#zut alors how can this be

[oifaaa]

I saw a post saying that you are the one holding Alfred accountable? Thank you bc I am pissed at that man for what he did on Tim’s sixteenth birthday ( he and Bruce basically teamed up to give him a mental breakdown and more paronia)

Tbf just bc im holding alfred accountable doesn't mean I'm gonna stop bullying Tim all of a sudden boy believed a "future hologram of alfred" when he said someone close to him was gonna betray him and instantly became suspicious of everyone around him spying on them and not trusting them

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 1 - Prompt: Fire @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 987 words

**Series 3/5 in a continuous multi-ship story**

<<<Previous Series OR Beginning

As soon as Pandora saw the preview of the notification pop up, she rushed to her contacts and Face-Timed him. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she muttered, flinging her long braid over her shoulder.

“Hi Panda,” Regulus said. “Bit early, yeah?”

“What's going on?” she demanded.

“Shhh!”

“Regulus, you can’t text me something cryptic like ‘I’m on fire’ without explanation! Now, spill. Is it about bi-boy?”

He pressed his lips together in a failed attempt to hide a grin. Before Pandora could chastise him for keeping secrets from her, he tipped the phone down toward his chest. A squeal left her lips the moment dark curls appeared at his collarbone.

“Panda! Hush! He’s still asleep.”

She shimmied excitedly and giggled into her hand. “How was it? You desperately need it, ami.”

Regulus’s face flushed bright pink as he lifted the mobile. “I don’t have the words to explain it. Like…Like drowning, but I want to become part-fish?”

She stifled a laugh and shook her head. Leave it to a poet to create an unhinged description for sex. “That good? Oh, I hate you!”

“You love me,” he replied, grinning wide.

Pandora hadn’t seen him this happy since…well, ever. Her chest clenched hard as she fought back the urge to cry. If she started crying, he would too.

Regulus huffed and pointed at the screen. “Stop it! I cannot go all weepy again.”

“I’m just so happy for you,” she whispered, cradling the phone in both hands. “You deserve a good one, Reg.”

“So do you.”

“Yes, well.” Pandora shrugged dismissively, then smiled. “Unless your new beau has a sibling…”

Regulus scrunched his nose in that incredibly adorable way of his. “No, sorry. Only child.”

“Zut alors.” Pandora sighed and sprawled on her bed. “When is it my turn?”

He levelled a thoroughly unimpressed frown at her. “You could have anyone you wanted, if you’d stop saying weird shite.”

“It’s not my fault people take me seriously! Speaking of Sirius, how is he handling this…development,” she asked, wriggling her fingers at the screen. “He better not interfere, or I swear-”

“No, no. He’s fine with it, better than fine, actually.” Regulus appeared mildly amused. “The prat even gave James his ‘blessing’ to kiss me.”

Pandora bit her bottom lip hard to keep her emotions in check. The relationship between Regulus and his brother had been strained for years. Seeing them reconnect and watching Regulus’s eyes soften when he mentioned Sirius melted her heart.

“By the way, he’s seeing someone here too.”

“Sirius? As in Sirius-Sirius?” she spluttered, blinking rapidly. “The one who vowed to-”

“-die single? The very same.”

“What’s in the water in Wales? Can you send me some, or do I need to drink it on location?”

“I don’t know about the water, but the locals are charming,” a deep voice mumbled. “Who’s that?”

Regulus rolled his eyes and tipped his phone down again. James turned his head and blinked at him in confusion, then squinted at the screen.

“Do I know you?”

“No. This is Pandora. She’s-”

“Delighted to meet you. James, right?” she interrupted, circling her hand in front of the screen. “I strongly approve of all of this and I’m a big fan of your work.”

He smirked, then laid his head on Regulus’s chest. “That’s good. How soon can you get here, Pandora?”

“Oh, I’m not-”

“She was just-”

James arched an eyebrow as his gaze flicked between them. “I’ll buy the ticket, if necessary.”

Regulus hummed thoughtfully. “Well, you did say that you wanted to get away from your brother.”

Pandora sat bolt upright, her heart in her throat. “Wait, really? You wouldn’t mind? I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“I’ll set it up,” James mumbled, burying his face in Regulus’s chest. “Need to win you over too.”

“That’s true,” Regulus agreed. He stroked his fingers through James’s curls. “It’s not a bad idea, actually. You can meet James properly…and there’s a group of girls-”

“You like girls?” James said, his voice muffled. “Would she like Lily? She seems nice.”

Pandora slid off the bed and stumbled over the shoes splayed across her floor. “I’m packing right now! James, are you a decent wing-man? Regulus is shite at it.”

“Panda!”

“What? It’s true!”

James chuckled and nodded against Regulus. “He’s too pretty, right? Distracts the target.”

“Exactly.”

Regulus pouted, but his lips twitched to hold back a smile. Holding back was Regulus’s mantra. He rarely let himself slip, yet he was failing to hide how charmed he was by this man.

“What’s she like, Reg?” she said, setting her phone on the dresser to dig through her closet. “Lily?”

“Sirius knows her better than I do. He’s dating one of her friends.”

Pandora’s head snapped up. “Oh this I have to see! When’s the first train?”

“Every thirty minutes or so, isn’t it?” James said, turning his head to yawn.

“I can be ready in an hour.”

Regulus’s face lit up as he craned his neck to see James. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yep. Do you see my phone? Thank you.” James squinted at the screen, then smiled when Regulus pressed his glasses onto his nose. “I’ll have Reg email the tickets to you, Pandora.”

“Merde, I can’t believe it! Reg, thank him properly for me, will you?”

“My pleasure.”

James dropped his phone, then scrambled to pick it back up. “Fuck. Wait until I pay for it, mi amor, or I'll forget how to sign my name.”

Pandora ended the call before the couple got too involved. Only an hour to pack, arrange a ride to the train station, and come up with an excuse to skip the mind-numbing boring holiday party her parents planned every year.

Next Part>>>

[imrowanartist]

“Zut alors!” Celeste whistles over the radio. Soap has no clue what she has just said, but he assumes she’s impressed by them.

“Fuckin’ hell, she’s as bad as you, Soap.” Ghost mutters softly next to him and Soap can’t help but give him a lopsided grin over the body of the Shadow.

“Ahm no’ tha bad, ya bampot.” he counters in a whisper. He can’t see Ghost’s eyebrow raise at him underneath the mask, but he can feel it.

“That why Price had you talk to a speech coach?”

Soaps eyes go wide. How the fuck does Ghost know about that? He’d made Price promise not to tell anyone…

“That’s classified-“ he bites out, giving Ghost a look of utter betrayal. It’s not his damn fault that the rest of world has decided what is ‘comprehensible language’ without consulting the entirety of Scotland.

“’Can’t have the new sergeant speaking muppet in the field’ is what Price said, I believe.” Ghost adds and Soap can see by the way his mask crinkles that he’s just taking a piss at him now. He sputters something unintelligible back as Celeste chuckles are unmistakable over the radio.

“Wait till they make ya go through it yerself, Overwatch,” he grumbles to which Celeste simply hums.

Not me, casually inserting my HCs into chapter 2 of We Will Riot Tonight ^^

Featuring Celeste, whom I was kindly allowed to borrow from @anstarwar to use as a background character

[ifuckingloveai]

Photos

10 images/GIFs when posted from the apps.

30 images/GIFs when posted from the web.

up to 2048 pixels wide and 3072 pixels tall. 

Make sure the file is no larger than 20 MB and is in either JPEG, PNG, or WEBP format.(PNG is largest)

600 MB Total

Script for a mouse 3 musketeers movie below the break

Woman: Set dresser to the stage.

Man #1: Check lights.

Man #2: Hey, where’s that turtle with my narrator?

Troubadour: Singing, singing, singing, singing all day long When I’m singing, there is nothing that is wrong Musketeers, hey! La-la-la-la-la-la-la

Woman: Talent to the set, please.

Man: We’re live in 60 seconds.

Troubadour: 60 seconds!

Woman: Where’s the narrator?

Troubadour: Monsieur Narrator. Monsieur Narrator! M-m-monsieur! Monsieur, it is time! Monsieur. Pardonnez-moi. But today is the day, right, monsieur? Because you promised I can sing my songs… about the musketeers, right? Ahem... All for one… Hey!

But, monsieur, you promised. Oh, no, no. No, no, no. Monsieur. Monsieur. Monsieur, wait! Wait! The stage is…

Whoa!

This way.

Crew: Let’s have some quiet, people. Five seconds to air. Cue music. And… action! What’s that turtle doing? Where’s the narrator? We’re live. Just go with it. Hey, you. Don’t just sit there like a turtle. Do something! You’re on camera! For crying out loud, say something!

Troubadour: Allo.

Crew: Tell the story.

Troubadour: Today, I will tell you the story of… "The Three Musketeers"! This is my favourite version… the one with pictures. And, of course, my songs. Our story begins… in the gutter… where poor young street urchins Mickey, Donald, and Goofy… struggled to survive. Zut alors! Bad guys. Will anyone defend these innocent children? Anyone! Anyone! Anyone! Well, anyone? The royal musketeers! Yes! And after the dust settles… a kindly musketeer gives Mickey a gift. Don’t worry, Mickey. You ‘ll grow into it. From that day on, Mickey, Donald, and Goofy… dreamed of being great musketeers. But as the years passed… their dream was still as far away as ever. You see, before their dream can come true… our three heroes must learn the real meaning… of the musketeer creed… all for one and one for all! And I just happen to have a song about this!

Troubadour & Musketeers (singing): All for one, hey! All for one and one for all Musketeers sing All for one and one for all If you dare to Cross our path, prepare to fall ‘Cause we’ll fight you All for one and one for all And all for one and one for all And all for one and all So, if you think you ‘d care to Kick some derriere, you Know that as a musketeer, you ‘d be so fearsome If you believe you ‘re manly Come and join our family Soon we’ll make sure you ‘re a musketeer

Mickey: Aw, look at them, fellas. That’s gonna be us out there someday. I just know it.

Goofy: I can’t wait.

Donald: Yeah. Me, too.

Musketeers (singing): All for one, all men of honour, hear my call Musketeers sing all for one and one for all All for one, hey, all for one and one for all All for one and all for one and one for all And all for one and one for all And all for one and all

Troubador: All for one and one for all!

Mickey: Yes, sir. Janitors today, musketeers tomorrow.

Pluto: (barks)

Mickey: Hey, my lucky musketeer hat. Oh, thanks, boy. Remember when the musketeers gave me this hat, Pluto? They even autographed it. See?

I can’t wait to be a great big hero.

Careful, Goofy.

Goofy: Sorry, Mickey. I can’t wait to be a musketeer, neither… ‘cause I got plenty of good ideas. The musketeers can use a clever fella like me. Yipe!

Mickey: Hey, Donald, how about you?

Donald: Are you kidding? Musketeers need guys like me that are brave!

Mickey: Yeah, and they need guys that are brave, too.

Donald: That’s what I said… brave.

Pete: Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sirree. I’ve been looking forward to this all month.

Goofy: Maybe I can sand it out.

Mickey: Almost…

Pete: A… I’m adorable, B… I’m so beautiful What?

Mickey: Almost… got it.

I got it!

Goofy, look out!

Mickey, Donald, & Goofy (in unison): Captain Pete.

Pete: Now listen, you yardsticks. I am sick and tired of your screw-ups. You guys are hopeless. I leave you for five minutes… and I come back to a disaster!

Mickey: Well, we were practicing our teamwork… so we can be good musketeers.

Pete: Musketeers? That’s priceless.

Mickey: But we could work really hard… and prove ourselves, Captain Pete… and then would you let us be musketeers?

Pete: Well, there’s three things wrong with that. One… You ‘re a coward. Two…

Voice: We’re sorry. The number you‘ve reached has been disconnected.

Pete: You‘re a doofus. And, as for you… well, you ‘re just too small. Why, I wouldn’t have you yahoos as musketeers… even if you were the last recruits… in all of my beloved France! So, you won’t need this, will you? Yeah. Here, kid. Have a ball. Have a ball! That’s a good one! I’m going to send that one in to the Digest.

Minnie: He loves me. He loves me… a lot. He loves me. He loves me even more. He loves me.

Daisy: Pardon me, Your Highness… you ‘re kind of mangling that flower. Who’s the… lucky guy?

Minnie: My one true love. I’ll find him someday. He’s out there. I just know it.

Daisy: This fantasy man… do you happen to know if he’s royalty?

Minnie: Does it matter?

Daisy: Well, as you know… someone of your royal stature must be courted… by a gentleman of royal blood.

Minnie: What a royal pain.

Daisy: Your highness, you ‘re gonna have… to pick someone sooner or later. I mean, tick-tock, huh?

Minnie: Daisy, I can’t pick someone I’m not in love with.

Daisy: You want love? Buy a dog. Besides, the perfect guy… isn’t gonna just walk through the door… and even if he does… how are you gonna know he’s the one?

Minnie: I’ll know. Just imagine. He’ll stride into the room. A light will glow from him. I’ll hear music. He’ll bring me flowers. He’ll sweep me off my feet. And I’ll know he’s the one when he makes me laugh.

Daisy: Your majesty, forgive me for saying so… but that sounds… just lovely.

Minnie: Trust me, Daisy. I’ll know him when I see him. Why… bonjour.

Troubadour: A romantic princess deserves a romantic song, no?

Troubadour (singing): Just around the corner, seeking you Puppy love is tripping lightly into view Hiding in the hedgerows Sneaking up on tiptoes Love’s first kiss is blissfully About to capture you Just around the corner, wafting close Love is creeping nearer than you might suppose So sit still and wait now Let love choose your fate now Take a pause, don’t run because It’s right behind you Let love find you Young love It’s love, love, love, love, love Love so lovely What can you say to love But love? Maybe on the rooftops, climbing high Somewhere just above you, love is hovering by Love is in a rush to Smear you, smash you, smush you Love will crush you into mush When you ‘re the bull’s-eye, you ‘ll get hit by Young love Your first, your only love Love so…

Daisy: Excuse me. Your Grace?

Troubadour: How can you stand it so…

Daisy: Your Highness!

Beagle Boys: Who’s gonna tell the bloomin’ boss the bad news?

Don’t look at me. I ain’t saying nothing. You tell him.

Me? I told him last time, you silly twit. And I don’t believe in doing it twice.

Oy, here’s an idea. Shorty, you tell him.

Tell him what?

That we… you know, botched the job.

He’s not going to like that. Hello there.

Pete: It don’t look good… when only one shows up. Does it, small fry?

Beagle Boys: Blimey. I can’t hear nothing but step, clop, step, clop.

Have a gander at monstro’s better side.

He has something to tell you, boss.

Pete: It better be good news.

Beagle Boys: Well, we did exactly what you said to do… and dropped a safe on the princess.

Pete: You what? I didn’t say, "Drop a safe," you dolt. I said, "Keep her safe."

Beagle Boys: Well, that’s good… because we missed her.

Pete: Now listen, you mutts. I got a plan. And it ain’t to kill the princess. It’s to kidnap her.

Beagle Boys: Huh?

Pete: The opera? it’s tomorrow night.

(operatic singing)

Pete: The princess has got to be gone by then… or I can’t become king.

Beagle Boys: Oh!

I… don’t get it.

Pete: Lieutenant Clarabelle!

Clarabelle: Oui, oui, mon capitaine. You bellowed?

Pete: Throw these clowns into the pit!

Clarabelle: Oui, oui! Le pit!

Beagle Boys: No!

Not that!

Anything but le pit!

Clarabelle: Bon voyage… losers.

Beagle Boys: (screaming)

Not so bad.

Clarabelle: Bonjour. Pete’s secret lair. Clarabelle speaking. The princess?!

Musketeers (chanting): All for one All men of honour, hear the call Musketeers sing all for one and one for all

Pete: Your Highness. So glad you could grace us with your royal omnipresences.

Minnie: I want bodyguards!

Pete: Oh...

Minnie: Musketeer bodyguards.

Musketeers: Villains, bad guys run in fear When they see the musketeers Savin’ Minnie is our duty Mess with her, we’ll kick your…

Pete: Ouch. Bodyguards. Absolutely. Let me check my schedule here. How about next Thursday?

Minnie: How about ten minutes? At the palace! Get me bodyguards, Captain Pete!

Goofy: Pancakes, cornflakes, scrambled eggs Buttered toast and apple jam Tonight it’s meat, I hope it’s spam...

Mickey & Donald: Goofy! Slow down!

Pete: Princess, you‘re in luck. Have I got the men for you.

Minnie: Well, I hope so. Thanks to your incompetence… this whole thing has been a pain in the neck!

Pete: I’ll show you a pain in the neck.

Oh, boy.

Mickey: Hey, Donald. Don’t worry about what Captain Pete said. Cheer up. I’m sure there’s some way… we can become musketeers.

Goofy: We can?

Mickey: Hey, Goof, you know we can prove Pete’s wrong about us… if we just work hard and stick together.

Goofy: You really think so?

Mickey: Hey, have I ever let you down? Have I? Have I? Have I? No. Just imagine, guys.

Mickey: Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow… but someday Captain Pete’s gonna march in here and say…

Pete: Congratulations, boys! You passed the test. I’ve been watching you three… and I’ll tell you what. You guys have got what it takes to be musketeers!

Mickey: Really? You mean it?

Pete: Cross my heart.

Mickey: Oh, boy! Hey, fellas! We’re gonna be musketeers! Musketeers! Musketeers!

I knew we had what it takes.

Goofy: ‘Cause we’re clever.

Donald: And brave.

Mickey: And together we are gonna be great big heroes. What do you say, men? All for one…

Goofy: And two for tea!

Pete: Yeesh.

Mickey: Well, we’ll work on it.

Pete: Hup, deux, trois, quatre. Hup, deux, trois, quatre. Hup, deux, trois, quatre. Hup, deux, trois, quatre. Company… halt! Stay here whilst I go schmooze Princess what’s-her-name.

Mickey: Wow. This is it, guys. This is what we’ve been waiting for all our lives. Now, when these doors open… we’ve got to make a great first impression.

OK. Remember, fellas, we’re on duty… and this place could be crawling with bad guys.

Donald: Bad guys?!

Mickey: So stay alert!

Donald: You heard him. Stay alert!

Goofy: Aye, aye, sir.

Bad guy! No!

Mickey: Goofy!

Goofy: Gosh. He pulled an ax on me.

Pete: Your Royal Highness, I have never, ever had… a more highly skilled group of gentlemen… than the individuals which I present to you today.

Daisy: Seems like this is gonna take a while. I’ll go get you a little snack.

Pete: It took my highly trained eye to see their true potential.

Minnie: Yes. Well, France thanks you and your eye very much.

Pete: Well, then it is without further ado… that I present, for your complete safety… and protection… your musketeers!

Minnie (lovestruck): Just imagine. He’ll stride into the room. Light will glow from him. I’ll hear music. He’ll bring me flowers. And he’ll sweep me off my feet. And I’ll know he’s the one when he makes me laugh.

Daisy: Your Majesty, it’s time to cut the cheese.

Minnie (snapped out of her fantasy): What?

Daisy: Here we are. Roquefort, anyone?

Goofy: Knife!

Donald: Bad guy!

Mickey: Grab her!

Daisy: Oh, no.

Help!

Minnie: Unhand her! Release her! Stop it!

Drop her! She is my lady-in-waiting!

Pete: You ‘ll have to forgive them, Your Highness. They’re like a well-oiled machine… that’s wound just a little too tight.

Mickey: We’re sorry, Your Grace. We thought she was a villain.

Daisy: I don’t think so.

Minnie: Oh. I see. Well, then… I feel safer already.

Troubador: Oh, no. When the bad guy is that happy, it always, always means… Bad guy song!

Pete (singing): I was born to cheat and lie I’m a mean, rotten guy When you ask me why I’m nasty Here’s my reason why At that stork delivery, Mommy screamed "Woe is me, such a dork" "Hey, Mr Stork, behold my misery" "Pete is ghastly, Pete’s a blob" "Pete’s a nasty, naughty slob" Can it, sister, I’m the mister who will get the job So I’m nasty, I’m no good, I’ll be king, knock on wood I’ll impress ya, though I’m just a common lowly hood, ha! If you can’t be loved, be feared Don’t get shoved, sheep get sheared Be the king, pull the strings Or else you might get smeared I’m so happy I could dance, seize my chance, I’ll advance Come and cheer me, love and fear me Petey’s king of France, ha ha

Evening, trusted lieutenant. Watch out for the bricks.

Clarabelle: What?

Pete (singing): Come and cheer me, love and fear me Petey’s king of France

Why’d the music stop?

Hello, boys.

Think you might have some spare time… to go and snatch the princess?

Beagle Boys: Yeah, I think.

Pete: Well, quit thinking and do it! The opera’s tomorrow night!

(operatic singing)

Pete: ....The job’s got to be done by then! Remember?

Beagle Boys: How can we help?

