone over their allotted two minutes.

oh.

oh.

understanding is slow dawning. sungwoon clumsily bows and apologies, a flush crawling up his neck. he’s eager to follow eunji off the stage and out of the spotlight, humiliation nipping at his heels. there’s only one explanation for their flub, and it’s one he wishes he’d come to figure out sooner—they’ve been practicing with the wrong cut of the song all week. god. how could they fail to follow the basic fucking instructions of the show? 

by all rights, they’re seasoned performers. they should’ve taken care of this right at the beginning. they should’ve never made the mistake in the first place, not at this stage of the competition. his hands shake; he curls them into fists and avoids looking at the rest of empty enigma, letting out a shaky breath as they take their seats instead. “it’s not your fault,” he tells eunji hoarsely. it’s mine. “we’ll be fine,” he adds. they both know it’s a lie, of course, but he doesn’t want to vocalize the truth. 

how could this happen? was he not paying enough attention? did he get complacent? did a part of him just cease to care and sabotage himself on purpose? the fact that sungwoon can’t find the answer makes him want to yell in frustration. he knows he’s better than this, and yet... maybe this just drives it home: he shouldn’t be here. it doesn’t matter what he wants or doesn’t want: he’s apparently incapable of the simplest of things. 

(but eunji should be here, and in this moment, sungwoon feels like he’s nothing but a force of destruction).

[mybodyliberation]

Ditching My 5 Year Plan

When I was a little girl, and then when I was a young girl, and then when I was a young woman and then as I became a woman and now that I am a woman, I had this very specific idea of how I thought and how I desired my life to go.

Whether I wanted to admit it aloud or not, I had a plan. One that I had carried around in my heart from the moment we can begin to design plans and desires in our heart.

I never overshared just in case it lost in translation or someone laughed at me or tried to mimic me, but it was there nonetheless, waiting for a chance to unfold.

These plans were shaped by my life experiences; from my joys and heartbreaks and pains and triumphs. They were whispered in the silence of a bed time prayer and I clung to it dearly, urging with every step I took and every decision made that my plans would come to pass.

Surely what I wanted would come to pass because I behaved well, I was good, I worked hard and I was kind. I pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed, and I keep pushing.

I have been pushing.

Helplessly grasping onto the idea that if I just prayed and worked hard enough it would all come to pass because I willed it so.

I was trying to play God with my destiny.

Only the problem was and the problem is…that hasn’t made it happen.

No matter how much we think we are in control the truth is we very rarely are. We can have all these ideas of what life will shape up to me, but it very rarely does.

If I had had my way a lot of the time I would not be on the path I am now. Every step of the way I kept waiting. Waiting for things to start to kick in the way the seemed to for others because surely they seemed to be succeeding in actually achieving their goals.

They had the partner, the house, the baby, the perfect family, the perfect job and then there was me. Sitting in my pants eating a tray of vegan brownies I cooked because I just needed something to help take the edge off.

What was happening?

Why was I not meeting my 5 YEAR PLAN!

Yes. My 5 year plan. We all have them, even if we think we don’t. we might not write it down on a piece of paper or thoroughly articulate it in our minds, we deep down we have a vague idea of what we would like, how we would like and how we figure we can get there.

At some point on my 23rd birthday I began to suspect the truth.

What if…things never go the way I want them to?

Gasp. Yes. It’s true.

I looked around at my peers and wondered why it was that from the beginning of being conscious of my life and how it was unfolding that it seemed I was always the one getting left behind. Why was it that they seemed to be forging ahead into the future and I seemed to constantly be playing catch up?

It felt like I was still in high school in a PE class swallowing back the fear and shame of constantly being picked last. It’s not a cute feeling and it’s not a cute position to be in and yet it’s a position that a lot of us end up in.

We spend so much time trying to run towards each of the check points in hoping to be the most successful as we cross the finish line, but the truth of it is none of that matters. Nor does whether we stayed within the timeline we’re given to reach the goals we’re meant to have.

Now I’m not saying it’s wrong to have ambition and hopes and dreams and I am certainly not saying it’s wrong to work towards them, but if you spend all your time trying to catch up with everyone else or get to the places you think you should be, by the time you think you should get there, you will have missed a lot of the things that happen to you right now.

You will forget to be present. I am so guilty of that. I’m either looking back and thinking of all the ways I didn’t meet up to some standard or fretting about whether I will be able to meet some standard in the future. I allow my time to be consumed by time travel, instead of enjoying all the things and people around me right now.

I forgot to embrace what I have and now that I am closer to 30 than ever, and able to be that person that asks, “Where did the time go” it’s even more important for me to savour absolutely every moment.

So I’m ditching the plan, the ideals, the timelines, the fomo and the fear and I’m letting myself live right now. I honestly do not know where I will be in five years or even who I will be, because every step towards the point I will be growing.

All I can hope is to be brave, kind, honest, open and vulnerable.

I’m trusting in God and the people who love me and the way I love.

Apart from that…I’m just along for the ride.

[vagrantblvrd]

Just the Same (1/1)

Summary: Michael’s introduction to the Stargate program doesn’t get off to a great start, no.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who asked for something in my Stargate fusion AU with this prompt: 106: “ Do you believe in aliens? ”

Takes place in the same AU as Nobler Things.

AO3

Michael’s at a bar in town nursing a beer and listening with half an ear to the soft blues playing from the jukebox in the corner. There’s a game on the television, and a crowd of people who don’t know or care who  he is or what kind of trouble he’s brought down on himself with his latest stunt and it’s -

He won’t say it’s great, but it’s a damn sight better than hanging around base.

Eyes on him everywhere he went like he was a time-bomb set to go off at the slightest provocation. Like they don’t know the kind of bastard Sullivan was, the kind of sleaze -

“Hey,” Michael hears, and looks over when someone sits on the bar stool next to him.

The guy has this smug little smirk to him as he leans over to grab the bowl of nuts Michael’s been picking through and shoves a handful in his face.

“I’m sorry what?” Michael asks, not so much angry as bewildered because who the fuck does something like that?

The guy’s smirk gains this edge to it as he sits back to look Michael over.

“Military?” he asks, and there’s something to it that has Michael’s hackles rising just the slightest bit.

He's already in trouble with the mess with Sullivan,  though. No need to give his lawyers more ammo by getting in a bar fight with a civilian.

“What gave it away?” Michael asks. “Was it the hair? It’s always the hair.”

First thing people look at, really.

The guy snorts.

“Thought the military didn't like smartasses.”

They’re not big fan of them, no. At least not the kind like Michael, which, you know. Kind of a problem, given everything.

“You kidding me?” Michael asks, because he’s the kind of stupid who should know better but clearly doesn’t. “They love assholes like me.”

He gets the old side-eye for that, and a downgrade from the guy’s annoyingly smug smirk to something a little softer.

“Sure kid,” he says, and signals the bartender for another round of nuts and a new beer for Michael even though he's barely halfway through his first.

Michael has no idea where the fucker came from, but he doesn’t seem about to leave anytime soon, and honestly he's too tired to put up much of a fight about things.

The guy hums along to the song, off-key and doing an all-over shitty job of it when he glances at Michael again.

This look on his face,and Michael braces himself for whatever he’s about to say next. He’s looking a lot like the town crazy, the old nutjob who hangs out at the bar and spouts conspiracy theories and whatever the hell else is packed away in that head of his.

“Hey,” he says, corner of his mouth ticking up at the way Michael leans away from him. “Do you believe in aliens?”

Michael stares at the guy who looks dead serious. Like he has no idea how crazy he sounds.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Michael says flatly, and takes a drink of his beer, wishes it was something stronger. “I’m goddamn crazy about the fuckers. Just. Fucking wild about them.”

The guy cracks up, this weird hyena laughter that doesn’t rub Michael the wrong way even though he’s clearly laughing at Michael. Opens his mouth like he’s going to say something.

Maybe ask if Michael’s seen an alien himself, or something else along those lines, but -

“There you are, you asshole.”

The guy turns at the voice, oblivious to the clear annoyance in it as he throws his arms wide to welcome the man walking up to them.

“Jack!”

The sigh “Jack” lets out is the most long-suffering thing Michael’s ever heard, and he’s done enough in his life be a decent judge on that front.

“Have you been drinking?”

The guy shakes his head, hand over his heart.

“You know I wouldn’t,” he says, something wounded in it as he gestures to the bar at large. “Some asshole spilled his drink on me, so I came over here and ended up making a friend.”

Jack looks at Michael, and Michael holds his hands up.

“Don’t look at me,” he says. “I was just minding my business when your buddy started putting his hands all over my nuts.”

There’s a delicate pause, Michael's eyebrows going up as he dares the nut-stealer to refute his claim. Waits to see what his buddy’s going to do because – hey, Michael’s an asshole.

“Okay,” Jack says suspiciously evenly, as he places a hand on the asshole’s shoulder. “Well, I’m sorry to break things up, but he has a busy day tomorrow.”

Michael watches as Jack drags his asshole friend out of the bar and decides it’s well past time he went home too, and pulls out his phone to bring the rideshare app up.

========

Two weeks later and Michael’s standing in front of a Stargate for the first time.

It’s definitely something.

Millennia old technology that outclasses anything the human race has managed by a mile, for all it’s just a big stone ring.

The nut-stealer from the bar is beside him, all cleaned up and apparently in charge of this top-secret government organization that explores alien planets like it’s nothing.

“Good thing you believe in aliens,” General Ramsey says, and slaps Michael on the shoulder as he walks down the ramp. “Keep up, you’ve to a lot to catch up on.”

========

Michael get a crash course on the SGC and their mission statement. A brief history and all that and the promise of more in-depth information if he decides to sign on. The whole recruitment spiel, like he’s something special and not just another asshole like all the others who signed their lives away to the government.

And then the General tilts his head, just so when Michael asks why they seem to want him so badly. Why they’re willing to handle the mess with Sullivan is he joins the SGC, give him the chance to advance his military career instead of letting it stagnate.

“Gavin asked me for a favor,” he says. “Wanted to offer you a chance here with the SGC.”

Michael’s brain blue-screens for a moment there, because Gavin, okay.

Gavin was this weedy little scientist Michael was assigned to years back. Got pushed around by the grunts who never got the bullies are assholes talk until Michael stepped in.

They’ve kept in contact over the years, but news from Gavin’s trailed off a year or so ago. Just after he landed a new job somewhere, very hush-hush and all that.

“Gavin.”

The General smirks, but there’s a hint of fondness to it.

“You must have made quite the impression on him,” he says. “Asshole doesn’t call in favors like that unless it’s important to him.”

========

Michael heads to the mess hall for a cup of coffee as he considers his options.

He’s still coming to terms wth the fact that aliens are real. That the General may have been fucking with him back at the bar, but aliens are real and it’s taking time to fully process.

Because hey, not only are aliens real, but there are some out there who have either tried to either destroy the world or take it over several times in recent history.

And now Michael is expected to go through the Stargate to come into contact with more aliens, of the assholes, the ones who don’t want them dead. (Hopefully.)

It sounds like something out of a bad movie, but obviously isn’t.

Michael looks up when someone clears their throat, and oh, look.

It’s Gavin.

“Geoff explained things then?” Gavin asks, slight jitter to his hands like he’s been living off coffee and energy drinks again. “You’re staying?”

The hopeful note to his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, or the way Gavin doesn’t really meet his eyes as though he’s afraid of what Michael might do.

And maybe, maybe, if Gavin had used his favors to secure Michael a place with the SGC. Bullied his way into landing Michael a job here ahead of better qualified people out there, he’d be angry about things. Think he was getting him into the kind of situation where he’d be indebted to the fucker, but.

The General made it clear that it’s not a sure thing, this. That Gavin had asked Geoff to consider him for a position here with one of the gate teams. Made sure Geoff knew about this potential candidate because he wanted to give Michael a chance at a future here if he wanted it.