Pete: I want you to grab her, find a remote tower somewhere… and lock her away forever… so as no one can ever find her again! You got me, dingbats?

Beagle Boys: Sure thing, boss.

Mickey: Isn’t this musketeering stuff great?

Donald: You bet!

Minnie: Isn’t it romantic, Daisy… being protected by three dashing musketeers? And the little one is so handsome.

Daisy: Yeah… he’s kind of cute and all… but you ‘re forgetting something. They’re musketeers, commoners, non-college-bound. You know what that means.

Minnie: Our love is… forbidden?

Daisy: Bingo.

Minnie: A forbidden love. How romantic.

Mickey: Bad guys!

Donald: Bad guys!

Goofy: Bad guys?

Mickey: Yikes! OK, you. En garde.

Beagle Boys: En garde? French words make me mad!

Daisy: Get out there and fight, you coward!

Goofy: You fellas seen any bad guys around here?

Beagle Boys: Ooh. How about this bad guy?

Mickey: Goofy!

Beagle Boys: Hit the road, tiny.

Donald: Mickey!

Beagle Boys: Boo!

Mickey: Princess!

Now how are we going to protect the princess?

Donald: Protect the princess? Are you kidding? It’s hopeless. We failed.

Goofy: Hopeless? Failed?

Donald: There, there, pal. Here. Blow.

Mickey: Well, I don’t think we’re hopeless. Listen, Captain Pete has faith in us.

Goofy: He does? I mean, he does!

Mickey: Pete made us musketeers, remember?

Donald: Yeah! We’re musketeers!

Mickey: That’s right, just like we dreamed when we were kids. So, what do you say? Are we a team?

Goofy: Count me in, Mickey!

Donald: Me, too! Me, too!

Mickey: We’re off to save the princess! No obstacle too big!

Goofy: Yeah!

Mickey: No danger too great!

Donald: You said it!

Mickey: Together, we’ll save the princess or die trying!

Donald: ...die? Die?

Mickey: Hey, Goof, this door won’t budge!

Goofy: Let me give it a go!

Mickey: Hey, Goof, wait. I got it…

Beagle Boys: What the heck was that?

Goofy: Door’s open.

Beagle Boys: Oy, what we do about them musketeers?

We’s 87 floors up. It’ll be hours before they’s on us.

Mickey (out of breath): Hold it right… there. You… fiends!

Beagle Boys: Sling them birds in their cage.

Minnie & Daisy: (screaming)

Mickey: Your Highness!

Beagle Boys: Let’s have a bit of fun with these blighters, eh?

Mickey: Let’s get ‘em!

Beagle Boys: Oi!

Donald: Stop! Let the girls go!

Beagle Boys: You feel lucky, ducky?

Beagle Boys: Hang about. Is that Halley’s comet?

Goofy: Halley’s comet! Where?

Mickey: Let me go! Let me go! I’ll slice you to ribbons!

Goofy: What the…

Mickey: My sword!

Beagle Boys: (laughs)

Mickey: Goofy, we got to do something quick… or the princess is done for.

Beagle Boys: It’s all over. Looks like you blokes got in over your heads… (echoes)

Mickey: What are you planning, Goof?

Goofy: I got an idea. You with me?

Mickey: You bet.

Goofy: Hot soup, coming through!

Beagle Boys: That was a bit of a barney, wasn’t it?

Mickey, Goofy, Minnie & Daisy: Oh! Ow!

Goofy: Did we do it?

Mickey: Yeah! We did it! The three of us did it!

Mickey & Goofy: All for one and…

Mickey: Wait. Where’s Donald?

Donald: We did it? Well, alright! Hurray! We did it!

Mickey, Donald & Goofy: Yippee! Wa-hoo!

Daisy: (clears throat)

Mickey: Let me just… kind of tight. Whoa! Oops.

Minnie: (laughs)

Troubadour: Mickey made her laugh… so she knew he was the one. But will their love bloom on the way back to Paris? Perhaps… if I sing them a song.

Troubadour (singing): Afloat on the breeze On wings of love Like birds and like bees Sweet wings of love The first day we met On wings of love We watched the sun set Sweet wings of love And if by some chance Some twist of fate We’re chasing romance It’s not too late It’s heaven’s design, you ‘ll be mine Hands entwined on wings of love Of love A real-life fairy tale Fairy tale Down the streams of life we sail Life we sail And our world in twilight gleams Twilight gleams Like the light in your eyes Inside my dreams Your whisper lightly tickling my ear It’s Paris, ah, in the spring Spring, spring, spring, spring I feel so giddy, one thing is clear You stir my heart to sing Don’t take your hand from mine Hand from mine Just hold tight until you find You ‘re the light I’m dreaming of Dreaming of And I’m waiting for you on wings of love

Minnie: Bonne nuit.

Troubadour (singing): Waiting for you on wings… Lovely little wings Of love On wings of love Ah, young love.

Pete: I got a problem! Those three chowderheads have proven tougher than I thought.

Beagle Boys: Yeah? So?

Pete: So quit hanging around. We’ve got a change of plans, see. Now we’re gonna have to pull the switcheroo… tomorrow night… at the opera.

(operatic singing again)

Pete: That little ditty is starting to grow on me.

Now listen. To get to the princess… we’re gonna have to pick those guys off one by one.

Minnie: Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Look, Daisy. Mickey and I have the same last name. (sighs)

Daisy: Well, it must be destiny. Good thing destiny doesn’t control my love life.

Minnie: What do you mean?

Daisy: Well, look at me. If it did… I’d get stuck with Mister… (imitates Donald)

Minnie & Daisy: (laughs)

Goofy: Two, three… four. Two, three… four. Bad guys.

Clarabelle (imitating Mickey): Attention, Musketeer Goofy.

Goofy: Mickey, is that you?

Clarabelle (imitating Mickey): Yes, Musketeer Goofy. I am in need of your assistance.

Goofy: You sure are talking funny.

Clarabelle (imitating Mickey): I was eating escargot and uh... peanut butter.

Goofy: Hey, save some for me!

Clarabelle (imitating Mickey): Over here. Follow me, Goofy.

Clarabelle (evil laugh): Moo-ahaha!

Goofy: Mickey!

Clarabelle (imitating Mickey): You're almost there.

Goofy: Mickey! Doggone! Where’d he go? Mickey! Mickey! Uh oh...

Donald: Quack, two, three, four. Quack, two, three… Quack! Hello, handsome.

What the…

Beagle Boys: Booga booga!

Booga booga!

Booga booga booga booga booga!

Donald: Beat it, you guys.

Beagle Boys: I told you twits these Pete masks wouldn’t work. Let’s go to plan "B."

Donald: Hey, you ‘re the bad guys! Don’t move!

Uh oh.

What’s going on?

Uh oh.

Pete: (laughs)

Donald: Captain Pete!

Pete: I’m in such a good mood.

Come back here, you little bird beak!

Pluto: (barks)

Mickey: Pluto. Pluto, slow down, boy. What is it? Whoa! Hey, where’s Goofy? Donald!

Something strange is going on here.

Donald: Psst. Psst.

Mickey: Who’s there? You better come out of there, or I’m coming in after you! Donald? What’s the big idea? Come down from there! Why aren’t you at your post?

Donald: We got to get Goofy and get out of here!

Mickey: Goofy? Where is he? He's not at his post either.

Donald: Oh, no! He’s already got Goofy!

Mickey: Wait! Who’s got Goofy? Donald… stop! Donald, are you nuts? What’s going on?

Donald: Pete is gonna kidnap Princess Minnie so he can become king because he’s really a bad guy and he has a secret lair, and it’s really dark and scary! So the point is he’s gonna kill us if we get in his way! So we should run now as far away as we can!

Mickey: Donald, I can’t understand a word you say.

Donald: No!

Mickey: Put me down! Whoa! We can’t leave our posts like this! What would Captain Pete say?

Donald: Captain Pete is the bad guy!

Mickey: Captain Pete is the bad guy?

Donald: What?

Mickey: Pete’s trying to kidnap the princess?

Donald: Exactly!

Mickey: But, he made us musketeers.

Donald: It was all a lie.

Mickey: A lie? (becomes stern) Well, lie or no lie, musketeers don’t run from danger. And as long as we wear these uniforms, neither do we!

Donald: You said it. It’s every duck for himself!

Mickey: Donald, wait! Together, we can stop Captain Pete. Remember how we rescued the princess?

Donald: I was hiding.

Mickey: Hiding? Well… tonight, you came back to warn us… and that took courage, Donald. Come on. I’ll be right beside you… because we’re friends.

Donald: I just can’t. I’m sorry.

Mickey: Donald! Donald.

Thanks, boy. What is it? What is it, boy?

Pete: (laughs) Well, well, well. If it ain’t the one musketeer.

Mickey: Captain Pete, by the power vested in me as a musketeer… I arrest you, mister!

Pete: That’s a good one! Well, how about this? By the power invested in my fist, I clobber you!

Hey there! Hi there! Ho there! You ‘re as welcome as can be! (laughs)

Oopsie. I am such a butterfingers.

Mickey: Hey! Put me down! Don’t make me have to whoop you!

Pete: OK, OK, fine. Just hold still, you runt! Well, Mickey... it looks like this is the end of the line. (laughs)

Mickey: Think so? My pals will be right behind us.

Pete: Oh, sure. Uh-huh. The duck dumped you. Remember?

Mickey: Well… Goofy then!

Pete: The goof? He’s getting fitted for a halo.

Mickey (hopeless): No, no, no.

Pete: Yes, yes, yes! Face it, Mickey… it’s all for one… and you are on your own! Enjoy your brief stay here at the Mont St. Michel. You know, they say the tide comes in faster than horses! So long, runt! I got me tickets to the opera… a little something called… "I Just Can’t Wait to be King." (laughs)

Clarabelle: This is it, handsome. Get ready for the big sleep, the river of no return… the long day’s journey into night. (laughs)

Goofy: Gosh. Your sweet voice is music to my ears.

Clarabelle: Huh?

Goofy (singing): Your chains of love now hold me tight Your bovine beauty makes my heart take flight

Clarabelle (singing): You will not change my mind one smidge I’m going to drop you screaming off this bridge

Goofy: Clarabelle, you drive me nuts!

Chorus (singing): His love’s so sweet, his love’s so blind

Clarabelle (singing): Poor Goof…

Chorus (singing): You have to kill him, or he'll change your mind.

Clarabelle (singing): Poor grunge

Chorus (singing): Say farewell, to that goof poor grunge

Clarabelle (singing): Farewell

Chorus (singing): Cause it's your duty that he

Clarabelle & Chorus (singing): Takes the plunge

Goofy (singing): My milkmaid miss, you charm my soul You leave me utterly beyond control Call me a goof, but one thing’s clear Your melodious moo is music to my ears!

Chorus (singing): He's no Don Juan

Clarabelle (singing): He’s not real smart And yet he’s touched my little cowhide heart

Clarabelle & Chorus (singing): He loves my moo,

Clarabelle (singing): my cow-like gaze His numskull charm Has set my heart Ablaze

Clarabelle: Hurry, my love. You don’t have much time. Your friend Mickey is in dire peril.

Goofy: No, he’s not. He’s in the musketeers.

Clarabelle: I mean he’s in danger.

Donald: I’ll be a musketeer when cows fall from the sky. What? Uh oh!

Goofy: We’re coming, Mickey!

Donald: Put me down! Put me down! Goofy! Pete’s gonna kill us!

Goofy: Pete or no Pete, Mickey’s our pal, and we got to save him. All for one and one for all, remember? I know it’s the most hideous house of torture in all of France… but we’re going in there!

Gosh, Pluto. Could this be the end of the three musketeers?

Troubadour and chorus (singing): This is the end This is the end That Donald Duck has left poor Mickey Mouse to drown And Goofy trusted him, but Donald let him down We all berate him because we hate him He is a traitor, vacillator He’s a lousy second-rater Mangy mallard, he’s a coward Donald’s destiny has soured, it’s the end

Donald: I’ll show you, dirty tortoise!

Troubadour: That way, tiger.

Donald: Wait for me! Thanks for the song.

Goofy: Donald!

Donald: Come on! We’ve got to save Mickey!

Goofy: We’re coming, Mickey!

Mickey.

Donald: Mickey?

Goofy: Mickey, come back to us, pal. I think he’s coming out of it.

Mickey: Donald? Goofy? Pete told me you were a goner.

Goofy: Shucks. I ain’t… …Going nowhere without you, Mick.

Donald: Hey!

Mickey: Aw, pal. You came back.

Donald: Aw… of course I did.

Goofy: We wouldn’t let you down, Mick. We’re your friends.

Donald: Yeah. Come on. We’ve got to save the princess. Don’t you remember? All for one…

Goofy: Yeah.

Mickey: Aw, fellas, we’re not even real musketeers.

Goofy: Not real musketeers? Who says so? Listen, Donald might be a big chicken…

Donald: Hey!

Goofy: And you ‘re just a little guy… and I ain’t no genius, but I know one thing. When the three of us stick together…

Donald: We can do anything.

Mickey: And not Pete…

Goofy: Or nobody else can stop us!

Mickey: Musketeers, we’ve got a princess to rescue. Come on, Goof! Come on, Donald!

Donald: I’m right behind you!

Beagle Boys: Princess Minnie.

Your Grace.

Minnie: Captain Pete?

Pete: Bonjourney, princess.

Minnie: Where are my bodyguards?

Pete: (laughs) I’ll be your bodyguard tonight, sweet cheeks.

Minnie: This is an outrage!

Pete: No. It’s my nefarious plan to steal the throne.

Beagle Boys: Does this crown make my ears look big?

Minnie: (screams)

Pete: You know what to do.

Beagle Boys: Righty-o, boss.

Goofy: Look! There it is!

Pete: OK, shortstop, do your stuff.

Beagle Boys (imitating Minnie): Attention, my loyal subjects. Due to the stress of princessing… my duties have become too overwhelming… for a delicate flower such as myself. Therefore, I now present your new ruler, King Pete!

Pete: I did it, Mommy! I’m king of all France! I feel like eating a snail. Now, on with the show.

Troubadour: Allo. C’est moi.

Opera singers: Come, friends who plough the sea Truce to navigation, take another station…

Mickey: That-a boy, Pluto. Find the princess!

Opera singers: With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal In silence dread, our cautious way we feel No sound at all, we never speak a word

Mickey: Did you find the princess, boy? Good work, Pluto.

Minnie: Our brave musketeers have come to rescue us.

Mickey: Don’t worry, Your Highness. We’ll save you. Alright, you two, drop the princess!

Beagle Boys: With pleasure.

Opera singers: Poor wandering ones …Can help you find true peace of mind… What? What the sam hill? The princess! Do something! Sir. Yes, sir. Scaling rough and rugged passes Climb the hearty little lasses Till the bright sea-shore they gain

Pete: Huh? What?! What the Sam Hill? The princess! Do something!

Beagle Boys: Sir, yes, sir!

Opera singers: Scaling rough and rugged passes Climb the hearty little lasses Till the bright sea-shore they gain

Mickey: How dare you try and kidnap the princess! Nobody walks away with the princess… while Mickey, Donald, and Goofy are on the job!

Goofy: Hey! Someone’s walking away with the princess.

Mickey: Let's get ‘em!

Beagle Boys: (screams)

Opera singer (rapid-fire): I am the very model of a modern major-general I’ve information vegetable, animal… historical From Marathon to Waterloo in order categorical I’m very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical About binomial theorem, I am teeming with a lot of news With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse.

Pete: She’s getting away!

Opera singers: I am the very model Of a modern major-general

Mickey: Princess!

Ouch.

Pete: Two down, and one to go.

Mickey: I almost got it.

Minnie: Oh, no! Look out!

Mickey: What?

Pete: This is it, squeaky… mano y mouse-o.

A-ha! Oh ho! Ha ha!

Mickey: Ha ha!

Pete: Ho ho!

Mickey: Uh oh.

Audience: (gasps)

Pete: It’s all over, Mickey… and you ‘re all alone. And now with you finally out of the way… getting rid of the princess will be easy as pie.

Mickey: Want to bet?

Pete: That’s a sucker bet.

Donald: Yeah, and you‘re the sucker!

Mickey: Ready, musketeers?

Mickey, Donald & Goofy: All for one and one for all!

Pete: Uh oh.

Donald: How’s this for a coward?

Pete: Ow!

Goofy: How’s this for a doofus?

Mickey: And I may be small, Pete… but I’ve got friends that make me ten feet tall.

Pete: Aw, nuts.

Mickey: Timber!

Pete: I hate happy endings.

Audience: (applause)

Minnie: Daisy... are you kissing a commoner?

Daisy: C’est la vie.

Minnie: C’est I’amore!

Audience: (applause)

Minnie: Please kneel.

In gratitude for saving France… I hereby dub thee, Mickey, Donald, and Goofy… all royal musketeers!

Mickey: What do you say, everybody? All for one…

Mickey, Donald, Goofy & the Musketeers: And one for all!

Troubadour: Bravo, my friends! Our three heroes have finally… made their dream come true. I think this calls for… one more song!

The Musketeers (singing): All for one, hey, all for one and one for all Musketeers sing all for one and one for all And all for one and one for all And all for one and all!

The End

[organchordsandlightning]

The Mystery of Marie Roget, Part I

(I re-read Rue Morgue to refresh myself and I have to say that I’ve probably read Rue Morgue on four or five different occasions in my life, and every time I forget how it ends, and every time it’s both the most horrifying and hilarious ending I could imagine.)

[liveblogging this one as best I can!]

re-reading this with Letters from Watson starting up is funny since Watson adores Dupin -- and the circumstances of Dupin and his assistant’s lives (’hey, I like you! hey, I like you! do you want to move to this creepy mansion in the middle of nowhere, talk to nobody, go on long night-time walks, and vanish into the underbellies of France?’) is a really excellent contrast.

There are few persons, even among the calmest thinkers, who have not occasionally been startled into a vague yet thrilling half-credence in the supernatural, by coincidences of so seemingly marvelous a character that, as mere coincidences, the intellect has been unable to receive them.

supernatural? in my poe story? say it isn’t so

we gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in the Present, weaving the dull world around us into dreams.

nap-time for bonzo(s)

With its emissaries, the name of Dupin had grown into a household word.

on one hand, one case made Dupin a household world? on the other hand, this man solved a locked-room mystery by saying an orangutan did it

It thus happened that he found himself the cynosure of the policial eyes; and the cases were not few in which attempt was made to engage his services at the Prefecture.

it is so funny (and a bit compelling) that we don’t know a whole lot about Dupin’s personal life (minus that he had money, and lost it, and oopsie I’m sure that doesn’t have any relation to Poe’s life at all), but he’s not really a detective when the narrator meets him. they just kinda sit around in their mansion all day -- granted, he does have a connection with the police, but he doesn’t really take cases as much. and now he’s just like zut alors. they keep bring me cases.

uh-oh. pretty girl with lots of affections. mysteriously disappears to the countryside for a week. uh-oh

uh-oh she disappeared twice and died the second time

[deadromance619]

My Introduction

 (This starts in the beginning of Legion so a Spoiler Warning for World of Warcraft Legion.)

The Highlord

Perfectia Dawnlights Diary Oct 8

First and the only offspring to be pulled vigorously out of my screaming mother’s womb twenty-two years ago, my grandfather explained to me that mother refused to let him know who the father was. Only that he had black hair and was magicless and if I was either of those things I would have been thrown into the ocean. But I’ve had an incredible amount of blonde hair on my head for a newborn, lucky me. I had to be taken to the sun well water which showed that I could potentially control magic when I got older, double lucky, yay me. I was told that my mother could not hold me until hours after my birth, so my mother didn’t think of a name because she wasn’t sure if I was going to be brought back, but the first thing that was said to my mother when I was brought back was, “You have a perfect high elf baby girl.” So I was named Perfectia Argento Dawnlight. And Argento because that was supposed to be my name if I was born a boy, my grandfather’s idea, and Dawnlight… Well, you know Elvin family names.. 

Dark story to tell an eight-year-old girl I know, but when I was favoring my grandfather over my mother, she wanted me to know exactly what kind of person he really was. Not that it mattered, she wasn’t all that great herself, he talked to people a certain way (aggressive and threatening) and he talked to me in a more guiding way, and I can only recall that he only lost his temper with me once.

So if you’re reading this for the first time, congratulations. You most likely killed me, I trust you enough to let you read it, I’m already dead, or you tortured me into submission. I don’t understand the details but the lock on this journal only comes open when I cast a healing spell on it. However, it’s not the only one of its kind, there are a few books in this paladin hall at the moment I’m writing this. I’m looking around and seeing lots of books from dead paladins from recent and long ago. A few paladins have books just like this one and the ones in this library are filled with spells, runes, drawings, notes, and logs of adventures. The books also have another function I thought was fascinating. When I look at another paladin reading these books on the shelves, they seem to always be in a language they can understand. I’ve literally seen the ink change forms into a foreign language when it was handed to someone else, except the profanity or curse words. Those always stay the same. Merdre, putain, zut alors, connard, va te faire foutre, did you catch that? No? Good. As of this moment I am writing in Thalassian, but I have no idea what language you’re reading it in. So if I manage not to lose it, maybe I’ll actually be important enough that someone actually put these pages into a printing press, but I doubt that. 