There’s more to it, of course, a whole mess of complicated bullshit the General went through to push Michael’s name through like this. The unofficial trip out to assess Michael in the most bizarre way possible, and Michael’s still not sure that wasn’t some kind of hallucination.

Still.

Michael doesn’t have a lot of options open to him, really.

Face court martial for striking a superior officer even though Sullivan fucking deserved it, or join the SGC and explore alien planets.

The high risk of dying horribly out there, to quote the General:

  “Shit gets rough out there.”

So Michael’s been thinking about it.

The pros and cons of joining the SGC to visit alien planets and everything that goes with it.

Michael sighs as he studies Gavin.

He looks.

Well, he looks like shit.

Bags under his eyes and that jitter to him, but happy under it all. Like he’s doing something he loves, worth missing sleep and sucking back enough caffeine running through his veins that would have killed a lesser man.

This idiot who used up favors to get Michael here because Michael was nice to him that one time.

“Aliens,” Michael says. “Aliens.”

Gavin makes this humming noise, head cocked to the side.

“Geoff said you believed in them?” he says, like he doesn’t see what the problem is here.

“I thought he as the town crazy, Gavin,” he says, taking care to speak clearly because Gavin’s kind of an idiot sometimes.

“Well,” Gavin says, just as slowly and clearly because he’s also a little shit. “You’re not entirely wrong on that one. Everyone here’s crazy. It helps.”

That -

Yeah, okay.

You’d have to be at least a little crazy to step through the Stargate the way these people do. Knowing the risks and forging on ahead anyway because they want – need  - to know what’s out there.

“Awesome,” Michael says, because he’s always been a little crazy himself. “Glad I decided to sign on for this shit.”

He doesn't risk tempting fate by asking what could possibly go wrong, but like an idiot, he does think it, because honestly.

What could possibly go wrong?

Out of the Clouds

[its-morphin-time-xiv]

TBH, I've always wanted to RP with your Belladonna, she seems interesting,but for quite some time now I've never been able to figure out who, or what, she is? I see a lot of what I'm guessing is the power rangers, as aesthetic posts and I've been trying to figure out how that would apply to FFXIV and its lore? I'm not accusing you of lore breaking, and even if you were it's your choice to play how you want! I'm merely just curious how she fits into the FFXIV world and what she is about. Help me?

Hello Anon! I’m actually really glad you asked, I know with how vague the blog itself is in regards to everything like who, or what she is. And quite frankly, Tags on posts aren’t helping either. The concerns or at the very least, curiosity in regards as to how “Power Rangers” fits into FFXIV Lore and the universe itself are entirely understandable, and I’m always more than willing to explain the reasoning as to why its here, or even how!

I’m more than willing to help explain things in a more clear and concise manner, now with that, please bear in mind that this post might be a touch lengthy, but I hope you understand and that this isn’t something that can be explained with full-clarity without getting down and dirty. I hope that by the end of it, some of the fog has been cleared! So without further ado… Let’s get started, shall we?

I’ll go ahead and place everything I’ve got under the cut, I hope you enjoy it!

–

I suppose we can start from the beginning and that, Bella, the initial character concept was created about… maybe two years ago. Three technically if you just count how long this blog has been standing. Initially, Bella is (was) a Thavnairian blooded hyur. Or rather, for a bit more clarification, is from an Island near Thavnair that could be and is considered part of the island.

Now that we’ve gotten an… okay grasp as to how long I’ve been working on this, we can properly start with things, like where she’s from, then we’ll move from there!

If I could place it on the global map we’ve been given of three continents it would be placed around here, right under the span of clouds within the red circle. 

Around there is a fairly good estimate of where I’ve placed the island she’s from, that island being “Gisana” (Yeah, totally original with names, i’m great.) [Not Really] Now, Gisana borrows very basic culture concepts of what Thavnair is, I use Morocco mixed with my own culture, which is Filipino. It’s bit of a homebrew, yes. I take influences from what we know, what we’ve been given, then I slip my own to fill in what gaps I need filled, if that makes any sense. 

Now, the island itself is a moderate size, nothing too extreme or anything like that. If anything? It’s about the size of one of the islands there, circled in blue. The island is surrounded by a maelstrom of whirlpools and actual maelstroms due to the unfortunate blend of the waters of The Bounty, and the Dorvos Narrow. Those two create fairly poor conditions for an island’s existence, so much so that the island lays in the ‘eye’ of an ever churning storm. 

Something I could equate it to visually, was the storm that surrounded Skull Island in the newest King Kong movie. (If you’ve ever seen that, it’s pretty cool). 

The storm itself on the outside and within the clouds were extremely rough, but any sailor with an actual heading and idea of how to travel through the treacherous waters or pilot grave enough to fly the hurricanes could make it through no problem. But solely due to that, this island gets left off the map fairly frequently, which is why it’s counted as nothing in particular outside from just a natural disaster waiting to happen.

Now the reason why the storm remains seemingly like a permanent constant is due to the fluctuations of the aether in the environment, being so turbulent and visceral. Far more than unmanageable than that of Eureka (The Isle of Val) [At least I think that’s what it was called]. 

Due to the fluctuations, the veil between this realm and the Void is thin, very much like how Eorzea is, except on a much more smaller yet just as dangerous scale of that. This meaning, that incursions of the void are more frequent on the island itself and solely on the island (not counting the water of course). 

That’s unfortunate for the inhabitants of the island, which Belladonna was one of them, as a child anyways. Now that’s essentially the ‘Fanon’ locale of where the Rangers essentially originated from. 

But not quite yet of where a Ranger comes from, per se. In order to do that, I’ll need to divert our attention back to the island, just a little bit. The Island has been present and weathered the passing of the Astral and Umbral eras ever since the age of Allag. And the people of the island have, through this time collected themselves and united to create one settlement, one city for themselves since they could not bear to leave their island home in the state it is. (That and the storm’s a thing too).

While forging themselves a forever home, they raised walls to keep the demons at bay and away from their people. But walls alone do not protect a fortress, so sometime ago, two of the most brilliant minds there sought to create a tool, a weapon, or even a shield of sorts to defend against the darkness that clawed at their doorstep. 

Now I mentioned that the island had been present since the fall of Allag, the “Tek” that the Rangers used are extremely basic in comparison as to what the old Empire had, but it uses old plans and even ideas that they could and would have used back then. Now, I say this because, Nero has a magitek transformation, and Gaius has a powered up transformation too! That only seemed to bolster my idea that or at the very least influence to m that the notion of ‘magitek morphers’ could and would be feasible. 

With this in mind and using it as my springboard, I use it to essentially state that the “Morphers” that they use are inherently modified Allagan devices if not further worked with and attuned for the uses that are needed, in regards to Gisana and it’s constant demon plight. 

Thusly, Ranger (suits) are created via the Morpher itself, first designed outside by an armorer, then the device essentially borrows the design/uses the armor itself and “stores” it within the device. Sort of like Aetherial de-materialization and re-materialization on the spot, via commands of magick incantations and actual magitek innerworkings. Alternatively, you could describe it like they would use a separate method entirely, like how Allagan teleportation nodes work, and it just gets -teleported- onto your person. Either one works honestly but it gets pretty… mumbojumbo at this point, but it’s a fair explanation on things, at least it is from my perspective. 

If that isn’t necessarily as clear as needed, I can further branch upon it, please let me know!

My idea for a city within a wall and the darkness beyond that was pretty inspired by The Last City in Destiny, while the island secluded away, only by natural disaster means was a mix of “Themyscira” and “Wakanda” but also “Skull Island”. More predominantly the latter most than the foremost.

The magitek morphers are also powered by not Ceruleum, but of crystals, more so hypercharged ones. (I am keenly aware of how dangerous that could be in a character/ situation.) But they’re handled on such a far and infantismal level that most characters hardly have to deal with it save for the scientists and Belladonna herself. Crystal shards get reduced and refitted down to be the size of a coin, a “Power Coin”, as it were. Much like how Power Rangers Zeo, Megaforce, Dinocharge, Dinothunder and Lost Galaxy exhibit their Ranger powers and the like. 

I like Lost Galaxy because they use ‘beast spirits’ along with crystals. I akin those to soul essences that are also required to properly use a Ranger’s armaments 

I hope its been clear, or at least a bit more digestible with this explanation! We’ve still got a little more!

So, lorewise this sits a bit snug in with essentially backdrop and background happenings that weren’t really… significant to anything stated already on the timeline. As the Eras passed, the island suffered, but still most encounters go unnoticed or unrecorded at all do to the hostile nature of the island’s environment surrounding it? Or the denizens within the water below. The island itself could and would become what essentially amounts to sailor’s tales, mysteries and myths you’d hear in passing at your sea-side Tavern. 

Sort of like tales of colorful beings in shimmering lights fighting harrowing beasts countless times. Stuff like that! 

Now, let’s take this back to our girl!

(Sorry, I just really love this picture.)

From here and below, if I can recall some writing that could pertain and assist with a bit more contextual understanding, I’ll make sure to link it with bold letters to identify!

But yes, as I stated prior, Bella is a character concept that’s been growing and evolving over the course of the past two years since her first… ‘creation’, in a sense. I suppose its also very important to note that much of her story is very much ‘The past doesn’t stay dead’ kind of thing. Some reading may or may not have figured that from my previous drabbles regarding Belladonna. Essentially, Belladonna, herself has been present and around for a long time now. Fifty or so years at the moment, regarding the Game’s Lore Timeline. 

That being, from an ooc standpoint, I  would run into… rather serious hurdles, regarding my personal life, and to cope, a new concept would be formulated. But I already have trouble playing more than one alt, in regards to RP, i am… poor at attempting it, but I am working on getting better at that. And so, at the time, Balmung was already locked forever™. And I truthfully only had one character to play for a long time. So instead of re-rolling my character and essentially ‘stranding’ myself as it were in regards to RP, I would.. just insert another chunk onto Bella’s timeline. If that makes sense. 

While yes, that is a poor maneuver some might say, it’s helped me, in all truthfulness create very memorable moments.  But that wouldn’t be without my friends who accept my ideas openly, without them? I might not even have this blog anymore. 

But anyways, before I get too far off-topic; Belladonna is a woman who has had a lot of history happen, solely through the past. And what you see now, are mostly new developments and new experiences. I guess you could say, a woman out-of-time, as a possible explanation. 

This, however doesn’t explain why she’s an elezen, and not a hyur, as she started, or even why I refer to her as “Mutant” in my writings a lot. You might be sighing and rolling your eyes, but please allow me to explain just a little bit longer. 

At her very core, she is still a ‘hyur’. But the reason she is an elezen now, is due to a unfortunate mishap during one of her adventures in which a voidal summoning turns hectic as a Succubus sought to inhabit Bella’s body. Her aether signature already being in turmoil and a rough state in general due to an Imperial sub-project that she subjected herself to in order to.. “keep up” and “combat” the things she fights with her comrades in arms.

She happened upon a very small trace and trail of the Empire’s workings through connections she had gained while living in Kugane and of her own brief Imperial service. 

The end result of the use of said ‘project’ gave Bella more drawbacks than features. Having lost all sense of pain, she can push past her would-be limits, even if it means self-harm. Her body wasn’t attuned or conditioned to any capacity for it to handle the testing done, so she now suffers a biological and ‘aetherial’ mutation. Since the project itself deal with matters of using Voidblood and essence to infuse Imperial conscripts / criminals with it for further service of the Imperial Banner. 

Learning to live with these new changes, such as biologically having.. a new spine extending from where your old one, being shorter, looking like wade wilson /after/ project x –

– like that, only y’know… “prettier” and with hair. Mildly like a mix of both Wade Wilson and Marrow, if you’ve ever seen them.

I don’t believe there’s any right to call it living, rather than just calling it suffering, because that’s truly what it was. She received extreme chronic pain from her mutations, and.. essentially she wanted an “out”. This was around the time she started really going back to her roots, her roots being… “Rangers”, and the island. 

Slowly, in time, despite the rather… negative results she had been given during her time home in an attempt to “cure” herself. And.. possibly to a degree, she got better. 