If you’re a paladin in training and you found this book in a library to learn how to become a female achievement-oriented, drug-free, proper adult virgin…. No, put it back, then wash your hands.  As of right now the Silver Hand has mostly been a male-dominated faction, so my advice. [is this:] wear a helmet that covers your entire face, temper rounded armor that hides your lady bits. If you get so angry that you’re about to cry, then that’s when you let them see your face. It terrifies everyone, but use it sparingly. It’s how I beat Illidan Stormrage when I was 15.

I’m not a virgin so if you’re looking at my corpse right now… Sorry. Maybe you’re reading this because you killed me and you hated me. Now you're rummaging through my stuff looking for some justification that I was a bad person and the world is better off. Well you’re going to love reading this, because I would kill me too, and go ahead spreading these words around like the clap for all I care. I use all kinds of double entendres that have labeled me a slut even when I was a virgin and I think gay people are just as good on the battlefield as straight people. Lastly, I am openly racist toward humans and extremely hateful toward mages.

Or maybe you found this book to be entertained, maybe you’ve heard me talk about the nuances of what I was saying or the way I was saying it or even my willingness to say it regardless of my choices, and something fundamentally resonated.

Is it strange that I feel my ascension into High Lord feels a little lackluster? With two thirds of Silver Hand dead and its leader killed by the Burning Legion. The Paladin order has gone from a formidable military force, to a book club, but put a woman in charge that will work twice as hard for as much as half as much as a man and we might be able to get this thing back on its feet.

I feel I need to explain the contents of that. The Burning Legion are demonic enemies that have been invading our lands for the past few decades, small groups of demons here and there trying to get citizens to join their cause, one that was wildly successful as a result of their unique recruitment process. However, The Burning Legions battle tactics are, well… It’s like they crave death, but not just any death. NOOOOOOOO, these idiots seem to have some kind of pool going on who can end their existence in the most avoidable way possible, and they just keep one upping each other. Since the fall of one of there main leaders Illidan Stormrage, the Burning Legion’s demons have been nothing but a polyp on my bunghole. Irritating, sure. Uncomfortable, absolutely. Horrifying to sexual partners and oftentimes a deal breaker? Definitely. But nothing that a doctor prescribed cream can’t take care of. Now they had finally sent a full scale invasion and they were spreading faster than chlamyd on a knob. Advanced space technology airships invading farms and small towns and (silver lining) temporarily stopped the fighting that was going on between the Horde and the Alliance. Well, most of it anyways. With demonic alien invaders on our doorstep we (as in the Horde) didn’t turn away any help, regardless of where it came from. The Alliance likely felt the same way.

Once we found out where the Burning Legion had established their main garrison, the Horde and the Alliance members sent a counter invasion to dismantle their main outpost on a place called The Broken Isles. It was a complete failure, you know that thing I just explained that the Burning Legion always does, by throwing bodies at a problem, well, we’re not very good at that either. Many key leaders died in the attempt, and few of us. Myself included, barely escaped with our lives. New leaders need to be established and that’s where I came in.

A 22 year old Blood Elf, young even for a human. In hindsight I should still be a child. I've lived off of “fel magic” for a long time during a part of my life and I think that it was the reason why I aged prematurely. I'm about 5'6, blonde hair, glowing green eyes, and my full name is Perfectia Argento Dawnlight and with that I’ll tell you I’m far from it. (Perfect that is. These parentheses are for morons that don’t understand sarcasm, metaphors, or world events, so you can skip them if you take my meaning.)   Most of my kin have these round or almond shaped, doll-like faces. However, my chin and face are kind of square. Kind of like I'm starving because I can see these shades around my jawline that come down to each side of my chin. Also my lips are kind of thick, so kind of like an elf that just lost a boxing match and put makeup on to cover the bruises. But I don’t box, or even fight without a helmet, but that’s just my face all the time. I'm also... heavier than most elves. At one point I was well over 140 kilograms (or 310 lbs.) due to a depression I went through after the fall of the Lich King (I’ll get to that later), but I've brought it down to about 102 kilos but that's still heavy for an elf that is usually just over 45 for women and 70 for men. So thicker than the plot of this book…  and sorry if that wasn’t funny.

But yes, if I’m not wearing special underwear and I try to run or even jog, my rear would hurt. Not like the muscles, but like the mass of my cheeks is too great and slaps around and pulls my skin and … basically sucks. I mean I can still function as an adventurer but I'm a little odd looking from the waist down compared to most women. Sometimes my kin will tell me in front of my face and sometimes behind my back, that I’m fat. Now if anyone ever told me that before, I would say that I don’t care about what people say or think about me, but I hate it that it almost always makes me run away and cry, oh, I’m such a girl and I hate it.

I had hip surgery about two years ago which is not very common. Usually wounds and even sometimes broken bones can be mended with magic but, because of the nature of the injury, I was bleeding internally, and they had to open me up and do things… 

Silver lining, “My Bestie” Dr Olisarra removed all the stretch marks and scars from the folds of skin I used to have from the rapid weight loss and usually does touch ups whenever I come by. I don’t think it was her intention to make my cheeks and legs look like two bean bag chairs when I sit down, but it is hard for me to sit on most toilets. I know what you’re thinking, “If you're friends with a surgeon why don't you ask her to make your hips smaller?” 

Because a reoccurring injury already happened when I tried to go back to ‘normal’ from a simple kick and Dr.Olisara made do with her promise in fixing me. These days I can take hits from swords, maces, falls, and dragons and also, I don’t think she really wants to. Every time I go in for a check up she always looks at me like I’m some kind of statue she sculpted herself, before offering some kind of cosmetic or performance enhancement surgery. So when I do take up her offer, for three to four weeks, I get high as a kite from anesthesia, eat ice cream, and get massages. Also, we get to hangout and she’s like, super cool, great dancer, over talkative, drinks a lot, beautiful soft singing voice but not the vocal range of an opera singer, but still lovely to listen to, and just fun to hang out with. Her lab and operational room is in Karazhan and there’s a lot of recreational stuff to do there. Then I come out a little stronger or in some cases a lot stronger and a little more trimmed, and I know my image it’s not what is trending beauty right now, but what I have works for me very effectively in combat. But let's get one thing straight, I'm single, but I’m trying not to be. I know that sounds desperate, but I know why I'm single. I think that's an important distinction to point out. In these times of war, who could think about a meaningful relationship, and I'm not sure if I'm willing to settle with anyone ugly, obnoxious, or toxic. I think I would rather be alone. I'm single because I'm emotionally exhausting. I will say I'm kinda cute, but not cute enough for how emotionally exhausting I am. I guess I could wear more makeup, learn how to walk in high heels. Maybe not read into every passive aggressive insult on my character.

Those are my options, but I don't think I'm going to do that. I guess I'll just hope another catastrophic invasion happens that wipes out 3/4 of the population and then I can focus on procreating on my back like a demonic brood-mother. Or I can just get a bunch of cats.

While I've been fighting the Burning Legion's armies and tackling their garrisons I've been talking to people, some people tell me detailed descriptive stories. Some I just basically interviewed and I guess I’ve found other people’s stories a bit inspiring, so I’ve decided I would take writing a lot more seriously. Make it part of my nightly routine. But seriously, give those stories a gander.

Also, if you thought I was going to put myself down as a… and I quote “I’m absolutely ordinary - well, except for bad things like all the near-death experiences and being so clumsy that I’m almost disabled.” End Quote. So you can self insert yourself into pages, I’m going to say… Sorry, and I get it, and I loved the Twilight Saga too, but this is about a big, fat, narcissistic, sour little girl, with a false sense of duty, and a serious case of daddy issues. 

I've been a citizen and soldier of the Horde since I was 14, but my Common speech, the language of the majority of the Alliance is still pretty rusty from the last time I spoke it, and even my Orcish, the language of the Horde, I've had some tendencies to roll my 'R's and pronounce my TH's and F's with a Z sound. Also it was extremely difficult to pronounce H's for the first time, knowing full well when I hear the words ``Hello?” I’m going to be able to smell what you ate that day or if you haven’t brushed your teeth in a few days. What a great way for you Common speakers to make a great first impression. So I usually drop the H's whenever I'm speaking any language seeing that Thalassian is my native language. There was a time I spoke Common quite a bit and I think people found the accent endearing, but I will try to skip all the parts where people try to correct my speaking. Because these days, my tongue can't get the pronunciation of Common right, and I can only understand words and sentences that are present tense or singular. But admittedly a lot of things get lost in translation. 

I didn't always want to become a paladin but it has its perks. Like, most people trust you, like outright. Even if I was going to steal something (or infiltrate), some people would just let you in the door if I could show them some healing magic or casted a blessing spell. I was born in Dawnstar Village where a lot of High Elf nobility lived because it was within walking distance of the Sunwell. The Sunwell was a foundation to all High Elf magic and within its waters was where most High Elves took not only power, but nourishment that kept them from growing old. I think my mother must have wanted me to be a mage since she was a mage herself. After her work led her to become more distant from our home, I think she just wanted me to behave, but that was unlikely. My time as a child was privileged, pampering, and overindulgent. I had no brothers or sisters, but I also didn't know who my father was either and he would always say that I was the only child he knew of. Slaves and servants tended to my needs but also my whims and desires, except for the attention of my mother or any mentions of who my father might be. My mother was also seven feet tall, High Elf and Vrykul which made her very undesirable for potential marriage prospects. In my whole life I've never told more than a handful of people about Dawnstar, or the noble house in which I grew up, or about my mother or grandfather.

People in my family generally didn't become paladins except to impress other nobles in grand tourney arenas. I don't remember any member of my family ever mentioning the Light other than something to be thankful for for good fortunes. Even though my parents weren't around a lot, I had aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandfather, all of us having blonde hair and the word 'dawn' somewhere in our last name.

I suppose as the newly appointed Highlord of the Silver Hand, most people would much rather carry on with their fantasies that both of my parents were religious Light followers from a long line of priests and paladins, and I began my studies the moment I learned how to talk. But most people are idiots.

Very few believe in my noble birth and I suppose it never really mattered because I couldn't have inherited a title of baron or count like most of my cousins because I'm a bastard and a woman. Also, it doesn't really matter because Silvermoon isn't a kingdom anymore, since the Undead Invasion and the destruction of the Sunwell, the High Elf kingdom was dismantled. There are still people from noble lines and even direct blood ties to the King of Silvermoon, King Anasterian Sunstrider, but they are mostly business owners, ship traders, and guild leaders. So a little too far in between to have any levels of political power.

I guess I don't tell people about my noble birth because I don't really like the idea of being a noble bastard to a defeated kingdom, but I do remember how glamorous it was. So many visitors, food, and entertainment. Nothing like it is now. As I remember the people that were born and lived there in Dawnstar Village, they never had much reason to leave and not come back. So I guess you might be wondering how a royal bastard, foul mouthed, drug, alcohol, and mana addicted paladin, could end up as the leader of the Silver Hand?    

Lack of guilt maybe? A lot of paladins take vows of celibacy, blood oaths to stay true to their religious values. What I think they forget is fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity. I didn't see the former highlord Tirion Fordragon very much, if anything, I barely knew him. I suppose if I wanted to see him I could have taken my dragon and flown to the Eastern Plaguelands and just waved to him, ask him how his day is going, or tell him he’s an arse. I imagine he would be busy training initiates in the way of the sword and the Light. After the fall of the Lich King his job seemed a little like he was getting ready for retirement. I would even call it peaceful in a sense. I learned the way of the sword and the Light from the Blood Knight Paladin Order, not the Silver Hand, or Argent Dawn, or Argent Crusade. So I’ve never had the pleasure of working under him and the only words he’s ever spoken to me directly was, “You can’t go.”

I’m speaking of Icecrown Citadel and the final campaign against the Lich King and at the time, this was one of the worst days of my life. You see, the Lich King, Arthas Menethil, was the man that invaded Silvermoon and corrupted our Sunwell. He was the reason why my kingdom was destroyed. I was eight years old at the time and as soon as I was strong enough to carry a sword I set out on my path of vengeance, retribution, and justice. I had fought long and hard to get to the culprits that had wronged my people, Illidan, Kael'Thas Sunstrider, and Athas was next. The main culprit that caused the fall of my people and so many countless lives and Tirion Fordragon, the leader I fought for since I came to Northrend, the continent Arthas was hiding. When we finally had him cornered like a rat, he just said no. And that depression I went through where I intentionally put on 70 kilos, well that was because I was trying to eat and drink myself to death, but I suppose it’s better to have a tight belt around your waist then to have it around your neck… And not sorry if that wasn’t funny.

But in the end, with his dying breath, he gave the Ashbringer to me, and I'm not sure why. If he had done this before he would still be alive. If he had given me this sword it would have been me that struck Arthas down, or I at least to be there when he died.

I guess I thought the title and ceremony would feel similar, but my life hasn’t really changed all that much. I guess on some level I was glad that Tirion Fordragon had died. When he was defeated by the Orc warlock Gul'Dan on the Broken Shore I was more concerned about the Ashbringer then I was the leader of the Argent Crusade. Having it has been extremely empowering. The damage I'm able to do with the Ashbringer has not only been extremely effective at dealing with the Legion minions, but also a lot of fun. It’s so light and yet able to move around other people's weapons as if it were heavy. Also able to burn demons, undead, and anything that comes into contact with it. I’ve seen the blade cut, burn, and cauterize enemies from even the slightest of touch. 

I guess that answers my question from before, how I became the Highlord? I thought I became a paladin for truth, justice, and the will to protect people. But as it turns out I'm a paladin because I'm a product of mental illness and abuse. A broken, sociopathic, collection character defects. And now I'm greatly considering getting that cat.

I guess that’s what's been bothering me, now I have to take on more responsibility. Also, there's more members and races of the Alliance in the paladin order than there are races of the Horde, and that means having to treat them with some level of equality in both respect and opportunity. When before all I cared about was being put in front of a target and killing all the enemies that were in front of me, but the last thing I want to do is kill people; but it is something I want to do on a very short list of things to do. 

For better or for worse I still spend the same amount of time getting ready to wake up, go to bed, and I think I make less than I used to. So from now on, I’m going to be nicer and treat people with the dignity, respect, and compassion they deserve. And if you guessed that was still hardly any, congratulations you won a cookie. I’ve decided with all the books of the Light I’ve read I would write one for myself. I'll just try to make the most of this.

This book I'm writing in was my mothers,  I think my first entry is from.... jeeze... I was nine, so, 13 years ago? I explained how I survived the Undead Invasion from the Lich King Arthas. I had left it in Moonglade, a druid training ground, before me and my dad were teleported to Tempest Keep. Malfurion Stormrage had kept it in their library and gave it back to me when I came to Val’Sharah (The first druid training ground), he said, “A lot of powerful sorcerers have tried to get that book open, but nothing seemed to work. After a while we started wondering where it came from, but then we remembered when you and your father wanted us to teleport you back home. So when I found out that you were coming I wanted to give this back to you.”

They sent us to Tempest Keep, it was nice of them to keep it for so long, it was nice of Malfurion to bring it to me, but Tempest Keep was a living hell. Well, they didn't send us directly to Tempest Keep, we arrived in a place called Sylvanaar, a Night Elf settlement in the Blade Edge Mountains nearby. There were tensions that were starting with Blood Elves and Night Elves which made things uncomfortable. Things were better there when compared to the treatment I was given in Tempest Keep but the idea of going back to a life of nobility was something I really wanted. We had no idea what we were getting into when Night Elf Sentinels escorted us to Kael'thas Sunstrider's garrison of soldiers. As alarming as the atmosphere was in Tempest Keep. The thunder, the cold purple stone and dirt, I just kept thinking, "At least I'll finally be with my people."

Little did I know that my noble birth wouldn't hold any weight as I dreamed that it would. As when we finally met up with our people we were taken to the caves to work in the mines. Things were difficult to say the least.

There's a part of me that is just thinking, "Edit, edit, edit. How many of these sections are going to have harsh aggressive eraser marks and lines through my pen texts." 

So, I took back my book from Malfurion and I couldn’t bring myself to thank them. I opened it up for them and showed him what was inside. A few journal entries when I was nine and a bunch of rune placement designs my mother had created when she was alive and as I made friends through my journeys on the Broken Isle I started asking about how they had gotten this far. It’s been kind of interesting to be honest. The stories people tell. 

I’m still a Blood Knight and Blood Knight style is commonly referred to as the strongest of the Elven martial arts. Especially effective at disabling and destroying larger opponents. Its emphasis on speed and angled strikes to target weak points in armor. But there’s a flip side to it as well that would require one to use a blunt object or turn your sword upside down and beat someone with the butt of it. But this is a style for people that favor the use of a shield. Not really my forte regardless of what people say about my appearance. I find that the art provides a definitive tactical advantage, since it gives the practitioner the ability to analyze an opponent’s fighting style and retaliate accordingly. But I’ve found out that some added brute strength helps when you’re cornered by a hungry beast or even an opponent that fights with the same style you do. Crossing swords does happen more often than not and some opponents are surprised when they find out that I can in fact over power them.

The shield style, that’s a different story. The bases of the shield style are based on wrestling (At least from the Blood Knights perspective) and without weapons in practitioner's hands, punching with a closed fist, finger bending, eye gouging, kicking at the opponent’s chest or waist, and hair grabbing are among prohibited techniques. Also, especially effective at disabling and destroying larger opponents by using their own weight against them but in a confined space with a combination of gripping, pushing, thrusting, throwing, leg tripping, twist downs, and backwards body drops. Add a sword and strap a shield to their forearm and you have a seemingly small and frail looking elf that can easily topple and kill larger opponents all the while holding their ground, but I don’t really like practicing it. The practice movements are stiff and far from graceful. I need to wear tightly fitted clothing to practice it and while I can overpower most female opponents I fight unless I break the rule by stepping out of bounds, with men things are just awkward when they put their hands in places they shouldn’t (Mainly on my rear)

I get this look of disgust and sympathy from my kin like they just found out I’ve been wearing a false leg or arm when they see what I look like under my armor or touch a fatty part of my body. Women are more direct with the insults about how they feel sorry for my horse and statements like, “Oh, I thought she was wearing extra padding under her armor.” Did I mention I cry sometimes from statements like that? Yeah, so, I tend to stay away from the shield style.

So those are some of my strengths and flaws. Surgically enhanced super paladin but not just fat transfers, but intramuscularly injections to increase tissue density and decrease lactase recovery time. Thyroid implant containing growth hormone to boost recovery and growth of skeletal and muscle tissues. (I’m just reading my medical records at this point) Enchanted coral bone graft ossification?... onto skeletal structures to make bones virtually unbreakable. Retinal prosthesis (No idea, eye surgery to increase depth perception and field of vision) And… Alterational bio-electrical nerve transduction? Two to four troll shamans shocked my spine and said it would increase my reflexes.

If only someone could surgically enhance my mental state or increase the density of my ego that would probably be better, but if I wasn’t fighting, running, or training like my life depended on it, I think I would most likely have some kind of disabling medical issues or noticeably disturbing side effects. I think as the new Highlord, all I need to do is hire some talented people and get out of their way. Contrary to what most people believe, I don’t think being the Highlord involves me marching around, waving my arms, and chanting, “I am the Highlord! I am the Highlord!”

Let’s see if I can get this boat back to float or it goes down in an oil fire from stupid decisions I’ll make.

[plungermusic]

“Somewhere in Europe…” Early February 2023 …

Merveilleux, la Shallonge des Bleus, she ees upon us again!

Ausgezeichenet! Ein andere chance to laugh at ze Englander dummkopfs sending yet more ‘rock bends’ to ein blooz competition!

Si, si how zey seenk sempre we will vote for gli hairy young chittaristi troppo fortissimo mi multo piacere, ha ha.

¡Ethetheth, eth eth, ethethethetheth scorchio - mucho funny!!

Ah, zut alors… thees fois les rosbifs have picked un veritable band de bleus!

Che?!

¡Que?!

Wass?!

Oui, c’est vrai… les Frères Cinellis: ils almost gagner la Shallonge des Bleus Internationale en Memphis en Janvier! Devant les judges plus knowledgeable et authentique!

Ah, che bella, una banda Italiana - finalamente l’Inglese get good taste! Io can vote for questo!

Nein, nein, nein… Italiener or nicht, zay still represent ze schweinhunder separatist island chust off der coast of civilization. A schtopp to zis ve muß machen!

¡Etheth, ethethetheth, eth eth… eth feeeex eeeet!

Je agree… mais vous all connaitre what thees means? Nous have to donner l’award to… un ensemble de ‘rock de blues’, n’est-ce pas?

Ja!

Si!

¡Ethethetheth Si!