With her already weakened state, she looked to intense and darker means to try and find a way to rid herself of her “problems”. This eventually leading to the summoning and the disasters that came swiftly after. The Succubus, seeing her would-be host in no suitable condition to survive, took liberties and adjusted Bella to her liking. After all.. this is a succubus. The change itself was gradual, a hex on a very slow burn after the situation was resolved, albeit messy. 

Slowly she’d see height differences, skin cleansing but some things don’t go away, like the spine. That would learn to stay and not all of her wounds and scars from testing would disappear completely. So she sought after an ink artist, giving her tattoos that coincided along with her scars, some even masking out the worse ones. 

And now, she looks the way she looks. Tall, and a bit more happy too. 

—

Final Fantasy XIV’s Lore leaves a lot to be user interpreted, even with lorebooks being published. And with the Allagan empire and dark magicks abound, there’s still… lots of room to leave up and open to people to have some creative fun and freedom with. 

Knowing this, and using this, and even using the lines from the book(s) themselves, we can come up with amazing stories and do amazing things. All while still being.. in the relative realm of ‘grounded’ to its roots. 

[Here’s a link to her about page as well on her tumblr]

Belladonna Slater is a very… complicated character, she strives to learn her place in the world once more but also sees the past calling back to her to be a “Hero” again, hero being a very loose term now since she has grown from lawful neutral to that more of a chaotic neutral in response to just about everything that has happened to her.  

But I hope that.. me writing this as an answer to your ask, Anon, that this helps clear the air, if by only a little as to worries and or questions you had. I’d also like to note that this isn’t a complete character breakdown, there are still at least one or two elements of her ‘story’ that could be branched upon and explained if asked. 

If you’d like to know about them, you’re more than welcome to ask me, either through Tumblr inbox for the sake of anonymity or even in Tumblr DMs, Discord is also an option as well. 

I also do have a document that I have written out in regards to Ranger Corps. I can leave that in a link here below as well. However: The document itself hasn’t been edited or revised since May of this year, 2018. So there are revisions and slight edits to be made. I just haven’t sat down with the time to do it yet. But let it not discourage you from reading! 

Ranger Corps - Documents and Information 

Anon, I do hope this writing, both the answer to your ask and this document have been able to assuage some of your worries, or curiosities, rather. And if there is anything else from you, specifically, or from anyone else for that matter, that would like to know more, or have a specific question?

You are more than welcome to come and ping me for a conversation! 

I love being able to talk to new people, and well… I hope you’d like to talk to me too!

Thank you for your curiosity and question, Anon. 

I hope I was able to help.

– M

[sheithlentines]

Sheithlentine's Gift Exchange - Lionheart

This is my submission for @lace–prince. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Valentine’s. 

  “Come on, Little Brother. You know this is the way of things.”

“I honestly don’t see the point. No one will want to serve me, and no one wants me to perform any of these royal duties anyway, Allura.”

Allura sighed, fixing the lay of the cloak over his shoulders, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear so his circlet would show more. “I know, Keith. But you’re nineteen soon, and this is how we do things. And perhaps in fulfilling your duties, the people may come to like you better.”

He had huffed at her, but said nothing. Nothing would change, not even with all of his adopted sister’s love and kindness. It hadn’t with her father’s, and King Alfor was the most loved and revered king of Altea for generations. Keith was no fool: he knew their father had been questioned and scrutinized when he’d decided to rescue a half-Galra orphan all those years ago. King Alfor’s smile could only hide so much.

“Will Papa be there?”

Allura gave him a heavy shake of her head. “No, my darling. The doctors want him to rest, so he is confined to his bed for today. Perhaps you could see him after. He would love the company.”

“I will.”

It would have been easier if King Alfor had stood there with him, too. There would have been more weight to the situation, mild as it was. Allura was formidable in her own right, already assuming many of her father’s duties, already well-loved as the future Queen. But the knights before him weren’t here for her.

“I bet they’re nervous,” Lance, Allura’s knight, whispered to him, voice carrying enough to not warrant leaning closer. For all his frivolous nature, he was well-suited to his role, unwavering and strong. “I was.”

“I doubt they are. You wanted to serve Allura.” Keith sighed, looking over the collection of fine men in arms and armour. It looked as though they’d all spent the last week polishing every last piece to rival the sunshine. Swords shone, leather gleamed, every curve and carve of armour radiant in the throne room. And all of them smart, sharp, powerful men.

Not a one with a smile that reached their eyes.

“These men don’t want to serve me. They’re here for the position and the title, nothing more.”

Because people could barely look at the young half-Galra prince. People could barely call him prince. It had sent shockwaves across the kingdom when King Alfor legitimized him when he turned seventeen, and if he’d had a chance of a kind look or smile then, his rise to princedom shattered all such hope. Altea had been at war with the Galra since before King Alfor’s time, when Altea became a final bastion of defence and reason against the Galra’s insatiable appetite for war and power. Alfor had led the charge to victory, driving them out and keeping them back, but there was little love for the Galra amongst the people of Altea.

Keith had grown up amidst whispers and mutterings, things he wasn’t supposed to hear. But he could, and he did, because that was Galra magic.

And now, he watched the knights as they readied to present themselves at Lance’s call, and he heard whispers among them, too.

But they weren’t about him.

At the end of the group, quiet and alone, stood a knight in shining silver armour and black garb. He was tall, broad, handsome despite the white in his hair and the scar across his nose. He had but one arm, and a sad, haunted look in his grey eyes.

Keith knew that look well, and pushed out soft tendrils of his magic to listen.

“Why is he even here? Why bother?”

“You’d think, given what the Galra did to him —”

“No good knight keeps his honour once captured. He’s wasting his time.”

“Just as well. With only one arm he can get himself and the whelp prince killed —”

“ — brought shame to his family. You know his parents died destitute? Pauper’s graves, both of them —”

Keith knew well the hurt of whispers. He knew what it was to have words whittle away at pride, at honour, at a sense of self.

So he hid his self-satisfied smile at the ripple of disbelief that swept across the room when he announced that he would take Takashi Shirogane as his knight.

“Please, Your Highness. May I speak?”

The young prince stopped ahead of him, and slowly turned around. Shiro caught up with a single long stride, and stood before him, uneasy. It was the first that he was finally able to catch up with everything that had just transpired, from his unlikely and potentially controversial selection as the prince’s knight to their now strident journey to… he still wasn’t sure where they were going. They’d taken a path through the palace, wound down at least two staircases and were now travelling a quiet corridor lined by torches. All the prince had said after choosing him was, “Come.”

And he’d gone along, swept away. He hadn’t even had a good look at the prince, until this moment.

He looked younger than himself, with pale skin, night-black hair and strange, glittering purple eyes. Everything about him seemed knife-like, from the arch of his eyebrows to the corners of his mouth, his cheekbones, his jawline. But all of that softened into something… else, when the prince took a good look at him.

Shiro thought him lovely, even though he knew he shouldn’t think anything like that at all.

“When you are in my company, you may call me Keith,” he said, his tone soft and smooth, so unlike the sharp barking order he gave when he told the other knight candidates to leave. “I am no one’s prince.”

“Forgive me, Your Hi —” there was single quirked brow, and Shiro corrected himself “— Keith, but, I am your knight, and therefore you are my prince. Is that not so?”

A strange look seemed to pass over the prince’s face, and then he smiled, a small melancholic thing, before he nodded. “If that is what you wish. And what shall I call you?”

“Shiro.”

“Shiro,” he repeated, and Shiro tried not to shudder at the way the prince seemed to taste his name on his tongue. “Very well. Shall we move on? There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

He’d already met Lance, Princess Allura’s knight, and was glad that he seemed very amicable and friendly, given that the two of them will be spending a lot of time together when they are not with their charges. It had surprised him: most knights didn’t look kindly upon him, but Lance had welcomed him like a brother, and promised to divulge the prince’s darkest secrets before the day is out. The prince had thrown a grape at Lance’s head, and Lance did nothing but laugh.

So Shiro could not help but be curious as to who he was about to meet, and why the meeting seemed so urgent.

Eventually they came out to a courtyard, sheltered by old trees and the shadow of the palace. Hedges marked out a training yard, and targets and dummies lined the far wall. Set towards the back was a middle-sized building with smoke billowing out from the chimney and sounds of ringing metal. It looked to Shiro like a workshop of some kind. Not one he’d ever seen before. “What is that odd light?”

Almost on cue, green sparks flashed out of the door, and Shiro would have got a face full of it if the prince — Keith; he had to remember: Keith — hadn’t stuck his arm out to stop him moving any further. “Pidge! You nearly hit my knight!”

“Don’t blame me! Blame Hunk! He distracted me!” came a female voice from inside the building.

“Me? I’m just hammering along here!”

Keith sighed, shaking his head, but it was in fondness rather than frustration. “It’s always like this. Come,” he said, gesturing for him to follow.

There were many things that should have taken Shiro’s attention: the wall full of swords, spears, glaives, axes, and daggers; the beautiful furnace, alight with fire; the tools of a blacksmith, worn, well-used, but of excellent make; the books strewn all over a large table where things bubbled and smoked in glass vials, tumblers, and carafes; that tangy, sparking hint of magic in the air.

Instead, his eyes were fixed on Keith, who upon walking through the door, undid his cloak and tossed it casually on to a hook, as if he did it every day. And he could not ignore the long lines of the prince’s legs, the strength of his back, and the precise spot where his hair curled at the ends, just past his shoulders.

Shiro coughed, and hoped no one noticed.

Hunk, a large barrel-chested man with powerful arms, was a blacksmith of some renown, but people disliked working with him because he always wanted to try new things, grew bored of the same old axes and swords. His work grew thinner on the ground once word got around that he was working together with Pidge, an alchemist of some talent who’d learned to imbue metals with magic. Together, the pair’s work was considered untrustworthy, even cursed, and they had nowhere to go until Prince Keith came along and appointed them his personal armourer and weaponsmith, complete with King Alfor’s sponsorship.

“Shiro. How do you feel about having a new right arm?”

He gaped at the notion, but listened intently as Hunk and Pidge talked him through it. An arm made of metal, imbued with magic to make it light but strong. They wouldn’t be able to give him fingers, not as such, but a closed fist at least that will help him in combat. To match, a new sword, forged to complement the arm. Where the arm would act as a shield, his sword would have the lightness, strength, and reach that would equal his skill and stature. Both Hunk and Pidge had heard of Takashi Shirogane, of his swordsmanship and how he had many students once upon a time, but in his absence his students had sought other masters, and those masters poisoned his name to them.

He’d returned to less than nothing, but here Shiro sat now, a new arm, a new life, new friends, and, setting his eyes on the young prince, perhaps, a new purpose.

“I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Just… thank you.”

Keith only smiled.

Perhaps he could never be truly whole, not the way he once was, but in time, Shiro’s heart was full once more.

Pidge’s imbuement allowed him to raise his new arm of gleaming metal and magic, roll his shoulder with it, bend it at the elbow. It weighed as it should, the same as his remaining arm, almost as if he never lost it at all. As Hunk had said, they could only manage a closed fist, but they would continue to work so that they could give him fingers and the tiny joints that would make it as good as the hand he’d lost. To match, an elegant one-and-a-half handed longsword, perfectly balanced for his fighting style, absolutely complementing the arm that was now his shield.

Shiro hadn’t wanted to hope: true wholeness would never be his, but this was a close thing. If anything, he felt more in balance again, felt closer to his old self, and with that, his mastery with the sword returned. There was pride swelling in his chest once more, truth in his smile and light in his eyes. He had purpose, and though he will forever be left-handed, he could reconcile his worth as Prince Keith’s knight.

Days were spent training himself back up to fighting as a true knight. Often it was with Lance, who had similar off-duty times as he did, but his best times were spent sparring with Keith himself. He hadn’t expected the lithe young prince to be quite so adept, so elegant, or so deadly in combat. He danced easily with his one-handed sword, and always kept a dagger close, so Shiro learned to never underestimate him. Sometimes they would spar for hours, goading and challenging each other until either duties called, or they were an exhausted pile on the training ground.

Time passed, and they learned a lot from, and about, each other.

Shiro found that when he accompanied the prince, they would be either on the training ground, or in the library. The prince read voraciously, and often earned the praise of his tutors. The extent of Keith’s intelligence only surprised Shiro in how quietly he kept it.

One day he asked what Shiro’s interests were, and he’d admitted that while literate, his education was limited, his skill with a sword more in demand than his intelligence. Keith frowned at that, and asked again.

“History,” he said, at last. “I wonder about the people who were here before us, where we came from, where we’re going. Where we learned what we’ve learned.”

Evenings were since spent in the library together, Keith pushing one volume after the next at him, patiently answering his questions, even teaching him new words he’d never seen before. Shiro cherished those evenings, not only for the education he was gaining, but…

It was during those evenings that Keith wore his more comfortable clothes, dressed only for himself and not for ceremony. And Shiro could not stop himself from admiring the young man. He could not deny what it was. Everything from the way he moved, the lilt of his voice when he spoke, the way his brow furrowed when he was cross, his rare and priceless laugh: Shiro loved all of it.

So he showed it in the one way he could: with his unwavering devotion and loyalty.

Keith hated performing his royal duties, as most of them took him out of the palace, away from his safe places and into the kingdom of Altea that sneered at him and spoke behind his back. But despite his disdain, he went forward as he was expected to. Shiro had spoken to Lance, and Lance had very little to offer. “They don’t know him, Shiro. You know by now he’s a good man, one of the finest. But if not even Allura or the King’s love can convince the people, what can?”

Shiro shielded him as well as he could. Not just from the hateful eyes of the people, but also from their words. He spoke to Keith in low tones, just loud enough for him to hear — and by now, he’d grown to detest referring to Keith as ‘Your Highness’ in these circumstances — so that all Keith would hear were his words, his assurances. If he could, he would try to make him laugh, in the hopes that others would see how lovely he was when he smiled.

It never worked.

Children were the cruelest, acting on their parents’ poison. Shiro grew adept at deflecting thrown stones, quietly bore it when the wet splat of old fruit hit his cloak instead of Keith, because he’d moved just so. His eyes were set firmly on his prince, and nothing anyone said to him or of him could drag them away. If it meant they would curse him, too, then so be it: they would be cursed together.

Still, enough of the whispers made him curious. Keith was half-Galra, and with that, did he have any of their devastating magic?

“I don’t use it much,” Keith answered, one day when Shiro was brave enough to ask, as they walked the gardens. “I have little use for it.”

Shiro nodded, but he was still only partially satisfied. They were friends now; surely he could ask for more? “Is it because of what it does? Steals the life force of everything around it?”

Because Shiro knew about that. When he’d been captured the Galra druid who held him needed to fend off an attack, and they were deep in the lifeless realms of the Galra by then. The druid had grabbed his right arm, and he’d watched the limb shrivel and wither away. So many nights he’d wished the druid had kept going, just taken all of him, because the nightmares plagued him ever since, and he found himself constantly checking for all his limbs, all his fingers and toes. Sometimes he wondered if his sanity had shrivelled away, too.

Keith stilled in their walk, and Shiro fought to bring an apology to his lips. He pushed too far. He should never have —

“It’s because of their greed,” Keith said, not turning to face him, his eyes on the ground. “They could be content with the innate power granted them, content with the natural system that would replenish them. But they weren’t. They wanted more, so they took, until there was nothing left in their kingdom, and so they went to take from others. That is how we are where we are now.”

They were silent, for a while. Only the wind rustling through the hedges and trees, and faint birdsong filled the space. Then: “Will you show me?”

Keith snapped around then, meeting the earnestness of Shiro’s steely eyes, the openness of his smile. Because Shiro did trust the prince, with his very life, and he wanted him to know that. He wanted Keith to know that he accepted all of him, all he was willing to offer and whatever he would give him in the future. He wanted Keith to know that he, too, was a safe haven, not just the training ground or the library.

His heart had broken, the one day they’d returned from the city and he had failed to hide the stains on his cloak from thrown fruit, or the small scratches on his flesh arm from stones that missed their intended target, and he’d watched the way the prince’s face fell, crumpled like a child’s, watched him flee into the palace without a single look back. It had taken hours before he located the prince, and he’d found him at the King’s bedside, face buried into King Alfor’s side and Shiro had felt nothing but envy for the King, who’d gently carded his hand through Keith’s hair.

The prince had been crying.

“— he shouldn’t have to! I never wanted this! I never wanted this for him!”

“He proves to be a good knight for you, my child. You chose well, and it is clear that he, too, has chosen you.”

“He’s so kind, Papa. He doesn’t deserve the hate the people have for me. Let them hate me, I don’t care, but he doesn’t deserve this…”

King Alfor reached a hand down to cup Keith’s jaw, lift his head up so he can see him. “Perhaps that doesn’t matter to him. We do a lot of things out of loyalty, devotion, love, regardless of what others may think. I do not regret raising you, my darling, not for a moment. And I am more than certain that Shiro does not regret becoming your knight, no matter what you may think. Do you see?”

“There is only regret when it comes to Galra,” Keith murmured, low and sad, and the King tsked him for it.

“The child in my hands is no Galra. Just Keith. That is who I see. That is who Allura sees, and Lance. And Pidge, and Hunk. And that is who Shiro sees, too. Your heart is purer than your blood, Keith, and we who love you are more than blessed.”

Keith said little more, but remained at the King’s side.

Loyalty, devotion. Love.

“Will you show me?”

Keith blinked, and very slowly, a corner of his mouth tipped upwards, almost against his own will, and a chuckle escaped him. “Well. I meant for this to be a surprise gift, but I suppose…”

He lifted his hands, so Shiro could see, and he could only watch as the prince’s fingers danced before him, shaping the air until golden tendrils of light leaked from his fingertips. Shiro caught how his eyes flashed like stars, the purple brighter and more vivid, before a small animated lion sat in the palm of Keith’s hand, pacing upon it as if it were real. He barely stifled his laugh, delighted at the spell Keith was showing him, when the lion let out a huge roar — far bigger than expected for its size — and leapt forward towards Shiro’s chest. Shiro had no time to react, and the light hit him harmlessly; when he looked down, there was a black lion emblazoned upon his chest plate, head held high and proud.

It matched the red lion that adorned Keith’s ceremonial armour.

What was more, the garden remained unchanged. Every flower was still in bloom, every leaf remained green, and the wind and birdsong never ceased.

Shiro looked back up, and found Keith blinking almost sleepily, as if he was coming back from somewhere far away. He had to ask. “Keith? Are you all right?”

Keith shook himself then, and nodded. “I’m fine. Nothing that perhaps a glass of wine wouldn’t cure,” he said, smiling easily now.

“You said this was to be a surprise gift?”

“I wanted to show it to you on the sixth moon of your knighthood,” he said with a shrug. “But, as you asked…”

Shiro shook his head, smiling incredulously at his prince. “You should not indulge me.”

“It pleases my heart to indulge you, Shiro.”

It was some moments before Shiro processed Keith’s words, and by then Keith was further down the garden path, and Shiro had to catch up, lock away the bubbling feeling in his chest even as his hand came to rest upon the lion that now resided against it.

Loyalty. Devotion. Love.

The attack, when it came, took them all by surprise, but not so much that Altea could not defend or fight back.

Before the second wave of raining fire could hit, Allura was already at her tower, activating the shields around the kingdom, her priestesses joining her in their towers. Lance was already leading the knights into battle, clashing outside the gates.

None of that mattered to Shiro. The attacking Galra, the defending Altea: none of that mattered.

The first volley of fire struck while he and the prince were out in the city, and the walls trembled and one of the lower watchtowers fell. People scattered all around them, making for the lower shelters, knowing that the more exposed buildings would do them no good. He stuck close to Keith, waited for his instruction, when another tower was hit and came crashing down near the square and Keith disappeared from his side.

“Keith, no!”

His voice was lost in the thunderous noise of falling stone and terrified screams, his vision clouded by dust and debris and confusion. When it all cleared, there were cries of despair, because the square was buried beneath the remains of the tower, and children had been there moments before when they’d evacuated their school building.

Keith had been there moments before.

Shiro pushed through the crowds, refusing to believe. Refusing to admit that he’d failed his prince, that he’d failed his singular duty, after everything Keith had done for him, everything that Keith had given him… everything Shiro had yet to give in return.

And there, between the cracks of the rubble, was a golden glow.

Keith.

“Keith! Keith, hold on!” Shiro turned to the crowd behind him, the crowd who wanted their children to be alive but feared the magic-touched knight and the half-breed prince he served. “Your children are alive under here! Come help me!” When no one moved, he let out a furious roar, and with a single strike of his glowing right hand, a stone block crumbled, scattered around his feet. “Help me!”

With some hesitation, some of the men came forward and began to dig, began to shift the debris, forming chains and levering rock with whatever they could find. Shiro used the strength of his arm to easily smash and shunt pieces of the wreckage until the glow got brighter, until he got closer.

Close enough to see Keith crouched low to the ground, his hands held up and burning fiercely like the sun, holding the remains of an entire tower away from himself and the children with him. The same children who aimed stones and fruit at him now curled and cried beside him.

“Keith! You’re all right!” Shiro couldn’t stop the grin from bursting across his face, willed his heart to stay in his ribcage. His prince was alive.

But Keith only shook his head. “No time, Shiro. You need to… hurry. Take them. Quickly…!” Everything shuddered violently, and Shiro saw the weight of the wreckage shift down but an inch, saw the golden light go brighter, Keith’s arms trembling with the effort. “Please, Shiro…”

Shiro called for the men to come round to where he was, and together they began to dig, close and deep enough for the first child to crawl out from under the tower remain. Then a second, a third, a fourth…

“Wait!”

Keith’s voice stopped everything. Everyone held their breath, and the weight groaned and sagged, the unearthly light of Keith’s power flickering. “Stay… stay,” Shiro heard Keith growl, and he had no idea if he was talking to him, or to himself. He’d fallen from his crouch now, still upright but barely. “All right. Now. Keep going. Hurry.”

Someone had called for the schoolmistress, so she could tell them how many they should be expecting. One by one they appeared, running straight for their parents with barely a look back. Shiro could do nothing more than talk to Keith, keep him steady, assuring him. At the third-to-last child, however, when Keith was visibly paling, Shiro remembered.

Galra magic consumed.

All the children who’d escaped so far were unharmed. Not a scratch or a withered hair. All around them was stone and dust.

A cheer rang from beyond the walls. The Galra were driven back. It meant nothing to Shiro.

“Keith! Keith, you need to get out!” He found himself clawing into the rubble, pushing and hefting and pulling, trying to clear more of the weight away from Keith, because if he didn’t, if Keith’s magic failed — he didn’t want to think about what it meant, if it did fail, because Galra magic consumed…

The prince was gasping for air, his shoulders shaking with exertion that was fast waning. “No… you need to make sure they’re safe. Shiro. You have to.”

The last child slid out from the collapse.

“She out, she’s out, Keith, please, just hold on. I’m almost there.” He was babbling now, he knew it. But he’d tasted the terror of failure not moments before, felt his heart hollow at the very thought of Keith being anything but alive. His right hand gleamed, his left hand bled, and he wasn’t going to give up. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you!”

Keith let out a pained scream, his body buckling. “I can’t… Shiro, I can’t!”

Loyalty. Devotion. Love.

Shiro poured it all into his right arm, watched it glow the brightest silver, and brought it down on the last of what kept Keith away from him.

The arm shattered. The golden light winked out.

In the seconds between, Shiro reached, wrapped his one arm around his prince, before everything that was held aloft came crashing down.

Not once did Shiro leave his prince’s side.