Bon, maintenant having decided that nous better faire notre plans de travel to Poland in Juin.

Kein bother, ich habe already der tranzport fuelled und prepared made, und der schnellest route mapped out.

Pourquoi does that surprise moi pas…

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Jessalyn Gilsig, Big Shot

Actress Jessalyn Gilsig, who you may recognize from Glee, currently stars in Disney+’s Big Shot opposite John Stamos. Audiences will also know her from Nip/Tuck, Vikings, Scandal, Friday Night Lights, Heroes, Boston Public, and NYPD Blue, among others.

How are you? Seriously, how’re you doing?

I’m fine! Thank you for asking. I think I am like a lot of people—I move in and out of a place of deep gratitude and then worry and concern for the world. It’s a bit of a seesaw, but I think it’s the only way to be right now.

Which of the roles you’ve played over the years challenged and/or taught you the most, and why?

Gosh, they all teach me something. I do think Gina on Nip/Tuck challenged me to really advocate for my characters. When I first read the role, you could tell she was just a device, another conquest of the main characters. For some reason, that really woke something up inside me, and I was determined not to allow her to be written off so easily. She was only supposed to be in two episodes of the show and instead made it to the end of the series, or almost—until she was fucked off a building (can I say that?).

Can you show us a photo from the set of any show/film that you haven’t shared before and tell us the story behind it??

This is from Vikings, which we filmed in Ireland. The little girl in the photo is my daughter, who was an extra on the show that day, and it was so special to be able to share my world with her. We even ended up in a shot together, which I treasure. Living in Ireland with her while we filmed the show was one of the most special periods of my life. It was such a great adventure to be away from our normal life and exploring a new country, just the two of us. I still can’t believe we got to do that.

Do you have a routine or ritual to prepare yourself for a scene? Does it differ depending on the character and setting?

I have a few things I always do. I’m very visual, so I mark up my script a lot; I look for the beats and the progression of the scene. I often write the words “truth, love, open, listen” or something like that. And I am the kind of actor who does need to focus and think, “where am I coming from? Where am I going?” Some people I work with can be scrolling through Instagram, put down their phone, and dive right in, but I need a little more prep than that!

You’re putting together a basketball team, but no one on your team can be a professional athlete. Who’s on your team (players can be real or fictional)?

Wow. Ok. My friend Peggi. She played D1 for Georgetown and is the most competitive person I know, so she is definitely a starter. Then I just watched “Last Chance U,” and so Deshaun Highler is on my team. I think Frances McDormand would be up for a laugh so she can play. RBG because she wasn’t afraid of anything and also seemed like a lot of fun. And she can bring Kobe with her. Oof, now I’m sad. Ok, everyone can play. No cuts.

Can you teach us a Québécois saying or phrase that you use often?

“Bein zut alors,” pronounced BAH ZOOT ALOR. It’s basically a more polite way of saying “fuck.” It’s pretty useful and satisfying to say.

What’s a fact about the making of Big Shot that fans would be surprised to find out?

Probably that John Stamos is not a sports fan, and I am. It’s kind of funny how shocking that is to people. But it plays right into the show. It’s our stereotypes that keep us apart; never assume you know someone without giving them a chance.

What’re you overthinking right now?

Probably this interview! I am an over-thinker, I guess; I have a hard time shutting my brain down. Having a child was such a good remedy for that because I had to learn to be present and not worry about tomorrow or the next day. Children are so present for a good seven years of their lives, and they really call you out if you drift away. I liked being reminded to just be, get down on the floor, do a craft, and let go of time. Tomorrow will come whether you worry about it or not.

You painted and provided art for the film The Station Agent. Can you share a photo of a piece of art that you’ve made recently, and/or can you make a quick sketch of whatever/whoever is on your mind right now?

I haven’t painted in a long time. I thought I would during the pandemic, but instead, I doodled a lot. Here is a small sampling, and the pencil drawing is from a class I took which I really enjoyed. My dream is to really immerse myself in art classes someday. I have so much to learn. But it’s a great outlet for me, especially when I am on set and have so much downtime.

What would you do if you had to go back in time and relive high school with all the knowledge you have today?

Can you imagine if you knew then what you knew now? You’d be like, “ok, that’s a waste of time, you seem interesting, let’s hang out, who wants to buy a bitcoin?” But you can’t do that. It doesn’t work that way. What I love about life, and especially what I do for work, is I still get to play. I still get to be surprised and scared and learn and grow, It’s just now I don’t have a curfew, and I can eat cereal for dinner. Being a grown-up is just fine with me.

Thanks for taking the time, Gislig! Big Shot is now streaming on Disney+.

[atrixfollies]

Hi there folks! Not much omo lately cos I haven had a hard time trying to see how I can pay my monthly bills this month. I asked to my mom but her job hardly makes for her.

Antways, here’s this little giftart I did for a good pal here on tumbrl whose art I’ve always greatly admired: @tubbertons

She loves a lot to draw weigh gain, and also breast and butt expansion as a hobbie…yes both on guys! Expansion is not like a regular thing to draw for me, in fact this one’s my very first expansion drawing. But I made it because I’ve always thought I never liked expansion, but when I found out she made WG and expansion stuff, I was gladly surprised to find that these kinks were actually sexy in her art, cos I enjoyed her drawings a lot. 

And that was when I realized one thing, that any kink can be cool if is well performed by a talented artist.

And right now she’s having a hard time in the personal and she’s not very motivated to do art, so something inside my heart told me that maybe making a gifart for her was going to cheer her up a bit and help her to feel better. (I hope so at least heheh. I’ll never be as good in anatomy as her.)

Is also as a thank you to give her back a bit of the joy and warmth in the heart her drawings gave me. So I did for her the best thing I can do to show my appreciation to other fellow artist. It’s to share one of my original characters with them. ^^ And specially this one (If you know me long enough you know his name ;)) it’s a great honor to share. Because he’s very close to my heart!

For me it was fun to draw it, as it was very interesting to experiment with anatomy like this, and specially cos it was an excuse to make Faikel blush and say “by Gaia!” and “zut alors!” 🤭🤭

[carewyncromwell]

Zut alors! This art sure makes this Cinderella AU look like...well, a Cinderella AU, doesn’t it??

One critique I have about many Cinderella adaptations is about how the “ugly stepsisters” are either portrayed as one-dimensionally bad so as to make our Cinderella look more saintly by comparison or given just enough dimension that one could see them as secondary victims of their mother’s abuse and yet aren’t given an ending that frees them from it the way Cinderella does. And yes, obviously in many of those cases, the stepsisters jump in on abusing Cinderella too, but it’s a learned behavior the stepsisters acquire from their mother and, in some cases, one could also point to there possibly being an element of the child joining in on their parents’ abuse of their sibling, etc. as a method of self-preservation. There are a few adaptations where one stepsister “reforms” themselves while the other doesn’t, but in this story, I wanted to show that -- as unpleasant as the entire Cromwell clan is, including Carewyn’s cousins -- there’s some logic to how they behave. And in Claire Cromwell’s daughters’ cases in particular, they’re just as trapped by the expectations of their gender as Carewyn is, arguably more so because they’ve lived with Charles their whole lives and the importance of marrying well has been drilled into them much more than it ever was for Carewyn. Although it’s obvious how much worse Carewyn’s situation is compared to her cousins, I kind of liked the idea of showing how a character in the “ugly stepsister” role would feel, being constantly outdone by her relative despite her best efforts. And even in Carewyn’s canon, she does project a “perfect paragon” affect that irritates characters like Merula to no end, so this isn’t too much of a stretch. Doesn’t mean Iris is a good person or anything, but what can I say, I like giving my antagonists understandable motivations. 

In Carewyn’s canon, she becomes a robin Animagus. Part of it has to do with their size and coloring; part of it has to do with their symbolism (being associated with spring and, in the Christian tradition, selfless kindness, as they either earned their “red breast” when they sang comfortingly in Jesus’s ear while he bled on the cross or when they got burned fetching water for souls stuck in Purgatory); and part of it is because “Robin” was my deceased paternal aunt’s name, as well as my middle name! 🧡

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

On Charles’s instructions, Carewyn was returned to the tower room at the back of the Cromwell estate, this time with thick ropes tied her wrists together and lashing them to the legs of the cot set up in the corner. As Blaise finished securing Carewyn to the bed, he went out of his way to scold her that all of this was her own doing for trying to abandon her family before departing. 

Carewyn tried everything she could to get free, but within an hour, she determined that there was nothing sharp enough in the room that she could use to cut her bonds, even if she could move more than two feet in either direction. And so, in utter frustration, she collapsed to the floor, her eyebrows knitting tightly over her closed eyes. 

Talbott, she thought, please warn Orion...please, make sure he’s safe...

She wished she could simply have faith in Talbott, but being unable to do anything to protect Orion made Carewyn feel number and more afraid than she’d ever felt near the battlefield between Florence and Royaume. 

A moment later, Carewyn was startled by the sound of the door being unlocked. When it opened, she found Iris standing in the doorframe. Claire’s middle daughter was decked out in a striking dark blue and emerald satin gown and a dark blue feathered mask, and her dark hair was put up in a beautiful braided bun trimmed with peacock feathers.

“So you are locked up here,” said Iris. 

Carewyn raised her eyebrows very dully. “So I am.”

Iris’s face, for once, didn’t look particularly haughty. Her blue eyes, the same color and shape as Carewyn’s, swiveled over her cousin’s frame, taking in not just her bound ankles but the sewn-up back of her green dress. The dark-haired Cromwell looked almost disconcerted.

“This is your own doing, you know,” Iris said in a slightly higher voice than normal. “If you’d just left Prince Henri to me...done what Grandfather told you to do...”

“Blaise has more than given me that lecture already, thank you,” Carewyn said coldly.

Iris’s expression turned very offended. 

“So much for you not talking out of turn!” she said scathingly. “I would’ve thought you’d have learned your lesson, after what Grandfather did to you...”

Her eyes flickered over to Carewyn’s back again. Carewyn could see the discomfort and macabre fascination swimming in her eyes -- as if part of her wanted to see how bad the scars were, and yet the thought made her feel nauseous. 

Perhaps it was the compassion Carewyn felt, seeing her cousin struggle with feeling any kind of pity for her circumstances after how long they’d always hated each other...but she couldn’t help but address her a bit more gently than usual. 

“Just because Grandfather says something doesn’t mean it’s right.”

Iris scowled. “Just like you, to be ungrateful, after everything our family’s done for you...”

She turned her back on Carewyn as if to leave.

“I’m not just talking about myself,” Carewyn murmured. “I’m talking about you.”

Iris stiffened, stopping in the doorframe. 

“I heard Grandfather yell at you, when you first came home,” said Carewyn. 

“So what, you want to rub it in my face?” Iris huffed, sounding rather like a snake bearing its fangs after being stepped on. “Boast about how you always twist everybody around your little finger, without even trying?”

Carewyn couldn’t help but cock her eyebrows. “Boast? Iris, the only thing that’s twisted around here are the ropes that have been tied around my wrists -- and they hurt quite a bit.”

“You know what I mean!” said Iris impatiently. She crossed her arms, her shoulders sulking. “Stop being so...so bloody witty, will you!? You’ve always been so witty -- able to talk about absolutely nothing with complete strangers...even people you don’t want to impress! And then, all of a sudden, all those people can do is talk about you. Like Prince Henri...every time we talked, the conversation would always end up coming back to you and the dresses and shoes he wanted to make for you!”

Carewyn’s face became a bit more solemn. 

“The Prince and I are friends,” she admitted. “It was never anything more than that.”

Iris sniffed. “And I suppose it was ‘never anything more than that’ with Duke Lestrange either?”

“I didn’t even know Duke Lestrange,” Carewyn said exasperatedly. “And I had no interest in him romantically either. I think I made that quite clear both before and after you ripped my dress so badly that it exposed my undergarments.”

“And yet even then, you still charmed him!” said Iris, whirling around to glare at Carewyn. “You didn’t want anything from him, so why did you talk to him? Why did you smile and act all nice with him?”

“Because it was the polite thing to do!” said Carewyn, flabbergasted. “Because he was a guest! And one doesn’t have to get something in return to have a reason to show someone respect! It’s not something to be treated as a transaction!”

Iris’s face appeared more surly than ever as she looked away, adjusting the skirt of her gown. 

Carewyn looked down at her bindings and then back up at Iris’s back. She exhaled slowly through her nose, as an idea started to prickle at the sides of her brain. 

“...Iris...I’m sorry if I’ve wronged you,” she said softly. “I never had any intention to sabotage you...I know how much a proper marriage would endear you to our family.”

She took a deep breath. 

“If you want me out of the way...then I’ll go.”

Iris looked at Carewyn, startled. Carewyn stared her intently in the face.

“Just undo my bindings,” she said, “and leave the door unlocked...and when you and the others return from the ball, I’ll be gone. You’ll never have to live with me again.”

Iris stared disbelievingly. Carewyn’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, betraying some desperation. 

“Grandfather won’t have to know it was you,” she said. “No one would know except for me and you, and I won’t be here to tell anyone. Please...just let me escape.”

Let me get out to warn Orion. Let me save Orion. 

Iris stared at Carewyn for another long moment. Then, very slowly, her eyes narrowed. 

“You...you really want this,” she said lowly. “Don’t you?”

Carewyn gave her a very serious look. Iris’s eyes narrowed that bit more, darting from her face to down at her bindings and back. 

“...Well, then...”

She bent down, took hold of Carewyn’s bindings...and tightened them sharply.

“Ack -- !” 

Carewyn couldn’t quite choke back a yelp of pain. Iris shot back up to her feet, her eyes burning with resentment. 

“You probably want to live your own life just as much as the rest of us do,” she said. “Only you keep stopping me from starting my own life, by charming every man I could persuade to marry me. So I guess it’s only fair I make sure you can’t escape either.”

She strode for the door, snatching it up and glaring at Carewyn one more time. 

“At least tonight I won’t have to worry about you catching anyone else’s eye. You’ll be locked up here, far away from the ball, and unable to charm anyone.”

And with this, she slammed the door behind her and locked it with a loud CLACK. 

And so all Carewyn could do was sit helplessly on the floor, bound tightly to the bed, as the sound of her family’s carriages clattered off of the estate and toward the palace of Florence. Carewyn couldn’t even look out the window to watch them go. 

She tried several more times over the next hour to try to break free of her restraints, but as the sun grew lower and lower in the sky outside the window, she once again found herself falling still. All she could do was hope and pray and think of Orion...pleading with every entity of fate and justice that he was still alive. Soon enough she found herself falling off into a restless sleep in her uncomfortable position on the floor. 

This is why, when she heard a bizarre CRASH from downstairs, Carewyn was slow to react, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. It took her a moment to even gather her thoughts enough to try to escape her bonds again, so as to try to figure out what was going on. Once she did, however, she caught the sound of a voice calling out. 

“Miss Cromwell! Miss Cromwell, are you there?”

Carewyn’s heart leapt in a combination of disbelief and delight.

“Baroness!” she cried.

She tried to get up and run for the door, only for the rope around her wrists to hold her back. 

“Ack -- Baroness, I’m here!”

There was a sound like two sets of footsteps quickly climbing the stairs. Then, after a moment, she heard Talbott’s voice. 

“Carewyn, stand back! We’re going to get you out of there -- let me just adjust this -- ”

Carewyn was glad she was tied up away from the door when a few minutes later, it was thrown off its hinges with another CRASH. 

Talbott and Baroness McGonagall came running through the dust into the room. At the sight of Carewyn on the floor, Talbott immediately ran over to try to undo her bindings. 

“They’re -- they’re too tight!” he hissed in aggravation. 

“Leave it to me,” said McGonagall sharply. “Focus on the spell keeping that door off its hinges: once your concentration breaks, it’ll return to the way it was.”

She materialized a knife from the pocket in her gown and, with a strong SNAP, cut the thick cord attaching her to the bed, which helped her pull the rest of the bindings off of Carewyn’s wrists. 

Once her hands were free, Carewyn threw her arms around both her and Talbott’s shoulders, hugging them both in gratitude and relief. Within a second, though, she’d pulled away to look at them both urgently. 

“Baroness, we need to move fast...my grandfather -- ”

“Yes, Talbott told me,” said the Baroness curtly. “Quickly now -- ”

She swept back down the stairs, Talbott and Carewyn at her heels. Once they crossed the threshold, the door magically floated back up behind them, slamming back into place with just as much force as it had been blasted off. 

“The palace of Florence is at least three hours from here,” explained Talbott as they ran down the stairs. “I knew I couldn’t stay transformed that long, and I’ve never flown so far before -- didn’t reckon it’d be smart to try to fly somewhere I’ve never been and risk falling right out of the sky on the way, so I decided to go get the Baroness instead. Fortunately, on our way back here on foot, we collided with Badeea, and she was able to ride on ahead to the palace and tell the Weasleys the change in plans -- ”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “‘Change in plans?’”

Talbott smirked broadly, showing teeth. “Yeah -- the plan to bust you out of here.”

Carewyn gave a start. 

“It was KC and Bill Weasley’s idea,” Talbott explained. “After I delivered Cosimo’s message to you and took a break to recuperate from flying, I turned back into an eagle and headed to the palace. Figured Prince Henri would want to know the state you were in and might be able to do something to help. Unfortunately he couldn’t -- Charles Cromwell’s wealthy enough that he’s ingratiated himself to the King and Queen, and as your legal guardian, there isn’t much anyone else could do, unless you decided to run away. But Bill and Charlie didn’t like the thought of you being stuck there. Bill had already told Charlie to hold onto this coach he was fixing for the royal family, so they could use it to smuggle you out of the Cromwell estate and take you to their family’s house. And KC realized that the perfect night to do that would be the night of the ball, when the entire Cromwell family is supposed to be in Florence and you’d therefore be left completely unguarded. So Bill, Charlie, Badeea, and I decided to stay behind while everyone else at the palace headed out to Orion’s ball, so that we could come get you.”

Carewyn could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her eyes had gone very wide. 

“You...you mean you all put this together, just to help me?” she said shakily. 

Talbott’s face was very serious as they reached the ground floor. “Of course we did. You’re a good person, Carewyn -- you don’t deserve being trapped here.”

Carewyn’s eyes welled up with emotion despite her best efforts. 

“Talbott...” Her lips spread into a weak, overwhelmed smile. “I...thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Talbott said brusquely. “We’ve still got to get you to Florence.”

In the distance, Carewyn could hear the sound of a coach pulling up in front of the estate. McGonagall with her long legs reached the door of the manor first, and she unlocked and opened it, sweeping out into the courtyard. When Carewyn and Talbott darted after her, Carewyn gaped.

The broken royal coach she’d gone to help Charlie bring to the Burrow was as good as new, as clean, shining, and upright as it likely was when the King and Queen first purchased it. And sitting up in the driver’s seat was -- 

“CAREY!”

Charlie, dressed in a white-feathered black hat and a dark red velvet doublet trimmed with silver scales, dropped the reins connected to his and Bill’s chestnut horses and Badeea’s gray horse and leapt right off the coach and over to Carewyn. Jumping off the boot of the coach was Bill, dressed in a brown suede coat decorated with silver trim, and climbing out of the coach itself was Badeea, dressed in silver-dusted white satin. 

“Charlie!” cried Carewyn. “Bill! Badeea!” 

The Weasley brothers launched themselves at her, throwing their arms around her and squeezing tight. Unfortunately the wounds on Carewyn’s back made her crumple slightly, flinching away from their touch with a barely suppressed hiss of pain. 

“Carey?” said Bill, instantly concerned. 

“I’m all right!” Carewyn said very quickly. “I’m all right...”

Her blue eyes flooding with emotion, she threw her arms around both Charlie and Bill in return, squeezing them back. 

“It’s so good to see you,” she whispered. 

Bill’s eyes were very emotional too as he cradled the back of her head with his hand. The joy Carewyn felt just at the memory of her friends days earlier was back in full. She thought it’d be a long time before she’d ever see them again...and yet they were here. They’d come for her when she’d needed them most...

Badeea came up beside Carewyn, her dark eyes very concerned as she trailed a hand lightly along the stitching at the back of Carewyn’s dress. 

“Carewyn...your dress...”

The ginger-haired woman gave her a reassuring look. “It’s all right.”

She looked around at all of them, taking in their fine clothes. 

“Then...we’re all going to the ball ourselves?” she asked uneasily. “That’s the new plan?”

“Yep!” said Charlie brightly. “Andre had been working on some costumes for us, so we could all attend his mother’s New Years masquerade, before the whole thing at the border went down. He wasn’t able to finish any of them...but I borrowed a spare doublet from Andre’s closet for Talbott and Badeea was able to finish decorating the costumes that were closest to being done...”

He pointed out the “scales” on his doublet, while Bill held up the sleeve of his brown suede coat to show off the sparkly silver painted trim. 

Carewyn’s eyes widened. “That paint...is that -- ?”

“The paint Orion gave me? Yes,” Badeea said, beaming as she showed off the shiny “fur” detailing she’d applied to her own hijab. “It’s the first time I’ve ever purposefully applied my paints to fabric, but for a first try, I’d say it turned out pretty well. Your shoes and dress look even better, though...look!”

She moved over to the open door of the coach and pulled out a gray and orange gown and a pair of shoes. 

The chest was decked out with reddish-orange feathers arranged in a rounded heart shape, while the rest (made out of gray satin) was painted to look like it was covered in feathers. And the shoes...they were truly the most beautiful dancing slippers Carewyn had ever seen. The heels were made of colorful pumpkin diamond, while the shoes themselves, made of cloth, were nonetheless painted in a way that it looked like yellow, red, and orange stained glass. There was even a sheen on each panel, no doubt made with the slightest brush of the silver paint Orion had given Badeea, that made it look like it was sparkling. 

Carewyn brought up a hand to tentatively hold the skirt of the gown, staring in disbelief and awe. Badeea’s dark eyes were sparkling with pride.

“It’s a robin, see?” she said. “Andre thought it’d be the perfect way to apply your supposed ‘favorite color’ -- ash gray -- to your dress. He originally wanted to trim your shoes with more diamond, but after seeing everything on the battlefield, he was reluctant to spend any more money on materials. So I tried to make it look like it was made of diamond anyway...it didn’t quite work out the way I hoped, but I don’t think it turned out too bad.”

“Badeea...it’s beautiful,” breathed Carewyn, her eyes trailing over the “stained glass” slippers. 

Despite this, though, she whirled on the others with a severe expression. 

“...But I can’t go to the ball! My entire family will be there, as will Lord Malfoy and Patricia Rakepick -- none of them would let me get within twenty feet of Orion -- ”

“They will if they do not recognize you,” said McGonagall crisply. She turned to Badeea and extended a hand. “The mask, please.”

Badeea handed McGonagall a hand-painted robin mask to her. McGonagall then set about tracing a yellowish-gold spell in mid-air, which she then lightly tapped with the mask. In an instant, it sparkled with traces of golden light. 

McGonagall then placed the mask in both of Carewyn’s hands. 

“This mask has an illusionary enchantment placed on it,” she said solemnly, “one that will activate solely for you, while you are within the gates of Florence’s palace, for today only. While you wear it, you will appear, to the person seeing you, as a beautiful stranger. You will not look the same to any two people...meaning that, were anyone to try to identify you later, no one would be able to agree how tall you are, how slender, how old...not even any physical features like hair or eye color.”

McGonagall’s expression then turned very grave. 

“Just be sure that you leave the palace before the final stroke of midnight. Once the next day begins, my spell will break no matter what I might do...and if you’re still in the palace when that happens, then I daresay there’ll be plenty of people there who will recognize you.”

Carewyn nodded. Considering how willing Charles was to commit treason and murder, the last thing she wanted was for her grandfather to know she’d made it to the ball and who had helped her get there. 

“I understand,” she said.

“I will not fit in the coach with you,” said McGongall as she glanced at Talbott, “but I can maintain the illusion for the rest of the night, even from a distance. And I know my apprentice will do everything he can to make sure you get back to Royaume safely, once Orion is out of danger.”

Carewyn’s eyes became a little smaller and softer. “Thank you, Baroness...for everything.”

McGonagall’s usually stern face softened noticeably as she brought a hand to gently rest on Carewyn’s cheek.

“Godspeed, Miss Cromwell.”

And so Carewyn, Badeea, and Talbott all climbed into the coach. Once they were all inside, Bill -- playing the role of footman, snapped the door shut behind them and leapt up onto the boot of the coach. 

“Let’s go, Charlie!”

With a nod, Charlie bounded back up into the driver’s seat, snatched up the reins, and flicked them sharply with a “YAH!” The three horses charged off, pulling the coach right off the Cromwell estate and toward the reddening horizon. 

On their way to Florence’s palace, the group got themselves dressed. Carewyn politely averted her eyes as Talbott changed into the handsome purple velvet doublet Andre had been wearing when Carewyn first arrived at the palace, and then Talbott climbed out onto the boot of the carriage with Bill while Badeea helped Carewyn get dressed. 

When Carewyn took off her dress, Badeea saw her injured back for the first time. The artist’s gasp of dismay was silent, but she nonetheless trailed a cool, gentle hand along Carewyn’s bare back.

“I don’t think your gown will hide these,” Badeea murmured. “It’s cut low, to show off your back.”

Carewyn set her jaw grimly. “Then we’ll just have to leave them. Once I reach the palace and the Baroness’s illusion is activated, no one should be able to see them anyway.”

Badeea nodded grimly, her dark eyes very sad as she helped Carewyn pull the gown over her head.

“We all worried Lord Cromwell wasn’t treating you well,” she confessed, “but...I don’t think any of us thought he’d do something like this to you.”

Her usually serene expression betrayed a flicker of resentment. 

“He’s a horrible man,” she said very softly. “Just...horrible.”

Carewyn offered Badeea a weak smile, bringing a hand onto her shoulder and squeezing to show some reassurance. 

Charlie had never been to the palace of Florence before, but he was fortunately able to follow the many, many sets of long tracks left by other carriages and carts from Royaume that had already left for Florence’s capitol. He set the horses off at the fastest gallop he could manage without endangering his passengers, and within three hours, Charlie caught sight of some more carriages in the distance. He rushed to catch up with them, pulling up just behind them as they headed through the open gates of the Florentine palace.

The palace of Florence couldn’t have been more different than Royaume’s. While Royaume’s castle was white stone with extensive hedge gardens and many rounded towers trimmed with pointed dark rooves, Florence’s was made of tan-colored clay bricks stacked a mile high with geometric railings along the edges of towers and beautifully carved marble columns and arches framing the interior courtyard. It was also lit up with dozens of torches, making it blaze with golden light in the night. The warmer color palette, in contrast to Royaume’s palace’s pure white marble and clean lines, made Florence’s palace look significantly older, even though it was just as well-maintained. Carewyn couldn’t help but wonder what sorts of interesting histories she might read, if she could take the time to look over the yards of text etched into each column and wall. 

“I think I see Andre’s coach!” said Charlie.

He pointed out a coach parked almost directly in front of the grand staircase. Its coachman was tending to their horses.

“He must not have arrived too long ago,” said Bill. He looked at the others through the window of the coach. “Do you have the masks ready, Badeea?”

Badeea lightly waved the last mask she’d been painting back and forth to help it dry. “Just about...”

Carewyn could also see the white coaches belonging to the Cromwell family parked on the far right end. She could even see her horse among the white steeds pulling them -- it kept pulling at its reins tensely, as if not liking being lashed together with its fellows to the coach. 

Charlie pulled up in front of the castle, as far back and as far left as he could, so that they could stay close to the gate in case they needed a quick exit. As soon as they came to a stop, Bill pulled open the door of the coach. 

“Are you ready, Carey? Your hair and dress okay? Got your mask?”

“Yes,” said Carewyn. 

“Go on, then -- we’ll be right behind you.”

Carewyn nodded determinedly and quickly climbed out of the coach, holding her skirts up so as to keep them clear of her “stained glass” slippers. 

Charlie couldn’t help but gape. “Whoa, Carey...the Baroness wasn’t kidding! You don’t look like yourself at all!”

Carewyn blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah! You’ve got, like, blond hair and green eyes -- like some emerald dragon!”

“You look like a brunette to me,” said Bill sheepishly. 

“We can gush about the Baroness’s talent for illusions later,” Talbott cut them off brusquely. “Carewyn -- go find the King.”

Carewyn nodded. Turning her gaze toward the palace, she ran straight for the stairs, charging right past the guests that walked more leisurely up the stairs and ignoring how their heads turned in her direction. 

Orion...please don’t let me be too late...!

[sceptilemasterr]

Defenders of the Flame (TE Rewrite) Act 3, Scene 1 - Identity Crisis

Title: Defenders of the Flame (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Shreya x F!MC, Beckett x F!Atlas

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite (The Elementalists, Book 1)

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Atlas helps Beckett, Fiora, and Shreya practice the first step of their Combat Forms.

Previous Scene: Surprises All Around

Masterlist: Link

EXT. PCSA MAIN QUAD - LAKE - MORNING

It is a frigid winter morning on Penderghast’s campus. The quad is completely deserted, save for a single figure: Atlas stands on the shore of the lake, running through some warm-up exercises on her own. Despite the fact that she is dressed only in thin athletic pants and a t-shirt, she does not appear to be bothered by the cold. Several times, she glances back in the direction of the main campus as though waiting for someone.

ATLAS (muttering): “Beauty rest” my ass. If I have to drag you out of bed myself, I will--

She stops talking abruptly when she hears the sound of footsteps in the snow. Looking back toward Fletchly Hall, she spots Fiora, Shreya, and Beckett all approaching the lake, Shreya apparently regaling the other two with a story of some kind. All of them are dressed for the weather, unlike Atlas. Atlas waves stiffly in their direction as they get closer.

ATLAS: There you are. Let’s start.

BECKETT: Yes, excellent. Straight to business.

The three of them assemble side-by-side, with Atlas standing between them and the lake. She claps her hands together and addresses the others.

ATLAS: Right. So, Stoicheal Gather.

FIORA (muttering): Well, hi to you too, Atlas...

Atlas either does not hear her sister or chooses to ignore her as she plants her feet comfortably apart, crosses her arms in front of her chest, and starts to concentrate. Within a few seconds, glowing blue wisps of Water Stoichi begin forming around Atlas, swirling faster and faster in a vortex with herself as the central point. Shreya and Fiora look around in surprise while Beckett calmly observes. The vortex of energy grows tighter around Atlas, until it finally flows all at once into her body with a thunderclap. Fiora lets out a soft shriek at the noise.

SHREYA: Wow. Nicely done!

BECKETT: An impressive display!

Atlas opens her eyes and lets her arms fall to her sides. Her skin glows a faint blue.

ATLAS: That was a Stoicheal Gather. It’s not gonna be easy; took me a year to learn it. And another year to master actual Combat Form.

Fiora frowns.

FIORA (panicking): But we’ve only got a few months!

ATLAS: And you’ve got a teacher. I was completely solo. Don’t worry about it.

She nonchalantly flicks a hand back toward the lake, unleashing a torrent of water pouring from her palm into the lake’s surface.

ATLAS: Anyway. Gather isn’t too different from what you’ve done before: sensing your innate stoicheal energy and all that. The difference is maintaining the kind of focus needed to draw up this much energy at once.

SHREYA: I’ve tried this on my own. I always lose it at the vortex. How did you get it to rush into yourself like that?

ATLAS: They call it the “foundation point.” And it’s honestly all mental.

She taps a finger to her head.

ATLAS: You need to keep your mind fixated on a single, strong concept that’s connected with who you are as a person. The way you think of yourself. Something that won’t waver or fade--that’s key! The foundation point is what’ll keep you from going feral once we get into actual Combat Forms.

FIORA: “A single, strong concept...” like what?

ATLAS: It’s unique to each of us. Mine, for example, is justice. My whole life I’ve been fighting against Raife and his damn cultists. Instead of using my hatred for Raife--which will just falter after he’s defeated--I focus on my sense of justice so I can maintain it even once he’s dealt with. That’s the most important part: it has to be a constant!

BECKETT: Ah! So, myself, for instance... I could use my identity as a Harrington and the sense of duty that comes with it. That is something that will be with me all of my life.

Atlas smirks.

ATLAS: Sure, that’ll work. As long as you think that’s strong enough.

SHREYA: Beckett, that gives me an idea! But instead of my path as a Mistry, I’d like to focus on my own path. My desire to step out from my family’s shadow and find my own future.

ATLAS: Kinda vague if you ask me, but sure. Fiora?

FIORA: Who, me? I... uh... I’ll think of something.

Atlas frowns but chooses not to comment.

ATLAS: Alright, everybody might want to spread apart a little. You saw how big my vortex started out--that’s how much space you’ll need.

Beckett, Shreya, and Fiora all exchange a glance before spreading out to allow enough space between them.

ATLAS: Right! Now, everyone try it! Focus on your foundation point and start drawing on your innate stoicheal energy!

The other three adopt similar poses to the one Atlas had done at the start of her demonstration, closing their eyes and focusing. For the first few seconds, nothing happens. Then, shining orange wisps of fire stoichi begin circling around Shreya.

ATLAS: There it is! Great, Shreya!

Fiora opens her eyes and looks over at Shreya. A few more wisps of energy steadily add themselves to her vortex as they grow faster and faster. Silver stoicheal energy starts appearing around Beckett, as well, though these are slower and fainter than the ones around Shreya.

ATLAS: Good, Beckett. Keep going!

Beckett visibly falters and his wisps of energy start to fade. He increases his concentration, bringing them back. Fiora closes her eyes and tries again, concentrating hard... but still nothing happens.

FIORA (frustrated): Ugh... come... ON!

The camera focuses on Fiora’s face, and we hear her voice, echoing in internal monologue:

FIORA (inner thoughts): Shreya... friends... Pend Pals... no, my old friends... Hartfeld... Penderghast... Shreya... Atlas, my sister... Shreya... school... justice? No, that’s Atlas’s...

ATLAS: Nice, Shreya! Now!

Shreya’s vortex is swirling furiously, fire stoichi surrounding her and almost touching her skin. Shreya opens her eyes in surprise at Atlas’s shout.

SHREYA: Wha--!

But that is enough to break her concentration. The Fire Stoichi around her dissipates, swirling off into the air and casting a brief warmth across the otherwise chilly campus.

SHREYA (frustrated): Zut alors! I was so close!

ATLAS: Not bad for your first real try. You’ve just gotta open your innate stoichi, allow it inside. It’s the opposite of what you’ve learned in class. You’re not releasing your innate stoichi, you’re letting it flow back in.

SHREYA: Ah, right. That makes sense.

Beckett’s own vortex is swirling still, but it is patchy, incomplete... large gaps in the side reveal he has not gathered quite enough Metal Stoichi yet. After another moment, the vortex starts to slow before dissipating into the air much like Shreya’s had.

BECKETT: It would seem I am struggling with this task.

ATLAS (nods): Your foundation point. Do you have anything else?

BECKETT: What, a replacement for my identity as a Harrington? I cannot possibly--

Atlas shakes her head.

ATLAS: Not a replacement. Alongside. A foundation point can be made up of more than one concept.

BECKETT: A second foundation point? Hmm...

ATLAS: Think about it. Shreya, why don’t you try again. You almost had it.

SHREYA: Okay, Atlas.

As Shreya focuses once more, Atlas walks over to Fiora.

FIORA: Sorry, Atlas... I can’t do it!

ATLAS: You barely summoned anything. I think I spotted one or two wisps, but...

FIORA (sighs): I knew it. I’m never gonna--

ATLAS: Alright, enough of that crap. Listen, Fiora. You’ve got the raw power: I think the whole birthday cake incident was enough proof of that. So that’s not the problem.

FIORA: Then what--?

ATLAS: The foundation point. What’s yours?

FIORA: I... uh... well, there’s a lot of things, but I’m not--

ATLAS: Then there’s your problem. You should have one, single answer for me when I ask you.

FIORA: I... I don’t.

ATLAS: Then find one! Fiora, tell me this: who are you?

FIORA: ...Huh? I’m, uh, your sister?

ATLAS: No, no. Who... are... you?

FIORA (thinking): Um... a Light-Att?

Atlas rubs her forehead in exasperation.

ATLAS: I’m really bad at this. It’s just... I think you’ll need some time to think on this. Maybe Shreya or Zeph could help. I’m probably the wrong person for this part. Sorry.

FIORA: No! It’s not you! I’m just... well...

There is a sound like a thunderclap, and Atlas and Fiora turn sharply in its direction to see Shreya, glowing with orange light and smiling broadly at them.

SHREYA: Atlas! Atlas! I did it! Look!

Atlas nods and walks over to Shreya.

ATLAS: Nicely done. Now, the next step is to--

Shreya’s skin starts glowing brighter. She looks down at herself nervously as Atlas begins summoning a swirl of water stoichi in her hand.

SHREYA: Uh... Atlas? What do I--

ATLAS: Let off the excess! Straight into the lake, launch the biggest blast of flame you can!

SHREYA: I--!

Shreya thrusts her arms out toward the lake, sending twin bursts of flame into the water. Steam billows up around them all... but Shreya is still glowing.

ATLAS: Bigger!

SHREYA: What?!

Flames start erupting around Shreya’s feet, lighting the grass around them on fire despite the snow. The flames grow bigger and bigger, before--

ATLAS: Deluge.

The energy in Atlas’s palm unleashes a torrential wave of water that washes over Shreya--and the fire--before flowing into the lake. Though Shreya stands sopping wet, there is no longer any trace of the fire at her feet, and her skin is back to normal.

SHREYA (shrieking): Atlas! Do you have any idea how much I paid for these clothes?!

ATLAS: Then why’d you wear them to a training session? Anyway, you’re not on fire anymore. You’re welcome.

BECKETT: I believe I understand. Once we’ve performed a Stoicheal Gather, that energy must go somewhere, correct?

ATLAS: Exactly. Energy can’t be created or destroyed. Once you’ve gathered that much stoichi, you’ve got to use it or else... it’ll “use” you.

She gestures at Shreya’s feet, where the flames have left a neat circle of melted snow behind.

ATLAS: Since we’re not ready for Combat Forms yet, that means letting it out in a huge blast of energy. That’s why we’re practicing by the lake. Build it up, and launch it--metal, fire, doesn’t matter--straight into the water.

SHREYA: Well! You could have told us that before we began!

ATLAS (sheepishly): ...I forgot.

BECKETT: Hmph. Perhaps, if your memory was as impeccable as mine is, you wouldn’t have--

ATLAS: Shut up and keep practicing, Harrington.

BECKETT (irritated): Very well, Luxen!

FIORA (innocently): ...What did I do?

BECKETT: Not you. I meant--oh, right. Same surname. I'd forgotten.

ATLAS (sarcastically): What was that about “impeccable memory?”

BECKETT: I... erm...

A short montage ensues of several more practice attempts, as Fiora struggles to think of something to use as her foundation point. Shreya is the first to perfect her Stoicheal Gather, but she struggles with releasing her energy; Atlas has to extinguish her flames on more than one occasion. Beckett eventually performs a Gather, which is followed by a massive cube of metal which he creates and launches into the lake, letting out a splash that drenches himself, Shreya, Atlas, and Fiora. Fiora, for her part, continues struggling, still unable to maintain her focus.

ATLAS (shouting): Alright! Enough!

She claps her hands together to get everyone’s attention. In the distance, a few students can be seen walking across the quad, now that it is a little later in the morning. Fiora stares down at her feet dejectedly, and Shreya walks over to her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

ATLAS: Today was a great start. I don’t know how often we’ll be able to do this--you’ve got classes and all--but we’ll find time. Class dismissed, or something.

FIORA: Thanks, Atlas.

Shreya and Fiora start walking back, away from the lake, while Beckett starts talking with Atlas. Fiora sighs in disappointment.

FIORA: Shreya, you looked so cool with your Stoicheal Gather! I’m a Light-Att and everything, but I couldn’t even manage this.

SHREYA: Fiora. It’s okay! It isn’t exactly a competition... besides, we still have months before they expect us to have Combat Form ready. Plenty of time to practice!

FIORA: I know, but still... Shreya, how did you do it? What’s the secret?

SHREYA: It’s like Atlas said: you need a strong foundation point.

FIORA (sadly): That’s exactly what I’m stuck on.

SHREYA: Here’s an easy one: why are you here at Penderghast?

FIORA: Uh... because I fell in a lake and ended up here?

SHREYA: Right. Bad example. What about the school you used to go to? The Tuneless one, I mean?

FIORA: Not really sure there, either. I was just there because it’s what people do after high school, I guess. I never really thought about it--

SHREYA: Then that’s your assignment for now: finding out what motivates you! And there’s no better person to help with that than myself, naturally!

As they continue walking, Shreya thinks for a moment, pondering how best to help Fiora with her problem. Then she catches sight of a glimmering poster affixed to the outside of the Fletchly Hall entrance.

SHREYA (excitedly): Oh! Fiora, look!

FIORA: What? Is it about Stoicheal Gather?

SHREYA: No, no, nothing like that. I’d forgotten! The Amorelia Day Gala is coming up soon! Oh, this is so exciting--my sister’s told me all about them, of course, but this will be my first chance to go to one myself!

She points to the poster, and Fiora follows her gaze. The poster is decorated with colorful silhouettes of dancing couples, all moving around the center. In the middle of the poster, the words “PCSA AMORELIA DAY GALA 2018 - MARCH 17, 7:00 PM” have been written in glimmering golden letters. Shreya beams at Fiora, who simply stares in puzzlement.

FIORA: Okay... but what is it?

SHREYA: Only the biggest social event of the school year! It’s a dance that’s held each year, celebrating the coming of spring. But mostly it’s an excuse for everyone to relax, enjoy themselves, and maybe... spend some quality time with a special someone!