At best, he stood at attention whenever King Alfor or Allura came to visit, but he knew no respectful distance. He hovered, always by the prince’s head, always only slightly behind his royal visitors. He made greater allowances for the King, who willingly rose from his own sickbed to see his son every day, who had stumbled to the palace gates when he’d heard, shouldering away anyone who tried to coax him back to his chambers. Who had wept as he took his son out of Shiro’s arm and cradled him to his chest.

The banner of the white lion, the banner of King Alfor, was lowered to half mast.

The court had visitors. The families that were kept whole, who weren’t mourning their children, asked for an audience. They all came together, a small crowd of people, uncertain but grateful. They asked for the prince, then the princess, then the King himself.

They got Lance. Lance, who stood before them, his fine features marred by the deepest frowns and the darkest smudges around his eyes. Gentle, smiling Lance, who turned to ice and venom when he spoke: “The Prince is dying. Your children are safe. That should satisfy you.”

Perhaps that had been cruel. But Keith had known nothing else from the very people he served, so Shiro could only feel bitter thanks for Lance’s words.

Pidge and Hunk were hard at work rebuilding his right arm, but Shiro could not find it within himself to care. What was an arm compared to his prince? What was the point of being physically restored if his heart was hollow?

“Will he recover?”

Allura’s mouth drew into a taut line, though the tears shining in her eyes betrayed her heartache. “It… is unlikely. He drew from his own life force. He has never expended his power with such urgency and fire. And he is only half Galra, nowhere near as strong as if he were full-blooded.”

“So… he’ll die.”

“Keith will not willingly take the life force of another, from any other,” Allura said, the tears slipping now. She was proud of her little brother, but she did not want to lose him. “And he is too weak now to pull himself back.” She reached for Shiro’s hand with both of hers, squeezing it tight.

“Love him while you can, Shiro. It is all we can do.”

The glittering stars in his prince’s eyes were gone, now. When they were open, they were shadowed pools of indigo, and his smile, the one he reserved for Shiro and Shiro alone, could do nothing to light them again. His breathing was a thin, laboured thing, and cocooned in the pillows and quilts of his bed, Keith was pale, small, young, fragile, and Shiro tended to him as if he were the most precious, delicate treasure.

“Shiro?”

“Yes, Keith?”

“You should not have to stay here,” he rasped, barely above a whisper. But they spoke so often in whispers that Shiro had no trouble hearing every word. He hung on each one, as if they would be the last in that voice he held so dear.

“I would be nowhere else, my prince,” Shiro replied, and he wondered again about his sanity, if loyalty and devotion had now moved on to delusion and desperation. “I am yours, and my place is here.”

Keith hummed, a faint smile on his lips. “My knight.”

“Yours,” he said, with conviction enough to break a heart. “Always.”

The prince reached out then, and Shiro was quick to meet him, curling the small elegant hand in his larger, rougher one. He bent down then, brushing the fingertips with a breath, more daring now than when he thought he had all the time in the world. The tip of one of Keith’s fingers skimmed his lower lip, and he fought the urge to kiss, to cry.

“What would you ask of me, Shiro, if you could ask anything at all?”

A kiss. A night. A forever. Anything. Anything if it meant —

“That you would live.”

Keith tipped his head then, so he could meet his eyes, and Shiro wondered if they appeared as dull and empty as he felt. Keith must have seen something, because he asked, “Is that all?”

“What more could I want?” Shiro said, the cracks now showing in his broken whisper. “If you aren’t here, where am I to be? Who am I to be? I am your knight, and you are my prince. Is that not so?” An echo, and he found Keith staring at him just as he had before, careful, silent consideration. “I pledged my life to you, and I would give it so you would live. So you would stay with me.”

There was a flash, a single star, in the corner of one amethyst eye. Keith’s breath caught; Shiro held his.

When Shiro let his breath go, he stood from his seat by the bed. Took a step back, and piece by piece, removed his armour. It took time, one-armed as he was, but he was a good knight, and he set his armour down carefully, orderly. His leathers, too, came away, until he was left in only the soft linens of his shirt and breeches. Keith’s eyes never left him as he stepped forward once more, and slid into the bed beside him, lying on his right side so he could rest his arm on his prince, pulling him close to his chest.

“Shiro… I could hurt you.”

Shiro shook his head, burying his nose in Keith’s hair. “No. You would not. I know you. I love you. From the moment you called me ‘Shiro’, I have loved you. And I would ask this of you.”

For a moment, he thought he saw another star appear in his prince’s eyes, but it escaped out a corner, and slid down his cheek. Shiro reached up, wiped it away, running his thumb over that cheekbone he thought was so sharp the first time, but was so very soft to the touch.

“Take of me what you will,” Shiro murmured into his hair, bleeding all his promise and love into his voice. “My place is here, as your knight. As whoever you wish me to be.”

Keith burrowed into Shiro’s chest, weak hands grasping at his linen shirt, and even through that, he could feel that smile, that smile that was his and his alone, against his skin.

“And what shall I call you, when I wake?”

“Takashi.”

“Takashi.” And Shiro felt it, then. That first taste, like a hummingbird drawing nectar, the tiniest of sips, testing and cautious. Nothing at all like the druid in his past: this was warm, quiet. He felt himself drift, and in his arms he felt Keith grow heavier, too.

“It would please my heart… to call you that.”

A last act, a kiss upon his prince’s brow, and an answer: “When you wake, then.”

Allura found them, the following morning, bathed in soft golden light in each other’s embrace. Shiro breathed deeply, asleep, and her brother… breathed. There was faint colour to his cheeks, and the smile on his face alone was enough to tell her that her father’s banner would not stay at half mast. Her hand came to her mouth, stifling a laugh or a sob, she was not sure. It made no difference.

“You chose well, Little Brother.”

A week later, and King Alfor’s banner of the white lion rose to its full height. Beside it, another banner rose, a red lion, the emblem of Prince Keith, and all of Altea rejoiced.

[illuminating-dragons]

Fading Scars (5/?): The M Name

Time: 2004

Summary: Percy has an announcement for his family. Things don't go quite the way he planned. 

              Percy opened the door to the Burrow, letting a huge burst of noise and light fall over him and Audrey. Audrey giggled. “Your family’s so wonderful.”

           “You sure you’re alright?” Percy asked worriedly. “We don’t have to stay too long.”

           “Percy, I’m fine.” Audrey patted his hand. “Let’s go in!”

           Charlie had come for a visit—“no dragons this time Mum, I promise!”—and everyone was gathered at the Burrow. Percy was excited to see his brother, and with the news Audrey had given him that morning he was bubbling over with delight. Perhaps that was why he responded so enthusiastically to his mother’s hug. She seemed a bit surprised, but patted his cheek.

           “Come in, darlings. Everyone’s here, and Ginny’s brought Jamie!”

           Percy shared a secret look with Audrey as they went in together.

           All his brothers—it still hurt like hell that there were four instead of five—were there. Charlie was lounging on the sofa, Victoire in his lap. He was telling her stories, and she was beaming delightedly, blonde hair falling in her eyes. Bill and Fleur sat beside him, keeping an eye on their elder daughter while Bill kept Dominique from climbing over the chair. George and Ron were deep in conversation on one end of the room and their wives were doing the same on the other side, his dad included in the latter conversation.

           Percy couldn’t see his sister right away, but Audrey gasped with delight and pointed. Ginny was sitting in his mother’s rocking chair, Harry kneeling next to her. There was a tiny bundle in Ginny’s arms, and she was rocking slowly.

           Harry must have heard Audrey, because he looked up. He smiled. “Hello, Percy, Audey! Want to come see Jamie?”

           Audrey didn’t need to be told twice, and dashed to the chair. Percy followed a bit more slowly, not wanting to wake the baby. George’s kids were noisy when startled.

           James Sirius Potter, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by the clamor around him. Five months old, he was reaching up with little arms for Audrey, who was bending over him and cooing. He had more hair now, a few small red curls, and his blue eyes were brighter now.

           He’d gotten those eyes from his Uncle Ron…and from Percy.

           Harry and Ginny looked exhausted, but they were calm. Harry had his hand in Ginny’s, watching his son. He reached up and put his hand on Jamie’s back, patting gently.

           “How’s he sleeping now?” Audrey asked.

           “We’re not entirely sure that he does,” Ginny said honestly. “We’ve started sleeping in there with him and I’ve woken up a couple of times and he’s awake looking at the mobile[1] or chewing on his bear.”

           “Perhaps he’s simply engaged enough and not hungry,” Percy suggested. “Babies do that sometimes.”

           “How do you know that?” Ginny asked in surprise.  

           Percy willed himself not to blush. Why do you know that Percy? “There’s been lots of babies around lately, and more on the way.” He indicated Fleur’s growing stomach. “I thought it might be useful to know something about how babies work.”

           Of course he knew some of this because of what Audrey had told him last week. But that had been a refresher from when he was eleven and bored and wanted to look up how to take care of a baby. He read in the darker corners of the Hogwarts library and never signed a single book out and learned that no one seemed to agree on how to do it.

           Audrey, of course, didn’t know that. She shot him a warning look, and Percy nodded. This was her surprise more than his.

           Thankfully supper was ready, and they squeezed into the still too-small kitchen.

           “We’ll have to renovate once all the babies start growing up,” Mum exclaimed as she pulled Victoire onto her lap. “George, why didn’t you bring your kids again?”

           “Freddie’s teething,” George said with a grimace, “and he’s got a fever. Angie and I are going to have to leave soon; Lee’s a saint but I don’t feel right leaving him more than an hour, especially with Roxy too. We’ll swing by in the morning, alright Charlie?”

           “Sure. I’m here for another few days. Hope the little tyke’s feeling better.”  

           “If you’re going to leave soon,” Audrey volunteered, “maybe we should tell our news now, Perce.”

           Percy swallowed hard as the conversation died down and his family’s eyes turned towards him. Even little James seemed interested.

           “Sure, love.”

           Audrey smiled, her lips trembling. “We’re going to have a baby!”

           The table erupted.

           “Oh, that’s wonderful!”

           “Congratulations!”

           “More bébés!” That was Victoire.

           “How far along are you?”

           That was practical Hermione, and Percy answered. “Audrey’s about six weeks along. We went to a Healer today.”

           “We should have known sooner, but Percy was sick with the flu and so we were both throwing up,” Audrey said. “It didn’t seem that odd.”

           “We’re very happy for you two,” Arthur said. “Is everything going well?”

           “Yes. I’m perfectly healthy, and they were actually able to tell what I’m having.” Audrey paused, her smile turning tender. “It’s a girl.”

           That prompted another round of cries of delight. Percy managed to relax as he saw his family being genuinely happy and supportive of him. Perhaps this evening would go okay.

           Afterwards he would blame himself for what happened next. He had been so overwhelmed by Audrey’s news—they’d danced around their small house for almost an hour—and he’d gone right to researching the best possible prenatal care for their little one, and they’d only decided that afternoon to tell the family…and he hadn’t thought about what Audrey might have thought about.

           “Any ideas for names?” Harry asked curiously.

           Audrey turned to Mum. “Actually, Molly, we want to name her after you.”

           Everyone went silent except Victoire, who was still chanting, “baby, baby, baby,” on her mother’s lap. Fleur gently shushed her.

           “Is something wrong?” Audrey asked. “Oh, Fleur, are you going to use that name?”

           “No, Audrey,” Mum said quickly. “No one else has chosen that name yet.”

           “But if anyone’s going to, it shouldn’t be Percy,” George snapped.

           “George!” Ron put a hand on George’s shoulder, but George shrugged it off.

           “You can’t tell me you’re okay with that!”

           “I don’t understand…” Audrey looked at Percy, but he couldn’t speak.

           “What, Percy hasn’t told you?” George was on his feet now. “About how he reacted when Voldemort came back?”

           Percy stood up. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

           “What?” George’s face was twisted in a sneer now. “Doesn’t your wife know you were a Ministry-loving coward who abandoned his family and broke our parents’ hearts?”

           It would have been easier if George had hit him.