She says the last few words while looking pointedly at Fiora.

FIORA: Oh. Wow. I, uh, didn’t even know about this!

SHREYA: That’s alright! It is rather exciting. And so much fun to prepare for--

FIORA: One thing at a time, Shreya... I’m too worried about this Combat Form thing to even think about a dance right now. I’ll worry about it later.

Frustrated, Fiora pushes open the doors to Fletchly Hall and steps through. Shreya frowns at the poster and sighs before following her inside.

_______________________

Notes: Here begins Act 3, and it seems like Fiora's got a ways to go to figure out this Combat Form business. Hmm...

_______________________

Next: Back in Session

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0 @shaylan211 @griselda1121 @acanthisorbis @marmolady @choicesbabie

DotF/Elementalists Tag List:

[talk-to-the-mercs]

he's praying to a god he can't see. how strange. he's either traumatized or he's trying to find light within a dark situation. hmm. comfort is the best option, here. get him to a place he considers safe, perhaps? better than whatever dingy place he's in now.

Miss Pauling: Spy is an atheist, but he grew up Catholic. He does it sometimes when we are in a sticky situation. I think it’s more for luck than anything. Hold on...maybe if I...

Spy: [suprised cries, whimpers]

Miss Pauling: He can feel me touching him. I wonder if he remembers...P-A-U-L-I-N-G.

Spy: It’s you! Oh, thank God...please...help me...

Miss Pauling: W-H-A-T?

Spy: I can’t see...any of you. All I see is an empty base...and...and...other things.

Miss Pauling: T-H-I-N-G-S?

Spy: Did Medic do this? Whenever anyone is in supernatural anguish, it’s always his doing...

Miss Pauling: T-U-R-N...A-R-O-U-N-D.

Spy: Am...I not facing...? Zut alors...

[Shuffling, metal scraping]

Miss Pauling: [gasps] Oh...Sp-spy...your eye...E-Y-E...

Spy: What about it? Is it bruised?

Miss Pauling: Oh my god, no! It’s...all black...

[END OF TRANSMISSION]

@uprisist

[emybain]

Danna and Celeste fluff, please

these two are literally adorable. I wanted to write more, as usual, but then decided to keep it short and sweet. in all honesty I didn't think people would care much about danna having a wife in that Christmas fic I posted forever ago, but I was wrong lol. I personally love celeste, and I really want marissa to at least hint at Danna getting a girlfriend in the third book bc after everything’s she’s been through, sis deserves one. also, side note, i apologize for my french bc 1) im a little rusty bc i havent taken a class in a while and 2) i tried to give context for when it was being spoken. anyways, hope you enjoy! it’s been fun writing this!

Also, as a note to everyone, if you like this fic PLEASE reblog! likes are nice, but reblogging really helps the work spread! always reblog other people's art/music/writing/etc!!!

summary: Danna is 19 and traveling across the world, learning about different cultures and customs. currently, she is in Lyon, France. her next destination is Paris, where she plans on seeing all the major monuments and artworks. however, a run in (literally) with a stranger may push back her trip to Paris a few days, or maybe even longer...

   It was a rainy day in Lyon. Most days were rainy in Lyon.

    Danna sighed. When she had first come to Lyon a few days ago, she was excited to see that it was raining. Other parts of France that she had visited so far were sunny, which was nice, but she loved rain.

    But it had been raining for three days now, and according to locals, that was normal for October.

    Danna pulled her sweater closer to her body, getting a sudden chill. In front of her sat her keyboard and tablet. On the tablet sat an open document with detailed notes and comments. For over a year now, she had been travelling the world, visiting country after country and learning new cultures. She wanted to write a book about becoming an active member in the community and giving a voice to people who didn’t have one. But Danna had a problem: she had no idea how to write a book, or even where to start. No number of how-to-write-for-beginners books had come in handy.

    She sipped at her black coffee and tapped her stylus against the table she was sitting at. She was at a coffee shop near her hotel, Le Café, if she remembered correctly. She had been holed up in her hotel room all morning and afternoon, having visited most of the city in the first two days, and finally decided to leave in search of inspiration.

    So far she had nothing.

    Danna set down her stylus and rubbed her eyes. A notification showed up on the top of her tablet. She clicked on it, not even checking to see what it was for. Her messenger app opened, revealing her chat with Ruby. Danna tried to keep in touch with her friends in Gatlon, but the time differences made things hard. While it was currently just after five in the afternoon in Lyon, France, it was only eleven in the mid morning in Gatlon. It wasn’t as bad as when Danna was in Beijing, though. When she was eating lunch, it was still the previous day in Gatlon. Just to give an example.

    She looked at the photo Ruby had sent her. It was of a passed out Oscar on the couch of their apartment. Danna snorted. On closer examination, she saw a plate laying in his lap that was scraped clean. Their cat, Craig, was sprawled out across his chest.

        thinking of you! how’s france? also, is it okay if we video chat later? everyone’s coming over for game night and we want you to join in!

    Danna mulled over the question. If she chose to play with them, it would be well after midnight. It wouldn’t be the first time Danna had joined in on their game nights, a tradition she had once been a part of before leaving Gatlon.

            France is great! I miss you guys so much...thinking about a quick trip home. And that depends...what’s the chosen game?

    Ruby responded immediately. 

    ooh yes PLEASE come home!!! craig misses you the most! and the game is your choice!

        Danna chuckled. Craig was a good cat.

        Will your fiancé be okay with me choosing? 

    Oscar was the usual game-chooser for game nights, as he knew some good games. He took it personally when someone else wanted to choose. It had since become a running joke in their friend group.

A large group of girls walked into the shop, chattering and laughing loudly. Danna took one glance at them and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They were around her age, university students. She was sure they were nice people, but did they have to be so loud? In a coffee shop? Hopefully, they were getting drinks to-go.

        he will be if i say he will be.

    Danna laughed into her coffee cup, snickering silently. Ruby and Oscar had gotten engaged a few months ago. No one was really surprised; they weren’t even twenty yet, but they were the definition of soulmates, perfect for one another. She sent Ruby a laughing image and closed their conversation.

    She sighed again, grateful for the distraction. For a few minutes, she just sat there, staring out the window beside her table. People and cars went by. It would be dark pretty soon. The aroma of pastries surrounded her, and her mouth watered. She checked the time, and decided she deserved a quick snack before heading out for dinner.

    Grabbing her wallet and turning off her tablet, Danna stood from her table. Only to stumble back and clumsily fall onto her seat as she was immediately drenched in something wet. And cold. Very. Cold.

    “Zut alors!” a voice gasped. Danna sat paralyzed, staring down at the iced coffee that was now all over her shirt she had bought in Vienna. “Je suis désolé! Je ne savais pas que vous-”

    “Ne vous inquiétez pas à ce sujet.” Danna winced at her accent. She had learned some French when she was younger, but it wasn’t her strongest language. Thankfully, she could at least understand that the person was apologizing, and she knew enough to be able to tell them it was fine. “J’ai besoin de serv...” Her words died in her mouth as she looked up at the girl who spilled her ice coffee on her. It was one of the girls from the loud group of college students. She looked just as shocked as Danna was.

    They blinked at one another, and the girl offered a shaky smile. “Serviettes?” she said softly, and Danna nodded numbly, unable to tell if it was from the cold or something else. The girl left and returned shortly with a handful of napkins.

    “Merci.” Danna took a few of the napkins and began wiping at her shirt, but to no avail. Hopefully, it would come out in the laundry. The girl busied herself with cleaning up her drink on the floor, blushing furiously. Danna opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by one of the girl’s friends, who hollered at her from across the shop.

    “Celeste! Allons-y!” The other girl waved for her friend, Celeste, to go. She and the rest of their group were at the door, waiting for Celeste to join them.

    The girl grumbled underneath her breath, too soft for Danna to understand it. “Attends, Annette! Une minute!”

    Danna grasped for something to say. After stumbling over a few words, she managed to tell the girl she could go, that Danna could clean the rest. But the girl just smiled and shook her head. Then, she turned her head to the rest of her party of friends and told them to go without her. She would catch up later.

    “Est-ce que vous êtes Français?” she asked after her friends left, dropping wet napkins into her spilled cup. Danna shook her head and told her that no, that she was from Gatlon, headquarters for Renegades, and that she spoke English. The girl gasped and looked up at Danna, eyes wide. Danna’s heart lurched. She asked if Danna was a Renegade, and when Danna didn’t answer, she giggled.

    “I am joking,” she said with a thick accent, smiling. “That’s not my business.”

    “You can speak English?” Danna blinked, surprised. The only English speakers she had come across in France were mainly tourists and shopkeepers who wanted to be able to communicate with their customers.

    “Yes. My maman is from Edinburgh, but my papa is from here.” She stood, finished with cleaning her spill. She grabbed Danna’s used napkins and put them in her cup. “I’ll be right back.” She went to a trash can near the order counter, then returned.

    “Um...thank you.” Danna swallowed. “I’m Danna, by the way. Danna Bell.” She held out an awkward hand, not really sure why she was introducing herself to a stranger who was going to leave soon anyways.

    The girl smiled brightly and accepted her handshake. “Celeste de la Fontaine. It’s a pleasure spilling coffee on you, Danna.”  

    “Iced coffee, too.” Danna managed to smile in return. “It’s October and freezing outside. Why did you order an iced coffee?”

    Celeste giggled, and Danna’s cheeks grew warm. “I don’t like hot coffee. It’s better iced.”

    Danna raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re one of those people?” she teased. Immediately, she was surprised how easy it came out. She was usually very stiff around strangers.

    “You could say I’m rare,” Celeste retorted. She gestured to the seat across from Danna. “May I sit?”

    Danna nodded.

    “Your friend sounds like a likeable guy,” Celeste said, unable to contain her laughter as she took a bite of her pastry. “But also very stupid.” Danna had just finished telling Celeste a story about how Oscar had pranked Adrian’s dads and the rest of the Council and gotten away with it. The only people who were truly mad about the main lobby floor being covered from wall to wall in balloons were Thunderbird and Tsunami. Adrian’s dads and Blacklight were highly amused, probably because they knew who was behind the prank, and knew that his accomplice was Adrian, who helped by drawing the balloons. It was a better idea than the one Oscar had originally planned, which involved covering all the walls in papers stating a required inspection of all male Renegades concerning...something Danna would rather not repeat. But then Danna, Nova, and Ruby heard of his plans, and they all took turns in lecturing him on the stupidity of his prank, and how he could potentially offend or scar someone.

    Danna snorted. “Yeah. Oscar’s a special one. He annoys me seventy-five percent of the time, but I tolerate him the rest of the time.”

    They had been sitting in the coffee shop for over an hour, chatting and laughing. Danna had smiled more in an hour than she had in a year. There was something about Celeste that made Danna be so drawn to her. She was intelligent, kind, and was an activist like Danna, although she only had enough time to spread activist information via social media. She was also pretty, with brown eyes and dark hair and olive toned skin. But there was something else that made Danna’s heart flutter.

    One of the workers approached their table and kindly told them that the shop would be closing soon. Danna and Celeste collected their things and threw out their trash. When they stepped outside, now night, they were met with a blast of cold air. Celeste grinned and pulled her jacket tighter around her frame.

    “I love the cold.” She breathed in deeply. “Gives me an excuse to wear big sweaters.”

    They strolled down the sidewalk, neither in a huge hurry. Danna shifted her bag on her back and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I meant to ask you earlier, but what happened to all of your friends?”

    Celeste shook her head, nose scrunched up. “They were going off to some movie that I wasn’t really interested in. Some predictable romantic comedy.”

    “So, you just used me to get out of it?” Danna bit her lip, glancing at Celeste, who shot her a full smile, white teeth showing.

    “Perhaps.” Maybe it was Danna’s imagination, but she thought she saw Celeste drift closer to her. “Or perhaps I just wanted to stay and talk to you.”

    They stopped on a street corner. Danna turned to face Celeste, both of their faces illuminated by the street lamp above them. Celeste’s cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright.

    “How long are you in Lyon?” Celeste asked, voice dropping just slightly. Danna knew for a fact that she shifted closer this time. She took note how much shorter Celeste was than her.

    Danna toed her boot against the pavement. “I was planning on leaving tomorrow, but I told myself I would stay a little longer if I found something really interesting.”

    Celeste nodded slowly. “And?”

    Looking down at the ground, then back up at Celeste, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment overtake her, Danna said. “I think I can stay for a few more days.”

    They exchanged numbers and social medias, Danna promising that they could meet up again before she moved on to Paris.

    But something deep inside of Danna told her that she wouldn’t make it to Paris for a while.

[shaztracer]

overwatch league players react to the 1453 fall of constantinople to the ottoman empire

unkoe: zut alors! le use of zé cannóns en destroyïng ze fortificatións of le constantinoplé will have significánt et le far-reaching consequencés for, ‘ow do you say, le entire early modern period of european warfare! 

custa: finally, venice can become the dominant trading power in the mediterranean as they become the primary link between western europe and the lucrative trade goods of the silk road. crikey mate!   

profit: this was essentially a pre-determined outcome ever since the fourth crusade sacked constantinople and sent the city into centuries-long decline. this is how i feel about the fourth crusade

gesture: [looks at sultan mehmed ii, commonly known as mehmed the conqueror, who as well as taking constantinople expanded the ottoman empire to encompass all of anatolia, bosnia, and crimea]

pine: greek scholars fleeing to italy after this conquest and bringing with them historical greek texts will help ignite the renaissance and thats lit

junkrat: im junkrat

[fallout-4-cant-download-ms9]

fallout 4 cant download mods new 3BE#

💾 ►►► DOWNLOAD FILE 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 A simple rule: When you download a mod ingame, it can be installed ingame. When you download a mod outside of the game, it can only be installed. › app › answers › detail › a_id › why-am-i-not-getting-th. In some cases, you may need to ensure your mods are loading in the correct order. To do so, select Load Order from the Mods menu and set the order. Note: User. How do I get mods to work in Fallout 4? Run Nexus Mod Manager (or Vortex) as administrator · 2. Configure INI files for Fallout 4 modding · 3. The mod, one of many of the Fallout 4 Xbox One mods, is available for Xbox One and PC. While you can't get it on a PS4, one mod with a similar. Log In Sign Up. What do you need help on? Cancel X. Topic Archived Page 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 of 7 Next Last. Sign Up for free or Log In if you already have an account to be able to post messages, change how messages are displayed, and view media in posts. Boards Fallout 4 Can't download mods for some reason. Professor86 3 years ago 1. I can access the mods menu and search, favorite, etc. That worked for about five minutes before I was back to the same problem. Anyone else run into this or know what to do about it? I have this issue alot I've tried rebooting as well as signing in and out on the bethesda mod site, but havn't been able to determine why it works or doesn't, and what helps to fix it. Would love to know though. I've been having the issue with Skyrim SE. People are letting Beth know about on the official forums. The mod application went down yesterday and when it came back online things were working again. I don't know if it's permanently fixed yet though. Professor86 Topic Creator 3 years ago 4. I'll have to give it another try soon. Hopefully it's fixed. If not, I still have RDR2 to finish. Is it up now? I second that I've had to take a break from fallout and skyrim I'm just waiting. The who? The what? Mod Author Skyrim Xbox. Nicole 3 years ago 7. My first time playing a Fallout game, but cannot download the mods, mon dieu zut alors Bethesda! Bethesda has been relatively tight lipped about it. More topics about it on the Skyrim SE board. I know it was affecting CC content too. Who has the Palladium? In Hesperia. One must not simply play the bass. One must slay the bass. Yeah hopefully the whole thing will be fixed. Nicole 3 years ago It works when i leave fo4, load another game , then reload fo4, bonne nuit Americains!!! Best Buy. More Topics from this Board. Please someone tell me why anyone still cares about this company. Safe CC items for xbox. I'm stuck on the very beginning of fallout 4. Any good pre-made settlements on xbox? On the institute side. About Shelly Tiller? Side Quest. Vault-tecs little secret finding the lieutenants box? Why won't settlers go to assigned resources? Tech Support. Which companion should I bring to the Institute? Ask A Question. Browse More Questions. Professor86 3 years ago 1 I can access the mods menu and search, favorite, etc. Straight up sewaside. Professor86 Topic Creator 3 years ago 4 I'll have to give it another try soon. Nicole 3 years ago 7 My first time playing a Fallout game, but cannot download the mods, mon dieu zut alors Bethesda! Please dont kill the single player mode! Nicole 3 years ago 10 It works when i leave fo4, load another game , then reload fo4, bonne nuit Americains!!!

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Fan Novel (Book 3, Chapter 3)

Hearing what I've just said, the others are immediately beside me, staring at the woman silhouetted in moonlight on the prow. She turns towards us. It's Quinn all right, but for a moment, I feel dread flooding through me. Will she know us? Is it her, or just something wearing her face? Her eyes go wide as they find my face in the encroaching darkness.

“Alodia!” she cries.

“Oh my god!” Diego gasps. “It's you!”

“It can't be...” Michelle whispers. “Can it?”

“You were hit with a rocket!” Raj yelps. “We saw you explode!”

“Hang on,” Jake says. “Are we talking to Ariel? ...Or Ursula?”

Quinn puffs out her cheeks, her rosebud mouth twisting into her familiar, adorable pout. “It's me. Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt anyone.”

I laugh, rushing forward to pull her into my arms. She holds me back, resting her chin on my shoulder.

“It's you, Quinn! It's really you!”

“Of course it is, silly!” She pulls back to look at the rest of the group. “I'm so glad I've finally found all of you.”

“Have you seen any sign of the others?” I ask anxiously.

“They would surely be here if she had,” Estela says.

“You don't know that,” Diego protests. “She might have information.”

Quinn shakes her head sadly. “Estela's right, I'm afraid. I don't know where anyone else is at this point.”

Everyone, even Estela, looks disappointed at that. I can't say I don't feel the same, but I force myself to smile reassuringly.

“We're gonna find them soon. For now, we're just happy to have you back.” Almost before the last word is out of my mouth, Quinn sucks in a sharp breath, doubling over and grasping my shoulder for support. I brace her, my pulse accelerating. “Woah! Quinn, are you okay?”

“Malatesta!” Estela whirls on the pirate, her eyes narrow. “If you've hurt her--”

“It's not him,” Quinn says quickly. “It's...” she trails off, looking over her shoulder as if she's afraid she's being followed.

“Is it...the thing? The thing that gave you your powers?” Her eyes meet mine, and there's something in them that I've seen before. A mixture of relief and loss. It was the same look she gave me when she learned that the illness that had plagued her since childhood was gone.

“You make it sound like I'm a superhero. The things I could do before...I doubt I'd be able to do them again. I lost my connection to the presence after the rocket hit.”

“How do you know it's gone?”

“I tried reaching out to it again. I wanted to fly, to see if I could find everyone. But...I couldn't.”

“So...whatever it was got...used up? No more superpowers?”

“A lot less superpowers,” she clarifies. “I constantly feel...hollow. Incomplete. Like the most important part of me got taken away.”

“What do you mean?” Michelle asks.

Quinn draws away from me, turning back toward the sea. “I'm so sorry, everyone. I remember everything...What I did...what I felt when it was controlling me. The Island's Heart is broken into two halves. The presence wanted to find them desperately.”

“That would explain...a few things,” I say thoughtfully. “Then we need to get back the piece Rourke took and try to find the rest of it.”

“...We do?” Diego asks, startled.

“The Heart contains so much energy. More than you could imagine. If Rourke gets both halves, he'll be able to alter time however he wants.” Quinn clutches her chest, staggering a little. “It's like I'm chained to it. And anytime it pulls me, it hurts.”

“We gotta fix this,” Jake murmurs.

“It's okay,” Diego says, trying and failing to cover his anxiety. “Everything's gonna be alright. I'm sure there's something we can do...right?”

“There is,” Estela says firmly. “We can start by getting the other half before Rourke does.”

Varyyn nods. “Agreed. The Hydra has no right to command the Heart.”

“How would we find it, though?” I ask. “It wasn't exactly a cakewalk getting to the first half at Elyys'tel.”

“...I think I can bring us to its location,” Quinn says.

Behind us, Malatesta growls, crossing his arms over his chest. He is clearly not pleased by the direction of this conversation. Yvonne rolls her eyes.

“Zut alors, Mal, are you truly so thick-headed?”

“I don't care what kind of bet we made! This is still my ship! You lot won't be using it for your nonsense!”

“Mon dieu, I really cannot believe you! In any case, this is not your ship anymore! We are going to help Alodia's friend whether you like it or not.”

“So it's a 'we' now, Yvie? Since when did you reduce yourself to traipsing about with children?”

“Watch it, Davy Groans!” Jake snaps. “You're a little outnumbered here.”

Malatesta puffs his chest, swaggering up to Jake, who draws himself up to his full height and locks eyes with the pirate. Yvonne stomps her boot against the deck.