           “Yes,” Percy said quietly. “Yes, she does.”

           “The war’s over!” Audrey was glaring at George. “You said you forgave him, how dare you keep raking that up?!”

           “It did happen,” Charlie said. His voice was reluctant. “Percy did those things. And maybe…maybe if only one of us can name a daughter after Mum, it shouldn’t be him.”

           “You’re one to talk, you were in Romania most of the time!”

           “Audrey, enough.” Percy was trying to keep his composure, but it was cracking steadily. “This is a bad idea, we should just go.” He took her hand and pulled her gently towards the door.

           “Yeah, go ahead and walk out!” George snarled. “Just like you always do!”

           That did it.

           Percy dropped Audrey’s hand and whirled. “You know what? I did walk out. I did. And I shouldn’t have done it! But you know something? It was too easy.”

           “The hell does that mean?”

           “It means that I was always an outsider!” Percy exploded.

           George flinched.

           “Think about it! I was the only one who wasn’t interested in Quidditch, the only one who cared at all about politics, the only one who had a bad place in this family! Bill was the cool one, Charlie has his dragons, you and—and Fred had your jokes, Ron was the youngest and he outshone all us boys, and Ginny was the girl!. And what was I? I was Percy the Prig, pompous and political and no one’s favourite. All of you had each other, and I was the odd man out.”

           Percy drew in a deep breath, trying to keep himself from bursting into tears.

           “So yes, I decided to be that. If that was my box, it was my box and I was going to make it a good one. So I drew away, and…and that made me make mistakes.”

           He looked desperately at his parents. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry for that, I never should have said what I said. I never should have made the problem about you. It was my fault. But I was so angry, and so sure I was right, because the government couldn’t be wrong, because if it was wrong then…well, what did I have left? Certainly not my family. None of you bothered to come after me.”

           He’d waited, the first three weeks, but other than Mum—dear Mum, the only one who never gave up on him, but also the one who’d encouraged him politically up until now, and he was so confused—other than that everyone stayed away. The silence was worse than any Howler.

           “So I toed the party line, whatever the party was.” Percy looked at Harry. “I have no excuse for what I did to you. I should have stood up for you. I cared about you a lot; you were another brother. But if I was going to make a clean break, and that seemed to be ideal, I had to forget that.”

           Harry swallowed hard.

           “When the Ministry was taken over…” Percy swallowed, remembering those terrible days, long hours surrounded by Death Eaters, his family’s posters on the walls, interrogation sessions that left him bruised and bleeding. Blood traitor! Blood traitor! And he was, he was, though not the way they meant it…

           “I tried to help,” he admitted. “I hid files, I destroyed evidence, I forged whatever documents I could. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough, and I’m still alive, even though I was in the Battle. I was in the Battle, and I watched my brother die.” Fred’s last laugh still rang in his ears late at night. He turned to George. “I know you wish it was me instead of him. Believe me, I wish it too! Why am I alive and the brother who never left, who everyone loved, isn’t?”

           Percy looked wildly around the room, hoping someone would give him an answer, dreading that someone would. His eyes fell first on Victoire, who had her thumb in her mouth—she hated when people shouted. Then on Dominique, who was clinging to her father. Then on James, awake and looking back at him with his own eyes.

           They’re going to be so ashamed when they understand they have me as an uncle.

           That thought broke him, and he sank down on his chair and sobbed, his face buried in his hands.

           Someone touched his shoulder, and he thought it was Audrey—it should be Audrey, she was the only one who might still love him after that litany of cowardice and selfishness. But when the same hand forced him to look up, it was George, and he was crying too.

           “I’m sorry, Perce,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

           “I—” Percy started.

           “No.” George shook him gently. “We’ve got no right to keep expecting you to apologize when we refuse to do the same. I never thought—I never realized you felt so alone. That we made you feel alone.”

           “I don’t belong in this family,” Percy said numbly.

           George wrapped his arms around him.  “You’re our brother,” he whispered. “Of course you belong.”

           Percy tried to break away from his embrace, but George wouldn’t let him.

Ron slid down next to them and put his hand on Percy’s shoulder. “You left,” he whispered, and Percy flinched, “but you came back, even when you thought there was no place for you. That’s brave, brother.”

Then Bill was there, and Charlie, and Ginny, and Percy couldn’t hear what they were saying anymore, could barely breathe as for the first time since he was little, he felt like he was home.

They would say it again.

George went home and brought back little Fred and Roxy and they all stayed late that night, talking properly as a family. They talked about the past, and they talked about the present, and they planned for a future where everyone was going to listen more and be a little kinder to each other. It wasn’t enough to say they were family. There was work to be done, but they were all willing to do it. Forgiveness came, the love that was always there grew stronger, and Percy became a little more tolerant, and a little more tolerable, as did they all.

           He was still pompous sometimes, still far more interested in politics than Quidditch, and he did continue to work in the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But Percy was a Weasley once again, and the next time they had a reunion with Charlie, he and Audrey brought little Molly Grace Weasley to the party.

[juleswriites]

⭐️ x 47000

as i’ve said before, we could just write a book.  and i’m definitely not writing 47,000 headcanons, but i’ll give you a few for each of our more established ships.

S H M A R M A N

Even laid-back Marcus has reached his wit’s end regarding one particular thing:  Shane and Roman are not allowed to play Monopoly in the house.  They both get way too competitive and it gets escalated to ridiculous levels.

Sometimes Gizmo wanders into Shane’s room just to sleep on Atlas’s dog bed to prove that he is top animal in the house.

When Shane is bored she’ll wipe her fingers through colored chalk and leave fingerprints in random places throughout the house and time just how long it takes Roman to notice them.

Atlas and Gizmo actually get along pretty well as long as Atlas leaves the cat alone.  Since Shane has only ever slept in her own room when something is wrong between she and one or both of the boys, they all sleep in Marcus’ room.

When Shane can’t sleep, her go-to method to remedy it is to ask Marcus to sing to her.  She likes laying with her ear against his chest and listening to the combination of his voice and heartbeat.

S H A M A N (arranged)

Despite being the creative director for a fashion house, there are times where Shane will still ask Roman for opinions about what she wears during the events they attend together.  She likes when he likes her clothing.

Shane teasingly insists that she will continue to keep her own room in their house even after they’re married.  If she sees the way Roman looks at her in response, she has never said so.

Shane has already decided that if they have a daughter, she will carry Octavia’s name in some part of hers, probably the middle.  Roman’s sister has become very important to her in a short amount of time.  (She is also considering putting Octavia on retainer as an event planner for Nox Fashion House.)

Despite never saying so, Shane is constantly worried she will disappoint Roman and her in-laws.  She is usually fairly proud of her accomplishments, but the Notts bring out her insecurities.

Shane wants to get the fashion house smoothly transitioned to being under her leadership, but afterward, she would not be opposed to going ahead and starting their family.  She’s looking forward to building a future with Roman, and is more than a little excited to see him as a father.

S H A R K Y (bound to you)

Shane has had flashes of her future with Marcus since she was young.  She never knew his name and she never saw his face, but she knew that someday, she’d meet someone who would be a partner to her in a way she didn’t quite understand.

She felt Marcus coming that first day of school and knew the moment she laid eyes on him that he was the one she’d been dreaming about.

While she usually gets strong feelings of things to come when she touches others, she’s usually entirely too focused on how warm Marcus’ skin is and how much she enjoys his touch to actually discern anything substantial.

She’s now really annoyed that he let her gush about him to himself in wolf form.  He’ll be getting an earful about that.

She easily feels closer to Marcus than she’s felt to anyone else in her life.  She was kept relatively isolated from others first by her father and then by her mother to keep her safe, and both of her parents had much larger plans or concerns than to really get to know their daughter.  Shane has no model of healthy relationships of any sort to go off of.

R O ²

When she was younger, Roxy once considered letting her friend draw a dick on her face just because she thought it would be funny for her soulmate to have to walk around with one on theirs.  Now that she’s met Roman, that idea is even funnier.

Logic tells her that Roman should terrify her, but it’s just not possible.  She knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would lose an arm before willingly letting someone harm her.

She wants to get a tattoo now in a slightly risque place and see how long it takes him to notice it or bring it up.  She’s considering having his name or the date they finally met in Roman numerals tattooed high on her inner thigh.

Unknown to her, Roxy’s employees are already preparing for her departure.  They have high hopes that now that her soulmate has found her, he’ll get her the hell out of Seattle and away from her stalker.

She’d like to see the world with Roman.  She’s never really traveled, and has always wanted to, but she wanted to wait until they found each other.

T O X Y (fearsome foursome)

One of Roxy’s first memories of TJ involves her running around his yard naked when she was three-years-old.  No one is allowed to talk about it.  Except for Jared who gives no fucks and takes the smacks across his head.

Roxy’s heard a few people say TJ isn’t good for her.  She’s been quick to correct them.  She is not some martyr to be put on a pedestal because of the attack, and TJ makes her feel normal, which she needs.

She had a crush on TJ in fifth grade, complete with a notebook labeled “Property of Mrs. Roxy Ryerson”.  Unknown to her, Jared has that notebook tucked away for blackmail purposes.

Her ideal first date with him would honestly just be driving up the coast and camping in his Jeep overnight so they could look at the stars and talk all night.  She’s not a dinner and a movie kind of date.

She’s already thinking about what she’s going to do when Jared and TJ graduate, and stresses about it.

B I X

While she was isolated in the group home after giving birth, Bianca practiced writing Xavier’s name as it is on her arm so often, she can probably create a believable forged signature.

She has a notebook full of random thoughts and questions she wanted to share or ask Xavier when she finally met him.

She went through a period where she almost gave up on the soulmate phenomenon, around the time she met the father of her child.  She tried to force herself to fall in love, but it just didn’t work.

Bianca was fairly certain she wouldn’t find Xavier until she was an adult.  She didn’t think she’d meet someone her age who she could even begin to relate to after all she’s been through.

She found Xavier utterly breathtaking before she knew his name.

M A R J I N (color me alive)

Hermes had never even considered the possibility he could find his soulmate while crowd surfing.  Now that it’s happened, he’ll have stress dreams for the rest of his life about what could have happened if Eros hadn’t stepped up and found a discrete way of finding Marcus in the crowd.

TBD has an agreement that if any of the band members want out once they find their soulmates, the others won’t hold it against them.  Luckily, all of the matches found thus far have been nothing but supportive of the band and the members’ dreams.

Hermes already has several cheesy love songs in the works inspired by Marcus.  He lets Shane read them before he even attempts to put music to the lyrics because she’s incredibly honest about if the lyrics are too much.  One song has made her laugh to the point of tears, especially the phrase “I could love you more than food”.

It is H’s hope that Marcus and Eros will get to be very good friends.  They are the two most important people in Hermes’ life.

If H gets to celebrate Marcus’ next birthday with him, he is already planning to go over the top and absolutely spoil his soulmate.

B A N E

Boone still unreasonably hates a boy named Josh Zimmerman for no other reason than that he was Shane’s first kiss.  They were six.

Shane once put gum in the hair of a girl Boone dated when they were younger after she overheard her telling her friends that she was gonna nip Boone and Shane’s friendship in the bud.  It happened their freshman year of high school and she still denies it was her.

Before her folks died, Shane’s father gave Boone his grandmother’s wedding ring.  Right up until his their deaths, both of her parents firmly believed that Shane would eventually come home to her husband.  She loved him too much not to.

Shane wore her wedding ring right up until the point that she went back home to face Boone.  It was a small, simple thing because of how young they were when they married, and no one in the new life she’d made for herself figured out that it was a wedding band.

Shane prefers the smell of her husband, hay, and fresh-cut grass to the most expensive cologne on the planet.

J O O N E

Joey has not noticed yet that Boone always makes sure there are extra of her favorite snacks in the house at all times for when she gets cravings.  Blue and Roger have been warned to leave them alone.

On days she’s feeling particularly lazy but wants out of the house, Joey will bring a blanket and lay on the hood of the pickup to watch the boys work out in the fields during the day.

She makes to-die-for fruit preserves and makes sure she’s always got some of the ones Boone likes best.

Instead of going back to her normal job, she has given a lot of thought to trying to open up her own restaurant so that she can share hers and Boone’s family recipes and bring in as much food from local farmers as she can.

She stresses about how she’s going to explain things to her daughter.  If Cam wants nothing to do with them, will she just tell her that he’s an uncle?  She’s afraid to tell Boone that she thinks his little brother could be childish enough to tell his daughter things out of spite of Joey.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #14

UPDATE 14: Trigger Event

Last time I had finished Arc 3, and was about to start Arc 4! Turns out the Undersiders managed to pull off successfully the bank robbery and got away with minor injuries, the worst of them being a dislocated shoulder – which I’m told really can be fixed by pushing it back into the socket, but it hurts a lot. Arc 4 is titled ‘Shell’, and that tells me absolutely nothing about what its contents, so let’s start.

Taylor returned to school after...what, two days of not going and two days of leaving in the afternoon? Her grades must be awful by now. I’m almost 60% sure Taylor is going to leave without completing the school day. So, the setting is the school, and the very first line is spoken by the Brockton Bay Miss Congeniality Award Winner -- Emma. This arc is off to a potentially painful start, isn’t it?

Indeed, Emma has come to taunt Taylor and tell her nobody noticed her absence – which is true, not even the teachers seems to have noticed. Taylor tries to defend herself by acting blasé and shooting back a few jabs about Emma’s lack of maturity, content that if Emma was taking the time to do the old routine of scathing words and opening old wounds, then she wouldn’t have time to prepare the proverbial tar and feathers later. The fact that Mr. Wildbow conspired with his authorial fiat to make Emma be deliciously clueless about the events of this story makes this scene almost funny:

“Really, Taylor?  Tell me, what are you doing with yourself?  You’re not going to school, you have no friends, I doubt you’re working. Are you really in a position to call me immature, when I’ve got all that going for me and you just… don’t?”

If you knew, Emma...you know, somehow I’m not sure what Emma’s reaction would be if she ever finds out Taylor is a cape, or if she finds out Taylor is a supervillain who robs banks and threatens people with black widow spiders. I’m not sure if Emma would be surprised and wondering if she missed any hints, or if she’d be befuddled Taylor didn’t send swarms after her as revenge, or if she’d scoff and think ‘oh, of course Taylor is a criminal’. Maybe she won’t ever find out. For now there’s a strange feeling of satisfaction at knowing that Taylor is officially a budding villain and Emma is clueless about it.

Taylor laughs in Emma’s face, pretty much ending the scene, and scampers out of the classroom without a care in the world. Well this went better than it could have gone! It’s a relief, honestly. Taylor muses that she has been...curiously fine despite, you know, committing a felony the day before. The reasons why are simple: one, she went to school, breaking the pattern of skipping it. In fact, she just completed a whole day of school! I sincerely congratulate her for that. The other reason is that her recent actions aren’t in the front page of the newspaper. We made page three of the Bulletin, coming behind a one and a half page story on an Amber Alert and a General Motors advertisement. Given that having a big article describing her terror wouldn’t make her look like a heroic person, this must be great for her conscience. It also helps that those who are considered as ‘heroic people’ are getting bad publicity right now: All in all, the story had been more focused on the property damage, most of which was caused by Glory Girl and the Wards. Hmmmm...how did the other Undersiders react? Was any of them bummed about the lack of front-page recognition, or are they fine with being relegated to the third page? It doesn’t say – yet.

Now that Taylor spent a whole day in school, she’s in liberty of doing what she wants, so she goes to the Docks, but not to the Undersiders’ hideout. She’s going to a market. Alec, Brian and Lisa were there. No sign of Rachel, I guess it’s because committing crimes isn’t enough to forge bonds of camaraderie with the person you tried to mutilate less than a week ago.

Oh. There’s a different reason here. She’s well known enough that she’d catch someone’s eye, and from there, it’s only a short leap to figuring out who the people she’s hanging with are.” Huh...Brian is right about that. I hadn’t considered it...but I’m supposing Rachel likes it more this way. She’s not the most sociable person around, she may be fine with having to stay away from everyone’s eyes.

It also helps that this way Rachel is conveniently away from the way dogs are treated around here. A woman walks by, carrying a dog wearing a sweater. That’d be enough to make Rachel ballistic.

“The sweater. The dog being carried.  Rachel would be up in her face, telling that woman it’s not the way a dog should be treated.  Screaming at her, maybe threatening violence, if one of us didn’t step in to handle things.”  

Rachel is like a more extreme and rage-filled Cesar Millan. Somehow I have the feeling saying that would be a ticket to getting punched in the gut. To the surprise of no one, it’s said mistreatment of dogs is what would make Rachel be truly angry, which prompts Taylor to ask the big mystery of the day: “Has she killed anyone?” ...apparently she has! Honestly? I didn’t expect that. I thought that Rachel would be the big red herring here, that somehow she hadn’t caused any deaths, but turns out she has, even if it may be classified as ‘manslaughter’. I doubt Armsmaster cares about the distinction, so that’s one killer found. Which one could be the other...hmmmm...

Alec returned from the stall wearing a Kid Win shirt. Classy behavior, Alec. He must be feeling real proud of causing damages to Kid Win’s stuff. Next Alec will buy a skateboard painted like Kid Win’s hoverboard and use it to light up a bonfire, I guess.

Given that right now they’re spending money around, Taylor asks what’s going to happen now with their, hm, “job and payment”. “It’s just a matter of handing the cash over to the boss later tonight.” I had thought the boss would pick up the cash from where they had left it! Is Lisa going to hand it over in person? Nobody cares because they all trust the boss. Other than that, they’re free to do whatever they want until they have a new job to do.

I felt kind of conflicted about the ‘take it easy and wait’ plan.  On the one hand, taking a break sounded awesome.  The last week had been intense, to put it lightly. On the other hand, it sort of sucked that we wouldn’t be out there on another job, since I’d be waiting that much longer for a chance on getting more details on the boss.  I’d just have to hope I could find something out tonight.

Sorry, Taylor, there are...273 chapters left. You’re not finding something out tonight. Besides, the more she spends with the Undersiders, the less she'll want to betray them, I’m sure of it. They’re pretty much the only people willing to spend time with Taylor and be her friend, I doubt she’ll be in a hurry to tattle on them once she gets attached to them emotionally.

Lisa steals Taylor aside for a shopping trip, taking her aside and talking about what she’d buy. Is she faking her enthusiasm so she could take Taylor aside? This felt a bit forced to me. Anyways, that’s the end of the chapter. It was...largely uneventful. There’s not really much to comment there, however, there is something I was passed here by my screener, one of the comments in that chapter.

she’s spending so much time trying to figure out which of the others have killed; it’s going to turn out Lung didn’t make it, i’m betting.

It’d be a twist! But sadly it wouldn’t work, because if Taylor had caused Lung’s death, well, I don’t think Armsmaster would have been roundabout over it. Besides, he’d be punished much more than he was, right? And finally, the Undersiders would have heard something if the leader of this big gang in the Docks died. No, it can’t be Taylor. That’s good for her, the thought of someone dying because of her...that’d hit her hard. To the next chapter!

Lisa channels those TLC programs about what clothing people have, telling Taylor what her clothing says about her. It’s largely accurate.  “You’re observant, detail oriented and focused.  More than any of the others.  You watch, you interpret, and then you act with this careful, surgical precision. That’s a strength and a flaw.” Perfect! I agree. And you want to change it so everyday people are caught off-guard by Taylor’s personality? Not really, apparently.

“I don’t like lying to my dad.” ...there’s going to be a lot of lying, won’t there? From what I see of Mr. Hebert, I can’t say he’d approve of Taylor being one of the Undersiders. Lying to him or telling him and having to go against his will anyway...it’s like choosing the lesser evil, isn’t it?

Lisa proceeds to show the extent of her powers, informing Taylor of her theories. “At first I thought your dad was abusing you.” That’s...a bit of a nonchalant way of saying that, Lisa. Thankfully, Taylor doesn’t react to that. Lisa theorizes that what bothers Taylor the most is at school, and this has been a topic of discussion with Brian and Alec. “I could help make the suckish parts suck less,” she offered.

...

...

...that’d be...I’m not sure if it’d be great or not. My initial thought is “oh, please, go ahead!” but this would cause all sorts of trouble, wouldn’t it? Those bullies would back off, but people can be insidious. Things can get worse. Lisa could risk being accused of something. Taylor could get interrogated about the strange friend who pranced into the school and confronted a few people. This could go wrong in many ways, I think...

“Having me try on clothes is fine,” I told her, doing my level best to keep my voice calm, “But you interfere directly in my problems, and I’m gone.” I can always appreciate somebody who wants to keep both sides of life apart. The smallest leak can lead to Taylor being found out, after all. They discuss the clothes Taylor is going to buy, Lisa is paying for it all. “A bribe in exchange for your silence,” Lisa winked at me. Keeping silent about offering to solve Taylor’s problems, you mean?

Apparently not. This is about how badly Lisa managed to screw up, about Panacea being in the bank. Looks like the rest of the band didn’t find out she was there. It’s less about they doubting her skills, and more about they being teenagers. They wouldn’t let her live it down. Hah! Lisa reiterates that she’s willing to intervene in Taylor’s life whenever she wants. Hmm...foreshadowing? A simple gesture of friendship to further the characterization or Mr. Wildbow setting things up for Lisa taking action in the problems if Taylor’s life? I’m not sure. Or it could be nothing, and I’m clinging to this for nothing. What can I say, I love mysteries, I tend to focus on anything that can hint something happening later in a book.

Once the shopping is done, they all reunite at Fugly Bob’s, where the food is so greasy paper bags turn transparent and there are foods like ‘Hideous Bob’. Anyone with any sense then waited a year to give their hearts a chance to recuperate. Really now. I think my brand marketer heart is the one that needs to recuperate. I literally shuddered. Thank goodness this is fiction!

Taylor inquires what’s going to happen later. Any other crimes to commit anytime soon? Taylor hopes it’ll be less intense, with less confrontation with capes. Taylor doesn’t want to risk dismemberment. Nothing is said, so I guess there’s no plan for the foreseeable future. They continue eating a while longer before Taylor decides this is a grand time to ask for an infodump. “I know it’s kind of cliche, but when people with powers get together, isn’t it kind of standard to share origin stories?” Please do, guys! I’m interested in hearing everyone’s backstories. Judging by everyone’s reactions, there aren’t happy memories at all. That’s the end of the chapter. Will there be answers the next chapter? I hope there are.

Hello there, I finished the update and decided to add this caveat. Fair warning, since things got heavy, I wasn’t exactly in mood to joke around or anything like that. Sorry, things are getting tough here.

So yes, next chapter. It starts in a promising way: “Let me put it this way.  When you got your powers, were you having a good day?” Taylor says ‘no’. Looks like getting powers isn’t done through happy thoughts. There are many with the potential to have powers, but only someone who has been pushed far enough will acquire them – and not always, I suppose. Would I be correct to suppose that Taylor’s awakening of her powers was a byproduct of her bullying? Some would think that it’d be her mother’s death, but...I don’t know, the way Taylor has to reign in her powers – like shown in the first chapter – shows a link between anger and her powers, instead of sorrow.

Nobody tells their backstories, but Taylor wants to tell hers. Well that’s nice. I’m a bit disappointed I won’t hear the backstories for the rest of the Undersiders yet, but there’s a lot of Worm left. There’s time for that. So, Taylor, how did you acquire these powers of yours? The people I’m talking about… I don’t want you to take revenge on them on my behalf or anything. Looks like my guess was accurate.

“I guess I feel that if you guys jumped in and beat them up or humiliated them or made them tearfully apologize, I wouldn’t feel like I’d dealt with things myself. There wouldn’t be any closure.”