“Arrete!” she snaps. Suddenly, her expression changes. She strolls up to Malatesta, her hips swaying. Jake raises an eyebrow as she gets between him and the pirate, laying a hand on the blond man's chest and easing him back.

“I think I like where this is going.”

“I think you'll want to cooperate with mes amis enfants, Mal.”

Malatesta turns his impressive height on Yvonne, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “Oh? And what makes you say that?”

Yvonne grasps his lapels, pulling him down to match her short stature and brings her lips to his ear. I can't make out what she says, but Malatesta's eyes go wide.

“You wouldn't dare! You detest me!”

“Perhaps, just perhaps, I could be persuaded...”

As the two of them begin exchanging furtive remarks in whispered French, the rest of us watch in dumbfounded silence.

“You could cut the tension out here with a curved blade,” Diego remarks. Finally, Malatesta raises his sour gaze, pinning it on the rest of us.

“All right, we'll have it your way, but you'll follow my instructions all the way there! This is a pirate ship, not a play pen!”

Jake grins, saluting him. “Aye aye, Cap'n Crunch.”

As conversation resumes buzzing around me, I inch over to Yvonne. “So, what did you say to him to make him change his mind,” I ask under my breath.

Yvonne merely winks at me. “I never kiss and tell.”

Malatesta grumbles under his breath, pulling a flask from his coat and gulping its contents. “God help me.” He glares daggers at us all. “All right, beds are down below. Witch, stay put for navigation. Out with all of you!”

Quinn heads over to the helm and begins turning it with all her diminutive might. She smiles down at us. “Welcome aboard, everyone!”

On the ship's lower level, we find a series of crude bunks and hammocks with patchy blankets and shapeless pillows sewn from canvas and stuffed with feathers. Jake climbs into a corner bunk and holds out his arms to me.

“Room for another, Princess.” I smile and remove my armor before curling up with him. I'm asleep the moment my head hits the rough, shapeless pillow.

The next thing I am aware of is the sound of splashing, followed by Raj's yelping voice.

“No! Don't eat me! I know my name is on the menu, but that doesn't mean...Oh...I was asleep.”

I lift my head, blinking sleep from my eyes. Jake seems to have gotten up already, but Malatesta is there, glaring down at me, Raj, and Michelle, a wooden bucket full of seawater in his hand.

“Up with you!” he barks. “There's work to be done! This is a pirate ship, not a lodge!”

“I'm up! I'm up!” Raj answers with just a hint of a whine in his voice. “Geez, dude.”

Michelle rolls out of her hammock, inching away from Malatesta, eying the bucket in his hand. “Rude,” she mutters.

Malatesta turns to me, holding up the bucket threateningly. “And you, baby lioness? Will you also need encouragement?”

I scowl defiantly at him. “Don't you dare. It's hard enough to keep my hair nice these days without you dumping seawater on it!”

“An attack on Alodia's hair is an attack on my hair!” Michelle adds. “And you don't attack my hair.”

“Out!” Malatesta bellows. “All of ye!”

“I'll be right up,” I tell Raj and Michelle. “Just need to re-armor. Never know when we're gonna run into trouble in this place.”

I carefully secure the amber pieces into place and wander up onto the deck, where the others are milling about. Diego spots me and grins.

“Ahoy, Allie. Looks like it's a pirate's life for us!”

I grin back. “Your lifelong dream.”

“Scrawny one!” Malatesta snaps. “I told ye to clean those scuppers!”

Diego sighs. “Yeah, okay, but you never explained what scuppers even are...”

“Bonjour, Alodia!” Yvonne's voice comes from above me, and I look up to see her in the crow's nest, her legs dangling over the edge, a spyglass in her hand. I wave back to her before wandering over to the prow, where Jake and Raj are organizing bundles of rope. Jake is demonstrating an elaborate, many-looped knot, his calloused fingers moving deftly and surely.

“It's not that hard, Pineapple Express. You're overthinking it.”

“How are you so good at this?” Raj grumbles.

“Naval Academy taught a little, but I kept learning as a hobby. You'd be surprised at some of the situations where it comes in handy.”

“Is that so?” I can't resist asking. He starts a little at the sound of my voice, and I see a blush creep over his cheeks.

“Oh, Princess! Didn't see you there.”

I grin wickedly. “Please, I'd love to hear about all the practical applications of tying rope.”

Jake coughs into his fist. He looks like he's about to reply, but a cry from Yvonne above us interrupts him.

“Mes amis! You'll want to see this!” She descends the ladder down to the deck in a few graceful bounds and rushes over to hand me the spyglass, pointing towards the shore. I raise the glass to my eye and look in the direction she's indicating. My heart drops, splashing into my stomach. Sean and Craig are on the shore, bound, gagged, on their knees and surrounded by Arachnid troops.

“Sean and Craig.” My voice quivers. “And Arachnid. They've been captured.”

“You see them?” Michelle asks anxiously.

“Let me see.” I pass the spyglass to Estela. She peers through it and frowns. “...Did you see who else is there?”

She hands the spyglass back to me, and I look again, letting the lens drift away from my captive friends. As two more familiar faces come into view, I wince.

“It's Aleister. ...And Mike.” I yelp when I see them board a military speedboat. The other soldiers pull Sean and Craig to their feet and drag them toward the vessel. “They're getting on a boat!”

“Not on my damned watch!” Jake growls. “Let's board them. Now.”

I lower the spyglass and turn to Jake, knowing my worry is reflected on my face. “Jake, Mike almost killed us before. ...Are you sure we can stop him?”

“I can't just not try, Alodia. I can't.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Just focus on getting Sean and Craig to safety. I'll handle Mike.”

Malatesta clears his throat impatiently. “Quit yer gawking! There's much to be done!”

“Gawking?!” Quinn whirls on him, her sapphire eyes snapping with rare fury. “Our friends have been kidnapped! Are you really gonna try to stop us from rescuing them?!”

“Stop you? Miss Witch, I'm going to help you!” He smirks. “This is a pirate ship, not a peace vessel. You wanna raid a ship? Ye're speaking my language.”

Yvonne chuckles. “Nice to see you in bonne humeur for once, you sludge-eating flatfish.”

“Don't play nice, you conniving harpy! You'll not take more booty than me! Miss Witch, take us starboard!”

“Aye, aye!” Quinn agrees, dashing for the helm. “Changing course!”

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to find Yvonne beside me. “If you are joining us on a raid, ma chere, you should fly our colors.”

“...What?”

“That beautiful armor is more befitting of a knight than a pirate. Besides, it is too heavy for a battle upon La Mer. Come.”

She grasps my hand and pulls me across the deck to where a plain chest sits between a couple barrels. She swiftly kicks the chest open, revealing garments of soft muslin and tailored leather.

“Woah...”

“Remove those amber pieces, quickly,” she orders me. “I'll find you something suitable.” She rummages around, yanking out several pieces and draping them over her arm, while I get out of my armor as fast as I can manage. Within a few minutes, I've swapped armor and the leggings and tank top I had been wearing underneath for a linen shirt, leather bodice, breeches, and boots. I look myself over and grin at my friends. I have to admit, I like the look.

“Arrr, me hearties!” I crow.

Diego laughs. “Yaaas! Jack Sparrow's got nothing on you!”

“Color me impressed,” Michelle agrees. “You somehow manage to make ren faire clothes look good.”

Jake looks up and does a double take, his jaw dropping. I waggle my eyebrows.

“Like what you see, sailor?”

“Damn, Princess. You can board my ship any time.”

I take just enough time to wink at him before hurrying to the side of the ship and raising the spyglass to my eye again. Aleister's narrow gaze is pinned on The Dorado. He turns to shout orders to the soldiers. The troops take up formation on the speedboat and raise their guns. The engine revs to life.

“They're trying to run for it! We'll never catch them in this ship!”

“Aye? Then I'd say it's time to even the odds. Miss Witch, bring us in! Yvonne, catch the sail to the wind!” Malatesta catches my eye and points to a pile of giant chains and a spear tip the size of my head. “Little Lioness, hook the spearhead to the boom chains, and then load it into the cannon!”

It takes me a couple of seconds, but I manage to hook the spearhead onto the heavy chain, and load it into the cannon. Under Malatesta's approving eye, I fasten the first chainlink onto the barrel.

Diego whistles. “You're a natural at this pirate thing, Allie.”

Malatesta prepares the flint rocks, looking down at me. “That was just the first test, Little Lioness. Once I light it, aim at the boat's broadside.” He whips around to the others. “Cover your ears and hold onto something!”

He strikes the flint, bringing the fuse to life. I throw my weight into holding the cannon's aim steady at the military ship's flank.

“There?”

“Aye, we'll make a salty dog out of ye yet! Now hold on!”

A deafening explosion rips through the air. The recoil sends me sprawling across the deck as the spearhead launches from the cannon with chains trailing behind like a kite tail. I scramble to my feet, watching anxiously. Just when it looks like the speedboat is getting too far ahead, the sharp blade pierces its metal-clad hull. The military ship lurches wildly as it's snared by the boom chain. Through the ringing in my ears, I start to make out shouting from the other ship. On the deck of The Dorado, everyone springs into action, rushing to prepare for boarding.

Malatesta claps me on the back. “Well done, lass! Now, I got three things to tell ye about raiding. One, don't die.”

Arachnid soldiers are taking aim at the boom chain, but their bullets ricochet harmlessly off the heavy links. Raj has found an armory cabinet and is pulling out swords and daggers, sliding them to the others.

“So what if they got guns! We're gonna slice, dice, and julienne them! ...And that just made me hungry...”

“Raj!” I call. “Over here!” He slides a cutlass over to me. I scoop it up and take a few practice swings before sliding it into the sheath at my belt.

“Secondly,” Malatesta continues, apparently unphased by the interruption, “the sea's as much a weapon as any blade. Use her to your advantage.”

The stretch of water between the two sea vessels is closing quickly. Jake pulls out a rope net covered in iron weights.

“We can subdue a bunch of them with this!”

“And three,” Malatesta concludes, raising his voice to address all of us, “TAKE NO PRISONERS!”

“Except, you know, our friends!” Diego clarifies hastily. “Who are prisoners. We want them.”

“Come, mes amis! A l'abordage!” Yvonne and Malatesta grab free-hanging ropes. Jake, Estela, Raj, and I immediately leap up to do the same. Looking down at the vast expanse of water beneath me, feeling the wind whip at my hair, I feel my heart wedge in my throat for a moment. Steeling myself, I open my mouth to let out a battle cry.

“For Sean and Craig!” I scream, taking a wild leap. For a moment, I'm free-falling. Then, the rope pulls taut and I swing towards the Arachnid speedboat. When I can see something solid beneath me, I let go, dropping gracefully onto the rear deck. Sean and Craig have been lashed to the rails on the far side of the deck. They cry out around their gags when they see us, struggling against their bonds.

“Enemy sighted!” I hear the modulated voice of an Arachnid soldier, and the click of weapons being readied and aimed.

“Stop!” Aleister's voice is shrill with alarm. “Don't shoot! All of you stand down!”

“What?!” one soldier cries. “We are literally being attacked!”

Aleister glares at the soldier, his breath coming through gritted teeth. “I represent Everett Rourke here, and I order you to stand down!”

The masked soldiers hesitate a moment, looking between each other. Finally, they lower their weapons. Aleister turns to stare at us, shock and disbelief plain on his face.

“Y-you're alive...you're all alive...”

“No thanks to you,” Estela snaps.

“Father said you tried to escape. That you were all gunned down. That you'd all rather die than be his prisoners.”

“Get a grip, Malfoy!” Jake growls. “For how smart you act, you're good at playing dumb when it's convenient!”

“That's not--”

“Think about it! Your father has lied to you your entire life. Why would this be any different?!”

“Aleister,” I say softly. “Rourke tried to kill us the moment you left with Grace.”

My words seem to fall like a physical blow. Aleister recoils, trembling. “I...I didn't know,” he whispers. “I swear. I'm so sorry!”

“Like hell you are!” Estela snarls. “If you're so sorry, why are our friends tied up and held at gunpoint?!”

Aleister's eyes dart between us as if searching for an escape route. He runs his hands through his hair. “It...it's complicated...”

Mike strides up beside Aleister, his bionic eye glinting menacingly in the sunlight. “Sir. The hostages are our first priority.”

I feel Jake faltering beside me. “Aw, Mike,” he says plaintively. “You'd never go along with this! Is any of you left in there? Wake up!”

Mike is still as a statue. Only his arm moves, arching slowly upward to level a gun at Jake. Impulsively, I get between them. Malatesta draws a pistol, aiming it at Mike.

“This is an awful lot of talking for a raid. We fighting or not?”

“Alodia!” Aleister looks at me with desperation in his eyes. “You're the leader here. Where you go, the others will follow. You know that, right? ...Walk away. Please. Just walk away. I don't want to hurt you.”

Still planted firmly between Jake and Mike, I put my hand on the hilt of my cutlass. “I don't leave without Sean and Craig.”

The desperation in his eyes gives way to heartbreak. “...You're a damned fool, Alodia.” Then the heartbreak turns to cold resignation. “So be it. Guards! Capture them! Keep them alive!”

The troops immediately take up defensive positions around Aleister, Sean, and Craig.

“Yvie,” Malatesta murmurs. “Ye still got your perfume?”

“I never leave shore without it.” From the pouch at her waist, she pulls out a small ball with a pin in it. Malatesta takes it, bites the pin, and tosses it towards the deck. As it rolls at the soldiers' feet, a smoke screen starts to pour out of it, spreading rapidly.

“Stay together!” one soldier cries. Through the haze, two fists that crackle with electricity rapidly materialize.

“Ready to dance, kid?” a feminine voice growls behind the mask in front of me. The tossing waves throw The Dorado into the side of the Arachnid vessel. As the deck tilts beneath my feet and I stumble into one of the box-shaped objects mounted on the deck, a metal pail rolls across the deck and taps my ankle. At that moment, Malatesta's voice echoes in my mind: ...the sea is a weapon...

The Arachnid soldier recovers and leaps at me to throw an electric fist into my face. I drop down, evading her high-aimed punch, and sweep my leg at her feet. As the ship lurches again, the soldier is flung into the railing. I press the advantage, grabbing her by the ankle and shifting my weight to flip her into the water. I hear a muffled cheer that I recognize as Craig's voice.

The wind rising off the sea quickly disperses the smoke cloud, revealing a chaotic battlefield. Diego and Varyyn have made it across. Varyyn climbs towards the helm to engage Mike, and a flurry of expert blows and dodges fly between them.

“As the humans say,” Varyyn snarls, “'Get wrecked'!”

“I've never been more proud,” Diego calls up to him with an encouraging smile.

Towards the prow, Yvonne and Malatesta stand back to back, peppering the soldiers with pistol blasts. It seems they've brought at least half a dozen pistols each.

“When was the last time we did this, Yvie? The Santo Domingo rum heist?”

“Oui, that was a good night. And good rum!”

On the rear deck, Estela bends backwards to dodge a punch. Jake closes his hands around a fist and sends the soldier reeling. Raj hides behind them, clutching the weighted net. Then, there are two soldiers in front of me, cutting off my view of the rest of the ship. One has a beatstick and the other a sleek, modern pistol. The beatstick flies towards my head, and I barely manage to duck under it in time.  I leap back to my feet, only to realize I've popped up too quickly when the blunt weapon swings back around and catches me hard on the shoulder. I yelp in pain, stumbling.

“Alodia!” I hear Jake's frantic voice answering my cry.

“Jake, flank 'em!” I scream.

“On it, Princess!” Jake rolls under a soldier, and Estela spears her down. Keeping low, he flings a dagger that catches the pistol-weilding Arachnid in the hand. The soldier cries out, dropping his weapon. I leap at the one with the beatstick, knocking the weapon from his hand. I throw my whole weight into slamming the hilt of my sword into his head and he slumps to the deck.

“Allie, look out!” Diego's voice makes me turn. Beaten back by Varyyn, Mike has leveled his gun at me. I prepare to dive, but Aleister shoves the gun from Mike's hand.

“Do not kill her!” he shouts. I continue toward Sean and Craig, pulling a knife from my belt. I cut their gags off first. They both cough and stretch their jaws.  

“Alodia!” Sean gasps. “You're here!”

“Yeah Alodia is!” Craig cries. “We owe you big time!”

I glance briefly back at Jake, Yvonne, Malatesta, and Varyyn, covering me while I free the two men. I cut through the ropes around their wrists as quickly as possible.

“Don't mention it.” I cut Craig free and start on Sean. “You guys okay?”

Sean's bonds snap open and he pulls his hands free. In the same moment, his eyes widen. “Duck!” he yelps.

I drop into a crouch. Above me, Sean catches an Arachnid soldier by the baton and twists it from their hands, bringing it back to connect solidly with their head. The soldier hits the deck and doesn't move. Sean looks down at me, breathing hard.

“Alodia...I'll never let you down again.”

I blink, startled enough that I almost forget where I am. “Sean--”

“Shit!” Jake's frustrated cry distracts me. I leap back to my feet and immediately notice the second speedboat racing towards us, laden with more Arachnid troops. “Jesus, how many people did Lundgren recruit?! Being Arachnid used to mean something!”

“Take Aleister!” Estela shouts. “They won't harm us if we have him!”

Yvonne aims her pistol at Aleister and gestures with the barrel at The Dorado. “Cross over to our ship!” she barks.

Aleister looks helplessly at her. “I've already tried to tell you--”

“Va! Tout suite!”

Aleister sighs, but however reluctantly, he jumps the narrowing gap between the two vessels. With Yvonne covering us, we manage to escape back to The Dorado. By the time I reach the deck, Michelle is already tying Aleister up. He yelps in protest as she pulls the ropes tight.

“Th-that hurts!”

“Good!” she growls.

“Michelle!”

Michelle's eyes snap up at the sound of Sean's voice. Forgetting Aleister for a moment, she rushes over to throw her arms around his neck. He catches her up in a tight embrace.

“Sean! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I'm okay. Are you?”

“Guys, we gotta go!” Craig shouts. “The other ship is coming!”

“We're not goin' anywhere without Mike!” Jake's voice is a desperate snarl.

“Uh...Jake...?” Diego's voice trembles as he points to a figure hovering in the sky. “I think he feels the same way.”

Mike's jetpack lowers him onto The Dorado's deck. He scowls at us, his bionic eye flashing in the sunlight.

“Return Aleister to the Arachnid vessel.”

“Or what?” Jake asks lowly, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Mike answers by engaging his jetpack to rush at him, but this time Jake is faster. He ducks and tackles Mike from the side, grappling him to the deck. They roll together, trading haphazard blows.

“Alodia!” Estela hisses. “Say something! Stop him! The longer this fight drags out...”

I don't need her to finish that sentence. I know I should tell Jake to let Mike go. Promise we'll get him back next time. But I can't. I of all people can't ask the man I love to leave his best friend.

“Jake! Make him remember!”

Jake rolls on top of Mike and pins his arms down. “Mike, listen to me! Remember that time in basic training when we filled the shower heads with sand and we had latrine duty for weeks? ...Or...how about that time we got our C.O.'s radio stuck on the kids' channel and had to listen to Dora the Explorer for two hours on loop...?” Mike doesn't seem to react. I feel my heart breaking as Jake continues, his voice getting tighter and more desperate. “...Or the crap Lundgren did? Or how he almost killed us for finding him out? Or my! Fucking! Name?!”

He pounds the floorboards beside Mike's head, howling in agony and frustration. Mike keeps still, not even flinching. Sobs bubble up in Jake's chest and make his shoulders heave. He looks just about ready to give up. He even rises to his feet and starts to turn away.

“...Grandpa...” Mike's voice is soft, but it gets Jake's attention. He inhales sharply, turning back.

“...Mike...? Mike, can you hear m--” With lightning speed, Mike pops upright and throws his fist squarely into Jake's chest with enough force to send him crashing at my feet.

“Jake!” His name comes out of me in a terrified shriek as I drop to my knees beside him. I feel my veins turn to ice as he curls toward me, coughing violently and spraying the deck with flecks of blood. Michelle rushes over to kneel at his other side.

“Mouse, stop!” Aleister cries. “That's enough!”

“Jake, can you roll onto your back?” Michelle murmurs. “Alodia, help him. And get his jacket off him.”

“No more time,” I hear Mike say flatly. Jake moans as I help him out of his jacket. “We must go.”

The others cluster protectively around Jake as I cradle him on my lap, clutching his hand while Michelle lifts his shirt to examine his ribs. Taking advantage of our distraction, Mike moves to grab Aleister, cutting through the binding around his wrists with a small knife.

“Wait!” Sean cries. He steps forward, staring at Aleister.

“Sean, what are you doing?!” I yelp.

He doesn't answer me, looking into Aleister's eyes. “W-we never spoke much, but...I know what it's like to live in someone's shadow. You don't owe your father anything, Aleister. His praise isn't worth this.” He holds out his hand. Aleister stares at it in disbelief.

“Wh-what...?”

“Come with us. Try to make up for your mistakes. Help us win this.”

“Sean!” Michelle snaps. “Two seconds ago, he had you at gunpoint!”

“You sure picked...kff...a great time to have Stockholm Syndrome, P-Pretty Boy,” Jake gasps.

But I have images in my mind of a small idol forged from amber, shaped like a priest with the head of a cobra. And of a puddle of blood trickling off the edge of a small pedestal. Aleister's blood. The Endless had an idol for him, too. If he had died at MASADA, I never would have passed the test at the Threshold. Traitor or not, he is one of us.

“Sean's right,” I say. “Aleister, come with us. I know you regret what you did, and it's not too late to set things right.”

“...You...you would give me another chance? Just like that?” Wetness gleams at the corners of his eyes. Sean smiles gratefully at me.

“I knew you'd understand, Alodia.”

“Are you kidding me?” Michelle yelps. Jake shakes his head hard.

“J-just because he didn't...sh-shoot us...doesn't mean he didn't...ungh...load the gun! I ain't buyin'...any of this!”

Mike grabs Aleister's arm. The other Arachnid boat is waiting in the choppy waters nearby.

“We must go now.”

Aleister's shoulders slump. “...It's too late, anyway. The die is cast.” But there's a change in his expression now. He meets my eyes, and I hold his gaze as he grasps the straps of Mike's suit. As the two of them hover toward the approaching speedboat, Aleister still doesn't look away. As he vanishes from sight, I am left with the impression of remorse. Jake slumps in my arms, coughing weakly.

“...Mike...” he moans. As Michelle presses on the angry bruise forming on his ribs, a cry of pain catches in his throat, turning into a spasm of coughing that brings up another glob of blood. His grip on my hand is hard enough to hurt.

“Jake, you may have a bruised lung,” Michelle says grimly. “I need you to stay put for now.”

“Just try to rest,” I murmur, brushing sweat-damp strands of hair off his ashen forehead. He looks agonizingly up at me, a film of tears coating his eyes. “We'll find him, Jake. We'll find him and fix him. I promise.”

“Alodia, help me prop up his left side. It might help him breathe easier.” I do as Michelle tells me, piling discarded cloth under his left side, wincing at every pained noise he makes.

“...Will he be okay?”

“We'll keep him under close watch,” she replies, which does not reassure me much. “Jake, I know it hurts, but I need you to keep coughing periodically, deep as you can. The last thing you need is pneumonia setting in.”

Jake doesn't answer directly. He closes his eyes, and I feel his grip on my hand tighten subtly. “Hey, Maybelline...can you take a look at Princess's shoulder? She took a pretty nasty blow there.”

“Which shoulder?”

“What? Oh...the right.” Michelle comes over to examine it. “It's fine, though. I mean, it's not—ungh!” I grunt a little, wincing as she presses on the spot. Jake releases my hand to let Michelle manipulate my shoulder. For a moment, the only sounds are the lapping of waves against the ship's hull, Jake's labored breathing, and my own suppressed gasps. Then Raj speaks up.

“Uh...did we just successfully rescue Sean and Craig?”

Craig laughs. “Buddy, I've never been happier to see you! Come here!” The two embrace wildly, slapping each other's backs.

Yvonne and Malatesta have already begun raiding the abandoned vessel still chained to The Dorado.

“Yvie, ye better not cheat me! We loot together!”

“Mal, do you think I would steal from you? Because you're right.”

“...You'll be all right, Alodia,” Michelle murmurs. “It's just a bad bruise. It's not dislocated or broken or anything.”

“Thanks...”

I turn my attention back to Jake, stroking his hair. He opens his eyes to meet my gaze, but he doesn't speak. Michelle stands and wanders over to the side of the ship where the others are gathering, and embraces Sean again. He hugs her back.

“Sean, I'm so glad you're safe.”

“Same to you,” he says. “We got a lot to catch up on. But...I'd like to check in with Alodia first...”

Hearing my name, I lift my head to meet Sean's eyes. Michelle smiles up at him.

“Go on. But we're catching up later. I'm holding you to that.”

“I wouldn't expect any less.” He gives her another squeeze before making his way over to me. I stand up, holding out my arms for a hug, but he takes me gently by the shoulders instead, studying my face as if he can't actually believe I'm standing in front of him. I shift a little awkwardly.

“...I'm not a ghost, Sean.”

“You're really here. You really made it.”

“Remarkably, yeah.”

“...Last I saw of you, you were falling into the ocean.”

“And you were on a crashing helicopter. ...And Quinn had just been blown up. ...Believe me, Sean, I'm just as shocked to see all five of you mostly unscathed.”

Sean swallows hard, tears gathering in his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Alodia...”

I blink. “...Uh...for what?”

“What do you mean, for what?! I wasn't there for you when you fell out of the chopper! I mean...I didn't have a plan. I couldn't protect everyone.”

I take a deep breath, gathering my patience. I love Sean as much as the rest of the Catalysts, but I can't help but wonder when he's going to get it into his head that he doesn't have to be the hero all the time. That some things are outside his control, especially on this island...

“Sean, seriously. It's not your fault.”

“Guys...” Craig pipes up, his expression of elation giving way to worry. “You haven't seen Zahra yet, have you?”

Everyone goes quiet for a moment, the momentary elation of our reunion dampened by the weight of the fact that we are still incomplete. We all shake our heads. I drift back to Jake's side to take his hand again. Craig's gaze falls to the deck. Michelle reaches out to rub his shoulder comfortingly.

“Zahra's the smartest of all of us, Craig. I'm sure she's out there.”

“She better be. 'Cause if she's not, Rourke is gonna pay.” His expression falters slightly as a wobble enters his voice. “I-I know she's tough, but after all these weeks, she might--”

“Hold up!” Michelle interrupts. “Weeks?! It's only been a few days for us!”

“It's been a month since I've seen all of you,” Quinn says.

“Wait, we've all been experiencing different wavelengths of time within the island?” I ask incredulously.

“Have we ruled out being in the Matrix?” Diego quips. “Or is that still a possibility?”

“Something's changed,” Sean murmurs. “La Huerta wasn't like this before.”

Yvonne, combing through her plunder nearby, catches my eye and gives me a meaningful look. I shrink a little from her gaze, feeling my stomach clench. I know what she's trying to communicate to me, and I know she's right. I just wish she weren't. I take a deep breath.

“Look...there's something I should probably tell you guys...” But I trail off when I notice Quinn slumped and gasping against the railing, her face twisted with pain.

“It's...happening again...” she groans through clenched teeth. Michelle and Estela hurry to brace her. Concerned, Jake lifts his head, and I help him sit up.

“Is Quinn okay?” Sean asks anxiously.

“Not exactly,” Diego answers grimly. “It's actually why we were here. A piece of the Island's Heart is nearby. And when it calls to Quinn...it hurts her.”

“It...it wants me to go...there.” Quinn aims a quivering finger at a large atoll along the coast.

Malatesta looks where she's pointing and shakes his head. “Reefs are too dangerous to ford with the ship. We'll have to send her in a rowboat.”

Quinn looks at him sharply, eyes widening. “S-send me...alone?” she asks, her voice small.

“Nobody goes alone,” Estela replies firmly. “I'll go with her.”

“You're both basically sisters to me,” Michelle declares, “and sisters don't split up.”

“If you're all going, I wanna go, too,” Raj chimes in. As Diego, Sean, and Craig echo everyone else's sentiments, Malatesta sighs in irritation.

“A tamed monkey could do this task alone! Why're all of you going?!”

“Well, you know I'm going with everyone,” I say, ignoring Malatesta.

“Good,” Diego says, grinning at me.

“Are you having me on?!” Malatesta squawks. “What manner of lily-livered, hand-holdin'--”

“We all lost each other once already,” Estela snaps. “We're not splitting up just after finding each other again.”

We all turn to Estela with raised eyebrows. We were all thinking it, of course, we just didn't expect her to be the one to say it. She clears her throat, blushing deeply. Jake smirks.

“Guys, I think Katniss is finally opening up to us.”

“Shut up, cabrón,” she mutters, even as a smile plays around her mouth.

“Basically, what she's saying is that we're all in this together,” Diego says. “Nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”

“Two boats should fit all of us,” Jake remarks. “I can swim down to ge--” He cuts himself off with a cough that turns into another, and then a third. The fourth one brings up another bloody glob, and he slumps a little in my arms, groaning. With the edge of my sleeve, I gently blot sweat off his forehead. Michelle shakes her head grimly.

“Jake, in your condition, the last place you should be right now is underwater.”

Craig claps Sean on the shoulder. “Looks like you're up, brah!” But Sean's expression suddenly resembles a deer in headlights.

“I...I don't know if I'm at my best right now...”

“Then I'll go with you.” I meet Sean's eyes. “You haven't let anyone down, Sean. But if you need some support right now, I'm offering. We can handle this together.”

He looks at me for a long moment. His eyes shift over to Quinn, still supported between Michelle and Estela, then down towards Jake, breathing laboriously in my arms. He meets my eyes again and smiles a little.

“Spoken like a born leader.”

“Takes one to know one,” I counter.

“Let us depart, then!” Yvonne calls enthusiastically. “Prepare the rowboats!”

“Well you're not leaving me behind!” Malatesta snarls, his face the color of raw meat. “I was promised a crew, and I can't trust you not to galavant off on your own! And we better make it quick! While the sun's still high!” He marches over to yank a tarp off a pair of rowboats on the deck, muttering curses under his breath.

* * *

The sea under the boats is gentle as Malatesta and Yvonne row us into the atoll, following Quinn's directions. We can't help but take a moment to marvel at the kaleidoscope of colorful fish, coral, and plant life shimmering underneath the water's surface.

“Welcome to Neptune Cove,” Malatesta announces. “A great place to show a wench a good time.”

“Poor wench,” Yvonne teases.

I frown. ...Neptune Cove... Something about that name tugs at my memory. I feel certain I've heard it before, but at the moment, I can't place it.

“Broskies, are you seeing these colors?” Craig breathes.

“I've heard some fish have psychadelic effects when you eat 'em!” Raj remarks, grinning.

Diego laughs. “Guys, look! I found Nemo!”

“Is that your people's name for that fish?” Varyyn asks. “How fascinating.”

“I wonder if I could use some fresh-cut seaweed in a facial,” Michelle muses. Sean cranes his neck over the edge and whistles lowly.

“How far down does it go? I can't even see the bottom.”

“You'll see soon enough, Michael Phelps,” Jake quips. As jagged coral formations start to catch along the undersides of the rowboats, Yvonne and Malatesta draw the oars inside.

“This appears to be the furthest we can take you,” Yvonne remarks. Quinn, huddled up in Michelle's arms, looks up at the rest of us. Her face is pale and tight with pain.

“It's definitely close by,” she confirms, her voice weak. “Feels like it wants to rip me through the boat.”

“That's a deep reef,” Jake remarks. “You got anything to help you breathe underwater?” I can't tell if he's talking to me or Quinn, but I give him a quick kiss.

“You just worry about breathing up here, Top Gun.”

As Sean strips off his shirt, I pull off my boots and bodice. After a moment, I cast aside the shirt and breeches, too. I don't want to sit in wet clothes all day.

“Ready, Alodia?”

I nod. “Ready when you are.”

Balancing on the edge of the rowboat, I arch my arms over my head and dive into the reef. The water is pleasantly warm. A few seconds later, tepid pulses hit me as Sean dives in beside me. I open my eyes to let them adjust to the saltwater, and I can't help but take a moment to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. There's a perfect circle of sea anemones, fronds of jagged coral, filled with deep crevices, and a peculiar sand dune. I surface for a moment to meet eyes with Sean.

“Should we just go for it?” he asks uncertainly.

“Nothing else we can do, I think.”

I take a deep breath and dive again, going for the sand dune. Sean follows me, taking my hand to help pull me down faster. I stretch out a hand and plunge my fingers into the sand. A golden cloud of sand billows up, obscuring my vision, and I grope blindly. My fingers brush something solid, and I grasp it, just as my lungs are starting to burn. I push off the sea floor and hurtle back towards the surface, breaching with a deep breath. Sean surfaces beside me, disappointment plain on his face.

“...We didn't find it, did we?”

I look at the object in my hand. It's not the Island's Heart, to be sure. It appears to be a brass padlock, aged and corroded by saltwater. I turn it over, and find some words etched into the back, just barely readable: No land, no sea, no one will keep us apart. Flora & Eugene, 1920.

“Huh. It's unlocked.”

“...It's not the Heart...” Sean punches the water in frustration, sending up a splash.

“Easy, Sean. It's nearby here. We can try again.”

“I can't!”

I sigh. “Hey, Sean--”

“I said I can't, okay?! I can't do it! I can't do anything without screwing up and someone getting hurt! The whole time, I've tried to be the Q.B. Call the shots. Do everything right! And where are we now?! At the end of the world, some of us missing, some of us hurt...”

“Sean, this isn't your fault. I don't care how strong or how tough you think you are. You can't shoulder the blame for things that were out of your control.”

“...I...”

“You didn't know we were going to be stuck on this island, or about Rourke, or any of this.”

“...I could have done more. Made better split decisions.”

“Oh my god, will you cut yourself a break?!” My voice rises to a shout. Partly because I am losing patience with him, but also because he has responded to tough love in the past. “We're all out of our depths here! Even Jake and Estela—an elite military pilot and an honest-to-god revolutionary—have been groping in the dark most of the time we've been here! Every day, we're doing all we can just to survive. And somehow, we're doing it. So stop blaming yourself for everything and come help me find a magical rock with space-time powers, please?”

Sean looks away. His cheeks are wet, but I can't tell if it's seawater or tears. He is quiet for a very long time. Long enough for me to figure out that tough love wasn't going to cut it this time.

“...You don't understand, Alodia. Ever since I kicked my dad's abusive, alcoholic ass out of the house, I've done everything to carry the load. I didn't want to be a burden on anyone. Not like he was. But now, after all that's happened...you saving my ass, keeping us going...I just don't know how to keep pretending like I'm good at this.”

I stare at him for a long moment, entirely lost for words. In all this time, I have tried again and again to make him understand. I have scolded. I have soothed. But somehow, I cannot reach the heart of him. I cannot reach the depths of his fears. Just as I feel frustration and despair creeping into my heart, the water around us begins to shimmer. I inhale sharply.

“Sean, do you see that?”

Beside us, a ghostly, featureless head breaches the surface of the water.

“Alodia, get behind me!” Sean pushes himself between me and the ghost. Unfazed, the figure withdraws something small and shiny and holds it out to Sean. It's a gold-plated watch.

“That's...not possible! It doesn't exist anymore...” The figure imploringly pushes the watch at Sean.

“What is that, Sean?”

“It's...my father's watch...” He looks helplessly at me. “Alodia, what do I do here? Do I...take it?”

“Take it. I think it will help.” When he still hesitates, I take it myself and hold it out to him. A part of me thinks it may only work with both of us touching it, anyway. Sure enough, as soon as he touches it, the world flashes white.

We are in a training room somewhere, with rubber floors, floruescent lights, an array of fitness equipment, and the faint odor of sweat that will probably never fade. Sean, dressed in a purple and black Condors uniform, sits crosslegged on the floor, pouring over the playbooks strewn in front of him.

“If the Seagulls' safety tries what he did last game--” His musing is interrupted by a crisp knock. A short woman wearing a Condors jersey rounds the corner. Sean looks up and smiles.

“Momma!”

The woman's name is Tricia Gayle. I don't question how I know this. She smiles at her son.

“There's my starting quarterback!” Sean stands to pull his mother into an embrace. She laughs. “Hold on, hold on! Lemme get a good look at you.”

She pulls out of his arms and cranes her neck to look up at Sean's face. He grins.

“Look all right?”

“Oh, those cameras won't know what to do with you!” she gushes.

“Well, hopefully they only catch me when I make the good plays.” Tricia steps back, launching into a cheer routine with invisible pompoms.

“Get 'em with a forward drive! Keep that winning streak alive! Get 'em Gayle, give 'em hayle! Goooo, Gayle!”

Sean looks like he's biting his cheek to keep from laughing. “Wow, okay. Did you just mispronounce 'hell' to rhyme with our name?”

“Chant's gotta rhyme somehow,” she replies with a shrug. Sean can't keep the laughter in anymore. Tricia joins him, and the two sink breathlessly down onto a bench. As their laughter dies down, the silence that follows is suddenly heavy. There is worry in Sean's eyes. Tricia puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Coach said you were working too hard. What's wrong, baby?”

Sean sighs. “...I've already had reporters ask me if Dad'll be here. They keep asking about what he's telling me. ...I'm glad we've kept everything under wraps, it's just...I'm trying to be a better man than he was. But it's like I can't stop feeling him over my shoulder.”

“Oh, Sean...” Tricia reaches up to cup his cheek and turn his face towards her. He smiles weakly.

“I know, I know. I'm not Dad. I'm a different person. I get it.”

“But he's a part of you, Sean. Just as I am. You can't just ignore someone that shaped so much of your life. I know you still have his watch in your desk drawer. You deserved so much more from him.”

“Yeah, well, we don't always get what we deserve. But even thinking of letting someone down a fraction of the way he did us...”

She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “You have his strengths, too. He did actually have a few. Do you remember Thanksgiving the first year your dad was gone? How I wouldn't let anyone help me in the kitchen?”

“Oh, do I ever. Especially the trip to the E.R after you dropped the turkey pan on your foot.”

“I wanted to prove to everyone that I was fine without him. That I could do everything for everyone else, and take care of myself. 'What doesn't kill us makes us stronger,' I thought. The truth is, baby, no one is indestructible.” She chuckles ruefully. “My bones sure wished I sucked it up and asked you for help that day.”

He snorts. “I bet.”

“Reporters will say what they want about you. You can't control them. But don't let worrying about your father's mistakes push you into making your own.”

Sean exhales slowly. “Thanks, Momma. I...really needed to hear that.”

“That's why I said it. Just try to relax. Remember this is the beginning. You were the number one draft pick, and you're already defining your own legacy. Most important, remember that you don't have to carry the world on your shoulders. You got plenty of good folks to share the load with.”

Sean pulls her into a tender embrace. “...Thanks, Momma. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Now relax, take a breath, and go win your first game.”

When I find myself back in the ocean again, the sun is sinking low on the horizon. Sean stares at me, dumbfounded.

“...You okay?”

“Alodia, that was...” he swallows hard. “...That was just what I needed.”

He looks down at the watch. For the first time, I notice the inscription on the back: Marcus Gayle. The watch doesn't look like it's going to be able to tell time anymore, but as he clutches it to his chest, Sean smiles at me. I smile back.

“So, you're feeling better?”

“Lots.”

I look over at the ghostly figure, which has started to become hazy. Before it can fade completely, it beckons us down into the shining reef.

“...I think it wants us to follow it. ...I'm gonna do it.”

“Okay,” Sean agrees. “I'm coming too.”

He takes my hand to pull me down again. There is intense light coming from somewhere amid the coral formations. We swim fiercely after the rapidly descending spirit. When I reach the bottom and dare to glance at the source of the light, I catch sight of the shimmering edge of a broken sphere. I grab hold of it and let myself float to the surface.

By then, the sun has set. Stars are starting to appear in the dusky sky. I hold aloft the second half of the Island's Heart triumphantly. Sean stares at it, smiling faintly.

“You found it...”

I grin. “We found it. Give yourself some credit sometimes, huh?”

We dogpaddle back to the rowboats. As we approach, I hold up the Heart again, grinning.

“You did it!” Quinn exclaims.

“We had a little help,” I quip.

“What happened?” Diego asks, helping me into the boat. “From here, it looked like an Electric Light Parade.”

“Hey, if that glorified disco ball wants to show you houw to get to it, I'm not complaining,” Jake drawls.

Malatesta eyes the Heart. “...Mighty fine gem ye've got there.”

“Yes,” Michelle agrees, glaring at him. “And it's not yours.” She holds out her hand for the Heart. I pass it over and let her place it in her backpack. She keeps her eyes locked on Malatesta as she zips it up.

“We should get back to the ship before Rourke's men come searching for it,” Estela declares. Yvonne and Malatesta need no more encouragement. They take up the oars and begin rowing us back to The Dorado. I pull my clothes back on.

“Uh...Doodlejumps?” Raj suddenly speaks up, his voice quivering. “...Friends?” I look over at him. He aims a shaking finger at the water. I look. My blood runs cold. An enormous form is darkening the water underneath us. Through peaks of waves, I can make out dark fins writhing in the deep.

“Oh, no...” I whisper. “No, no, no, please...not now...”

A massive wave pummels the rowboats as a gaping maw rises in front of me, large enough to swallow both boats in a single gulp. Rows upon rows of sword-like teeth crackle with electricity that makes my hair stand on end. The massive serpentine beast is too close for me to make out his shimmering blue face, or his eyeless gaze, but I don't need to. I feel my heart sinking into my belly.

You are Andromeda, a voice in my head taunts. Did you really think you could escape Cetus?