Judging by how you’re going to stoically endure it, there won’t be any closure at all unless you move away from them. It says a lot of Taylor’s inner strength, I guess. So, Taylor starts talking. She starts by telling there were three girls making her life miserable, and that her worst moment happened at a time those three stopped. During that time, one of the girls that sometimes joined in taunting Taylor apologized and turned into her friend – and now I’m afraid of reading anything else, because I’m already guessing where this is going. I can’t say I have ever experienced something like this from any side, but false friends are a bit of a touchy point for me. Tough luck, me, you’re going to read this.

...wow. This is actually worse than I had expected. I heard Mr. Wildbow got inspirations of moments that did happen to people he knew. I can only say that if this is copied verbatim from one of those moments...I hope the person who went through this is okay and is happy right now. So, to describe it in few words: the bullies filled Taylor’s locker with used tampons and pads, left it in there for two weeks, and locked her inside. No wonder this is one of Taylor’s worst days ever!

Gaining this new power was very disorienting at first, like having a whole new sense – which is pretty much what this was. Suddenly Taylor could feel the bugs’ location, what they were seeing, and it was all very confusing. Taylor was taken to the hospital and while she was under observation, she pinpointed what was going on in her head. And that’s how she got her powers. Oh, that friend? She simply didn’t talk to Taylor again. And that’s Taylor’s trigger event. Highly unpleasant. This is grim, really.

Alec says what I’m sure a lot of people have thought or said while reading Worm: “Why don’t you use your power?” And he isn’t happy with Taylor’s response about how it’d be easy to guess it was Taylor doing it – they would have no proof, in my opinion – so he insists. Brian...he sides with Alec on this, and Lisa says nothing. Looks like even the characters in this story have a hard time wrapping their heads around Taylor’s refusal to fight back.

Alec wants to give crabs to the capes they encounter and is disappointed with Taylor refuses. I’m not sure what to do with this information, hah!

So, Taylor explains why she refuses to do anything, and it’s because it’d enter into this complicated Ouroboros of constant retaliation. Bullies suffer lice, they get frustrated, they torment Taylor further, Bullies suffer even more lice, they get even more frustrated, they torment Taylor ever more...and so and so, until somebody gets hurt. Paraphrasing. Taylor has repressed a lot of anger, too, so she knows her own limits and that if she lets her anger take over her, she won’t contain herself for much longer. All in all, it really is a show of Taylor’s strength, if anything for other people’s sake. She may be angry, but she isn’t angry enough to actually try to make other people suffer.

Lisa leaned forward, “Tell me it wouldn’t be awesome if we kidnapped their leader, pulled a hood over her head, dragged her into a van and dropped her off in the woods at midnight, ten miles out of town, with nothing but her skivvies.”

Honestly, Lisa? Hell no, it isn’t awesome. I’m all for revenges -- honestly I have a bit of a vindictive streak, I admit it – but that’s too far, isn’t it? Lisa disappoints me a bit by smiling at the mental image, but in the end she refuses to acknowledge it, saying it indeed would go too far.

“Then why the fuck are you a supervillain?”

“Escape.” The word left my mouth almost immediately, before I’d had a chance to even think about what it meant.

Escape from her everyday life of school bullying, you mean? Blowing off some steam and frustration? It’s not entirely wrong, Taylor herself admits it.  All she wants is to keep these two lives separate and spend time with friends. “Yes, Taylor, we’re friends,” Brian said, “And we appreciate, or at least, I appreciate that you trusted us enough to share your story.” Alright! It’s official! Taylor, you’re definitely not going to betray the Undersiders now that Brian said this. Guess you’re a villain from now on! Have fun.

Now that Taylor shared her story, it’s somebody else’s turn, but nobody wants. Alec doesn’t bother to say a thing, and Lisa simply says she’ll tell once she had a few drinks, but she’s still underage. Golly, how about that, haha! I always find it a bit amusing when seasoned criminals are concerned about comparatively minor offenses. The supervillain refuses to indulge in underage drinking! Man I love that trope; too bad I don’t read see it very often.

Since nobody wants to share, Brian decides he was going to be the one to bring up the exposition now. Great! I know pretty much nothing about Brian, this should be a chance to see his past, what kind of life he had before being a supervillain...hmm...something I noted is that the powers and the trigger events themselves have no link, at least in Taylor’s case, so I can’t guess what Brian went through that caused him to acquire powers. What’s for sure is that it was very bad. How bad...that remains to be seen next time.

Next update: five updates

[flauntpage]

Kennedy Meeks' Personality Has Won Over the Raptors and His Game Might, Too

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports Canada.

Had you walked into any room that Kennedy Meeks occupied during the course of Las Vegas Summer League this week, your eyes would have been drawn to him immediately. At 6'9", he doesn't necessarily stand out in a sea of NBA players and hopefuls, but there is a palpable gravitational pull from his personality. He is often laughing, almost always smiling, and making quick friends of nearly everyone.

"His personality's great, right?" says Jama Mahlalela, co-coach of the Toronto Raptors' Summer League team. "He's kind of that big teddy bear type personality. He's good with everyone, you can tell he's sort of developed those skills."

Ask around the Raptors organization, and Meeks is on everyone's short list of favorite people they've met during years of the pre-draft process. Talk to his current teammates in Vegas, and Meeks is a common, almost unanimous answer as someone players have gotten to know in the chaotic week-plus in which chemistry is either forged quickly or isn't forged at all. Speak to his former North Carolina teammates, and it's clear that Meeks is a connector between people and a link between teams.

It's hard to find someone with an unkind word to say about Meeks, the person, which is a big part of the reason the Raptors have invested in Meeks, the basketball player.

"It's hard to not love his personality," says Raptors assistant general manager Dan Tolzman. "He's gonna come and he's gonna light up a room in terms of his approach. It's hard to not be drawn to guys like that. We talk about it all the time, whether it's assignment players or two-ways or G-League guys—the more that it's easy with them, the less maintenance, and the more they buy in to the situation they're in and being a part of the big extended family, the better it is for everybody."

Meeks helped North Carolina win a national championship in his senior year. Photo by Mark J. Rebilas-USA Today Sports

To be clear, the Raptors are intrigued by Meeks as a basketball player, too.

While he went undrafted after four years at North Carolina, the Raptors moved swiftly to bring him into the fold. The deal hasn't been officially announced, but the Raptors signed Meeks to what's known as an Exhibit 10 contract in late June. It's a deal the Raptors can convert to an NBA contract or one of the league's new two-way contracts but in all likelihood will see Meeks come to training camp with the team then become a G-League affiliate player, earning a $50,000 bonus as a supplement to his G-League salary if he sticks around a certain amount of time.

"I think the Toronto Raptors staff believed in me from the jump. I know the business. They only had one pick, and I honestly think if they had a second one, then they would have picked me," Meeks says. "That's not the way it goes sometimes. Everything isn't a fairytale. I'm the type of person that's always optimistic and likes to think ahead and always believes in myself, so that's the main thing I focus on each and every time."

And so he has faith he'll eventually fight his way onto the roster. For now, he's a part of their Vegas team, scoring 27 points on 22 shots with 13 rebounds in 37 minutes. It's a solid start to his professional career, making an immediate short-burst impact as the team's played to a 3-1 mark.

That's a lot of scoring in a hurry, and he hasn't exactly been shy trying to impress. From an analytic perspective, the Raptors feel his elite rebounding should translate, and his defensive metrics are friendlier than his reputation in terms of impact at that end. His free-throw percentage and a lack of 3-point attempts would suggest he doesn't have much future as a shooter, but there is system context to what range he could show, and the Raptors are believers in his ability to eventually stretch the shot out.

For his part, Meeks was just eager to show that range out of the gate in Vegas. With his friend J. Cole sitting courtside—yes, that J. Cole, with whom Meeks has grown close through some mutual friends, and who hooked up tickets to his concert the night prior (again: people really like Meeks)—Meeks stepped into a feathery triple, his first three since high school.

Not everyone loves Meeks as a prospect, something he's keenly aware of (and willing to debate). Among the primary public draft rankings, Meeks didn't register in any top 60. Four years (itself often considered a negative) of plateaued production make him anything but a sure thing. There are concerns about his athleticism, about his defense, and, as has been the case since he was a 300-pound high-schooler, about his conditioning.

Meeks dropped about 30 pounds over the course of his college career, and the Raptors are hopeful that getting under the umbrella of an NBA organization will help him further refine his body. The Raptors also play more methodically than the up-and-down Tar Heels, and there's now the added incentive of the NBA being in close proximity.

"With the right carrot in front of him or the proper staffers that we have pushing him and getting him to the point and really working on him and driving him, he has the ability to—we've seen it, he's gone from where he was in high school to where he is now, and now with all our resources, where can we get him to next?" Tolzman says. "That's what's intriguing about him."

For now, Meeks is mostly keeping it simple—the effect of small changes like more water and proper sleep know no bounds—and doing what's suggested. It seems somewhat shocking given the limitations that were attached to Meeks' scouting profile entering the draft, but he even has eyes on a transition to power forward. The Raptors are deep at center but a little thin at the four, and Meeks is nothing if not pragmatic.

"It's a little more difficult when you're getting out in transition and you forget to stay outside 'cause you're so used to going down low and running to the front of the rim and posting up, and those type of things. I'm always up to learn something new, and these guys do a great job of trying to help me," Meeks says. "I'm pretty sure I won't play center in the NBA. I'll pretty much be a power forward. I mighta just lucked up, man. To play behind Serge [Ibaka] isn't too bad."

The Raptors can see it, too, though it's going to take some time. He'll need every bit of his nice post footwork to materialize in terms of lateral movement as he slims down further and strays from the paint, and he'll need his soft touch around the rim to materialize in consistent range. If everything falls into place, the Raptors can squint and see an exceptional rebounding power forward with a solid face-up game and at least show-me range.

Always smiling. Photo by Nelson Chenault-USA TODAY Sports

"I think he has an innate skill for the game. I think he has a feel for spacing and where to go," Mahlalela says. "Now, the biggest challenge with him is he's been a five traditionally his entire career, and now we're looking at him [and wondering] can he be a four in our system in an NBA brand of basketball? He's now trying to rework his spacing, so that innate feel that he has for the game, he now needs to replace it and figure it out at a different position. So it's actually been a pretty big growth curve for him, figuring out what he does at the four versus the five. He's taking steps every day with that."

The natural feel Meeks has for the game comes up often. A big part of Toronto's faith in his ability to transition and develop is borne from that intelligence on the floor, and it's something that makes itself clear not only to teammates but to those observing the team throughout the week.

"Meeks is an interesting player in that he knows how to play," Raptors head coach Dwane Casey says. "Not overly athletic but smart, played in a great program at Carolina. He's done a good job of reading situations and doing the fundamental things. Great hands, soft hands, the way he scores around the basket with not a lot of explosion. He's a very interesting player for our team. I know Kennedy's done an excellent job of getting in great shape, he's lost a lot of weight, he could lose more and he probably will. He has some intangibles that you can't teach."

It can be difficult to stare at a depth chart here in mid-July, with several more camp invites to be handed out, and try to figure exactly where an undrafted free agent might fit. The Raptors theoretically have a hole at power forward, but if Meeks' transition is going to take some time, it might be a project better undertaken with Raptors 905. If he's a center, the Raptors aren't exactly in need. He might disagree.

"Oh no, I'm focused on making the team, for sure," Meeks says. "Like I said, I always believe, above and beyond. I think they also believe that, too. I can bring the rebounds to the game, I can bring the low-post scoring, and I can set the big-time screens. My main goal is to make the team and whatever happens happens after that."

Things change quickly, as Toronto's offseason can attest. However things shake out, the Raptors would be thrilled to have Meeks somewhere in the organization, adding another beacon of the culture they're trying to instill. Wherever he winds up, he figures to be the most popular person in the room.

Kennedy Meeks' Personality Has Won Over the Raptors and His Game Might, Too published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv