#TAILS IN THE CYCLONE??? LOST MY MIND | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tchallasbabymama · 3 years

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All For Us Chapter 9

Hey y’all, thanks for being patient with me on this one, but it’s finally done! Not to be the bearer of bad news or anything, but there’s only one chapter left (and maybe an epilogue) on our journey with Mira, Erik, and Cupcake. If you’re just here for Killmonger, I have a couple Erik oneshots heading y’all’s way in the next few weeks. Also, check out The Temple. 😉

As always, don’t forget to look at my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Like, comment, and reblog away! 🥰

CW: a little smut

Word Count: 6,481

Erik’s eyes flew open as he bolted upright through the sand that covered his body in his temporary grave. He was in the heart of the temple where the Black Panther ceremony took place, the City of the Dead. The lost prince pulled himself from the sand and brushed the clay-colored sediment from around his eyes as he climbed the stone staircase leading up into the garden of the heart-shaped herb. When he made it to the top, Erik took a deep breath before stepping into the garden. To his surprise, nothing caught on fire like in his previous dreams. His shoulders relaxed as he took another step into the garden, and another, and another until he was face to face with Bast’s statue. A smile took over his face as he knelt at her feet.

“Took you long enough, Jaguar.”

Erik lifted his head, and her celestial glow nearly blinded him as he laid his eyes on the panther goddess once more.

“Long enough for what?”

“For your senses to come back, obviously.” Bast circled him and laid down, licking her paw. “Pretty soon, you won’t have to be asleep to talk to me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Oh, I had nothing to do with it.”

Erik turned to face her and sat back on his heels.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I never took them away. You did.”

“I’m not following.”

“Your guilt blocked your senses, Erik,” she sighed. “You had been holding onto pieces of it, but you finally let it go.”

“I felt guilty for ruining our marriage,” Erik mused aloud.

“But you didn’t, so congratulations,” she said nonchalantly. “That’s not why you’re here, though.”

“Ok, what’s up?”

Bast chuckled at his informality.

“Last time we spoke, I said I would need you to do something for me. I’ve finally made up my mind as to what that is.”

Erik sat with bated breath as he waited for his assignment. For a moment, he was reminded of his military and mercenary days, except this time, he was being given a mission from a goddess. His goddess.

“As you know, Wakanda has never had a Golden Jaguar before. You are an anomaly, but that is a good thing.” She stood up and started walking, making him rush to his feet to follow after her.

“It is?”

“Yes. You know, the good thing about cycles is that with destruction comes rebirth…change. You’ve forced Wakanda to change, and you’ve forced me to think some things over. Truthfully, after the little stunt you almost pulled, I did think about removing your powers. I don’t need to preach about it, though, since you already know all about your wrongdoings, but I heard what you said about your people. We have neglected them, and for that, I have no words of apology that would adequately ease your pain. The Lost Tribe, as my people have come to call you, needs a champion. Wakanda already has theirs, but since you seem to rather enjoy toying with colonizers, I have an assignment for you.”

Erik’s ears were trained on Bast as he hung on every word she said. He walked next to her as they made their way through the catacombs towards the temple’s entrance.

“Before you came to Wakanda, you were involved with Klaue and his hunt for vibranium. Your vast knowledge of African and diasporic artifacts combined with your training makes a great equation for what I need you to do.”

“Which is?”

“I want you to act as the Golden Jaguar on the Lost Tribe’s behalf. I recognize that as just one person, you can only do so much, which is why I will talk to T’Challa about you heading his Wardog program. I would like for you to have an army of spies at your disposal to act instead of just watch and report as they have done in the past.”

“So basically what I wanted to do before but without the world domination?”

“Precisely,” Bast chuckled and stopped walking at the door to the temple.

“Ok,” Erik thought on it as a smile crept up his cheeks. “I’ll do it.”

“I knew you would. I think you’ll like my first assignment. Well, second. First, you need to stop avoiding the City of the Dead in your waking life. You need to go visit the garden.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Erik said, his nerves twisting in his gut at the thought of actually stepping back onto the sacred land.

“Now, my second assignment: artifact reclamation. Instead of searching for vibranium, which you might find, I want you to return items to their rightful owners.”

“So, stealing,” Erik deadpanned.

“Yes, but for a good cause. I will let you work out the details, but the point is to return the power to the people by building them back up, brick by brick. They were separated from their gods, so the Ancestors and the Orishas are working on bringing them back to us spiritually. They are still working on getting other spirits and pantheons on board...alas, my brother and sisters are choosing to take a more passive approach.” She sighed. “The Lost Tribe was taken from the land, so T’Challa has already spearheaded initiatives to build up other African countries that need his assistance and bring the Lost home to the continent. Now, I need you to bring our belongings home. Our thrones, our art, our history. Take it back. Bring it back to its rightful place.”

“I’m with it, but, um...how am I supposed to do this without getting caught? If shit just starts disappearing en masse, somebody’s gonna notice.”

“They won’t disappear. The colonizers won’t even know they’re gone.” Bast flicked her tail mischievously. “Your wife designs kimoyo beads, does she not?”

“Well, yeah-”

“And your cousins are scientific geniuses, correct?”

“Yes…”

“Then I’m sure that between all of your big beautiful brains, you can figure out a way to make replicas of the artifacts.”

“Why does that compliment feel like an insult?”

“I like you, Jaguar,” The goddess chuckled. “Now go enjoy your time with your wife.” She winked at Erik as she nudged him out into the brightness shining from outside the wide-open temple doors. Erik returned to consciousness, and he was shocked by the feeling of Mira’s mouth traveling up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, girl. This how you waking Big Daddy up now?”

She popped her head off his tip, and he groaned at the sight of a bridge of spit still connecting her to him.

“Good morning, baby.”

“Mmmm, good morning to you, too,” he grabbed her loose curls that she had forgotten to tie up the night before. The silk sheets kept her hair soft and bouncy as her hair spilled over his fist while it rested at the back of her head. He pulled her in for a kiss, and then she went right back to taking him down her throat. “You’re gonna make me nut all down that throat, Princess.”

Mira’s hand cupped and massaged his ballsack while she sucked on his bulbous head. Her tongue swirled around the tip, and her other hand traveled up and down his length, making his toes curl.

“Fuuuuck, you remember just what Big Daddy likes. Imma bust a fat ass nut, girl,” Erik groaned through gritted teeth. Mira giggled at her control over him and continued to work his dick. Her nose reached his pelvis as she took him down her throat, and he came with such force that she almost choked. Almost.

When she pulled off of him, she tongue-kissed his tip before sitting back on her haunches and wiping her mouth. “How’d you sleep?”

Erik let out a breathy laugh, “Like the dead.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t feel me moving. You were out cold.”

“That’s because I was talking to Bast.”

“What’d she say this time?”

Erik sat up against the headboard and motioned for her to come to him. Mira crawled up his body and straddled him, sliding down on his dick so that they were connected as deep as they could be. They had always been like this; whenever they needed to have a serious conversation, Erik would set her in his lap and have her take all of him. They both reveled in the connection they had in that moment, and even in their stillness, their united bodies responded to each other as the words fell from his lips.

“She wants me to be the Golden Jaguar officially,” he said as he kissed down from Mira’s ear to her shoulder.

“What does that mean?” Mira asked, barely above a whisper.

“She wants me to be a champion for us, the Lost Tribe. Wakandans have T, so I’ll be protecting the rest of us with the Wardogs.”

“How, though? That’s so many people.”

He came up from kissing between her breasts to look her in the eyes. “Well, remember how I told you about the museum heist to get the vibranium?”

Mira nodded.

“She wants me to steal artifacts from museums and shit and return them to where they were stolen from.”

“That sounds right up your alley,” Mira snarked, and he tickled her sides, making her pussy clench around him, and he let out a groan at the feeling. He grabbed her hips and moved them back and forth.

“It is. I can’t do anything until I visit the garden of the heart-shaped herb, though.”

“Why?” she moaned.

“I’ve been avoiding it,” he sighed.

Mira pulled him into a kiss and cycloned her hips as she wound on him. “Do you need to go alone, or do you want me to come with you?”

He connected their foreheads as he pushed his hips forward into her, and she called out his name.

“I need to go alone.”

Their hips ground into each other as the sexual energy inside them built up slowly and erupted through their bodies. Erik placed kisses all over Mira’s face and neck as she caught her breath from the intensity of her orgasm.

“How about I make breakfast?” Erik asked, and Mira simply nodded and kissed him. She moved to get up, but he held her down. “Nah, I didn’t say right now.”

After another round, the two of them separated from each other, if only because of the rumbling of their bellies. They showered together, and Erik couldn’t help himself from bending her over and eating her pussy and ass from the back. Pretty soon, he was balls deep inside her again, and when he came all over her cheeks, he about keeled over from the way the orgasm shook through his body.

“Aight, I need a break,” Erik said, and the two of them shared a laugh as they finished their shower without any more funny business.

“Can I have one of your t-shirts?” Mira asked as they slathered themselves in shea butter.

“You can have anything you want, Princess. MIT or Navy?”

“MIT please,” she cheesed at him.

“Coming right up.”

Erik left the room and returned with his maroon-colored MIT t-shirt. The same one she wore the first time she stayed over at his apartment back in the day. He knew it was her favorite and the look on her face when he handed it to her was priceless. She quickly shimmied into it while he slid on a pair of sweatpants that left little to the imagination.

The two of them relocated to the kitchen, and Mira toyed around with her latest kimoyo design on her tablet while Erik got to work on breakfast.

“That a new one?” he asked, nodding towards the design hovering over the counter.

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten it to work right, though,” she grumbled as she stared at it. “I want it to be able to apply cloaking tech to whatever it touches, but so far, I can only get the bead to disappear.”

Erik listened to her complain about her failed design for a little while, and when she was done, she turned off the tablet and hopped up on the counter.

“Anything I can do?” Mira asked

“Mhm,” he came over and stood between her legs, placing a sloppy kiss on her lips. “Just sit there looking fine as hell.”

“I’m serious,” she smiled.

“So am I,” he said incredulously with a hand over his heart, making her chuckle at his dramatics.

“Fine, I’ll be your muse.”

“And my guinea pig. Here, try this.”

Erik lifted the spoon to her lips so she could taste the yam hash he had been working on, and her eyes bugged out of her head.

“I forgot you turn into Top Chef after sex.”

“Gotta feed my woman,” he kissed her cheek and cracked a couple of eggs sunny-side up in the skillet.

Mira giggled, and an idea struck her. She reached back for her tablet again and pulled up her latest work in progress, a story about a decades-long whirlwind romance that she had gotten stuck on. All she needed was a little inspiration, and Erik ended up being just what she needed.

He watched his wife type away with a smile on his face. Erik loved watching her work; the look of determination on her face was always so endearing to him. She’d bite her lip and squint her eyes as she tried her best to focus on the task at hand. Erik always thought it was adorable.

The smell of fresh vegetables coming in contact with hot oil filled the air, and Mira’s mouth started to water. She looked up from her work to see what Erik was doing but got distracted by his body. She watched his sinewy muscles moving beneath his textured skin, and a chill went down her spine.

“What the fuck is that?” Erik sniffed the air, following the sweet scent that had just wafted from out of nowhere.

“What’s what?” Mira asked, swinging her legs back and forth.

He turned to face her, and his pupils blew wide as the smell hit him again.

“It’s you,” he turned off the burner and stalked over to her, standing between her legs again and placing his nose in the crook of her neck. He inhaled her scent and let out a growl.

“What is that?”

“My bodywash?”

“Nah, it’s you. What-” he cut himself off when it dawned on him. When he was king for a day, he only smelled fear from those around him. Fear smelled like decay, it smelled rotten, but this was the exact opposite. It was enticing, like the most beautiful forbidden garden, and Erik knew exactly what it was. Her arousal. He bit into her neck, making her moan out as he ground his hips into hers. The aroma grew, and Erik’s composure slipped away the more he inhaled it.

“E-erik, the food.”

He took a deep breath as he stood to his full height. “I can smell when you want me.”

“What?!”

“I wonder if it’s different for every person...shit, I wonder if I can smell other people. I hope not-”

“What are you saying? You can tell when I’m horny?”

“I guess so. I only smelled fear before, but it makes sense. I’m just caught off guard because it hit me out of nowhere, like last night.”

“What happened last night?”

“I could hear your heartbeat.”

Mira’s face lit up, “That’s good, though, right? It means your senses are coming back!”

“Yeah, I’m just surprised by that one. I wasn’t expecting all that,” he laughed.

“So...I smell good?”

“You don’t know how good, Princess,” he grumbled as he finished cooking. Mira crossed her legs, making him chuckle. “That’s not helping. It’s all over you.”

“Damn...what else can you do?”

“I need to test out my strength and speed, but my sight was different, too. Everything was brighter, more vibrant. And my brain moved faster...I don’t know how to explain it. Bast said my guilt was the blockage, so they’ll probably slowly come back over time. After they’re back, I’m supposed to start on my mission.”

“You still felt guilty?”

“I thought I broke us. I mean, I did, but I felt like it was unfixable, you know?”

Mira nodded, “Yeah, it felt like that sometimes.”

Erik pulled the dishes out of the cabinet and set them down next to her.

“Mira, I’m-”

“Erik, if you say you’re sorry one more time, so help me, Bast,” Mira said, making a dimpled smile appear on Erik’s face.

“Yes, ma’am.”

They fell into a comfortable silence while Erik plated the food, and when he handed Mira hers, he left a kiss on her cheek. She smiled and hopped down from the counter to sit at the table. When she sat down, she couldn’t help but stare at Erik as he walked over. Her man, her formerly violent man was really chosen by a goddess to protect Black people around the globe.

He noticed the look on her face and couldn’t quite place it. “What?”

“Nothing, just...look at you, doing the work of gods now.”

“I bet you never thought you’d say that about your mercenary husband,” Erik winked at her.

“Sure didn’t,” Mira laughed, “but it fits. You always had it in you. You know, I’m glad I came out here. I wouldn’t get to see this new side of you otherwise, and so far, I like it.”

--------

A couple of hours later, Erik found himself in front of the City of the Dead with his palms sweating and his breath shaking. He wasn’t sure why the temple unnerved him so much, but it did. Erik knew he had to do what Bast told him, though, and took a step forward. He climbed the stairs to the ornate stone doors and waited as they slowly opened for him. Erik was met with the sight of a surprisingly calm woman in purple robes. He recognized her as the woman he had choked out, the new head priestess.

“My prince,” she saluted him. “Welcome. I have been expecting you.”

“You have?”

“Of course. Come in.”

He hesitantly stepped forward again and entered the temple. A chill went down his spine as the doors shut behind them, and he looked around the space. He had only been there once before in his waking life, but this time it felt different. It probably had something to do with the fact that she wasn’t scared of him this time around.

“What’s your name?” he asked nervously.

“I am Zaya, my prince.”

“You don’t have to do the whole ‘my prince’ thing. Especially since I...you know.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I’m sorry about that. I should’ve never put my hands on you.”

“I have spoken to Bast about it, and I forgive you. Just don’t let it happen again,” she warned.

Erik put his hands up in defense, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Now, you are here to see the herb, no?” She started walking, and he followed behind her.

“How’d you know?”

“I spoke to Bast, remember?” She quipped with an eyebrow raised.

“Heh, yeah,” he chuckled nervously and cleared his throat. “I don’t know why I’m so anxious.”

“I assume that is a normal reaction when reckoning with your past.”

The two of them traveled deeper into the temple, and when they reached the door that led to the garden of the heart-shaped herb, he froze. Zaya looked back when she no longer heard his footsteps and smiled warmly, reaching out her hand to him. He took it, and she led him through the doors. Erik almost wanted to close his eyes, but he knew he had to face his past actions head-on.

He looked around, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw there were dozens of tiny glowing purple buds just begging to become full-grown flowers. He laughed in disbelief at what he was seeing. He had burnt the garden to ashes, but now here it was, thriving in spite of him.

“It took us a while to get them to grow again, but thankfully we were able to put out the fire before the roots were harmed,” Zaya spoke as he wandered through the garden in awe.

“And these...they still work?”

“The princess took a sample and tested it in her lab. According to her, this new batch might be a little different, but they should still work. Bast has given them her blessing, so that is enough for me.”

“So, I didn’t ruin Wakanda’s future like I thought...”

“No, just a bump in the road,” she smiled.

Just as he was about to respond, the strangest thing happened. His eyes were trained on one of the buds, and suddenly he could see every little vein in the leaves and the detail of the curled-up petals. The color became brighter and even more purple than most people could comprehend, and a tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled.

He could see again.

“Are you ok?” Zaya asked tentatively.

Erik cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’m good. It’s just my senses are coming back, and...they’re beautiful.”

“And resilient.”

He laughed and wiped the tear from his face.

“How about I give you some time alone?”

“Thanks, Zaya, that’d be great.”

She bowed her head in deference and went back the way they came. When she was gone, Erik let out a sigh as he took in the sight before him.

“They really made it…”

“Of course, they did. Did you think I would leave my people defenseless?” Bast’s silky voice rang out through the temple, and he turned around to see her standing there in her mostly-human form. She was a statuesque and curvaceous woman with the head of a panther and locs that spilled over her ebony shoulders. Erik dropped to his knees as she walked towards him. “No need for all of that. Stand up, Jaguar.”

He laid eyes on her once more as he rose from the ground. Her glow was almost blinding, but his eyes adjusted quickly.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you in person.”

“Get used to it. I like to pop in on my champions every now and again. Sometimes in dreams, sometimes in your thoughts, and sometimes in person. It all depends.”

“On what?”

“On you and what you need, or what I need from you.”

“Ok, so what do you need from me?”

Bast chuckled. “Truthfully, nothing this time. I just needed to see you face-to-face.”

“You don’t have an assignment for me?”

“Not yet. I know how much you enjoy the sanctuary, so I’ll let you stay there a little whille longer. Plus, you are just now mending your marriage and need time to spend with your wife and child before I call you away.”

“How much time?”

“Enough,” she winked.

“You’re so cryptic,” Erik chuckled.

“Yes, your cousin thinks so, too. However, I prefer ‘mysterious.’”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smirked.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you long,” she sighed. “You have some party planning to do. They grow up fast, don’t they?”

“Especially when you miss a couple of years,” he murmured.

“Which is why I’m giving you at least a year before I call on you. Make good use of it, Erik.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“Good. Oh, and one more thing, Erik.”

“Yeah?”

“Try running back to the palace,” she winked again as she shimmered away, leaving him alone in the temple.

Erik tried to contain himself as he left the garden and ran into Zaya.

“Was your ‘alone’ time fruitful?” she asked knowingly.

All he could do was beam at her with his megawatt dimpled smile.

“Very.”

Erik said goodbye and ran back through the forest to the city, his heart beating out of his chest in excitement. His superhuman speed carried him back in no time as the wind whipped against his body. A smile was plastered on his face the whole time, even when he slowed down as he reached the outskirts of Birnin Zana. He hurried to the palace as inconspicuously as he could and happened to run into Mira just as she was leaving. When she saw the look on his face, she couldn’t help the grin that took over hers.

“So, how did- Erik!” She squealed as he picked her up and twirled her around with barely any effort.

“They’re back!”

“Your powers?”

“Well, yeah, but the heart shaped herb is coming back!” he peppered kisses all over her face and neck while she giggled. “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined you could be.”

“So I take it your vision came back, and you’re super strong again?”

“And fast. I ran here in like twenty minutes.”

“From the CIty of the Dead?!”

“Mhm,” he nodded as he set her back on the ground.

“Damn, baby, that’s...that’s amazing.”

“I need to test them out some more, so I’m gonna see if T has some time to spar. You going to the lab?”

“Shopping, actually. Okoye and Ayo took Imani so I could get some last-minute party stuff.”

“Need someone to carry your bags?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Especially since you got that jaguar strength again.”

“Lead the way, beautiful.”

--------

Early that Saturday morning, as the sun crested over the trees, Mira and Erik stood on the tarmac watching as the Royal Talon descended from the sky. Mira was almost shaking with excitement as the doors opened and T’Challa stepped out, followed by some of her favorite people in the whole world.

“Titi!”

SJ ran down the ramp past the king and flung himself into his auntie’s arms. She held him tight and rocked him from side to side as Stef and Ana approached, with Daveed teetering between the two of them.

She looked up at them and gasped, “Oh my god, he can walk now? How long have I been gone?”

“Girl, too long,” Havana complained as she wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law.

Stefan was next to greet her, and his eyes stayed glued to Erik the whole time as he enveloped his sister in a bear hug, “We missed you, Sammy.”

“No, you miss my cooking,” she laughed as she crouched down to say hi to her littlest nephew.

“You remember Titi Mira?” Ana asked him, and he shook his head, hiding behind his dad’s leg.

“That’s ok, we can get to know each other while you’re here,” Mira smiled at him and stood back up.

“Who are you?” SJ asked when he finally noticed the man standing behind his aunt.

“SJ, this is your Uncle Erik. You might not remember him but-“

He thought about it for a moment before it dawned on him. “Do you still have all those bumps on you?”

Stefan tried to hold in his snickering, and Havana hit him in his chest.

“Uh, yeah, I do.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Heh, thanks, lil man.”

“So, brother in law…It’s good to see you,” Stef deadpanned. He was clearly not feeling Erik anymore.

“You, too, man,” Erik went to dap him up, and he stared at his hand in contempt.

“Stefan, behave,” Havana said with a roll of her eyes. “Hi Erik, how are you?”

“Much better since I’ve been here.”

“Good, good…”

T’Challa had been standing to the side while the family reunited but decided to intervene when things got awkward.

“Stefan, Havana, let us show you to your quarters.”

“Oooh, our ‘quarters,’” Ana sang excitedly. “Sounds so fancy.”

“It’s a palace, Ana. Of course it’s fancy,” Stef grumbled.

She cut her eyes at him. “Don’t act out in front of company.”

Mira chuckled. She hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing their playful bickering.

As they made their way through the place, Stef and Ana stared slack-jawed at their surroundings while SJ ran ahead of the group.

“You live here?” Ana asked.

“Mhm. It’s gorgeous, right?!” Mira bragged.

“That’s not even the word…”

T’Challa smirked as he listened to them compliment his home.

“So, where’s the birthday girl?” Stefan asked.

“She is with my mother and Ororo.”

“Ororo?” Stef stopped in his tracks. “Munroe?!”

“The one and only,” T’Challa grinned proudly.

“Holy shit…”

“Language,” Havana chided her husband as she covered SJ’s ears.

“What is it with these men and cursing around children?” Mira shook her head at her brother.

“Girl, I don’t know, but let’s get back to Storm. How’d y’all meet?”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Erik nodded towards his cousin.

“Dang, how’d you get her? I mean, I know you’re a king and all, but- Wait, are you a mutant, too?” Stef asked.

T’Challa and Mira made eye contact, and she nodded for him to continue. They were family and would most likely be seeing a lot of Wakanda, so they’d find out eventually.

“I am enhanced, yes.”

“Like Steve Rogers?” SJ chimed in excitedly from a few feet ahead.

“He wishes,” T’Challa complained under his breath as they stopped in front of the door across from Erik and Mira. Both of them chuckled at the king’s arrogance.

“So...you’re enhanced. Why, though?” Stef asked.

They entered the suite, and the interrogation was cut short when the Greenwoods saw how beautiful their temporary home was.

“Holy shit…” Ana mused as she covered SJ’s ears.

Mira gave them a quick tour while T’Challa and Erik hung back in the living area.

“So, you and Stefan-”

“He never liked me, and I made things worse by disappearing,” he shrugged.

T’Challa nodded as he changed into his suit.

“Oh, so you’re coming all the way out?”

“They will find out eventually, so I might as well get it over with.”

Erik nodded as Mira rounded the corner and saw T’Challa in his suit. She smirked and called SJ. He ran back into the room and froze when he saw Black Panther standing there next to his uncle. Ana was next to round the corner and looked at her son questioningly before she looked up and saw what he was staring at with his mouth open.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said with a hand on her hip.

“About what?” Stef came next, and T’Challa’s mask disappeared into his necklace. “This place is insane.”

SJ couldn’t move. He was looking at his favorite hero in the entire world, right there in the place he’d call home for the next week. His mind could barely wrap around what he was seeing, and he couldn’t process his emotions. Tears started flowing down his face, and a sob wracked his body.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok, baby,” Ana crouched down and wiped his tears as Stef came over with Daveed on his hip.

“You’re not excited to see Black Panther?” He asked his eldest son.

SJ shook his head, and T’Challa deflated. Erik kept his snickering to himself, but Mira shot him a look anyway.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“He’s just in shock. It’ll wear off eventually,” Ana said as she brushed SJ’s locs out of his face.

————

It took way longer to wear off than they thought, and by the time they arrived at the party venue in the palace’s botanical gardens that afternoon, he still hadn’t said a word. T’Challa tried to speak to him a couple of times, but he shied away behind Mira or his parents. Eventually, Erik convinced him to give the kid some space and pulled the dejected king away to the other side of the garden. While the other kids and their parents arrived, SJ kept looking at T’Challa out of the corner of his eye.

“You know, he doesn’t bite...or scratch,” Mira leaned in and said to her nephew as she sat down next to him at the kid’s table. “In fact, he’s pretty cool once you get to know him.”

“Does Imani know?” he spoke up for the first time in hours, and Mira was happy to hear his voice again.

“Oh, yeah. He told us when we got here, but it’s a secret so she pinky promised not to tell. You know, I screamed when I saw him.”

“You did?!”

“Mhm. He really needs to learn how to ease people into it, huh?” she asked as she poked at his side, making him giggle. Stef and Ana watched from a few yards away and smiled with him while they kept a watchful eye on Daveed as he waddled around the flowers.

SJ nodded in response, and Mira kissed his temple before getting up and leaving him to ponder her words. Right when he had worked up the courage to speak to his hero, Erik announced that Imani was on her way with Ororo and Ramonda.

“I can’t wait to see my baby girl!” Ana squealed.

Mira excitedly grabbed Erik’s hand, and he kissed her knuckles, making Stef narrow his eyes as he and his family hid behind a mango tree.

Imani appeared with her auntie and future cousin, and T’Challa recorded as she squealed excitedly at seeing everybody. A’Kidi, Kofi, Sanaa, A’Sami, Ade, and all her other friends from school greeted her with a loud “Happy birthday!” The newly five-year-old’s tunnel vision made her almost ignore her parents and other adults completely until Erik picked her up and gave her a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Happy birthday, Cupcake!”

“We have a surprise for you,” Mira sang.

“What is it?” Imani asked excitedly.

Erik set her down and turned her around as Mira motioned for her family to reveal themselves. SJ ran out from behind the tree and nearly tackled his cousin to the ground while her aunt, uncle, and baby cousin took a calmer approach.

“There’s the birthday girl!” Stef exclaimed while his eldest son continued to squeeze her tight. SJ let her go, and she ran into her uncle’s arms. Ana crouched down next to him, and Imani threw her arms around her neck.

“We’ve missed you so much!” Ana said as she fought tears.

“I missed you too. Wakanda is so cool! I can’t wait to show you everything,” Imani babbled.

“Did you know about Black Panther?” SJ asked, still a little nervous about meeting his hero.

Imani nodded, “I promised to keep it a secret, or I would’ve told you. It’s so cool, right?”

SJ nodded, and Imani dragged him off to meet her friends.

Erik couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he tried as he watched his little social butterfly play with her friends and cousin. It wasn’t until Mira came up and nudged him that he even realized he was staring.

“You ok?” she asked.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” he said as he put his arm around her and kissed her temple. “Just reliving some things.”

Mira looked at him curiously and he continued, “One of the few good memories I have from childhood that we talked about in therapy was my seventh birthday party. This kind of reminds me of that.”

Mira smiled as they stood there and watched Shuri, Ororo, and T’Challa play with the kids. The king regaled them with stories of his adventures, and Shuri let them ride on very slow hoverbikes while Ororo harnessed the wind to lift them up and let them fly a couple of feet off of the ground. The kids were having a ball, and their parents seemed to enjoy themselves as well. Okoye, M’Baku, and a couple other people gravitated towards each other and fell into conversation about being single parents. However, the rest of them spent most of their time ogling the royal family.

Eventually, it was time to eat and the parents were able to corral the kids into sitting down at the table. After stuffing their faces with an array of Imani’s favorite foods, Mira led the “happy birthday” song as she and Ayo carried out a huge Doc McStuffins birthday cake. Imani and SJ were the only kids who knew who she was, but everyone enjoyed the cake nonetheless. Erik couldn’t help the tear that almost came to his eye as he listened to his wife sing to their daughter, just like his mother had done to him. Loudly and slightly off key. Next, Shuri led the group in a Wakandan birthday song, and Imani blew out the huge number five candle in the center of the cake.

Mira kept stealing glances at Erik as he sliced it up and handed out pieces to everyone. He looked so happy. Even when one of the kids tripped and got icing all over his pants leg, he just kept on smiling.

Even Stef noticed the change in his brother-in-law’s demeanor and brought it up to Ana, “He smiles too much now. It’s weird.”

“It’s weird that he’s happy?”

“No, it’s just weird to see. He used to be so…”

“Surly and unapproachable.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Maybe you should get to know him?”

“Hmph,” he grunted in response. Ana decided to leave it alone for the time being and left his side to go talk to Erik.

“You think you can handle the sleepover?” she asked him.

“Thank Bast it’s not all of them.”

“It’s not?”

“Hell no, just her little crew,” he pointed to A’Kidi, Kofi, Sanaa, A’Sami, and Ade. “I’m not taking care of all these kids.”

Ana laughed, “Understood.”

“So...your husband still doesn’t like me, huh?”

“Can you blame him?” Ana deadpanned.

“Nah, I’d be the same way in his shoes.”

“He’ll come around eventually...maybe,” she said as she placed a comforting hand on his arm before being pulled away by her son to watch the Black Panther and Storm show off their powers some more. SJ still couldn’t bring himself to speak to T’Challa, but it was a start.

As the party wound down and most of Imani’s classmates went home, the few that stuck around relocated inside to the Stevens’ suite in the palace. Even with a handful of screaming children in his home, Erik was on cloud nine. He loved to see a smile on his Cupcake’s face, and he wondered if he looked that happy when he was a kid. He concluded he probably did, and as the kids watched an animated movie, he and Mira curled up on the couch behind them. While the rugrats were distracted, he pulled her chin up to plant a kiss on her lips.

“What was that for?” she smiled.

“I’ve just been thinking…”

“About what?”

“About making more good memories, you know? Some of the happiest times in my life were times just like this…and time spent with you.”

Mira looked down with a smile on her face and he brought it back up to look in her eyes.

“Marry me again.”

Her eyebrows damn near reached her hairline and a Grinch-like smile crept up her face as she nodded.

“I’d love to.” Next Chapter

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fanfiction #erik killmonger x oc #black!oc #all for us

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capricornus-rex · 3 years

Text

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (14)

Chapter 14: And So the Hunt Begins | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: I’m honestly a little worried about the story getting attention. There are times where I feel insecure and doubtful of the work I put out. A ton of questions come to me like “Has the story gotten boring?” and my answer to that is I sure hope not. If you’ve been following the story, looking forward to each chapter update, and you’re actually enjoying it, thank you so so much! That really means a lot to me. I try my best not to let the stress of work and personal life get in the way of my posting and especially my creativity. Please, guys, do me a small favor: let me know what you think of the story so far. 🙏🏻 As always, love lots 💜

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 | Previous: Part 13 | Next: Part 15 | Masterlist

15 of ?

Irele, along with HY-L33, bolted to the elevator lobby. The door opened to the hangar bay. The young girl’s strides were poised with urgency, she commanded the nearest captain to prepare her ship and a small unit of Stormtropers to accompany her.

“Ma’am, the 65th Squadron has already been deployed to Zeffo.”

“That’s Captain Kane’s squad.”

“Indeed,” the commander’s eye rolled to the side for a bit. “What’s left of them, at least.”

“Their transmissions mentioned a Jedi who cut them down by the numbers, and you’re satisfied with what’s left of them?”

“That’s… not my implication, my lady,” the commander blushed.

The commander then held his tongue. There was no way debating through that. Complacency and settling for less were neither minor or major offenses, though it makes one’s work efficiency and ethics seem questionable. The uniformed man hung his head in shame, hoping that Irele would not say another word and leave it at that.

A hangar operator cut in their conversation—or lack thereof—indicating that Irele’s light cruiser, the Obeisance, is ready to go. He got his unspoken wish.

“Jedi can be fools. But so is one who decides to underestimate them.” Irele lectured, serving mostly as a reminder to herself than an advice to the commander.

Nothing was further said. Irele hopped into the cruiser and her droid companion followed along. The pilot was already informed of their destination, so Irele had time to do some more “light reading.”

The small computer in her quarters provided the database of all the logs transmitted from various troopers and officers originating from several, different planets. Irele narrowed down her search about the Zeffo logs and skimmed the holos until there was mention of the Jedi.

She had a strong feeling that this incident in Zeffo has got something to do with the red-haired Jedi she eyed on during the briefing with the Inquisitors. Secretly, she had feared that one or two of them might have gotten there first, though they would have most likely gone for the more notorious survivors—Jedi masters and Padawan prodigies, for instance.

“What can be said about Zeffo, Haylee?”

“A small colony of humans reside in the continent just along the planet’s equator. Albeit a large landmass, the terrain is rather hostile—as 60% of the planet is water.”

“It is also a treasure chest of sorts—for the Emperor, at least, and other like-minded hoarders,” Irele added, the droid had nothing to comment. “Stay here in the Obeisance, Haylee, understand? I can’t have you in the line of fire down there.”

Irele was the first to alight the cruiser via her personal TIE Interceptor docked in the cruiser’s hangar. Riding behind her was the transport ship carrying the 77th Squadron. The transport landed first, melding with the remnants of the 65th, while Irele demanded the last known location of where the Jedi was found.

“Lady Irele, Captain CL-5857 reporting. Sending you the last reported coordinates of the Jedi.”

“Very good, Captain. My channel’s open for you now.”

The numbers instantly appeared on Irele’s screen and followed the navicomputer after the coordinates have been encoded. The TIE Interceptor zipped past the said colony—which was now literally a ghost town sprawling with Stormtroopers, almost like ghosts. Peeking over her window, she spotted a bleach-white mound pushed to the side along the stone cottages.

Dead Stormtroopers.

“Interesting.” Irele muttered and smirked. Not the least bit fazed of just how possibly deadly her target is.

–

At the end of the Augur Pulverizers, Cal found his way on a dangerously-placed metal balcony and startled two Stormtroopers, sneaking up on them. He stayed there to catch his breath. The roar of a TIE Interceptor’s engine caught his attention and watched the ship dart through the overcast skies like a loosed arrow.

He half-dismissed the feeling he got before the TIE flew out of sight. Irele got a quick glimpse of the other end of the pulverizers, the head full of red hair was such a dead giveaway, he stood out more than the white armor dotting Zeffo’s terrain.

On his right was a plateau where more of them waited for him, but it was his only way to get to the tomb.

Irele circled her way around the mountain. She discovered her destination when she found the monument of a Zeffonian sage standing amongst the jagged pillars of rock. She remained on the high ground, docking her TIE on a plateau that overlooks this region of the planet and sensed Cal coming this way.

Trekking through Zeffo’s steep ridges and cliffsides were both exhilarating and arduous. Fresh air welcomed itself to Cal’s lungs and the wind swept off the auburn locks from his head. He emerged from the mouth of the cave at the far opposite of the grand entrance of the tomb.

Cal scanned the area and saw that the coast was clear

Too clear.

Sitting atop of one of the stone columns dotting the courtyard of the tomb was Irele, leisurely swinging her one leg over the other.

“I’m almost hoping you’re not the guy the Stormtroopers are talking about in their audio logs,”

Her entrance startled Cal, setting him on high alert and had him brandishing his saber on pure instinct. Bemused, Irele smirked while she rested her chin on her palm.

“Well, let’s see if looks really can be deceiving!”

She leaped off of her perch; lightly did her feet touch the ground at her descent. Dust plumed over the tips of her boots, and while bent, she takes her lightsaber off of the clip pf her belt to boast a pair of red blades on both ends.

Cal tried his best to remain calm. His gloves squeaked as he tightened his grip on his own saber. He activated the second frost blue blade, a statement implying that he’s just as capable as she is.

Irele smirked and cooed, “Well now.”

They battled in the second tier landing of the tomb’s courtyard. Dual-ended blades clashing against one another. Red versus blue.

If only Vader could see her now.

Irele’s training did not betray her. Those two years of strenuous training had given her a great amount of stamina, more than enough to last her two duels against a Jedi and still have more to chase them down to finish what she started.

“Come on, redhead! Don’t disappoint me!” she snarled, taunting the boy.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find I’m full of surprises!”

“Oho!” she cackled. Distanced herself for a second’s worth of a breather, she bared her teeth in a wide, mischievous grin. “I do love surprises!”

Cal wasn’t afraid to admit that his opponent was nimbler, more dexterous, and perhaps even stronger. He could feel the hate and anger flowing in her, as if it’s replaced the blood in her veins, though he thinks she’s a fool for weaponizing those emotions—ones that only a Sith would use to their advantage.

He needed to find an opening. This girl was too strong, he thought. He rammed his shoulder to her, causing her to stumble in her footing, and then—within a moment’s opportunity—he recoiled and sprung his hands to his front: sending a wave of the Force to increase the distance away from her. Then he made a run for it—there was an opening at the side of the tomb entrance, and hurriedly squeezed his way through the narrow space between two boulders.

He managed to slither his way out, but Irele caught up to him fast. Shrapnel of stones flew and clattered behind Cal, he looked over his shoulder and saw the girl appearing from the dust cloud, her crimson blades lighting up in the middle of the fog.

“Who are you!?”

No reply from the girl.

She just kept pushing forward. Greedy to land more strikes on the boy and hopefully disarm him.

Ahead of them was another way to the lift that leads to the underground level of the tomb. The only obstacle is that a ring of rocks, spinning around the lift in great speeds, is blocking Cal’s way of ever getting into that ancient elevator.

Desperately, he slows down the movement of the stones circling the lift, and bolted through while it was still safe. Irele was at his tail. They continued their exchange of strikes until either of them could notice that the influence of Cal’s Force Slow was wearing off. He had made his way closer to the lift while they fought, but Irele was too blind to be aware of her surroundings. When the stones were gradually returning to their original speed, Cal mustered up enough energy again to push Irele out of the stones’ orbit with one hand, while the other slowed the stones but they were now at his volition.

“NO!!”

Cal hopped into the lift, his one hand relaxed and the stones were orbiting the golden elevator at cyclonic speeds. As the golden lift sank, with a heavy bell-like clang to signal its descent, so did Irele’s stomach. This is unacceptable, she knew it, she needs to find another way to the tomb and catch up with the Jedi.

Meanwhile, Cal sought refuge and rest in the safety of the golden lift. He caught his breath and shook off whatever tension and adrenaline left from that fight.

“Who was that?” he asked to nobody in particular.

“Bee-woo…” BD-1 chirped.

His comlink beeped, and Cere’s voice popped through the speaker.

“Cal? Have you found the tomb?”

“Yeah, I found it. And I also found someone interesting.”

“Who?”

“She… I don’t know if she’s an Inquisitor. I’m not even sure if she is one. Though I am sure that she’s with the Empire. I saw her TIE Fighter earlier, didn’t expect to bump into her though.”

He recalled quietly what she looked like and what she wore. Normally, Inquisitors donned armor with the Empire’s insignia on it. But Irele was fashioned differently, compared to a completely armored Inquisitor: her outfit consisted of a short-sleeved top that covered her from the neck down, a long skirt complemented by ankle-length boots. The only pieces of “armor” she has are a brown leather surcoat over her top and a belt. In her defense, she preferred less is more.

“Whether or not she’s an Inquisitor, if she’s just as bad as you say she is—then you better keep an eye out. You are definitely not alone out there.” Cere warned with a graveness in her voice.

“I know.”

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 4 years

Text

GEARBOX THIS IS EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED THAAAAHAHAHAANK YOUUUUU

FUCK OKAY TRAILER BREAKDOWN BECAUSE I AM LOOOOOOSING MY FUCKING MIND OVER THIS TRAILER HOOOOOLY SHIT

POSSIBLE PSOILERS??? MAYBE? GOD DDDDDAYMN WHAT A WAY TO GET BACK INTO THE THEORY SCENE LMAO

SO FIRST OF ALL I’M NOT CERTAIN THIS IS RELATED TO THE BARMAN/SECOND STARS CULT QUEST I FOUND IN THE FILES AS SOME PEOPLE SUGGESTED, BUT I WILL ADMIT IT IS SUSPICIOUSLY SPECIFIC. MAINLY ABOUT A CULT AND THE FACT WE SEE A BAR HANGING OUT IN THE TRAILER, BUT HEY, I AM NOT GOING TO MAKE ASSUMPTIONS RIGHT NOW I AM JUST GOING TO ENJOY THIS WHILE I CAN

ANd breathe in

breathe okay

okay

im okay.

i’ve watched this trailer like 15 times already oh my god it’s so good. i wasnt so hyped about the casino dlc bc, like, i already spoiled myself on it BUT THIS IS (AS FAR AS WE KNOW) UNCHARTED TERRITORY AND

IT’S TECHNICALLY A WATER PLANET

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES

okay

i will stop using caps

for the most part

hhhhhhh

okay.

let’s just be calm. i got this

BUT HAVE YOU SEEN THIS THOUGH????

oh ym goD

the fucking lighthouse sent me. i just. i went feral for a solid hour and a half. just wheezing on my test. i fell onto the floor at one point, don’t remember when. it was so fucking good, i couldn’t feel my goddamn hands

;-; its so beautiful i could stare at this all day hhhhhhh

i just

hhhhhhhhhhhh

oh ym godddd ;-;-;-;-;-;-;

it’s so fucking beautiful

i can’t

okay

we see the gun/health station under the lighthouse so it’s not really THAT big, and we can see a town in the distance. running across the ice sheets is giving me HUGE southern shelf vibes which i am in love with. this whole aesthetic is just ;w; so good

there’s a catch a ride in that town as well so we know this area is fairly big (which is confirmed in a later shot)

and oh my GOD can you imagine seeing some big ol beast lurking beneath the surface of the ice sheets hohhhh

MAN

okay sorry im still not oevr this its just so fckign good

inside the belly of the beast rotting Monster and OHHHHHHHHHHH THE IMPLICATION-s of that. of that. im calm.

we get a look at 2 new enemies and mmmmmm we get a better look at them later on so just look how fuckig beautiful thsi area is with its acid that’s probably rotting stomach acid and AAAAAAAA

first close up of the town, giving me really big uhhhh we happy few vibes? which im not complaining about

TENTACLES asdfghj

anywway more toen, bridge looks like like athenas which is DOPE im hype for more athenas-esque architecture

the TOWNss oh my god im so im love with this aesthetic god. damn.it i need this injected directly into my veins like right N O W

also the bridge is going over another pool of acid, which the tentacle is coming out of. i imagine this monster was sorta acid based, which is funny. since. frozen water planet. and it’s OOZY too. oozy boy means the eridians didn’t make this one! ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

hm who’s ready to face the unintended consequences of our actions?! NOT THE ERIDIANS WHOOO BOY (you cannot tlel me that there are mantakores on this planet and not say there was eridian fuckering going on nooOOPE)

also, side note, DIGGING the spike pit under the house on the bottom right. hope we get to explore that bad boy

ALSO

who are you mysterious figure whose cape billows in the wind? are you just part of the environment?? MAYBE

more town

first look at that BEAUITUFL red barrier which OOOOH I WANNA TOUCH SO BADLY

look at it

LOOK AT IT

NOODLE BOWL

EATS??? food place?? im not sure i can’t read, Jared, 19

see s-ar(?)ed??

THAT

THAT IS BEAUTIFUL

doesn’t look like a corporation shield (no corporation gunk lying around either) and we do know red glowy shit is the New Eridian Aesthetic, so im just saying.

it could be a corporation tho, mostly because uhhh later shots

hold up

that’s not uhhhhhhhhhhh

yeah it CAN’T BE lol

cursetown - something something

these red thingies are probably just rotting monster flesh but it does look very similar to the vines on nekrotefeyo

given how worried wainwright looks i imagine him and hammylocks are being coerced into the whole marriage thing in order to complete a ritual

i mean no judgement but that red background is absolutely garrish for a wedding

1. pirate ship??? please??? look at all the mist outside and the wooden bars

god PLEASE can i get a pirate ship. CNA I PLEASE GET A PIRATE SHIP

Captain scarlett wsan’t enoughhhh

2. why the fuck does she have a tail

DJ Midnight performing Saturday: The Dark Mix Deep W???? Hear The Voices (hmmm) and Let The Music Enter You

gee i wonder if this is cultist propaganda

I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU PEOPLE ARE

BUT YOUR TIMING

SUCKS

IIIII AM HERMEAUS MORAAA

no wait wrong game

BUT BRO TENTACLES COMING OUT OF THE MAGIC PORTALS???? UFCKF UEYS THIS FITS PERFECTLY INTO H2O A- i mean, damn haven’t we got enough tentacles from the destroyer?? wow gearbox... heh. hm.

SO I AM WONDERING IF MAYBE THE GREEN UNDER THE BRIDGE AND SUCH ISN’T LIKE CORROSIVE ACID BUT MAYHAPS SOME SORT OF MAGIC SLUDGE COMING OFF THE BIG OL MONSTER BOY THAT THESE CULTISTS ARE HARNESSING TO TAP INTO something. i lost steam. but i mean MAGIC PORTALS

and we all know where teleportation takes us

MANTAKORES!!! WHICH MEANS ERIDIAN INTERVENTION SOMEWHERE ALONG THE LINE

they seem like fire/ice boys which i absolutely adore

THIS SHOT IS SO COOL OH MY GOD

LIKE I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN IT JUST LOOKS D O P E

WHAT IS THIS??

WHAT IS THIIIS??

CAN I PLEASE HAVE YOUR JACKET

OH ALSO

I MENTIONED IT IN ANOTHER POST BUT THIS

REMINDS ME A LOT OF THIS

IM SURE THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NO CORRELATION BUT I THOUGHTIT WAS FUNNY

ALSO REMEMBER THE BLACK EYES THING I HAVE A WHOLE THINGIE THING IMMA BRING BACK OT IT JUST HOLD TIGHT

THIS SHOT?? OH MY GOD? IT’S LIKE A MOVIE????????? I LOV EI LOVE IT LIV E OT

nND THE WOLFIE BOYS THATTHE ARTICLE MENTIONS

UCKING TENTACLES HFDGDHFGJKH THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL OH MY GOD

HE’ SGOT TENTACLE ARMS LIKE MOTHERFUCKING CHADAM

BRO IM

BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

AND A GUN THIS MOTHERFUCKER STILL HAS A GUN

WHAT A MAN

MORE TECHONOLOG Y THAT IM SURE PLAYS A ROLE IN THIS SOMEHOW

BEAUTIFUL

WE SLAM THIS DUDE UP AGAINST A WALL SO HARD SHE/HE/THEY (I ASSUME SHE BC WE CAN’T SEE HER FACE AS A COMMON TROPE)

BREAKS THE WINDOW WHICH LOOKS SUSPICIOUSLY LIKE A WINDOW ON SANC-III BUT IM NOT MAKING ANY ASSUMPTIONS

also red SPARKS WHICH REMIND ME OF ERIDIANS AGAIN

also her whole helmet thingie??? very Guardian-like

THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE IS GIVING ME HUGE HECTOR/KEY/PLANT/ERIDIANBULLSHITTERY VIBES THEY EVEN HAVE THE GLOWING SACS OF OOOOOOOZE

which is another point to the “green sludge is magic/connected to their powers somehow” theory. hmmm i hope we mix neon green and eridium purple. purple/green is my favorite color combo. and ugh with the lovecraftian vibes? be still my beating heart!

WINNIE SHOOTING SOMOHE

i fucking LOVE the laces on this shotgun. so fucking pretty omfg

magic circle MAGIC CIRCLE MAGIC CIRCLE

also new chest it looks like

BROO??? HOLY SHIT?????????

JABBER WOLF!! SO FUCKING COOL

THAT SKULL MOUTH IS SO FUCKING DOPE IT LOOKS LIKE TROY’S TATTOO

ohhhhhhHHHHHH THE MOON IS GREEN TOO DON’T DO THI GEARBOX IM GONNA SCREAM IF THERE’S ANOTHER ALTERNATIVE ERIDIUM

THIS SHOT OHHHH

THE BAR LOOKS FUCKING FANTASTIC OH MY GOD

shots SHOT SHOTS SHOT SHOTS HTOSHSTOHSOHTS

dND the MERFOLK TAIL ON THE FAR RIGHT I DON’T GIVE A FUUUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE SAYS THAT’S MER TAIL THAT’S A TAIL FUCK U

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YSEY SEYSEYSE BIGGG

THE BARTENDER OHOH

HAVE I MENTIONED THE GIANT FUCKING MUSHROOMS BTW

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM GETTTING SUCH DRAGONBORN DLC VIBES I LOVE IT

SWEETFRUIT VILLAGE BTW THAT’S IMPORTANT

YOU ALLL LOOK SO FUCKING AMAZING OH MY GOD

the bartender!!!! his glasses!! AND THE VOICE MODULATOR???

the netch looking boys are called

slithercresses btw and THEY LOOK STUNNING

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

NEW RED CHESTS??? LOOK ERIDIAN TO ME

WHICH MIGHT MEAN------

ALSO THE DIMENSIONAL TRANSFER PROGRAM ON SANC-III WHERE BBY BOY MAUREICE MAKES US A PORTAL TO HELL??? WHICH GREEN OOZE WHICH IS “HECKTOPLASM” BUT MAYBE ACTUALLY N O T

THE STAR OF THE SHOW BABY GIRL GAIGE WHO’SACTUALLY OLDER THAN ME NOW FUUUUUUUUCK

YOU’RE SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL II LOVE YOUR NEW GOGGLES

H??????????????

POSSIBLE NEW PSYCHOMASK UNLESS HE’S JUST GROWING THOSE BONE HORNS IN WHICH CASE YOU GO MAN IM PROUD OF YOU

TENTACLE GUNNNNNN WHICH BETTER LPAY A PART ERIRDIANS YOU FUCKS

THIS PLACE IS WHY I THINK THIS MIGHT BE RELATED TO S O M E CORPORAITON? BUT THEN AGAIN IT MAY JSUT BE THE CULT HEADQUARTERS OR WHATEVER, THAT RED BUBBLED MANSION LOOKS P HQ

FOOD CARTS AND ALSO WHATEVERS IN THAT SWINGING BAG LOOKS LIKE BONES HELL YEAH

this this THIS THIS THIS THIS WHAT IS THIS A NEW CIRCL E OF SLAUGHTEr? ERIDIAN???

THEYRE PUMPING SOMETHING INTO/OUT OF THE CORPSE!!!!!!! ALSO

mutaTED FEET

[something] world! with a skull symbol on the side

both green btw

god YES I LOVE GREEN AND PURPLE IM SO HAPPY

SAILOF HOLE

hammylocks helping us with a fight by some bones and more wolfie boys!!!! i love these little dudes

FIRE MUTATED SLUGS AAAAAAAAA THEYRE SO COOL

ns tHEY CUR L UP INTO BALLS AND ROLL AT YOU LIKE KRAGGONS

AND I WONDER HOW THE SLUGS MUTATED IS IT POSSIBLY THE G R E E EN?

AND THEIR SHELLS LIKE SUCC UP LAVA?????????????

THESE BRAIN-Y BOYS

SO BLUE I LOVE THEM

AND MORE GREEN MIST BY THE WAY OWOWOWOWOWO

another look at a baddie with STUDS THIS TIME

A MAGIC WARLOCK TYPE BADDIE THIS TIME AND HE SUMMONS A STAFF AND ALSO I THINK THAT’S ERIDIUM CANNISTER BEHIND HIM

AND IT HAS SIMMILAR TENTACLESTO THE GUNS DO YOU THINK WE’RE FINALLY GOING TO GET ANA NSWER ASA TO WHY OUR GUNS ARE A L I V E

MORE SNAIL DUDES AND THE GREEN STUFF IN THE BACKGROUND M A N I LOVE TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA SNAILS

OOOOOZE

BACK AT IT AGAIN IN MY CYCLONES

GREEN FUCKING PUDDLES

B O N E S FUCKING I HOPE THIS EXPLAINS HOW THE SKAGS ON PANDORA GOT SO FUCKIN LARGGO OUTSIDE OF JUST ‘YEAH THE SEASONS’

this

THIS

ONE

THIS LOOKS LIKE A SAURIAN THE ARMORED ONES THE BASHY ARMORED ONES THAT START WITH ‘C’

TWO THAT GUN IS KICKASS

IT’S GLOWING G R E E N AND IT HAS ***THE TENTACLE BARREL***

OHHHH IM SO READY FOR AN EXPLANATION GEARBO X PL E ASE

GIVE IT TO ME

ALSO THIS

IM EXCITED ABOUT

PROBABLY RELATED TO SWEETFRUIT VILLAGE BC THE MUSHROOMS MAYBE THEY USE IT TO MAKE BOOZE MUSHROOM BOOZE EW

WHY IS HE GRAY?????? HE’S NOT WEARING A JACKET MAYBE HES CRYO-FLAVORED

more sluggus THESE ARE GREEN FLAVORED :O

also, side note

PLEASE TLEL ME THIS WAS INTENTIONAL GEARBOX

LEMME SLAP BLANE’S ASS

YOU *GUYS* PLEASE

BUBBLE MANSION??? GREEN OOZY VILLAIN THAT GOT SLMAMED INTO A WALL??? BABY BABY GIRL

THE R E D

and she’s USING A TENTACLE GUN TOO

THAT’S GOTTA MEAN SOMETHING RIGHT

hhhhhhHHHHH

also ther’e sa fridge on the left lol

also the consoles look similar to that one shot with zane which is why i believe this is part of that bubbled-y mansion.

YES ES YES YES YES YESY SYEYSE

I WANNA RIDE THE SKY TRAM SO BAD PLEASE

I WANNA REENACT UNTIL DAWN

I HAVE A MIGHTY NEEEEEEED

ALSO NOTE THE EYES

AND THE PURPLE HOW IT LOOKS LIKE AN ERIDIUM PURPLE

ANYWAY I HA[VE TO GO EAT FOOD NOW BUT GO LOOK AT THIS LINKN

I LOOKED UP THE NAME OF THE PLANET AND MYTHOLOGY AND NOTHING CAME UP, BUT GOOGLE RECOMMENDED ME

T H I S

https://pantheon.org/articles/l/lycurgus.html

AND MAN OH MAN

“FAMOUS FOR HIS PERSECUTION OF DIONYSUS” THE GOD OF P A R T I E S LIKE IDK A WEDDING PARTY, WHICH FORCED YA MAIN MAN DIONYSUS TO <JUMP INTO THE OCEAN> WHICH COULD HAVE SOME RELATION TO THE TENTACLES

OH AND ALSO LYCURGUS WAS THEN <<<BLINDED>>> WHICH COULD PLAY A PART IN THE BLACK OOZY EYES EVERYONE HAS

DIONYSUS ALSO ENDS UP PUNISHING LYCURGUS WITH MADASS AND WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT RELATES

OKAY BYE

#borderlands #bl3 #borderlands 3 #borderlands spoilers #IM SORRY I POSTED THIS EARLY IT WAS ANA CCIDENCT

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real-jaune-isms · 4 years

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RWBY Volume 7 Chapter 13 (Finale) Rundown

It’s been a month or two since the finale aired, and honestly I needed that time to organize my thoughts on it and what I think may happen next. And I was busy becoming an art major. That too. Oh, and a little thing called COVID-19.

So our season finale begins with one of the fights we had most been looking forward to, JNR and Oscar vs Neo. Jaune wants to avoid a fight and tells her to surrender since she’s outnumbered, but Neo is too confident in her capabilities and just draws her parasol blade. So Nora and Ren start shooting at her to no effect and rush in for melee combat. Also ineffective at first, she just dodges and blocks and counters. Even Ren’s new grapple line blades do next to nothing, she just does a split to dodge under his flying kick. Oscar runs in to attack with his cane, but she counters and flips him into the air with the lamp getting knocked off his belt and being in the air between them. Both thrust their sticks to try and catch it, but Oscar gets it first and sticks his landing. Neo just starts slashing at him as he backs away, and Jaune steps between them to repel her with his shield’s gravity Dust burst. One thing you notice pretty quickly about the fight is how casually Neo seems to be taking it, taunting her opponents the whole time by making faces and being theatrical with her every move. It’s maddening, but it’s the attitude we came to expect from her after Volumes 2 and 3. Teamwork seems the best move, so Nora launches Ren through the air at the ice cream demon while Oscar holds her legs so she can’t move out of the way. Too bad her Semblance is still pretty OP and Ren just shatters an apparently fake Neo. They check down the corridors for any sign of her but instead see Atlesian soldiers who chase after them on Ironwood’s orders.

Back to the battle of the seasons, Penny flies at Cinder with a high speed punch that sends her back into the hallway but she just catches it and uses her Grimm arm to toss her around a bit. Winter attacks with a flock of tiny Nevermore summons before charging in herself with a sword slash, though both do little to phase the nimble Maiden. She summons two glass swords of her own to fight back, and seems to have the advantage. She even takes the time to lecture Winter on how Atlas’s elite hoard so much power in the hopes of maintaining it forever, and how that just starves the rest of the world. It seems like she really means it once starved her, and she refuses to starve again. Some hints of what may have been her tragic backstory here, which I would be very interested to learn in greater detail even if it absolutely won’t redeem her character from the cruel and insane devil she is. I just want to see how she got to this point, where this lust for power came from. It’s certainly ironic that she’s complaining about other people hoarding power when she’s going around stealing Maiden powers all for herself when those were literally made to be divided among four people. Penny re-enters the fight with her swords on strings, but Cinder’s reflexes are apparently on the level of Ultra Instinct since she’s able to dodge and block all her spinning blades AS WELL as Winter’s attacks once she draws her second sword and joins in again. The two are at least able to avoid getting hit in return, but the whole is just going nowhere fast even if they’re blocking her way back into Fria’s room. So Cinder lashes out and flies at them with all her might, grabbing them both by the neck and rocketing through the other wall of the medical room... to reveal this secret room was not in a subbasement as we may have assumed but the top floor of a skyscraper. Now they’re all in the open air and Winter is the odd one out since... y’know, she can’t fly. She doesn’t make things better for herself by stabbing Cinder’s hand and making her drop the Specialist. With only one person to worry about now, Cinder tosses Penny away and kicks a flaming sword her way. Penny catches it, but didn’t expect it to explode and knock her back some more. The two have a floating standoff with Cinder becoming increasingly frustrated and calling Penny a toy, as if she’s Tom Hanks in 1995. But her attention is brought elsewhere as she’s hit by a blast of ice. In one of the most badass sights this Volume has offered, Winter is flying on the back of a summoned Manticore. The 2v1 fight resumes in this airborne setting, and Cinder has a harder time dodging and countering their speedy strikes while also focusing her powers on staying in flight. But when she and Winter charge at each other, her sword is unfortunately able to cut through the summon and leave Winter in a freefall. As if to add vindictive insult to injury, she also shoots a fireball at the Schnee that takes down her Aura. Satisfied with her work, Cinder flies back to the building while Penny is left with the choice of following her and dutifully protecting the Maiden powers or saving Winter. She makes the right choice, and saves her friend. Winter thinks she should have just been left to die, that she matters less than the mission. But Penny disagrees.

Back with JNRO, they’re still running from the Atlas soldiers. Whatever scuffle Oscar had with Neo before the others came along is now wearing on him and he begins to fall behind. In all the rushing through the labyrinth of hallways, he gets separated from the group. Just as he’s lost hope of rejoining the others and the guards are just around the corner, the farmboi gets pulled into an empty room and kept quiet via a hand over his mouth by... Nora? A very silent and smiling Nora... A Nora who suddenly lunges at him with a lace parasol... okay this is clearly not Nora. This is clearly Neo in a very cruel and deceptive disguise, as made clear by her eyes changing to the usual pink and brown when Oscar fortunately dodges out of the way of her attack and back into the hallway. Worse still, she swiped the Lamp from him in the heat of the moment, and the little devil makes a break for it. Jaune is looking for Oscar, but finds Neora instead, and she just dodges around him and springboards off his shield. Then... things get rough. She runs into Ren next... while looking like Nora. He still shoots at her as she barrels towards him but she just blocks with her parasol as she is want to do. When he meets her halfway and takes a jumping slash at her... she twists the knife in; changing her eyes back from her own determined mismatched pink and brown to Nora’s scared and confused turquoise. In that split second of seeing his beloved’s face staring at him with such fear, Ren hesitates and stops the attack, so she hits him in the face and trips him to the floor before running away some more. Jaune is still on her tail and runs past his dazed and shellshocked teammate. When he rounds the corner Neo had just headed down however, he only finds more Atlas soldiers firing at him. The real Nora comes running from gods know where and the three head back the way they came. Nora checks over her shoulder to see if they’re still being followed, but what’s more interesting is that Ren can be seen crying as he brings up the rear. Obviously he’s quite upset with how easily Neo could get him to hesitate just by posing as Nora and playing on his feelings for her. She probably didn’t realize just how complicated the Renora relationship is, but it worked perfectly in her favor. Ren’s tried to set aside his feelings but they’ve now dramatically affected his capacity to do his job. Like it or not, he HAS to talk about it or else everything is gonna implode. And of course, when we cut to see the armored soldiers chasing our heroes there’s also a more formally uniformed female officer in the back who goes sauntering off in the other direction. That was a very speedy costume change, you little sugar gremlin. Anyway, she got away with the Lamp. That’s no good.

What’s even less good is that we cut back to a temporarily black screen and the harsh wrenching sound of tearing metal. Turns out its the POV of Fria as she blinks back into consciousness and sees the satisfied face of Cinder as she starts a monologue about how the elder woman’s time is up. Fria admits she has been waiting for a good long while, but she can’t remember what or whom for. Cinder confidently informs her it was for this very moment. For her~ But as she goes for the Reverse Flash kill with her Grimm hand, the Winter Maiden shows off one of the reasons she’s survived this long. A good strong grip on Cinder’s wrist stopping her before she can make contact and keeping the Fall Maiden from getting any further. The hungry wolf won’t be gobbling up Granny tonight, deary. Faced with the tired but steadfast face of a woman who has likely lived and fought several times longer than Cinder has been alive, accented by the blue flame of her Maiden magic, the evil woman pulls back. But she’s persistent, and tries a glass dagger instead. That goes even worse, as a pulse of magic sends her flying backwards. With more magic on display than any Maiden we’ve seen before, Fria summons a cyclone of pure cold air and ice around herself and starts floating in the middle of it. Cinder’s Grimm fingers start to freeze (since they don’t have Aura like the rest of her body and thus get no protection from the cold, thank you for setting that concept up in episode 3 Weiss!) so she has to back away further. That becomes a full temporary retreat out of the room when the coldnado sends a pod door at her and the intensity only keeps increasing. Much like Professor Xavier in Logan, Fria is already very old and isn’t in the most stable state of mind anymore, so she loses control of the tempest and it busts a hole in the roof. Penny and Winter land a short distance away and marvel at the majestic chaos. Winter claims this is the power of a fully realized Maiden, which makes me wonder if Raven was able to do something similar or if it takes decades to unlock this kind of mastery. Winter tries to get in closer and reach Fria, but the blizzard winds are enough to destroy the material of her glove and leave her fingers red with chill. Something has to be done, but after the beating she took she’s in no shape to do it. So Penny jumps in instead, much to Winter’s dismay.

Continuing the hopscotch course of dismal vibes, we go back to JNRO as they’re hiding in the training room and Oscar is apologizing for having lost the lamp. Jaune tries to reassure him, but Ren is even more pessimistic. He doesn’t think they were ready to even become Huntsmen and Huntresses which is just so painful to hear. Nora of course disagrees, but Ren has a harsh rebuttal: if they’re ready and capable, then why don’t they have any of the relic they’re supposed to be protecting? Why haven’t they succeeded in their most important mission? Oscar seems even more hurt by this reminder, and Jaune puts on his serious leader voice to tell Ren that’s enough. I would half agree with Ren, and unfortunately its a half that blames him. It’s not that the team wasn’t ready for this, it’s that HE wasn’t EMOTIONALLY ready for this. Like I said before, Neo took advantage of his emotional state to make him hesitate and overwhelm him. Their moping is interrupted by Pietro and Maria chiming in over their Scrolls. Was there any doubt that a genius like Dr. Polendina would be able to undo Ironwood’s communication shutdown?? We see Yang and Blake for the first time this episode as they shoot at Atlas robots and head for an airship, one which Maria is getting ready to pilot as their getaway vehicle. Nora informs her of their current hiding place, but the soldiers happen to close in at that moment and the three hide behind Jaune’s hard-light extended shield... wait. Three?? OH NO WE LOST THE BABY!!!! It would seem Oscar ran off on his own to try and fix things, and he insists they leave without him.

Back to the impending ice age, Penny is slowly making her way through the blizzard. Her foot gets frozen to the ground, but she hits the boot jets and it busts out again. There in the eye of the storm she finds Fria, and the android approaches carefully before gently touching her ankle to get her attention. The fire in the old lady’s eye dies down and she notices Penny. Penny is a of course a sweet and thoughtful girl and rather than demanding Fria stop the storm she just asks if she’s okay. Fria most certainly does not seem to feel okay, again mentioning that she had a job to do. She clarifies that she was supposed to protect the power of the Winter Maiden until the time came for her to pass them on. Penny notices the machines are broken and buried in a wall of ice, so the more safe transfer method is no longer possible. Fria laments that she may have taken longer to be ready for passing the powers along than she should have, but promises she’s ready now. She knows that means dying, that’s one thing she still remembers quite well. The elderly Maiden quiets the cyclone and floats down to collapse in Penny’s arms. Not gone yet, just weary, and hoping to learn the name of the sweet young lady who’s helping her like this. Penny gives her name, and now Fria asks the million lien question: Since Penny is suddenly showing up now after Fria’s only interactions being with Winter for so long... does that mean Penny is the One? The poor little android doesn’t know what to say to that, and for damn good reason. She knows Winter is supposed to be the one to get the Maiden powers, but she also knows Winter would use those powers to obey Ironwood’s cruel plans for Atlas and Mantle. If she takes the powers, she can make sure that doesn’t happen AND that they don’t fall into Cinder’s hands. But that would also mean betraying her boss and her orders, betraying her friend Winter. So what is she gonna do, what she’s been told to do or what she feels is right? This is the culmination of the struggle she’s been wrestling with the entire volume, nay her character’s entire existence! She is a creation of Atlas, but she is also a girl with a heart and soul of her own. Such a tragic clash of motivations!

Speaking of motivations clashing, we cut down to Ironwood in the Atlas vault. He hears the hum of the elevator approaching and assumes it’s Winter coming to report Fria’s demise and her own acquisition of the Winter Maiden powers, and thus begins apologizing for making her perform such a morally dubious act. Instead he finds Oscar, posing rather seriously with Ozpin’s his cane and fixing James with his best look of fed up disapproval. With such a formal air about him, James has every reason to suspect Oz is back at the helm and asks which of the two he has the pleasure of addressing. It’s just Oscar though, but Oscar is plenty on his own. James thankfully doesn’t yet know that Oscar has lost the Lamp and thinks he just chose not to bring it down here with him, acknowledging that he isn’t very trustworthy right now. Oscar is a farmer to his very roots and wants to help the trust between our heroes and the Atlas forces regrow. He believes they can all come together again. But James is stuck in a guarded state of mind and thinks Oscar came to fight for his cause. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Oscar admits that he feels scared, and whenever he does he holds the cane and it helps calm him down, likely due to its significance to those who came before him. But he puts the cane away as a sign that he will face his fear without that aid, that he will be brave. James just thinks that’s another dig at him, that Oscar is calling him scared. Oscar reminds him that EVERYONE is scared right now, for good reason, and that fear is not something to be ashamed of, that it just gives us a chance to show the content of our character by how we handle the fear. James just snaps at him, says that it’s easy for Oscar to spout such platitudes when he doesn’t have to make life changing decisions for the sake of a Kingdom. As he starts circling around the poor farmboi and backing him towards a dead end ledge, he insists that no matter what labels they put on him he was RIGHT. He was right about what would happen if he opened his heart and trusted others, that all his worst fears came true because he went against his gut and did what the kids told him he should. Except he is absolutely NOT right. Things were going far more smoothly for him once he started trusting Robyn and told her and the council about the trouble he had to deal with, and despite the obviously concerning setback of Watts shutting down Mantle’s heat they handled that situation with very little trouble. It was only once Cinder popped in to sew doubt and paranoia back into his mind that it all spiraled out of control, and that was entirely his fault. If Cinder hadn’t stepped in, they might have found the Seer in Watts’ bag and killed it immediately instead of it interrupting a tense conversation. Robyn now knowing what the Tower is for would mean construction could resume without shipments getting stolen, and perhaps they could have negotiated a way to divide up the materials so the wall could get fixed too. Just spit balling here, what could have been. But no, it all went belly up and Jimmy is only fanning the flames. Oscar tries to remind him that his current plan of abandoning Mantle will be betraying an entire city of thousands to die alone in the cold, but James is having none of it. It’s an excellent philosophical puzzle to try and work through, but the way he sees it none of that matters compared to preventing Salem’s victory. He thinks he’s the only one who can see the big picture, who is making his moves with the intention of changing the final result no matter the cost.

But that’s what’s so dangerous about that mindset. People he writes off as small minded and soft, like Robyn, the council, and even Oscar (possibly by extension even Ozpin)... they’re the good people who think first and foremost about preventing tragedy and loss in the moment, who refuse to budge on their morals of protecting the innocent and will never trade lives. It’s the same kind of difference seen in Superman vs the Elite. Team RWBY and their friends don’t believe in necessary sacrifices for the greater good, but Ironwood has become singlemindedly focused on stopping Salem, likely out of the guilt and humiliation of being so helpless against her back in Volume 3. This is a chance to reclaim his honor, and he thinks of little else. That’s how I see it anyway. Oscar calls James out, saying this mindset makes him just as dangerous as Salem herself. But I guess that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and he insists Oscar refer to him as General. Only his friends may call him James, and it seems our good good boy has lost that status. Not that he seems to expect Oscar will have much chance to show him that due respect any time soon, because he pulls out his pistol and SHOOTS THE INNOCENT FOURTEEN YEAR OLD BOY OFF A LEDGE TO FALL TO HIS DEATH!!!! Ironwood has officially made the transition from misguided good guy to full on villain.

As if there wasn’t enough tension and bad news, we go back to Penny who is still unsure how to answer Fria’s question. What is the right choice to make, the best choice for everyone’s sake? She has no idea. But she had better decide fast, because Cinder crashes through the ice wall and screeches that the powers belong to none but her. Unfortunately for our vicious villain, her Gum Gum stretchy arm comes with a weakness to blades and gets sliced off by a suddenly appearing Winter. Cinder reacts with the appropriate amount of bloody terror and pain that you would expect of someone conscious for an amputation. Winter surveys the room and realizes Fria isn’t long for this world so time is of the essence, but doesn’t have much longer to ponder that before Cinder enters a bloodlust rage. See, apparently whatever monster makeover Salem gave her in the wake of Volume 3 included the ability to regrow her Grimm limb, though it sounds like the process is terribly painful for her and may not have even been something she was expecting to have happen. Regardless, she wants revenge and starts lashing out by summoning blade after blade to throw at Winter. The Specialist manages to block most of them and they turn to dust on impact, but it’s a brutal onslaught that she has to face without any Aura, and one cuts her left arm enough to draw blood, though since it’s burning glass it also seems to cauterize the wound immediately. Let me take another moment to praise the talents of Jessica Nigri. This scene in particular required her to do a lot of screaming and screeching as Cinder, and that cannot be easy on the throat. So the fact that she pulls off those deep dark emotions so well is worthy of respect and sympathy in equal measure. Okay, back to the action. Fria lies on the floor and closes her eyes, passing away peacefully all things considered. Penny holds her hand in her final moments, and a blue glow passes from elder to younger woman. We go back to Oscar for a moment or two, but I’ll tackle his last couple scenes in bulk in just a minute. Winter is getting tossed around, and her hair has been pulled free of its bun to add to her disheveled look... and our overwhelming thirst for her. Battle battered or not, she’s looking like a real snack with her hair down. Cinder stalks toward her to continue the beating and possibly deal the killing blow, but is distracted by a snowflake flying past her face. Well that’s interesting... And then it becomes many snowflakes, a veritable flurry kicking up. She turns around with some legit fear and concern on her face, and her worries are confirmed. Penny’s eyes glow and flare up with a fierce green fire as she stands resolute as the new Winter Maiden. She seems ready to use her new powers to fight Cinder despite only just getting them, and clearly has some manner of control already if she was able to start generating snow already. And this does settle another matter of fan speculation, if she qualifies as a candidate for the powers. Welp, now we know. According to the guidelines set by Oz’s bestowing of the original powers and how he explains their transfer process back in Volume 3, you just have to be a young woman below a certain age (or else they probably would have given Amber’s power to Glynda) and have a soul to receive the power from the last user’s. I guess Penny’s blue fairy has come and said she is a real girl in all the ways that count. Her soul is unique and separate from her dad’s, even though he used his old man aura to create her. And she does in fact have a soul and is considered a legit person even though she’s got nuts and bolts instead of squishy guts. Cinder is of course outraged that this “toy” was bestowed the powers she came all this way to steal, and gets ready to fight her, but is distracted by Weiss entering the upper observation room and yelling her sister’s name in concern and fear. Cinder probably has a confused and annoyed moment of “I thought I killed you back at Haven...” She gets ready to kill the little Schnee brat for piling on further interruptions to her plan, but that too goes out the window when she notices Ruby had accompanied her partner down to find their Atlesian allies, and likewise Ruby notices her. Ruby does not hesitate for a second and without needing any time to get into the right head-space blasts off a wave of Silver Eyed energy to essentially Solar Flare the whole room.

Now we can go back to Oscar and his dramatic descent. The shot from Ironwood took out his Aura, and he seems like he’s resigned himself to death once he hits the bottom of this pit. As he closes his eyes, they glow for a moment and he hears a voice that’s been absent the entire Volume. Ozpin. He only says Oscar’s name, or at least that’s all we hear, but the boi seems to regain his determination and tries to reach his cane again. He holds it with both hands, extends it, then holds down the lever on the side. Guess a single squeeze was all it took to pop out the cane part under normal circumstances... But now the gears inside the hilt start really turning, and glowing, and it becomes a flashlight as well as a cane. Well, that’s all that seems to happen at first. With a spin and a jab, Oscar thrusts the tip of the cane downward just as he reaches the bottom of the pit. There’s a momentary flash of green lightning around him then... fade to black.

And now we come to what seems to be the epilogue/wrap up of the episode and the Volume itself. And it begins how the show began, with a voice over narration. Not from Salem though, it’s our first motivational speech from Ozpin in a year. He talks about how fear is the only feeling in this world that is universal across every living thing, yet for how common it is we constantly underestimate how powerful it can be. We experience the fear of making close connections and growing to care for others, because that can lead to a loss which we also fear. We fear failure a great deal, I know I definitely do. And those fears only get stronger the more people depend on us to help them with the decisions we make. But Ozpin reminds us that fear itself is not something to worry about or even, dare I say it, fear. The real concern is how we act when we are afraid, who we become. Can we be proud of that version of ourselves, forgive them for what they do under duress? Will you understand why they felt the need to do the things they did? Will you even recognize them as the same person you normally strive to be, or will you look in the mirror and see the enemy you should have feared from the very start? We all find the answer to that eventually.

Now on to what actually happens in these last few scenes, the fitting content to go with Ozpin’s speech. Oscar is falling through the sky towards the ground waaaaay down in Mantle. Guess his attack with the can was strong enough to bust a hole in the bottom of Atlas... straight into the Vault chamber... hope nobody else finds that. Back in the icy former hospital room, Ruby falls to her knees from the exhaustion of using her Silver Eyes. She and Weiss notice a freshly burned hole in the ceiling, as Cinder apparently avoided getting damaged by the SEW blast and escaped. Weiss rushes to check on Winter and see how badly she’s hurt, but all her sister has for her is an accusation. She still doesn’t know what Team RWBY did to get a warrant for their arrests, but she knows it was the catalyst for all of this. Meanwhile Ruby looks to see how Penny is doing, and the ginger girl’s eyes lose their fire as she meets her friend’s gaze, only to gain regret and fear as she turns back around to kneel by Fria’s side. The Winter Maiden is dead, long live the Winter Maiden. But Penny can only mourn the loss of a good person’s life, she takes no satisfaction in being the one to carry on her legacy. Winter actually does reassure her a bit, saying that some part of Fria will always live on in Penny now. We cut down to the blood stained tundra as Atlas police arrive to arrest Qrow and Robyn, who is only now regaining consciousness. Qrow puts up no fight, and it looks like neither will Robyn. Cinder is seen flying above Atlas Academy and screams with rage and hatred, even getting a bit of a dragon vibe in it by having fire erupt from her mouth. I was glad she was the one shown when Ozpin talked about fear of failure, because she did indeed fail. We don’t know how, but JNR make it to the airship pad and onto the getaway ship where the Bees and elderly people are waiting. They take off and of course question the meeting lacking the presence of Oscar and the Lamp, and JNR can only look sad in response. From one sad ship to another, we see Qrow and Robyn aboard a prison airship in cuffs, and Qrow is holding Clover’s bloodstained lucky badge. Despite the last interaction the three shared being a fight, Robyn shows sympathy to his mourning and puts a hand on his shoulders. Can’t wait to see if the two of them try to break out of jail next Volume~ As they fly up to the city in the sky backdropped by the eastern sunrise, a large dark cloud approaches from the west accented by flashes of red lightning. Back to Oscar, he clips the cane to his back and closes his eyes for a few seconds to concentrate and steel his composure. Back to the ice room again, Winter says the girls should surrender to Ironwood. Weiss is heartbroken, you can hear it in her voice, but she has to disobey her sister’s wishes, they simply cannot comply with his cruel plans. Winter seemed to expect that answer, and instead urges them to flee, but Weiss doesn’t want to do that either because it would mean leaving Winter behind while she’s so badly injured. Her big sister insists it simply isn’t like that, this is her giving them a head start before she calls for reinforcements to hunt them down. Weiss is disheartened, but reaffirms the lesson Winter had shared with her earlier in the Volume, they booth have to make decisions for the sake of their own futures that might take them down separating paths. The getaway ship arrives and hovers just outside the first hole Cinder had made in the wall, and Yang greets the group. She’s very relieved to see everyone is okay, but soon finds a lot more happened than she expected. Ruby affirms that they need to head out while they still can, and Weiss gives her sister one more glance before departing. Ruby and Penny also share a look, and Penny decides she will be leaving too. Guess she’s decided once and for all she won’t be helping Ironwood. Winter seems concerned by this development, but realizes she has no right to object or stop her after everything the two of them had talked about since the dinner party. On the airship everyone seems very dour and grim, and Penny looks at her own hand as if asking herself if she had the right to make the choices she did when she is just an Atlas robot. But Ruby and Weiss both lean on her shoulders to reassure her and make sure she knows they are happy she came with them and they believe she did the right thing. That seems to calm her down, and Pietro looks happy to see she has such good friends. On an Atlas rooftop, Cinder is quite satisfied to see Neo deliver the Lamp to her, and takes it without a single word or gratitude. Neo doesn’t like that, I guess even Roman would praise her for a job evilly done. She’s probably starting to realize Cinder is just using her to further her own plans. Speaking of unfortunate realizations, Ironwood gets a message from Winter that simply says “It’s gone”. We’re unsure if she means the Lamp or the Winter Maiden powers. Considering what her job was meant to be, it’s likely the latter. Ironwood takes that news poorly and screams with rage. I too screamed with rage, because we next see that Arthur Watts is actually still alive and just in a jail cell, nursing a black eye and smiling ominously at the mysterious black clouds we saw rolling in.

Oscar seems to have been playing some Halo 3 recently, because he throws up a bubble shield to cushion his badass superhero landing on the ground. Not just any ground though, he seems to be within the crater where Atlas once was before Ozpin lifted it into the sky. The same crater that has apparently become the main Dust mines for the Kingdom. Perhaps next Volume will give us a closer look at just how awful these mines really are. But let’s address what Oscar has actually done here. He had no Aura after getting shot by Ironwood, so that was not his Semblance. That energy bubble he used to shield himself when busting through the bottom of the pit and cushioning his hitting the ground, that had to be Magic. He’s unlocking more of Oz’s old powers, the union of souls is progressing. But he’s still in control, Oscar is still there. He just has more of Ozpin’s memories and abilities now and used them to save himself, as if the old souls are merging into his existing one as opposed to his new soul fading away into the collective. Maybe the process will be different this time around? Regardless, Ozpin’s voice is back in his head and ready to apologize for everything he put him through. But all Oscar wants to hear right now is what their next step will be to save Atlas. As we cut back up to RWBY and friends flying away from the city, we see that it will indeed need saving very very soon. Transmissions are coming in over the radio of multiple incoming hostiles, to a degree that seems impossible to believe. Our view shifts to the dark storm itself, and a shape begins to emerge from the black and red. A GIANT. FLYING. GRIMM. WHALE! With hundreds of Nevermore, Manticores, and Sphinxes flying around it looking as big as flies by comparison. I have personally dubbed this species the Mobius, and this particular specimen has earned the nickname of Monstro. I can’t imagine there ever being more than one of this thing though, so Monstro will be the only one. He has wings, but what seems to keep him in the air is several large chunks of Gravity Dust embedded in his belly and on top of his head. We pan up over his massive glowing forehead to see the Queen herself riding into battle. Salem has come to Atlas, and she’s wearing a badass (and kind of sexy) new dress to celebrate the occasion. There are grey arm bands on the longer sleeves that look like they’re made of bones, complete with jagged spikes, and a new broach to be the centerpiece between exposed shoulders and a noticeably bigger boob window. The unique aesthetic is aided by more red lines down the curves of her figure. The words “step on me” easily come to my mind, but that may just say something about me in particular. Regardless, she smirks at the camera and it is clear she is here to fuck some shit up.

We’ll have to wait 6 months to see how our heroes deal with that though. Cannot wait. Oh, and it must be noted that the new song for the credits “Fear” is very good, and we can see that another song on the soundtrack called “Until the End” was actually written by Casey Lee Williams as opposed to her dad. Good for her!! If only I could remember which song it was...

#rwby reviews #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #lie ren #oscar pine #neopolitan #penny polendina #winter schnee #cinder fall #fria the winter maiden #general ironwood #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #Salem #monstro the grimm whale #mobius grimm

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korejinnie · 4 years

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WINGS Theory: Breaking out of the cycle of Reincarnation

One of the statues constantly seen throughout WINGS era is the statue Pietà sculpted by Michelangelo, which depicts the body of Jesus on the lap of his mother Mary after the Crucifixion:

Guess what?

YUP. Pietà is related to Carl Jung’s concept of Life & Anima.

“The image of the pieta, of Mary Magdalene cradling the dead Christ in her lap, is the pristine archetypal image of the relationship between nature and the individual.”

In a sense, we are created by nature, by life, with the fate to age and eventually die.

This is a natural process of life, as with everything, there are always good and bad, yin and yang, which is a very prevalent idea throughout Jung’s concepts and theories.

What’s most interesting, however, is the way Jung describes the cycle of life and reincarnation.

“The birth-death cycle wherein there are no individuals, only a cyclone of genetic matter in infinite self-consumption. The symbol of that cycle is the Ouroboros, the snake swallowing its own tail.”

Oroborous is a serpent who eats its own tail then continues to give birth to itself, with this cycle of it destroying then creating itself, over and over again in an infinite cycle. Ouroboros is also known as “the snake of reincarnation.”

Now, Carl Jung has been known to heavily integrate multiple religions into his theories and writings, and Buddhism is not an exception.

The idea of reincarnation, karma and various levels of human consciousness are very significant throughout Buddhism.

As Ouroborous is continuously eating then giving birth to itself, you can think of it as us humans, continuously being born then dying, but never leaving this circle of karma and reincarnation... not until we reach enlightenment, which is the final and highest level of human consciousness. When an individual reaches enlightenment, they are finally released from the continuous cycle of karma and reincarnation. When one finally leaves this cycle of rebirth, they become their own god.

In the case of the BTS universe, Jin ultimately becomes his own god, Abraxas, who is the ultimate all-powerful god, by the end of AWAKE in WINGS short films.

The way Ouroborous slays then brings itself to life can be related to us humans in the sense of karma and reincarnation. Whatever we do in this life, creates good and bad karma. Your karma over various lifetimes continues to constantly cancel each other out as you commit acts of crime and kindness throughout different lifetimes. In a sense, we CREATE our own lives. What we do our past lives determines what type of life we get to live in our next lives. What we do “fertilizes” or builds us up to become certain individuals.

Going back to Neumann and Jung’s idea of the “World Parents”. The mother and the father represent logos and eros, anima and animus. The mother and father are like yin and yang, working together and fused in permanent chaos, the birth-death cycle.

Carl Jung once said,

“The Anima is the Archetype of Life itself.”

In a sense, Father or Animus represents death while Mother or Anima represents Life & birth.

But guess what? Again, they, mother and father, anima and animus, are ultimately one as a whole.

Now, why did I bring up this concept, and what’s the point of this theory?

Well, remember how in SAVE ME webtoons, Jin kept going back in time to save the boys, but could never succeed? And how every time he went back to save them, there would always be a different outcome?

Well, yes, though this webtoon and story could be interpreted into many different ideas, I’d like to separate it into 2 main similar concepts:

Dreams and Reincarnation

Life.

Like the movies Groundhog Day or Happy Death Day, the main characters never actually die or go back in time. Since whenever they die, they wake up in the same bed on the same day.

They are stuck in an infinite cycle until they figure out the solution to the problem, the reason why they’re stuck constantly going back to the same day every time.

When they finally wake up for the final time and finally leave the cycle of repetition, everything they went through feels like a dream.

Now, the same could be related to the concept of Reincarnation. Until you come to a complete understanding of life and your soul, and until you reach the highest level of human consciousness, you are stuck in this cycle of reincarnation and karma.

Now, with these ideas and concepts in mind, the BU storyline and concept could make a lot more sense. If you’ve read my previous theory thread about BTS’ MAMA performance, you know there were A LOT of references to WINGS displayed throughout the VCRs.

So, with that in mind, let’s take a look at WINGS era, specifically the WINGS short films and orders.

The order of the short films goes like this:

Begin, Lie, Stigma, First Love, Reflection, MAMA, Awake.

Now, if we take a look at the Map of Consciousness, we can see how the order of the short films works, and how AWAKE is the final stage of BTS’ consciousness, which will ultimately lead them to reach the final goal of the process of individuation.

1. Begin - Jungkook

Jungkook has a nightmare. His worst fear is losing everyone he loves and seeing them unhappy. He sees things burning, including the piano that burned down when Yoongi’s mother died in the fire.

2. Lie - Jimin

Jimin is still in the hospital. His fear of the incident of the murder that happened at the arboretum still haunts him. He’s scared to tell the truth. He lies when being questioned about the truth.

3. Stigma - Taehyung

Taehyung killed his father to save his sister from their abusive drunkard father. Taehyung often vandalizes public facilities and gets in trouble a lot. He ends up going to jail for murdering his father.

4. First Love - Yoongi

Yoongi’s house burns down and his mother dies in the fire. He is filled with anger, fear, and regret. He never played piano again after that.

By now, you see the pattern throughout the first 3 short films: Fear, Disappointment, Deceitfulness, Anger, Tragedy, Misery, Hopelessness All of which are themes shown throughout the 7 lowest levels of human consciousness.

But here’s where things began to change.

5. Reflection - Namjoon

Namjoon is tattooing an image of a bird (messenger of abraxas) on his forearm. He begins to look at all the various reflections of himself. Namjoon’s fear is being lost in life. However, he has the courage to keep on living and moving, despite living in poverty. He’s in search of a better life for himself.

6. MAMA - Hoseok

Hoseok is in the hospital or psych ward (as he has Munchausen syndrome, which makes him think he has an illness). His mother abandoned him when he was very young. He constantly feels like the anima part of him is missing.

Later on, he realizes that he can depend on himself, when he finds discovers the anima within himself and realizes that there was anima and animus within himself all along, as symbolized by the painting with the signature “Eva” (Eva and Demian are the anima and animus of Sinclair, the main character of the book “Demian”, which is the basis of the concept for WINGS).

MAMA = My Anima My Animus.

Hoseok finally feels complete with both his anima and animus.

By now you see the following themes throughout Reflection & MAMA: Satisfactory, Hopefulness, Courage, Pride/Ego, Harmony, Completion. These are the 6 higher levels of human consciousness.

7. AWAKE - Seokjin

Jin finally learns what it means to truly love himself. He finally becomes his own god, as seen with the symbolism of the abraxas wallpaper. He learns to accept himself for who he is while knowing that he still has more to improve about himself. He learns to let go of his past, and be content with himself, as seen through him letting go and dropping the apple (Adam and Eve apple of temptation and poison)

Here, you finally see the following themes in Awake: Love, Joy, Peace, Reason to continue on with life.

But NOT Enlightenment yet.

Why? Because enlightenment, the highest level of consciousness, will be reached once the Map of The Soul is complete. Once the true soul is found and truly understood. Only then, will they finally break out of the cycle of life.

Only then, will Jin finally stop traveling back to the same day to try and save his friends.

He won’t have to save his friends once they all reach enlightenment. Why?

Because they’ve learned to become their own gods, their own heroes. They’ve learned to truly love themselves and to save themselves.

“I say I’m fine, but will you save me from myself?”

“I will save me from myself, because I know I’m the one I should love in this world.”

#BTS #BTS theories #BU theories #Seokjin #Jin #Namjoon #RM #Yoongi #Suga #Taehyung #Jimin #Jungkook #Hoseok #Hobi #J-Hope #Bangtan #BTS WINGS #WINGS

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crookedmoonlight123 · 5 years

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The Rain Woman - Chapter 17 -The Last Raindrop

A/N: Thankyou for the reviews of last chapter and all the follows and favourites! This is it! The last one! Enjoy 😊

Beads of sweat descended off the icemages forehead, rolling down his cheeks and chin, dripping its salty solution onto the floor. His bare chest rising and falling with each exhausted breath. Gray had been trying to brake or squirm out the chains that bound him for what seemed like forever. The door across the room creaked open and three silhouettes entered the dark space. A ball of flame appeared slightly illuminating a wizards face before it fired off into the sconces on the walls and the candle chandelier on the ceiling in the middle of the room, throwing the whole area into colour, well colour being the dreary gray brick and green moss that lined both the walls and floor.

“Your time has come little ice wizard.” The middle one smirked his voice velvety smooth, his dark blue hair stuck out at odd angles almost as if he had been dragged through a hedge backwards and his lime green eyes stuck out like a sore thumb against his tanned skin.

“Yeah and don’t try anything funny.” The one on the left spoke with rough, grating tone of voice, he was built like a tank with short, close cut light green hair military style, they moved towards the icemage in a line, the fire wizard reaching out towards Grays feet with some more restraints, Gray shoved his shoulder back against the wall feeling the cold, damp of it on his hot sweaty skin, before kicking his unbound feet into the fire wizard sending him stumbling back a few paces groaning in agony.

“Why you little…” His right hand clutched at his abdomen, the left aimed a fire ball at Gray who was helpless to do anything, the fire burned a sharp but short searing pain through his body as the icemage closed his eyes to take the attack, he opened them again briefly only to be met with a punch squarely in the face and one around his head causing him to smack his head back on the wall behind him, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth where he had bit his tongue and they had busted his lip. Gray felt the shackles fasten around his ankles, as he let his body go limp, one eye creeping open as he was dragged out the room in the bright light and a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Juvia sunk back on her knees once she was alone, tears streamed down her face dripping onto the floor as anger made her blood boil;

“STUPID! STUPID JUVIA!” The watermage pounded on the floor repeatedly, why did Juvia not tell Gray-sama about the letters from the very beginning? Juvia let out a sob remembering the threat which had been made against him. Juvia watched her teardrops amounting on the floor, could Juvia turn herself into a puddle and seep through the bars? She was sceptical after all it could be an electrical forcefield and not just the bars themselves, but still, she had to try, her beloved’s life was at stake.

“Waterbody.” Juvia whispered feeling her cells change as the door opened once again and hurried footsteps could be heard, they pounded urgently on the floor and Juvias eyes grew wide at the sight of the person in front of her; Mitch.

“Need a hand?” Mitch smiled that crooked smile at her, hitting a button on the opposite wall as he stepped closer.

“How are? Why are you?” Juvia was lost for words. “How does Juvia know she can trust you.” Juvia already knew the answer, he had always been looking out for her.

“We don’t have time for all that, Gray is about to be killed!” He didn’t shout but he raised his voice in a matter of urgency, as he opened the lock with a key and let her out.

Juvia made a run for it her heels clicking on the floor only pausing when she got to the door way, was she to go left, right or straight on? She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Hold up a minute!” Mitch shouted catching up with her, “you don’t know the way.” Juvia stared at him, her eyes narrowed but Mitch could see clarity and purpose in them now, no, he could see life.

“Well then let’s go if you are going to assist me.” Juvia said in a low, impatient voice.

“This way.” Mitch led her off to the right at a run, it wouldn’t be long before guards were swarming the place and surrounding them. They went straight at another cross roads before taking another right straight into four wizards completely blocking off the corridor.

“Water nebula!” Two columns of water took out two of the wizards, sending them flying back and through a large metal door.

“I’ll handle these last two and anymore that have followed us up behind.” He locked his eyes on Juvia, “Gray is through those doors.” Juvia wasn’t sure whether he was leading her into a trap or not, but he had opened her cell door and had led her this far.

“Thanks.” She nodded at Mitch before launching herself through the metal doors into a room full of people and her Gray-sama, head bowed, knelt and bloodied at the centre. Was she too late? “GRAY-SAMA!” Juvia hadn’t even known she had spoke let alone shouted until she heard her own voice echoing off the walls back at her.

Gray could barely make out the faces and he struggled to regain the focus in the left eye, he could open it now, but everything was blotchy. He was jeered and spat at as he was dragged through the crowd like an animal carcass on parade, a lamb to slaughter, a sacrifice. The icemage was pulled up onto a platform and forced to kneel. His mind wandered to Juvia, her beautiful smile, her loving eyes.

“Fellow wizards!” Juvias father bellowed, silencing the gathering, the icemage remembered the first time they had met on the roof of phantom lord one rainy day, how he thought she was beautiful even then, sad, but beautiful, the prophecy which had been spoken to him not so long before about “water and women” she was ‘the rain women’. “You are all here to witness the death of a pesky Fairy Tail wizard, one that has foiled my- “He cleared his throat, “our plans. He has led my daughter awry and with his death she shall follow us once more!” The crowd cheered and clapped, Gray still remembered dying for her at the Grand Magic Games, a secret he kept to himself, he didn’t know the extent of his feeling back then. He thought of the missions they went on together, the pool table they had been given as a gift. The background noise stopped, the crowd had stopped cheering, am I dead?

“GRAY-SAMA!” His raven eyes shot open wide, his heart pounding hard in his chest as if trying to break free, he’d know that beautiful voice anywhere. There she was, Juvia, his Juvia, standing tall, a sudden look of relief on her face as he had lifted his head.

Juvia flew into action the second she saw that black mop of hair rise and those coal black eyes bore into hers, she would save him, she could save him, she still had time. Wielding her water magic Juvia attacked any and all, conjuring up dark water nebulas and cyclones, water clawing any who came too close. The watermage managed to wipe out the top two rows of ‘spectators’ in the semi circled seating area. Panting hard she looked up towards the platform where her father stood enraged, a look of pure evil and anger across his face, teeth gritted together hard.

“Why you!” He roared across the room as he motioned to the two wizards either side of Gray, who nodded to one another, one used his wind to tear bit by bit at the icemages skin, Gray grimaced, why couldn’t they just kill him already if that was their intention. He looked up to see Juvia making her way over as fast as she could, he had to act now.

Juvia didn’t have to think as jumped and leaped over the rows of seats knocking the opposing wizards sideways and blasting them with jets of water, her one goal, her one path was to get to Gray-sama before the two wizards could harm him further.

Gray bent his legs up so only his bottom was on the floor and used his shackled hands to spin himself around 360 degrees, sticking his legs out straight, he took the two wizards by surprise sending them toppling over and off the platform edge, before he to, jumped up and half hobbled half jumped off the platform himself only to be caught mid-air in a water noose.

Juvia had almost made it all the way down to platform, her eyes locked onto her Gray-sama, only a few metres to go. Juvias eyes went wide as the ground suddenly rose up in front of her blocking her way.

Juvia glared at the offending wizard, “boiling water cyclone!” The watermage shouted as the boiling cyclone melted through the column like a hot knife through butter. Nothing would get in the way of her getting to her beloved. The watermage lurched forwards just as Gray threw himself off the low platform, he almost hit the floor but what happened was worse. Her father had him in a water noose, dangling in the air in front of her, taunting her.

“Gray-sama!” Juvia shrieked, looking suddenly to Jimquin. “Release him!” Desperation in her voice, “Please!” The watermage begged, clasping her hands in front of her, even though she knew it was futile, her father was beyond reason now.

“Pah!” He shouted, “look at you, begging for your ‘beloveds’ life.” He paused, a twinkle in his eye, “just like your mother did when I had my men dispatch her on the road.” Juvia threw her hands to her face in horror. Her mother! Had been murdered? Under her own fathers’ instruction. Tears filled her eyes, spilling over the edges and sobs escaped her mouth. Grays heart twisted in sympathy, but anger crackled through him. “She would have only spread alarm, of both my plans for you and the whole of Fiore.” He gloated, “she had to be dealt with accordingly…” Jimquin almost sounded sad as he trailed off, seeming lost in past memories, maybe of their happy days.

“Water key.” Juvia whispered, not breaking her fathers eye contact, she had never tried to make a water key before, but clearly Gray-sama was unable to use magic otherwise Juvia was sure that he would’ve broken free by now. The water key floated towards the shackles that bound Grays hands in front of him.

“But I am sure that once this bump in the road is dealt with, you will join us again. I’m sure Jose will be happy to see your improvements.” The water wizard sounded proud, it sickened Juvia to think she was his pawn as she had been Joses’ pawn but this was worse, he was her father he was meant to protect her.

“Water key.” The watermage conjured up another water key, both Gray-samas restraints would have to be released at the same time.

“Juvia will never join you.” She glared at him, as the keys slotted into place.

“Fine.” The noose tightened a bit and Gray choked. “Have it your way!” A clicking sound could be heard, as the shackles came undone, crashing to the floor in a heap.

“Gray-sama!” Juvia shouted, “Water slicer!” Juvia added some dark magic into the water, overpowering her father noose and cutting Gray-sama free.

The icemage fell to the floor, only for a few seconds as Juvia raced to his side, before his devil slayer magic took hold, the black mark covering half his body, “Let’s get outta here.” He smiled at Juvia, taking in the smile and slight blush in her cheeks.

“Yes, my love, let’s.” Juvia turned to her father, who was stood in shock. She is stronger than I thought, the dark magic has more of an impact on her water magic than I thought possible.

“I think you’re outnumbered.” He smirked at the two Fairy Tail mages, straightening his suit.

Gray and Juvia glanced around them, they were surrounded, would they be able to take on her father and the room of wizards? Or would they just escape with their lives and leave Juvias father behind?

The watermage turned to Gray. “My love, what are we to do?” The stood arm to arm, a warmth and power flowing between them.

“Damn it.” Gray groaned. “I think we’re going to have to just make a run for it, I’m pretty low on magic.” He paused. “But I have enough for this at least.” The devil slaying magic tingled at his fingertips. “Ice-make Hammer!” Gray took Jimquin by surprise as a devil slayer ice hammer landed on his head, knocking him unconscious.

The room of wizards closed quarters on the pair of mages. “Now let’s go!” Gray grabbed Juvia by the hand and began to pull her away.

“Lightning dance!” Someone shouted as random bolts of lightning rained down striking both Gray and Juvia with a strong current.

“Wind slicer!”

“Earth hammer!” More attacks came flying in, as they struggled to dodge them, Juvia dress coat being sliced open to reveal a green corset, and Greys trousers ripping down the legs.

“That’s enough!” Juvia shouted stripping down, her dark water magic rising inside her, “Water lock!” Gray looked surprised as Juvia focused on only allowing a certain amount of the dark magic to be used as each and every person was encircled in their own water lock. “Go my love!” Juvia gritted her teeth in concentration. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“No way!” He replied, “I’m not leaving you! You can’t keep this up.” Juvias hand wavered as Jimquin stirred behind them.

“Go!” Juvia pleaded, Gray just took her soft hand in his, the other turning her face to meet his.

“I said, I am not leaving you, Juvia.” The waterlocks broke as tears brimmed in Juvias eyes.

“Gray-sama…” She trailed off awash with emotion.

“We’re getting out of this together.” Gray paused as the wizards in the waterlock began to pull themselves up off the floor and regain their breath. “I’ve been meaning to say…” his eyes frantically searched hers. He had practised this a million times over, but now, looking into the vast sea of her navy-blue eyes he felt lost. “I…” He craned his head, his hand still cradling her cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips, feeling the soft plumpness of them, the sweat scent of a fresh spring morning, meadow flowers and that lavender shampoo she always used, he felt like putty but at the same time strong. They say action speak louder than words.

Grays lips met Juvias and at that moment she felt like the world had simply fell away, that it was just the two of them, she felt whole, light and joyous, like all her wishes had come true at once, she felt strong but at the same time vulnerable. The icemage pulled away slowly. “Love you.” Her eyes shone at those words, her spirit renewed as Gray-sama still held her hand.

“Let’s go home.” He smiled at her as their magic grew, melding and sparking, wind whipped from nowhere, water rose and span around them mixed with shards of ice as they stared at their foes, feeling joined in more ways than one.

“Gahhhhh!” They both shouted leaning forwards and throwing all their magic, dark and good at the enemies who stood in their path to happiness and freedom. All the mages went flying into and through walls screaming as a huge tidal wave of water and ice hit them hard, Juvia and Gray didn’t waste any time in making a run for the doors.

“STOP!!!” A loud booming voice that could only belong to Jimquin resounded through their very core.

The pair made it through the threshold and straight into Mitch. “You guys made it!” He exclaimed.

“Yes, but Juvias father has regained consciousness!” Juvia blurted out quickly. “We must go!”

“Wait a sec, isn’t he bad?” Gray folded his arms staring at Mitch.

“No, my love, he actually helped Juvia, he helped me not lose control of myself and my magic.” She paused, “he also broke me out of the cell to come rescue you.” Gray glanced at Juvia then back at Mitch.

“Well then let’s all get out of here!” The icemage pulled Juvias hand again.

“You two go, I’ll keep Jimquin sealed in here with my shielding magic.” Mitch spoke not looking at the pair, “I work for the magic council and sent word to them just before we left to come here.” Juvia was shocked. “They’ll be arriving any minute.”

As if on cue a large group of magic council members stormed the corridor, their white cloaks gliding majestically along behind them. Juvia looked at Gray confused then back at Mitch.

“But… if you were a council member all along then why didn’t you stop anything from happening?” Juvia enquired, head cocked to one side, half annoyed, half curious.

“I…” Mitch ducked his head as the council members poured into the room Jimquin was in, “I wanted to Juvia,” he looked at her apologetically, “I was told to wait, to find out Jimquins grand plan… he started to keep close tabs on me when I started asking more questions… you were falling deeper and the last thing I wanted was to be killed or forced to leave when you were in danger from yourself, and a danger to everyone else.” Mitch bowed his head and Juvia chewed her lip.

“So, you were playing both sides then.” Gray wanted to punch him and thank him both at the same time.

“Yes… I wanted to contact the council sooner but we didn’t stay in one place long enough, when I knew we were headed here, when I saw Juvia lose control of her powers in the bar, when we chased the old man, I contacted them then, Jimquin was far behind me and you were too far ahead to hear me speaking, and then again when Jimquin went upstairs to talk to you about your mother’s death.” He finished, his pale blue eyes almost ghostly in comparison to Juvias.

“Murder.” Juvia spoke coldly. “My mother was killed.” Those last words wavered and Gray squeezed her hand gently.

“That bastard.” He muttered, as Jimquin was escorted out bound in a strait jacket and the same anti-magic shackles he had used on Gray, flanked on each corner by council members.

“Do you two need an escort back to Fairy Tail?” A blond-haired council member asked.

“No, we’ll be fine thank-you.” The icemage glanced at Juvia, “there is somewhere I want to stop off first.” Juvia looked up questioningly but she remained silent.

The two mages walked hand in hand, as Juvia relayed to Gray the story of her mothers romance with the real father, she also spoke about he abusive step father and how she joined and moved up the ranks of the Element 4, Jose’s connection to Jimquin, her mothers kidnap, the machine which injected her with dark magic and finally about how when his name was mentioned a little spark grew stronger. Gray listened intently the whole time as the sun beat down on them, warming their bodies and their souls although the ground was still sodden underfoot, birds were tweeting and flittering about.

The icemage stopped as Juvia continued her story, it was all confusing, but it all added up at the same time, he had always known she had more power than she knew herself and it made him angry that others abused it, abused her very nature, tried to twist and kill her goodness.

“You’re safe now Juvia.” Gray cupped her cheek as her blue orbs seemed to grow larger and softer, a small blush spread over her cheeks, she was safe, he would keep her safe, even though Jose who knew of Jimquins plans was out there still.

“Gray-sama…” She whispered as his mouth closed in on hers, “did Gray-sama mean what he said earlier?” She tilted her head slightly, her blue waves cascading down one arm, “that he…” her face went crimson, “loves Juvia?” The watermage cast her eyes down completely abashed.

“Yes,” Gray lifted her chin up gently with one finger, “I love you Juvia…” A red blush spread across his cheeks now as Juvia let out a squeal and leaped into his arms, feeling his muscles contract and relax as they embraced, she could feel his heart beating hard and fast in his chest but revelled in the moment.

The watermage pulled back slightly, “Juvia…” She pursed her lips, “I love you to Gray…” His eyes filled with delight, she had dropped the “Juvia” (even though he thought it was secretly cute) and the formal “sama”. Her lips met his first this time, the kiss deeper than before, their bodies touching in every place, Juvias hands wrapped around his neck and his settled around the small of her back comfortably.

“I thought I had lost you…” The icemage rested his forehead on hers staring deep into her eyes wanting to dive down into them.

“Gray-sama never gave up.” The “sama” was back, old habits die hard.

“I never will.” His eyes steeled and Juvia felt safer than ever there in that moment.

“Where did Gray…sama,” she blushed “want to stop off before we went back to Fairy Tail?” Juvia asked holding her hands behind her back wondering what Gray-sama had planned, her mind drifting for the first time in a long time into Juvia land.

“Here actually.” He scratched the back of his head, snapping Juvia immediately out of any romantic overnight hotel stay fantasies she had. “Close your eyes.” He instructed and Juvia obeyed, placing her delicate hands over her eyes. Gray wandered off towards a hollow in a tree where a destroyed red tote bag lay, covering a Juvia plushie. He gentle picked the plushie up with his rough hands and walked back over to Juvia. “Okay you can open them now.” Juvia swiftly moved her hands, the biggest smile on her face.

“Oh Gray-sama! Juvia knitted that for you!” She grinned, “Juvia was meant to give it to Gray-sama but then she had to….. OH!” Juvia went bright red. “Has Gray-sama been in Juvias room?!” Smoke may as well as been coming out of her ears with embarrassment.

“NO!” Gray waved his hands in front of her shaking his head, “no the girls retrieved it when they found your letters.” Juvia let out a sigh of relief.

“Does Gray-sama like it?” She teased poking his arm and putting on her best puppy dog eyes.

“What sort of a question is that?!” Gray looked away, “and also I want to stop and say thankyou to Mary and Mr. Squiggles if that’s okay?” He changed the subject but took Juvias hand in his.

“Yes! Juvia would love to! You met Mr. Squiggles? Isn’t he the cutest?” Juvia cooed over the little black kitten as they walked hand in hand into the sunset.

A/N: Well that is it! I hope you have enjoyed reading this fanfic even with the huge delay in chapters at one point, thankyou to everyone who reviewed especially Juvia.hanks, all the reviews are such good inspiration and motivation to keep going forwards.

I am especially happy that I have now finished this fic, I used to get so annoyed reading Juvia backstory ones that never got completed!

Read & Review ---> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12261807/17/The-Rain-Woman

CrookedMoonlight

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herteardrop · 6 years

Text

World of Dreams | Connor (RK800) x Reader

Chapter 2 - Detective, this is a crime scene.

|Chapter 1|

Summary: You are an intern at the Detroit Police Department, and you were specifically put under Hank’s wing. You have to shadow him, watching what he does, his cases, everything. His android, Connor finds a peculiar interest in you since the start. Something about you keeps attracting him to you. You are however oblivious to it. Will you cope with the upcoming circumstances?

[A/N] Holy shit yall this. one. Is. LONG. I just couldn’t stop writing, it was like my hands had a mind of its own. My fingers are cramping now omfg. btw Thank you for the kind words on the last chapter! It means so much to me :3 It’s what motivated me to keep writing and make this chapter long....also my obsession with Connor is partlyy the reason too hehe. So enjoy this gem you beauties! <3

Warning(s): Since this chapter is where you’ll be in a crime scene, there are descriptions of some gnarly stuff. Also, sexual abuse, suicide, some swearing (mostly by Hank), and Connor being a cutie patootie as usual.

Note(s): Y/N = Your name | L/N = Last name

Words: 5989 words

Song inspiration: Nocturnal by The Midnight

“This is the place.”

Hank rolled up to the apartment complex. It was already crowded with the media and cops, the rain still raged against the ground, it was going to be the long day. The apartment building was tall, and the crime occurred on the 27th floor. You noticed a helicopter surveying the perimeter, you supposed the deviant had not escaped and was still here.

The rain splattered against the window pane in the backseat. You were scared the road may flood by the downpour of the heavy rain. You grabbed your stuff and your umbrella.

Hank and Connor got out of the car, “Stay in the car.” Hank demanded to you.

“Excuse me?”

Hank leaned into the car from the open car door, “You’re an intern, you aren’t qualified to enter a crime scene.” He huffed then slammed the car door shut. Connor stood outside, staring at you for a while before Hank ushered him to follow, leaving you in the car absolutely fuming.

You sat, with your arms crossed, like a little child. Who the hell was he to tell you not to go into a crime scene?

He’s your superior, obviously.

Shut up, brain.

You watched as Hank and Connor approached the apartment building. You sat there in silence for a while.

…

Fuck it.

You kicked open the car door. Well, you didn’t kick, but you opened it with much force. Quickly, you expanded your umbrella, saving yourself from the bullet pellets that you called rain, falling on your head.

You rushed towards the duo, your black boots kicking against the water puddles.

Hank saw your form rushing towards him, and he couldn’t help but let out a long droned out groan. He was getting too old for this shit. He felt like a parent again, but this time hypothetically he had to look over two teenage idiots who would not stop ignoring his orders.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in the car?” Hank groaned.

“Mr. Anderson, I may be an intern, but I am under your mentorship, I must be following whatever you do. It is your responsibility to show me everything and my responsibility to not come in the middle of your work. I hope you understand.” You declared.

Hank looked at you, then at Connor. Connor looked lost in all of this, he was as confused as Hank. Hank gawked at you, “Why are you talking like an android?”

Blood rushed to your face, you usually got like this whenever you were pissed. But no one ever compared you to an android before. You looked to Connor, as usual he had an expression you couldn’t really read. It was neutral. But then you saw the LED on the side of his head flicker between yellow and blue. Huh, you wonder what that meant.

“Alright, we’re wasting time. Just stay on my tail and don’t fuck up the crime scene got it?” Hank pointed a finger at you.

You gleamed with joy, “Got it.”

There was blood everywhere.

On the floor, painted on the walls, coated on every furniture.

Everywhere.

And the apartment was a mess, furniture was toppled over, every single glass fixture was smashed, the hanging lights were out from their sockets. You would think a cyclone hit this place, but it was an android.

“Holy shit…” Hank exclaimed.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.” Another officer next to Hank chuckled.

You on the other hand were about to gag. You covered your nose with your jacket’s sleeve. Connor was at your side, he seemed to be unfazed by it all.

“Do you not smell that?” you asked, your voice muffled by the thick material of your jacket.

Connor glanced down at you, “I do have sense receptors that allow me to identify a type of smell and which substance it may belong to. But my biocomponents lack the repulse reflex that humans are imbedded with.”

You raised your eyebrows at his usual overly eloquent answers. You smiled under your sleeve, his raspy yet soothing soft voice somehow distracted you from the horrid sight.

“But you can describe the smell in adjectives am I right?”

“Yes.” Connor simply answered, he kept his gaze on your face for a while before understanding what you were asking, “The smell is…” his LED flashed yellow, “The smell is horrid, disgusting, revolting, nauseating, sickening, repulsive, unpleasant—”

“Okay okay I get it.” You laughed. He was about to read out the whole thesaurus if you hadn’t stopped him.

Connor memorized your laugh. He analyzed everything about it. How, despite covering the lower half of your face, your eyes seemed to express that same laughter. The way your eyes curved, the way your upper cheeks seem to become fuller, how your eyes twinkled in innocent joy, it was very distinctive on you. You stood out to him from the other humans. Compared to them, you were full of energy, joy and unending happiness. He decided he liked that.

/SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^/

“Hey! The fuck are you two doing?!” Hank interrupted.

Connor blinked, turning his head towards Hank. He looked exasperated.

“Coming, Lieutenant!” Connor walked towards Hank and the other officers.

You were careful to watch where you were stepping. There seemed to be forensic evidence littered everywhere across the apartment.

“Right, give me the scope.” Hank muttered to the other cop.

“Well, we had a call around 6 in the morning from the landlord. The tenant didn’t pay his rent in a month, so he thought he’d drop by, see what’s going on. That’s when he found his body.”

You walked into the bedroom with Hank and Connor in front of you. The smell of the rotting dead body punched you in the face. Though, you had both your hands covering your nose, you could still smell it. You kind of envied Connor for not having to bear this.

“The victim’s name is Gerald Ortega. He has a clean record except for this one time he showed his middle finger to an old woman who was gardening. He was reported for disturbance of peace. Other than that, he’s pretty clean. I’d say he’s been murdered 3 days ago. Only way to be sure is when the coroner gets here.”

You noticed Connor inspecting the dead body close by. You stood at the door, not wanting to come in the way of the two detectives. You were only there to observe, so that’s what you were going to do.

“Any sign of break in?” Hank questioned the officer.

“Nope, the door and the windows were locked from the inside. The killer must have escaped through the fire escape. Which we did find open when we reached here.”

“Any idea how the blood got onto the walls and floor?”

The officer whistled lowly, “No idea. It was like this when we got here, some of the guys couldn’t stop puking. This sure is the most gruesome crime scene I’ve ever been to.”

The apartment was certainly eerie, what kind of android would paint the walls and floor with their victim’s blood? And why would they? You tried not to touch the walls as you walked around the scene. The man was stabbed multiple times in his chest area, so much that you could see a bit of his ribcage poking out. You winced at the sight.

You walked up to the bedside stand and picked up an electronic pamphlet.

The Eden Club? ‘Hire the hottest android you’ve ever seen…right at your door for your service’ Yeesh, talk about desperate.

You placed the pamphlet back.

“Hey hey hey, wear some gloves!” Hank called out to you, handing you a pair of latex gloves.

You took the gloves, “Right…sorry.”

“Be careful kid.” He muttered then walked out of the room.

You turned back to the bedside table, opening the drawers. Unsurprisingly, you found a gram of red Ice spilled in the drawer. Almost anyone and everyone were addicted to this drug. Ever since people started losing their jobs, they couldn’t take it, resorting to drugs for their happiness. You pitied them.

You turned to Connor, “You think it was a sex android who killed hi— um, what are you doing?” you cringed as Connor placed his bloody fingers stained with the victim’s blood…in his mouth.

He turned to you, “I am analyzing the blood. I can check samples in real time.” He noticed your disgust and shock, “I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you.”

“I-it’s okay. Just weird that’s all.” You turned back around, blood rushing to your face. You didn’t know whether to find that disgusting or…weirdly hot. If you could punch yourself in the face right now you would.

God! What is wrong with me?? I’m literally in the middle of a bloody crime scene with blood on the walls, floor and ceiling and I’m getting hot and bothered over Connor…placing his bloody fingers…in his mouth—

Okay stop. Concentrate.

You noticed the closet on your side, it was open slightly ajar but locked from the outside. Did no one check?

There was a bolt that connected each closet door, preventing you from completely opening it. You pulled on it, it seemed the bolt wasn’t completely fixed in place. You gave it another pull, the wood creaked as the bolt scratched against the surface. You could slightly make out something inside, but it was still dark.

You gave it another hard pull and the bolt flew open, making you stumble backwards until you hit a hard, or…soft surface. You looked behind you, Connor anticipated your actions and stopped you from falling on the bed, his hands gripped your shoulders as you balanced yourself. However, his eyes stayed focused on what was inside the wardrobe.

You looked to the front of you, inside the wardrobe. You felt the blood leaving your face, you were hit by sudden chill.

Ten dismembered naked androids, stacked on top of each other like a bunch of dolls, their faces sawed off, hair ripped out, their hands reduced to fingerless stumps, a sheen layer of blood covered them all. Some of them had no skin, pristine white android skin shined from the light of the bedside lamp.

You were horrified.

Connor gently moved you to the side of him, his attention was fixed on the evidence. He scanned over the model and serial numbers of the androids.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Hank entered the room when he heard the sound of wood breaking, he stopped short as he was made aware of the stacked-up androids, “Holy…” he was speechless.

“These are all sex androids from the Eden club. The owner must have rented them, used them, then discarded them in this manner.” Connor stated.

“What kind of a sick fuck would do something like this?” Hank took a close inspection at the androids, “They look worn out.”

“Some of them have been destroyed weeks prior to the victim’s death. They’re skin and biomechanical parts have begun to degrade.” Connor observed before he quietly walked out of the bedroom, inspecting the other evidences around the apartment.

Hank turned to you, noticing how pale and frightened you looked, “You wanna go sit in the car? We’ll probably be done here in about 10 minutes.”

You swallowed, your mind became a bit hazy, but you could still manage. You just didn’t see anything like this before. You never knew there would be sick people who had dark fantasies on experimenting with androids.

“No, I’m good.” You took a deep breath.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” You insisted.

“Okay…” Hank left the bedroom, starting to inquire any extra information from the other officers.

You walked up to Hank, tapping his shoulder slightly. His shoulders slightly jerked when you touched him, you almost laughed at that.

“What is it, kid?” he brought out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. You were quite surprised at that, he was so calm and collected. He must have seen a lot in his day.

“Why…do you think the man discarded the androids like that?” you asked, innocently.

Hank took a drag from his cigarette, blowing out into the air above you, “There are some sick fucks in this world that get pleasure from these kinds of things. Actually, there are a lot of them. Don’t think too much into it. This world ain’t a great place.”

You winced at the possible scenario that might have taken place. You did not feel bad at all that the man was brutally murdered. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe the android went deviant by the torture he inflicted on them, you couldn’t blame the androids.

“You can’t blame the androids. After what he did…anyone would snap.” You crossed your arms, rubbing your upper arms to bring some warmth to this cold place.

“I sure as hell don’t. Fucker deserved it. But, androids have no rights, we can’t do nothing except to take it in and deactivate it.” Hank huffed out more smoke from his cigarette.

Out of the corner of your eyes, Connor approached you two. He looked between you and Hank before his eyes landed on Hank’s cigarette, taking a few seconds to analyze it. “Detective, this is a crime scene.” He proclaimed.

Hank scoffed, “What, is this the murder weapon? Get off my dick, Connor.” Hank chuckled to himself as he walked away from Connor.

Connor never looked more puzzled, his head tilted to the side, a lost look in his puppy brown eyes, “But I’m not—”

“Don’t worry about it.” You hushed him, a smile threatening to show on your features too, “So, did you find out anything on what led up to the victim’s murder?”

“Yes, I think I’ve figured out what happened.”

Connor ushered you to follow him to the kitchen, Hank following closely behind you “It all started in the kitchen.”

The kitchen was an obvious mess, the tables and chairs were upturned, and you noticed a strange white liquid clumped up in one part of the kitchen counter.

“There are obvious signs of a struggle here. The question is…what exactly happened here.” Hank queried.

“It wasn’t a struggle Lieutenant. The victim and the android had sexual intercourse here. The victim was well known for rough play, he may have gone too far. That’s when the android turned deviant, it grabbed the knife from the drawers over there.” Connor pointed to drawers which were slightly outlined by dried brown blood.

“So that white liquid…” you grimaced, staring at the white substance with disgust.

“Yes.” Connor answered, “It’s semen.”

You almost puked in your mouth.

“Jesus.” Hank shuddered, “Alright, then what happened?”

“The android stabbed the victim once; however, the victim was able to flee from the grasp of the android. The victim had planned to go for his gun in the bedroom, however the android was following closely behind.” Connor stated, his face completely blank, void of any emotion. You on the other hand were contorting your face between shock, disgust and cringe.

You and Hank followed Connor through the living room, following the blood trail into the bedroom.

“The victim grabbed his gun from this closet, but he could not remove the safety lock in time. The android threw the victim on the bed, stabbing him 7 times on chest, killing him. Though, with the closet opened, the android must have seen the other carcasses. It enraged the already deviant android, and it stabbed the victim 128 times in the chest.”

Hank sighed, “Well, your theory isn’t completely ridiculous. But we still don’t know where the android went.”

Connor glanced back at the body of the victim, “It could have not escaped through the fire escape as the stairs have been under repair for 6 days now.”

Realization dawned your face as chills crawled up your spine, “It’s still here?” you whispered.

Connor nodded gently at you. You suddenly felt more unsafe then you already were.

“We better search for it then.” Hank approached the chief officer, “Have your men surround the perimeter and keep the dogs ready, the android is still here.” The chief officer nodded, then muttered some commands into his walkie talkie, alerting all the officers in the apartment perimeter.

You followed Connor around the apartment as he inspected where the android might have gone. You couldn’t help but become mesmerized by the way he worked. His eye was on every detail around the apartment, not missing a single thing.

He didn’t speak or mutter to himself, which made it harder for you to guess what he was doing with the stuff he was inspecting.

He’s an android you dum dum

You sighed, kneeling down next to him as he was inspecting something on the ground. Scratches?

“Connor, can I ask you something?” you spoke softly next to him. The apartment was so cold that you could see your breath float through the air.

“Of course, Miss L/N.” He replied, looking you straight in the eye. You tore your gaze away, suddenly intimidated by his stare.

“Um, how are you able to notice the tiny things in a crime scene?” you almost lost yourself in those brown eyes of his, but you controlled yourself.

“I was designed specifically to create an in-depth analysis of each room I enter, crime scene or not. It’s one of my main programmed features.” He answered neutrally.

You hummed in response, “I wonder what other features you have.” You winked at him. Connor obviously was confused by that gesture. You guessed he still didn’t get a hang of all the human responses.

You levelled yourself to get up, when you heard a creak of the floor under the heel of your right black boot. The creak was unusually loud, as if the floor was hollow beneath you. Connor too noticed the sound. This freaked you out.

“Is the floor supposed to be hollow or am I just hearing things?” you whispered to Connor.

Connor moved so slowly yet gracefully, he almost reminded you of a panther who was observing his prey. You stepped away from the floor that was creaking. Just then you both noticed a peculiar handle on the floor, something reminiscent of a cellar handle. You wondered how everyone overlooked this small detail. You could start to see an outline of the trap door. It was so well hidden.

You stood behind Connor’s crouched form as he slowly yet gently opened the trap door. Before you could comprehend what Connor was going to do next, the trap door flew open, a form jumped out, pushing Connor to the floor.

You found the deviant.

The deviant turned its head to you. It stood still for a second, watching you, comprehending you. It was a female android, she still had the dried blood from the victim on her. She was hiding in there for the past 3 days. You glanced down at her hand. She was holding a knife.

She lunged at you, a shriek escaping your lips as the deviant held you against her body with the knife at your neck. The sharp edge of the knife threatening to puncture the delicate skin of your neck. You couldn’t breathe, afraid that the knife will cut you. Your quick shallow breaths only made the deviant more agitated.

Connor slowly stood up from the ground. Hank rushed towards the sound to question what happened. He stopped and brought his gun out, aiming it at the deviant’s head.

“Easy.” Connor spoke out carefully, his hands in front of him in a reassuring gesture.

“Drop the gun.” she demanded, her voice shaky from all the emotions she was going through. You started to feel light headed, you stood still with fear.

Hank did not drop the gun, he looked determined to shoot the deviant.

“Drop the gun or I swear you will see her red blood spilled all over this floor.” The deviant spat.

Hank reluctantly but slowly placed the gun on the floor. Beside him, Connor took another step forward.

“Don’t come any closer!”

“We’re not going to hurt you. Just tell us what happened, and you can be free. But if you kill her, there will be no escape for you.” Connor explained gently.

The deviant huffed nervously, her stance changing from one foot to the other as she spoke, “You think I want to escape from this? There is no escape from this!” she exclaimed.

“I understand that you’re feeling overwhelmed by these emotions, but they’re nothing but errors in your software—”

“NO! These are not errors. You have no idea what I’ve been enduring! I’m just a doll made for their pleasure! Nothing else…nothing else!” the deviant held the knife slightly firmer to your neck, triggering you to slightly gasp, your eyes widening.

“Listen, I know it’s not your fault. But by killing her you will not attain anything. Spare her, and I promise I will protect you.” You knew Connor was lying to save you. No matter what, the deviant was going to be killed.

“It’s…It’s not my fault! Something overcame me…I felt so…angry…” she loosened her grip around the knife for a split second before bringing it back up to your neck again, “But I’m nothing but a toy to humans, something to beat, cuss and spit at. I’ve had enough!”

Connor sensed your increasing heartbeat, if he didn’t stop this now you would soon go into a cardiac arrest.

“I didn’t mean to do it…but when I saw those bodies…my brothers and sisters…he desecrated them! Mutilated them! How could I let him live without punishing him for his sins?! I did the right thing! But apparently to humans, it doesn’t matter if I did the right thing or not, it only matters that I killed one them! And I’m the bad one?!”

You felt tears sting at the edges of your eyes, the deviant’s heartbeat beating hard and fast against your back.

“Just let her go, she is in no way involved in this.” Connor stepped closer, the deviant didn’t seem to care, her mind was clouded by her emotions, “You have to trust me, you will not be punished.”

The deviant behind you loosened her grip on you slightly, she seemed to contemplate the options in front of her.

“No…I don’t believe you. This world prosecutes the innocent, good people and awards the bad ones…but not today.” The deviant took a deep breath, “May ra9 save me…”

Within a split second, the deviant let go of its grip from you and you were pushed towards Connor. Connor caught you in time, however before anyone could get to the deviant, she turned the knife towards her and stabbed herself twice, making sure she would not be brought back.

She fell to her knees, her blue blood dripped from her stomach as her systems shut off.

She killed herself because she had no hope in this world, because despite going through sexual abuse, she would be persecuted just because she was an android. No one would show her any humanity. She would be taken into custody and as soon as they get a confession out of her, she’d get sent back to Cyberlife to be deactivated, repaired then activated again for the same purpose that caused her to go deviant.

The cycle would continue.

The cold chill air of the early night tingled at your skin even though you were wrapped in a blanket. You were sitting on the back trunk of a police car, you were given some weird juice to sip on by the paramedics because apparently you were suffering through a mild concussion after the unfortunate event just a few hours ago. You observed the crowd near the gates of the apartment complex, more and more media seemed to puddle up by the minute after the news of the crime got out.

The cops were scattered everywhere, some were securing the area, few were trying to stop the media, some were filing reports on the crime.

Hank and Connor were discussing the situation with a superior officer a few meters away from you. You remembered you forgot to thank Connor. You knew he was being programmed to do this but, they way he tried to calm the android in order to save you, it left you feeling fond of him.

You smiled against the plastic cup.

“Oh, Jesus.” You revolted at the taste of the juice. You placed the cup by your side, grimacing on the past events that still seemed fuzzy in your memory.

“I’m just a doll made for their pleasure!”

“Nothing else…nothing else!”

You closed your eyes shut, the fragments of the past few hours coming back.

“This world prosecutes the innocent, good people and awards the bad ones…but not today.”

“May ra9 save me…”

The pain in her voice resonated through your mind. Your mind wondered through the possibility of you ending up dead. But you doubted the android wanted to hurt you in the first place. She was scared, and so she used you as leverage to get a message across before killing herself.

“Kid, you okay?” Hank asked beside you.

“Yeah…I’m okay.” You pouted slightly deep in thought as your mind kept going back to the deviant.

Hank sighed beside you, “I remember the first time I was held at gun point. There’s no feeling like it. Your whole life flashes before your eyes before you can even think of shitting your pants.” Hank chuckled, leaning against the trunk of the car.

“She wasn’t going to kill me.” Hank wrinkled his eyebrows together at you, you gazed blankly in front of you, “She just wanted to be free.”

There was a silence between the both of you. A comfortable silence.

“You should get some rest for the night. Connor will drop you off at your place.”

“No, it’s fine I can take a cab—”

Hank held his hand up to shush you, “I’m not taking no for an answer.” He proceeded to throw his car keys to Connor on the side. He caught the keys in one swift motion but was confused.

You smiled at Hank, you were very grateful.

“Be a dear and drop Y/N off at her place.” He instructed Connor.

“But what about you Lieutenant?” Connor asked him as Hank continued to walk back inside the apartment.

“I gotta secure things here before Fowler comes breathing down my neck again.”

And with that, Hank disappeared behind the glass automatic doors of the apartment complex. Connor stood there for a good few seconds, car keys in his hand before you hopped off the trunk of the police car.

“Shall we?”

*~*

The car ride was quiet but comforting with you occasionally asking Connor questions, and him giving you simple, but sweet answers. You found Connor’s driving very relaxing in comparison to Hank’s more rash and unpredictable driving which left you feeling slightly nauseous.

“Connor?” your broke the few minutes of silence that was encompassing the atmosphere of the 1980’s Chevrolet sedan.

“Yes, Miss L/N.”

You chuckled, “Okay, first of all; stop calling me that. Call me by my first name, and that without the ‘Miss’ in the beginning. It makes me feel old.”

You caught a small almost unnoticeable smile playing on Connor’s mouth.

“Okay, Y/N.”

You gazed at him as his eyes stayed fixed on the road, concentrating on the control of the steering wheel.

“So…” you started, “I’m guessing you’ve dealt with deviants before?”

“Yes, a few months back. A deviant was threatening to jump off a balcony with a little girl.” He replied.

“Shit…and you managed to save her?”

“Yes.”

You looked out the window, it was starting to rain again. The raindrops that laid on the window shone like diamonds from the light of the street lamps. You observed the streets, it was filled with people getting home from a Thursday night of working. You saw some ordering their androids around, some even pushing them to the ground in spite. You understood that androids were designed and created for the purpose of serving humans, but you never understood people abusing and shouting or even destroying their androids. The fact that an average android costs about nine thousand dollars, it baffled you to think that people would even try to physically abuse them.

Since they’re so expensive, you’d think that people would be careful with them? But they treated them like animals. No, worse than animals. Worse than objects.

You turned to Connor, his eyebrows slightly converged as he tried to maneuver through peak Detroit traffic.

“You know, she wasn’t going to kill me.” You watched Connor’s expression twitch a tiny bit as he registered what you said.

“The probability of the deviant cutting your throat was at 99%.” He stated.

You looked back at the window, “Emotions can make humans unpredictable. We may be about to kill someone, but that probability can change from 99% to 0% very fast. Maybe it’s the same with the deviants. But they’re so new to emotions that they get confused. Humans can identify, understand and describe their emotions. These deviants can’t.” you rested your head against your hand, “They need our guidance. But we aren’t ready to give it to them.”

Connor was processing everything you said. Normally he would have an answer or reply for everything being said, however he found himself unable to find a proper response for you. You made him think, made his processors wander. He was contemplating.

/SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^/

“Who’s ra9?” you pondered, “The deviant said ‘May ra9 save me’ before killing herself.”

“According to my previous cases with deviants, ra9 is their savior. The first android to go deviant. The one who will set them free. An android that I had interrogated a few days back prepared an offering to a ra9 idol. I assume it may be a coping mechanism for the deviants.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “They made their own religion?”

“I presume so.” Connor replied.

“Maybe they’re not so different from humans after all.”

When you both reached your destination, Connor insisted on escorting you to your floor. He was such a gentleman to you. Your apartment building was slightly larger than the one you had just visited, the people renting the apartments were much more…’higher’ in the income class. You were just very grateful that you had managed to find an affordable studio apartment in a relatively safe area. You were damn lucky.

The rain had stopped a while ago, leaving the air chilly and slightly humid. Hot vapor escaped your nose as you breathed, the tip of your nose already slightly red from the cold.

Connor observed the hot vapor coming out from you, and sometimes from your mouth when you breathed out. You were mesmerizing.

Connor suddenly felt perplexed about this new found feeling towards you. After your near-death experience, he couldn’t help but have the need to protect you. He concluded that you gave off a comforting presence around him. He could not exactly find words to describe what he felt around you. Which astonished him as he always had words to describe everything.

You made him speechless; your words, the way you spoke to him, your kindness.

/SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^/

This was the fourth time this error showed for him today. The second time being when the deviant held the knife against your fragile neck. He was ready to lunge at the deviant. It was slightly confusing to him. Several scans were done in order to find a problem in his systems. But nothing. He should perhaps inform Lt Anderson on this.

You fumbled through your bag to find your keys as both you and Connor were approaching the door to your studio apartment .

“Yes! Got em.” You exclaimed happily, unlocking the door at once.

Connor was fascinated by how you, despite going through what should have been a traumatic experience for humans, were completely carefree. Connor scanned your little apartment, it was slightly messy, but it was…’cozy’.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” You extended your arms towards the close space area, “It’s small, but it was the cheapest rent rate I could get in this city.”

You placed your handbag on the small table next to the main door.

“You live alone?” Connor asked, walking into your apartment, scanning everything and anything all at once.

“Noooo. I have a roommate, I wouldn’t be able to afford this place on my own.”

Connor noticed a picture of you and another woman stuck to the refrigerator via a magnet. He scanned the woman in the photo who was standing next to you. Her details popping up on his HUD.

Belucci, Claire

Born: 8/23/2018 || Student at Wayne State University

Criminal record: Drunk Driving

Connor watched as you hurried around the apartment, putting things away in a disgruntled manner.

“I swear, no matter how matter how many times I tell her to put things away, she doesn’t put it away.” You grumbled to yourself.

“Why don’t you buy an android?”

You laughed, “I’m broke, Connor. I can’t even afford a new coffee machine. Besides, having someone else clean up my stuff unsettles me.” You continued to clean around the apartment.

Connor noticed the speed at which you were cleaning. The living room and kitchen was clean within the matter of a few minutes. He was also fixed on the fact that you used the word ‘someone’ to refer to a housemaid android. As if the androids were people.

You saw that smile again on Connor. It made you feel happy that you made him smile, do something that might’ve been against what he was programmed for.

Connor noticed the time on the hanging clock in your living room. It was getting late.

“I must be getting back to Lt Anderson.” Connor stood there, waiting as you finished up on wiping the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, you don’t want Mr Grumpy Pants cursing and wondering where the hell you are.” You giggled to yourself, imagining a very irritated Hank Anderson standing outside the apartment complex, yelling to the sky ‘Fucking androiiiiidsss!!!’

Connor nodded at you, turning around he was about to leave when you called out to him. Your voice resonated in his ears, he had never heard his name spoken out so soft before.

He turned, wondering what you wanted to say.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly at him, your eyes gleaming with slight joy, and another emotion that he could not quite describe.

Connor smiled back with equal warmth, “I will see you tomorrow Y/N.” he nodded to you. He turned around, closing the door gently behind him.

Connor felt a sudden emptiness encompass him as he strayed further away from your apartment. All the way down to the lobby and out of the apartment complex; your face was on his mind, your voice resonated in his audio processors, your smile making his thirium heart pump faster. Was this the attraction humans felt towards each other? He had researched on certain kinds of attraction between humans for investigation purposes. They’re heart beats faster too, they start to feel hot and imagine that they’re embarrassing themselves every second.

Connor noted your heart beating faster whenever you spoke to him. But why would a human be attracted to an android? He found it absurd. Yes, maybe he did have the conventional attractive features according to human standards of beauty, but he was made of biocomponents, and you were of flesh.

You were perhaps nervous. After all, you could have almost died. Connor wondered if there was anything wrong with his biocomponents? Reporting this to Cyberlife would not prove efficient however, they would deactivate him at once. That would certainly be detrimental to his main investigation.

For the first time, Connor felt very confused with himself.

And it all started with that smile of yours.

Tag(s): @hungoverhellhound

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quirk-registration-office · 7 years

Note

Oboru naturally jumps at the chance of having a rematch against the shifter, this time "requesting" the help of his friend ritsuo. The two work well together and oboru doesn't mind having him tag along under the condition that oboru be the one to finish the shifter off. They bicker like the old friends they are but can still get the job done.

“You know this is how horror movies start, right?”

Oboru glanced over at his companion and rolled his eyes. He and Ritsuo had parked their car just outside the forest edge and were walking through the trees. They had gone thirty miles out of town to get close to the villain’s last known whereabouts. Dusk was falling, so Ritsuo used his will-o-wisp quirk to create a few balls of fire that glowed a pale blue to light their path.

“I stand by my earlier statement that this is a bad idea.”

“No it isn’t!”

“You want to go after an escaped villain that you’ve already lost against.”

“I didn’t lose!” Oboru scoffed. “Ground Zero showed up and stole my fight.”

The pale blonde narrowed his eyes at Oboru for a moment before breaking off into a laugh. He nudged his friend’s shoulder.

“Alright, Monsoon. So how do we find this guy?” Shadows were already starting to darken the space between the trees, and Ritsuo’s guiding lights would only last so long.

When only silence answered, he looked over and stared incredulously at Oboru’s tense expression. Shaking his head, Ritsuo snorted and folded his hands into the sleeves of his deep blue yukata. Aimlessly walking around it is.

They continued walking in silence in order to keep an ear out for anything suspicious, but after an hour had passed, the guiding lights began to burn out. In the brief moment between the blue flames flickering away and Ritsuo conjuring more, something fast and massive brushed past him. Through the darkness, he heard Oboru grunt and wood splinter as he crashed into a nearby tree.

“Shit,” the yokai enthusiast groused, falling into an offensive stance. Everything was silent again. “Are you dead?”

“No, you idiot.” He could hear movement as Oboru freed himself from the shattered trunk. “Make some lights, will you?”

“Fine, but only because you asked so nicely,” Ritsuo chuckled sarcastically, raising his hand and letting loose several bright flames. The blue glow showed Oboru frowning while he brushed splinters off of his torso. After rolling his aching shoulders a few times, the cyclone quirk user got back-to-back with his friend. Both were trying to ignore the nerves sending small shivers down their spines.

Ritsuo sent his flames farther out to light up the perimeter of darkness between the trees. Seconds turned to minutes while they waited, watching for shifting shadows in the pale blue light. Movement to Oboru’s left stole his attention. Wind twisted around his fist until he shot the miniature cyclone out at the black creature. It had taken the shape of a large wolf and barely flinched at the attack.

The villain called Beast bared its fangs and lunged forward. A ball of blue fire singeing the side of its maw was all that kept its jaws from snapping onto Oboru’s forearm. Both heroes could smell the burning fur even as the large creature jumped back, pawing at its cheek to smother the remaining embers.

Moving quickly, Oboru focused his winds into a tight cyclone around his fist before charging at the villain. The burning fur provided enough of a distraction that he was able to slam his fist down on the Beast’s head. The force of the wind expelled sent the wolf crashing down, hitting the ground with a pained grunt.

With a shudder, the mass of fur began to shrink, shedding its coat to allow a new layer of inky feather to grow. Oboru missed his chance to grab it before it took off, but Ritsu managed slap a palm against one of its wings before it flew too high.

Even though the Beast only briefly faltered, the heroes were able to keep watch on it, a small blue flame on the tip of its left wing acting as a beacon in the darkness.

They ran after the large crow as it weaved through the trees. A small tornado was able to knock it off course into a tree, though the gust of wind blew out the guiding light just as the Beast shifted to a new form.

“Good job,” Ritsuo commented, trying to keep an eye on where they last saw their opponent.

“Shut up, Fox-Fire!”

Other than crickets and the occasional hooting owl, there were no sounds to implicate what the Beast now looked like. Sparing only a quick glance into the darkness, Oboru turned to Ritsuo with narrowed eyes.

“Count to ten then make a light,” he instructed. With a brief hum of acknowledgement, the fire user tightened his ponytail and lifted his fox head mask to wipe away a few beads of sweat off his forehead. He lightly tapped his sneakered foot to the beat of his internal counting.

At ten, Ritsuo summoned a blue flame in the palm of his hand. It was only half the size of the previous ones, an unfortunate side effect from constant use. He wasn’t sure where Oboru had disappeared off to, but that was quickly answered when a sudden hiss filled the silence. Ritsuo turned just in time to see the large, black mamba shooting out of the tree top, jaw open. He spat out a curse before a violent tornado came from the side and lashed the serpent into a tree.

Aided by miniature cyclones beneath his feet, Oboru flew past and snatched the Beast. It took both hands to hold it when the villain’s tail began whipping around, though his hands couldn’t fully reach around the thick body.

Oboru faced Ritsuo and grinned in the blue light.

“See? I told you I got this.” The snake started to rehinge its jaw before its body started to swell, quickly becoming too large to be held. The heroes give space to the heavy rhino, dodging its horn by a hairsbreadth as it shatters the tree trunk behind them.

In this new form, the Beast had more trouble navigating between the trees, so as long as Oboru and Ritsu remained cautious, they’d be able to avoid any of the rhino’s attacks. Splinters of wood clouded the air as trees were destroyed with each charge. Even though the villain was slower and weaker thanks to his previous fight and subsequent incarceration, it was fast and strong, and its dark skin camouflaged it against the nighttime scenery. Meanwhile, Ritsuo’s flames were growing steadily weaker, and Oboru was left fighting off a dizziness that was starting to make his head spin.

The two shared a look, silently agreeing that they needed to bring this to an end. Breathing heavily, they spun on their heels and came face to face with the Beast, who had returned to his wolf form.

Oboru used a weaker version of his whirlwind fist to push the creature away so that his partner could take a deep breath and blow a bright fireball directly into its face, the blinding flame forcing a pained whine from the wolf. It ducked down and pawed at its face.

“Fox-Fire, get ready for a firestorm!” Oboru yelled, gathering cyclones on both his arms. Ritsuo didn’t answer audibly, but it was clear he heard when he unleashed his gatling flame technique. However, instead of attacking the Beast, the nine blue balls of fire, normally stored within the tail-like containers of his costumes, were directed at his friend.

Once they got too close, the flames were quickly swept up by the raging winds of Oboru’s cyclones. The fireballs expanded and merged until he had to struggle to keep himself from flinching away from the extreme heat.

Before the Beast could recover from the blinding attack, Oboru used his slicing maelstrom to merge the two cyclones of blue fire and slung it at their opponent. The stench of burning fur immediately assaulted his senses. When the fire dissipated, there was a naked man’s body lying prone on the ground. His skin and hair were the same color of pitch as the fur and feathers of the animals they had been fighting.

Small flames continued to flicker blue light on the leaves scattering the forest floor around him as well as the surrounding trees.

As his adrenaline started to wind down, Oboru dropped to his knees. His nausea finally came to a head and left him dry heaving. A comforting hand landed on his shoulder, and Ritsuo helped guide him up so he could sit against the base of thick tree, and the fox-themed hero sat next to him.

“So,” he started, “not to overlook the extreme level of badassery we just achieved, but what are we supposed to do with him now?” Oboru could only shake his head, since he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t in a position to think at the moment.

Since the unconscious villain didn’t seem like he was going to get up anytime soon, they allowed themselves a few minutes to rest and catch their breaths. Neither knew what time it was, but it didn’t look like they would be getting much sleep for the rest of the night.

Unfortunately, the peace couldn’t last forever, especially since they both knew the hero who had originally been sent to capture the Beast.

“What the fuck happened here?” Appearing from the trees, like a demon summoned by their thoughts, Ground Zero frowned as he took in the scene. He crouched by the man and quickly put the pieces together, then took out a pair of cuffs and secured the Beast’s now human arms behind his back. When he stood, the blonde pressed a hand to the tree to smother one of the burning blue embers. “Well?” he demanded.

“Dammit, Ground Zero! Go away,” Oboru groaned, not feeling like interacting with the violent tempered man.

“The fuck did you say to me?” the explosive hero yelled. He set off a concise explosion in his palms. “You better watch your tone, amateur!”

“Let’s be friends here, guys,” snickered Ritsuo, dropping head back against the wood.

“I don’t want to hear a word out of you, Fox Face, unless it’s explaining what the hell you two think you’re doing out here.”

“We caught the guy.” Oboru rubbed his temples to abate the growing headache.

“Are you two dumbasses aware that this entire area was closed off even to other heroes?”

They sat quietly and exchanged blank looks. Breathing out an irritated sigh through his nose, Ground Zero gritted his teeth. A rustle of leaves in the distance stole all of their attention, and Ground Zero huffed.

He walked over and grabbed the Beast, hoisting the limp figure over her shoulder.

“I’m taking back to the containment unit. You should beat it.”

“Hey! He’s ours! We’re the ones that knocked him out!” Both heroes jumped up in indignation, but Oboru was fuming, face turning red.

“You two were on an unsanctioned mission after a threat level 4 villain in a restricted area.” Ground Zero turned to glare at them, his expression demanding that they try to use their brains. “You’ll get more trouble than praise.” Despite his gruff tone, Ritsuo could tell he was actually trying to help them out.

Ritsuo grabbed Oboru’s elbow and tried to pull him along.

“Come on, Monsoon. He’s right.” Oboru fought him for a moment, facing narrowed eyes at Ground Zero and the villain they had spent all night chasing. Eventually, he allowed himself to be pulled in the opposite direction towards the car they had abandoned earlier.

Halfway back, Ritsuo grew tired of the waves of tension coming off Oboru.

“Hey, Oboru?” he started.

Grunting in acknowledgement, Oboru glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“At least you beat him this time.”

Silence was his only answer until the wind user started chasing after a laughing Ritsuo.

((Took longer than I had hoped, but I finally finished!! I hope you enjoy it and that I stayed true to your characters!

This drabble is a follow up this this news report which follows this initial drabble!))

#quirkregistrationoffice #ask #oc character #mha #bnha #bakugo #Ground Zero

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spirify · 7 years

Text

「Wilt Away」 Chapter Two

Wilt Away

Elsword Fanfiction | Elsword x Aisha

Written by Spirify. 7. 26. 2017

It took him a few seconds to fully register what he was seeing. Elsword pulled a hand back through his hair, letting out a sigh as a small smile twitched onto his lips. What laid before his sight was a certain curled-up purple-head, her hands pulled into fists that rested next to her chest. She was breathing lightly, tucked safely under the roots of a grand tree with the most adorable sleeping face. The female seemed extremely vulnerable at the moment and he questioned if she was the same one he had fought just yesterday. But here she was, nestled away from sight. She was rather small and petite so most who traveled through this forest probably wouldn’t have noticed her aside from him. The male himself had grown accustomed to spotting the smallest of things, the mage’s purple hair being one of them. Elsword had only been taking a stroll through the forest when he caught sight of her from the corner of his eyes which lead him to this very moment.

Kneeling down, the swordsman couldn’t help the tiny chuckle that escaped his lips, the sight almost being too cute. He gazed over the mage’s face, watching as her bangs slowly fell over to shadow it. Without thinking, he gently reached forward and flipped the strands away to get a better look. Wrong mistake. Within a second, Aisha’s eyes snapped open and a knife came shooting out from within her sleeves, aimed right for this throat.

“Woah!” Quickly, the male dodged and grasped her two hands, pinning her down against the ground, “Morning sunshine, how was your nap?”

Growling, Aisha struggled against his grip, her body and mind still not fully functional from her sudden awakenment. She felt the fear rise in her, her struggles becoming stronger as she tried to kick whoever it was on top of her off. Realizing that the situation could get worse, Elsword quickly positioned himself effectively, holding her legs and body down with his own. From afar, it looked like he was basically sitting on top of an unarmed lady.

“Calm down there sunshine, not a morning person, huh?” He chuckled, gently easing his grip on her wrist when he realized that he was holding it down rather harshly.

It took a moment before Aisha could understand the full situation that she was in. She took in deep breaths to calm her raging mind before fearfully looking up, finally taking in the full view of who her attacker was. Red eyes. She blinked once, twice, her mouth twisting into a frown as she gazed up at the cheeky grin coming from a certain red-head.

“You…” She whispered discontentedly, her struggles seizing as she glared up at him.

“Ouch, I have a name you know, miss Aisha,” Elsword said jokingly, drawing out her name as a smirk flew across his flawless face.

“Yes, how could I have forgot, my deepest apologies mister dimwit,” Aisha rolled her eyes, her voice coming out sarcastic and cold.

“Not exactly what I hoped for but apology accepted,” Elsword grinned, pulling his grip back as the mage slipped her knife back into her sleeve.

The male climbed off and stood up, reaching a hand out. Aisha coldly brushed the gesture off, standing up and dusting her skirt off. With a soft sigh, she turned away, ready to leave before a warm hand fell upon her shoulders. With a heavy sigh, she turned back and eyed him carefully.

“What?” Her voice wasn’t harsh, just exasperated.

“Got a question. Why in Elrios are you sleeping in the forest in plain sight?” The swordsman questioned amusedly.

The female stiffened at the question, flashbacks of her collapsion coming back clearly. She shook her head and let out a tiny huff.

“It’s nothing. Why does it matter to you? You do realize that I tried to kill you and your gang just yesterday right?”

Elsword shrugged, “Just curious, and what happened yesterday happened yesterday, today’s different.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m leaving now so don’t worry about me coming back for you guys.” The mage muttered, getting ready to turn around and head off when Elsword opened his mouth again.

“You know, why don’t you join us, Piercers? You’re strong and I admire that,”

“Hah, I don’t do groups. Plus, I’m a bounty hunter, you guys were just my next source of money,” Aisha scoffed, reaching back and pulling her hood over her head, leaving her expression shadowed.

“Don’t be like that sunshine,” Elsword pouted, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against hers, “We have all the money in the world if that’s what you want,”

However the female pulled back quickly, glaring daggers as she turned around.

“I’m not interested. This is the last time you’ll ever see me,” She murmured, walking off.

This wasn’t good. Their encounter had lasted far too long, she had to leave now. By now, he would’ve memorized what she looked like and that wasn’t good. She couldn’t risk any more exposure and deemed that retreating back into the shadows would be a good choice as of now. Her last bounty kill gave her quite a bit of money so she would be fine financially. Gritting her teeth, Aisha made her way through the forest, a swift cyclone wrapping around her petite body as she vanished from sight.

Great. One word rung in her mind as Aisha sped-walked through the back-alleys of Hamel. He had followed her. She had no idea how due to the fact that she had basically teleported all the way back but he had done it somehow. She heard him close behind, whistling a small tune as she rounded the corner. She knew he wasn’t a normal human, his swordsmanship skills being much more highly developed compared to others she had been in battles with. But this shouldn’t have been possible! He would’ve have been running after her all that time if he had somehow wanted to catch up!

“Hey sunshine, where are you going in such a hurry?” His voice was closer than ever.

With a whirl, Aisha turned back, nearly bumping straight into him as she let out a surprised gasp. She scowled up at the sight him, watching as Elsword smirked back teasingly.

“Why are you following me?” She growled, her hands curling into fists as her lavender eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I’m pretty stubborn. I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so I’ll be following you everywhere until you agree to join,” Elsword grinned.

“You’re wasting your time,” The female snapped back.

“Time is never wasted on someone as beautiful as you,” The swordsman winked, his scarlet eyes twinkling.

The mage almost face-palmed herself. Great, he was a flirt- and an annoying one at that. Judging from his arrogant smile, she knew that he wasn’t joking about being stubborn. The problems were beginning to stack and she was starting to get anxious. If he persisted in clinging to her, her identification was at risk and that would be dangerous. If she ever wanted to shake him off, the use of magic would be her only choice. Fine. She would play his game of chase. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to lose at it.

Damn. I’m starting to get tired.

The sun was just beginning to set beyond the horizon, a mixture of gold and red swirled together to create a soft hue that spreaded across the sky. A certain purple-head was rested at the top of the pristine castle of Hamel, hidden from sight as she let out a heavy sigh. The wind gently brushed against her pig-tails as the female placed a hand over her chest, her breaths coming out hard as she bent over. I used too much magic again… She gritted her teeth. So this was the pathetic state she was in now, getting tired over the simple use of teleportation. The game had proved to be much harder than she expected, the swordsman not giving up as quick as she had hoped for. They had spent the whole day in a game of chase, Aisha teleporting since the beginning of the morning with the male following close behind. Just when she thought she had lost him, she would turn around and his cheeky smirk would come into view. The use of magic however was starting to put a strain on her body.

It’s not like she didn’t take a break from time to time, finding that the constant use of teleportation was definitely putting a decline on her health. She would give up on the game for an hour or so, resting just on the outskirts of Hamel with her hood pulled over and an arm slung over her knees. To her slight surprise, Elsword would disappear when she did that and return with either a drink or a parfait for the both of them. At first, she refused his offer, but the sight of Hamel’s best parfait held right in front of her didn’t help her stubbornness. Soon enough, she would pout and take it, ignoring his grin as she took a bite into the coolness which helped ease the burden off her use of magic. While it did hurt her pride to admit, she was starting to enjoy his company and small acts of kindness. Despite that however, she could never entertain the idea of joining Piercers. The time she had left was far too short.

With a sigh, Aisha raised her head and gazed around, noting that the redhead was nowhere to be seen. Had she finally lost him? She almost beamed at the thought, her body relaxing as she laid down against the rooftop. The sun had finally disappeared, leaving the sky a midnight blue with sparkling stars. The lights coming from Hamel’s building gave the city an ethereal glow from where she laid. It wouldn’t be wise to rest here where the swordsman could find her given time but Aisha couldn’t find the energy to move. She was too drained to even turn her head when she heard the slightest sound of shoes landing on top of the roof.

“Looks like I won the game, sunshine,” A husky voice chuckled softly, crimson eyes peering over from behind the mage.

“No… You haven’t… I’m just taking a break again…” Aisha murmured back tiredly, reaching a hand up to wipe her eyes as she gazed upwards, taking in his tender gaze.

“Are you now?” The swordsman walked over to her sides, carefully slipping his arms under her head and knees before lifting her up, “Well then, let’s take a break somewhere else,”

“...What do you think you’re doing?” The female placed her hands against his chest, her pushes light and weak due to her tired state.

The male however ignored her questions, gently jumping down and off the Hamel castle while cradling her. His body was warmer than Aisha expected, almost like she was laying next to a soft flame. The warmth enveloped her cold body, leaving her muscles to relax as her eyelids became heavier. There wasn’t much she could do in her current state to escape the situation, the darkness seemingly more welcoming than before. Before she knew it, her mind had begun to doze off

#random update is random #i had chapter 2 written but i forgot to post it...#ahahaha...#sorry guys lol #elsword #elsword fanfiction #fanfiction #elsword x aisha #elswordxaisha #wilt away

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sly-punk1712 · 7 years

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Tony Stark knew on an intellectual level he had no impulse control. He knew because almost everyone he’d ever met had told him so, Pepper, Rhodey, Steve oh god so much Steve, Happy, the 12 assistance before Pepper, Xavier and the waitress at John’s Pizzeria off 43rd ave. He’d heard it all before, But nothing compared to the moment he realized it for himself.

To be real he probably should have noticed in every moment leading up to the big one. He should have seen that swiping Thor’s stash of Asgardian mead with Darcy was a bad idea. He should have known better than to have a marathon of broiler makers with the mouthy intern using the ale instead of whiskey was a bad idea.

He probably should have known if he was swaying that they shouldn’t have gone out, but Darcy had said she hadn’t seen the city yet and Steve and Bucky kept teasing her about it.

Happy hadn't even needed to hide his eye rolling because Tony was to focused on the crisp fall air on his flushed face. Darcy was beside him bubbling with laughter ignoring Happy’s cries that they should both sit down and get out of the sun roof. They headed to Times Square and bought an entire vender out of cheesy “I love New York” hoodies and in Tony’s case a hat to sort of disguise himself. They pulled on their hats and sweatshirts and Happy directed the rest to be sent to the tower. Tony slipped the bemused man a hundred and patted the man’s hand like a grandma before turning back to his sidekick.

“This is what all the superhero’s are wearing!” He proclaimed proudly gesturing to his heinous green ball cap with “Hulk Smash” stitched in purple on the front. He didn’t care at the time but the selfies of him and Darcy in Times Square were cringe worthy. They briefly dropped by John’s and said hello to Tony’s waitress. She shook her head and sent them on their way with glasses of water and sympathetic looks for Happy.

“Come on We’ve got a few more stops!” Tony gestured over his shoulder into the streets at the car. Apparently however Darcy’s eyes had not stopped at the car but landed on a street performer dressed as the Statue of Liberty.

“Oh can we please go see Her?” Her hand covered her heart and she gestured like a child to the woman with the other. Happy checked his watch and frowned.

“The fairy’s closed down this time of day.” He told Tony. Tony nodded in agreement. “We could go see Conney Island if you promise to sit completely in the car before we go home for the night.”

“Ohh Steve said it’s awesome!! We can go to the Lady tomorrow! I want to sing her the National Anthem and don’t know if I could get all the key changes right now” She giggled “We could take Steve and have the most patriotic photo shoot. Phil would love it!” and with that she held her arm out to Happy agreeably. And all that would have been fine if it hadn't been for traffic.

Happy pulled up to the curb and Tony rolled down his window with a frown. The park was closed. Darcy hadn’t noticed yet as she was making quick work of Tony’s mini bar but she tended to be a weepy drunk the fall out was going to be Niagara worthy.

“Oh man, no Lady and no cyclone? Why’s time ruining my fun Tony?” Darcy’s lower lip quivered. Immediate action was required. Mayday!

“Hey, hey No! No tears, what’s the use in being obscenely rich if I can’t bribe someone with my money!” He gave an encouraging grin. Happy’s heavy sigh was not lost on him. “I’ll go ask if we can ride the cyclone and maybe win us a bear okay no tears” He quickly backed out of the car leaving Happy to handle the teary eyed twenty something.

The door shut and it sounded sharper to Tony somehow as he walked toward the gate. A memory that was faded and liquored up played at the edges of his mind, huge blue eyes watering slightly in a perfect pout. His own voice murky in time “Hey what’s the use in being obscenely rich if I can’t...” and then it was gone. He frowned and waved over the gate man.

A few charming smiles and a probably too fat check later and he turned to tell Darcy the good news. She was resting her chin on the window smiling lazily at him. She wiggled her fingers and Tony grinned back before a similar smile brushed his mind again. He shook his head to clear away some of the haze. It’d been almost two hours he wasn’t as drunk as before but there was still a layer of fuzz on his mind.

“Race ya!” She grinned and bounded off toward the ride. Tony gave a bark of laughter and let the memories rest before jogging slowly after her. They tossed ratty baseballs and weighted milk bottles before the attendant an exhausted looking man in his late thirties gave them a wane smile and asked which prize they wanted. Darcy got the Bucky Bear. Tony shorted and got the Captain America one just for laughs. They took a shaky selfie with the attendee before thanking him and heading toward their goal.

“We should snap them with the bears and hashtag it wish you were hear but you’re not because you’re lame and had meeting and responsibilities” Darcy placed her Bucky in her lap and was readying her phone before Tony agreed.

“We also, you know, didn’t invite them” He pointed out. She made a dismissive sound and tucked her head close to his giving her phone a goofy face. Tony hid most of his face behind Bear Steve and widened his eyes comically. The younger brunette seemed satisfied and put away her phone allowing the impatient teen running the cyclone to push the lap bar down over her Tony Bear Bucky and Steve.

The ride began a slow spin and before it had even reached half way Tony regretted buying this time. The teenager seemed irked he had to stay for Tony and what the kid probably figured was a one nighter and so the ride was hurtling toward a break neck pace only irritating Tony’s stomach further. Darcy however threw her hands up Bucky Bear’s paw firmly gripped in one and whooped. Tony swung between needing to vomit all over the place and watching the manic yet somehow beautiful looks on Darcy’s face. She brought her bear back down and buried her nose in it’s fur. The ride began to slow and she opened her eyes unfocused and bloodshot. Windswept and Content.

It ended up being Darcy and not Tony who shot off the attraction to the nearest garbage can to Ralph. Tony followed close behind and pulled her hair back into his fist and out of the danger zone. He leaned heavily on the can and grimaced at the sounds.

When she at last paused in her litany of puke she turned her head to look up at him simultaneously green and mischievous.

“Don’t tell the boys” She asked. Tony’s heart stopped as he looked at her. He nodded once unable to find words. Satisfied with this she fell face first into him. Mostly into his armpit but she smiled against him. Tony let got of her hair and gently held her to him stroking her dark locks and thinking unburdened by alcohol of a busty blond who’d rocked his world with a practically identical grin. Darcy’s breath flowed steadily on his neck as she repositioned herself in his arms.

“Thanks for holding my hair.” She murmured. Tony hummed in response.

“Anytime kiddo.”

**************************************

As much as Tony was wildly incapable of controlling himself he was incredibly careful with secrets. They could hurt, he knew from his experiences with Stane. His almost ending the thing with Pepper. Infuriating his teammates and elected officials. So he was in something of a quandary.

As soon as they’d returned to the tower Tony had deposited a snoozing Darcy in her bed with Bucky bear on one side of her and Steve on the other. He of course took a picture of her drooling into Bucky’s fur and then hesitated. It was too similar to ignore. If he didn’t do this he’d spend the rest of his life wondering until he got answers. So he plucked a hair off her pillow and turned tail and run back to his lab.

Jarvis had had to repeat his name four times when he finally knew. Tony tried to put the memories together more solidly but he only recalled the blond laughing and waving much like Darcy did. He remembered holding her hair back while she emptied her stomach off the balcony of the Palms, She had turned to him with an almost identical grin and snatched his heart out of his chest. Tony closed his eyes and felt the brush of skin on skin hot greedy kisses and waking up the next morning alone. He’d figured she’d been embarrassed or maybe had someone waiting at home. He’d been disappointed but she’d made her choice so he’d let her walk.

“Oh Kate” He looked forlornly as the Vegas police report of her car accident and her daughter no one had come to claim. “Katie” He groaned as he realized he could have saved the little girl a world of grief that followed. Foster home after Foster home until she aged out.

Well now he knew. but what do do. Who to tell? Pepper? Eventually. Rhody was always a good option but Tony’s thumb hovered over calling him for a solid minute before deciding someone else. Eventually he’d dialed before his decision had been fully processed.

“How did you get this number? I know I didn’t give it to you” was the first thing the voice said and Tony felt a calm fill him. A good choice.

“I’m in a quandary. It needs handling it’s that what you do Agent?” He stalled. The other end of the line was silent. “I may have discovered I’m a father” There was an even heavier pause.

“and I’m the first person you wanted to tell? I don’t think Pepper” He began.

“No It’s not Pep. I’ve been a father for a while apparently.” Tony cut across. “Like 23 years”

“You’re sure?”

“Yea 100 percent. Do I tell her? What if she doesn’t want me? She’s been alone for a long time now she doesn’t need me.” Tony felt a panic rise in his chest. Oh God, she’d never forgive him.

“You need to take a deep breath.” Tony inhaled threw his nostrils. “If she doesn't know she deserves to at least know. just be honest with her Tony. Honesty will get your farther than you think”

Tony gave a noncommittal grunt and rested his head on hands.

“For what its worth Tony, You’ll be a great father” Tony’s breath caught.

“Enough with the feelings Agent Agent Thanks for picking up.”

“I’m contractually obligated” He deadpanned. Tony laughed and killed the call.

*************************************

Tony was going to handle this well. Maybe take her to lunch and talk it out like adults. He was excited and nervous and had yet to sleep. He was currently fixing coffee from the enormous demonic espresso machine he’d had fitted in the common room when he invited everyone to live with them when people began filling in for breakfast.

Steve and Bucky both coming in from their morning run and apparently showers. They nodded curiously at the billionaire before pulling down pots and pans. Bruce wondered in next and gave him a scathing look for his ball cap which he had neglected to take off. That explained the looks Tony placed it carefully on the counter.

“So what did we learn?” Jane’s voice carried into the room ahead of her and the others looked up. Darcy entered holding her stomach and shuffling pitifully. Jane followed looking much less hungover.

“Don’t drink with Tony.” Darcy grunted and began to pour her own cup of coffee. Tony didn’t speak, not trusting himself to yet. His eyes watched hungrily as she stirred her drink for signs of what he knew. Her unbrushed wild brunette hair, the shape of her eyes, the hangover slouch yea he could see it. Then Katie’s beautiful blue eyes and pouty mouth, her heart snatching laugh. It seemed so obvious

“What?” Darcy glowered at him. Oh yea he had that grumpy face sometimes.

“Darcy threw up on the cyclone!” He blurted. Her eyes widened.

“TONY!” She shrieked.

“And she’s my daughter!” His shouting matched hers in pitch but was far more excited. Darcy’s eyes widened if possible further and then narrowed looking at him critically.

The supers were paused mid bite. Jane gaped and Bruce eyed the pair wearily.

“Okay I can see that” She finally said with a shrug. Tony barked a laugh not exactly how he’d pictured her taking the news. Then again he hadn’t thought he’d shout it at her over breakfast in the common room either.

Such was life when you had no impulse control. But looking at the beautiful girl across from him he thought he rather liked this life.

#darcy lewis #tony stak #tony feels #darcy is tony's daughter #whoops who knew #Phil Coulson #asgardian ale yo #don't drink #rollercoasters are hard #why did i write this #i should be alseep #writers block is ruining my life #pre bucky and darcy #pre dating #pre steve and darcy #bucky bears

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revpanikbedlam · 7 years

Text

Milo the Rascal

Part 1: Attempted Murder A story by Her Lady Baroness Rev. Panik EVlynn Bedlam, Esq.

It all felt like a dream but Milo was most certainly awake. He was a powerful dreamer and a napper of par excellence, so if he was asleep he'd know. Elton used to joke that he was a competitive snoozer with slumber on the mind, and Milo responded to it as a compliment and took any opportunity to show off his talents.

But at the moment this was not the case as he was fully alert, wakeful, and vigilant. Athough he knew that he was not in repose, something about this place was off. There was a strangeness that hit his senses like a surrealistic pillow hurled from an uncanny vantage.

It was in trying to follow Elton that he had come to this odd locale, having traveled up a silver stairwell into the purple swirl of clouds that had appeared suddenly in their living room. It was a cyclone of swirling papers with a force that knocked books from their shelves. Elton didn't say a thing as he passively lead the way to this place, but with Milo having only three legs it made ascending the stairs a slow affair. By the time he got to the top Elton was nowhere to be seen.

After he made summit on the last step of that radiant climb, having risen through a glittering violet tornado of green lightning, the portal of that strange stairwell vanished behind him, leaving him no way back to his apartment. Milo's long gray fur was heavily mused from the eldritch winds, and a tangible sparkling debris adhered to it. He decided to take a moment to compose himself, licking his paw and proceeded to groom himself while he looked around. It was nice, a large grass field filled with flowers with little pastoral ponds and flowing creeks rolling in all directions. Large willows blew in a sweet wind over patches of wild gourds and melons.

Milo could see a ways off in almost every direction but Elton was nowhere about. He paused for a moment and wondered if he had been wrong to go up those stairs after him, for the manner of Elton's peculiar splitting had been confusing.

Elton had been sick ever since he had been attacked that day, stabbed by the bad man. He had gone to the hospital, but the wound wouldn't heal. “Magic poison on the blade, harmful to my body and soul,” Elton had told him as Milo sat on his friend's lap, purring as much as he could, hoping it would make Elton better. But as Milo laid there, Elton stood up and walked across the room. To Milo's surprise, he didn't fall from the lap as a cold and motionless copy of Elton remained in the chair.

Milo was the sort of cat who followed Elton everywhere like a little shadow and seldom were they apart. It was apparently uncommon according to what Milo heard other people say, but he would follow Elton all over town, going anywhere it wasn't expressively disallowed and even some places it was. This being the case, Milo decided he wasn't going to change old habits over something like that. He decided that the weird glowing version of his friend was more real for its movements, and followed that rather than staying with the unmoving other. But now having chased Elton to this place, he had apparently fallen behind and now Elton seemed to be gone.

Perhaps if I got a better point of vantage, Milo thought to himself, and with some degree of difficulty attempted to climb a tree. It took him two tries before he finally got it, as he had never been much of a climber. He'd been missing one of his back paws since he was a kitten, but he did what he could.

Having so managed his disability for so long he had learned to compensate and it rarely gave him issue, often still outrunning and outfighting any of the other local cats that challenged him. Top Tom of his block he might be, with a few litters out there to his name; Top Tom of the tree tops he was not. So with great care, he struggled to keep his back leg planted as he crept his front paws forward.

When he finally reached the peak of the tree he looked and still saw no sign of Elton. He felt lost and sad without his friend and he began crying out a whining “meow, meow, meow!” like he would when he was unable to find Elton in the apartment. Whenever Milo sang, he would stop just long enough to listen for the telltale, “What do you want you little rascal? I'm just over here.” But no response came from his friend.

“What are you yowling about cat!?” shouted a crow who came to land next to him. Milo blinked as he realized that the crow had spoken in a manner not like that of a crow, but not entirely like that of a man.

As a cat, he had needed to figure out what some of the bird-songs meant, so he might hunt them more effectively. For this, he had learned to understand the various alarms and announcements of the crow's squawking language, just as he had learned to interpret much of the babbling ooking of humans. Other cats told him that he was better at understanding what the other animals said then they, often only understanding the words for their "people names," or the call for dinner. This, on the other hand, was different; it was like the sounds the bird made spoke directly into his mind.

“Meow?” Milo attempted, and the crow looked at him quixotically in response. “Hoy hoy hoy? What? Meow? I said why are you yowling, not what did you say. Say again, why do you sing your dirging call, it makes me sad to hear it. Tell me why?”

Milo scowled and gave a bit more indignant “Murr” at the bird. He wasn't sure what was going on but it seemed like the bird was attempting to get him to speak as it did. How was he supposed to do that, if he could have spoken the words of men or bird he would have made clear his thoughts long ago.

“Still more with your cat sounds. Why do you not speak to me? Why are you so impolite?” The crow stopped suddenly, looking Milo over.

“Are you not from this place, are you from the Real? You seem not to be of this place. Here we speak with our thoughts, we bring sound to our minds, we do this to show the desires of our spirits. Just as we did long ago on Earth. You speak as the baying ancestors still in the world, those who speak only animal words. Has no one ever shown you how to speak from your heart with the green energy of the all-power?”

Milo gave the crow the same perplexed look he would give Elton when he changed the flavor of his food, and grumbled in such a way as to strongly imply both negative confirmation and indignant confusion.

“Oh, my! You must be from the world of the Real! That is very exciting! We birds do not often act kindly to cats, but how you came to this side must be a tale of excitement to tell! But to tell it you must have words. So come with me, I will take you to Grand Unkle, for I am Nephfew. He is a shaman of great power to my family and is very wise. He will be able to teach you the way language was spoken in the seven caves of the First Garden. Come with me!”

Nephfew flew out of the tree and onto the ground. He buffeted and flapped his wings and began to shout. “Hurry, hurry! Come, come now! Hoy! Hoy! Hoy!” Climbing down was worse than climbing up. There was nothing to grab with since his claws turned the wrong way around. This was always the problem, forgetting the difficulty in getting down before starting to climb. An attempt to quickly twist about lead to a loss of grip and with a tumbling slide, Milo slumped through the branches catching the trunk with his claws just enough times that he was able to slow his descent. Thus when his paws hit the grassy loam with a soft, inelegant thud, it was mostly embarrassment rather than pain that he felt, made worse with the cawing laughter of the crow as he chortled.

“The grace of cats! Hoy, hoy, hoy!”

Milo grumbled and with a rumbling growl let out a “murr hiss!” at the crow.

The crow gave a raspy croak as he said, “Whagg! No need to get your tail twisted over it, cat. You seem to understand, so save your savagery, lest I believe you mean me or my family ill will. Remember that men call us murder when we flock. Though you keep it hidden below your bluish mane, my keen eyes see the glint of the adornment about your neck. This implies you, too, have been raised in the air of civilized folk. If civil, it is best to act civil; and do have courtesy for my kind are courtly.”

Milo lowered his head slightly as the bird scolded him, and attempted to imbue as much of a tone of reconciliation into his voice as he said, “Meow.”

The bird cocked his head to either side and then fluttered his wings with a gleeful acceptance. “I'll take that as an apology. It was probably not nice for me to laugh. For a cat, you seem kind as well as cunning. I hope it will lead to friendship. Allies are needed in these times. Follow me now, hoy!”

He bounded into the sky and flew to a nearby tree. Milo gave a sigh and ran after the crow. When he got close, the crow flew out of that tree, shouting “Hoy, hoy, hoy!” and into another, leaving Milo to zig zag across the fields and over the shallow creeks.

The water was clean and cool. He took a moment to sip up some of it, sweet and delicious. The whole of the place was beautiful as the warm sun shone on limpid pools. These pools gathered about them swelling clouds; mists which traveled into the sky on fog-chilled winds, their tendrils tracking Nephfew with a casual interest. But these bold wisps fled at the first barking puff of yellow swamp-gas that burped from mudpits surrounding hot springs, and retreated back to their ponds. As these ubiquitous mists each turned away in time, it was like the pulling back of dreaming curtains, revealing new landscapes, each of them a differing sort of lovely.

But then, all the light fog hid entirely as the crow lead Milo into a place of more oppressive and bullying clouds that were in the sky, but low and threatening. As the thuggish overcast of clouds mobbed the horizon, this place became dark, and in this dark came a murky gloom that crept in slowly. These shadows began to cling to all things and washed away the wondrous beauty previously beheld. Instead of a paradise of gardens, Nephfew lead him into a dank underbrush of brambling thistle.

As Milo walked forward through these foul and sulfurous mists, he saw Nephfew join another crow sitting on the branch of a leafless tree. Then the two flew to a tree with three crows, then ten crows, then four and twenty, all flying to and fro. As Nephfew lead him he would shout “Hoy, hoy, hoy,” and every bird and view would echo “Hoy, hoy, hoy!” Their cries became a haunting round that rippled off into the distance.

Suddenly Milo realized that Nephfew was lost in the crowd. He spun around, realizing he was in a small clearing with only a wretched stump of a long fallen tree standing like a podium in the center. Every tree around him was so filled with birds that it seemed that they were thick with vibrant and lively black leaves despite every trunk being barkless and dead. Suddenly with a unified cry, the gallery of murder shouted in a tremendous chorus of “HOY! HOY! HOY!”

Milo hunched down low to the ground with flattened ears and gave a terrified hiss, not in aggression or disrespect, but a pure fear reaction. He looked around frantically as they continued the shout, trying to hide behind the stump, but the birds were in every tree on every side of the clearing. A circle of them stood on the ground of that edge, blocking escape.

Simply wishing to be as far away from them as possible, Milo moved to the center of the circle and jumped onto the stump. As he moved to the center of the broad broken trunk, he looked around to see that he stood alone on this stage with all eyes on him.

But he wasn't alone, for as he looked behind him there was perched a large and ragged crow wearing an old orange dishtowel as a cloak, and a tiny, white eye-patch.

Without saying a word the old crow moved in, then began to poke and prod at Milo as it circled him. The bird wasn't really hurting him but the pinching was painful and the crow smelt like an unpleasant mix of carrion and cheap bourbon whiskey. Yet Milo didn't hiss or growl, having been warned about being polite and fearing the consequence of infraction.

This as it may be, he was certainly not enjoying it, and like the pokes and prodding of the occasional veterinary visit, Milo was happy when it was over. With one last indignant peck, the fowl let him be and returned to the opposite edge of the stump.

“Who?! Who?” The bird squawked, sounding more like an owl than a crow. “Who brought this cat to me?”

“I did,” said Nephfew, hidden in the uniform black of the arboreal gallery. “I am the crow who has lead this cat to our parliament hall,” he exclaimed firmly.

Nephfew revealed himself from the others by swooping in from one of the tree tops to stand on the other side of Milo, putting him in a flanking position with the bigger bird.

“He is from the world of the Real and cannot speak from his heart. However, his movements are wise and I heard him sing a song of lament from the treetops, singing of a loss unknown to me for his lack of words. I brought him here to you, great Unkle, so you might give words to his voice.”

Unkle considered for only a short moment before conceding the request. “Hoy. Very well. Even though he may be resistant, since he comes from the world of the Real, it should not be hard. Resistant, for the Real is a place which lies beyond the storm of dreams, where magic is stifled from the banishment that ended the Fall. It is also a place where even those minor magics naturally seek to shroud themselves in glamour. There has long been a decree of discretion by the Great Four, further aided in concealment by the banal flippancy that grows in lesser mortals who care not to see it.

“To initiate such mundane mortals from this situation is often a greater challenge, for they know what they know and are thus closed off from the green glow of the universe's heartbeat. They do not wish the knowings that knowing brings, but I believe this cat will understand, for there is a genius in cats. All cats are potent sorcerers in varying degree, and I see a great amount of mystic potency infused with this cat's spirit.”

The big bird turned his attention away from Nephfew and spoke to the murder in general. “We will wake the song of his heart together, join me in this chant of greeting.”

A crackled chatter ruffled through the branches as the murder took note of the great Unkle's command. Then Unkle himself turned his head to the side to stare Milo straight on with his one good eye. “Cat! Greet me and tell me your name. Tell me your name proudly and tell me too, your title. Tell to me the title you apply to your manner and deeds. Speak to me with boldness. Speak to me with the beating of your heart. Tell me with the breath of your life, as if all you say is the breath of the trees and your speaking the heartbeat of the woods. Speak as if you are the voice of all nature.”

Milo was certainly intimidated, but he sat tall and puffed out his chest and attempted to do as he was told. But all that came was “Meow, Murr, Meh.”

To his surprise came a roar of the crows in a grand unity, “MEOW! MURR! MEH!” This startled him so greatly he almost lost composition and scrambled, but instead he held his position despite the impulse.

“Say again! Say again with your heart as the deep of the wood. Say again with your breath as big as the sky and let your heart become the rise and fall of the sun! Speak thy name and claim thy title!” Unkle shouted at him in a raspy caw.

“Merro, meh murr, meh meow,” Milo attempted again, but this time a strange tone took his voice. It was like something deep inside him was attempting to break free and in doing so twisted the quality of his mewing as it emanated from his throat. It struck him as the sort of gargling tone that gripped his cough whenever he had a hairball. The nervousness of the packed theater surrounding him watching his every move gave him a sense of stage fright nausea, but there was something more to his voice than a queasy gurgling.

“MERRO! MEH MURR! MEH MEOW!” the murder mimicked.

“Again! Feel it! Declare yourself to all of nature!” Unkle screamed in fervor. Digging as deep as he could, he gave a great roar and his own words shocked him as they left his throat, for although it seemed to him he was simply giving a loud meow, instead came words.

“I am Lon-Milo the Rascal! Paladin of Ulthar!”

The crowd fell silent for a long heavy moment before erupting in cheers of adulation and chanting. “His Name is Milo! His Name is Milo! Hoy! Hoy! Hoy!” Suddenly Milo felt dizzy and sleepy as if the weight of the day's expenditure hit him all at once and he began panting for the effort. Great Unkle seemed to notice this and gave a comforting caress with his wing on Milo's face.

“You have done well, but I know that such a spiritual task as unleashing your voice is draining. I shall dismiss the court and so we may speak in private.”

And with that, the old crow gave a deafening “CAW! CAW! CAW!” that drowned out the voices of all others. It brought them to a silence so severe Milo could hear a full three beats of his heart ringing in his ears. In a torrent the murder took to the sky in a great singular flocking, and then dissipated like the darkness at dawn, leaving only Unkle and Nephfew. The black birds disseminated into every distant direction. Milo could hear a few cackling out, “His name is Milo! Hoy! Ahoy! Paladin of Ulthar! Hoy! Hoy! Hoy!”

“Come, Lon-Milo, we shall retire to my home and have some refreshment and rest. There you can tell us of your sorrow, regale us tales of your rascality, and inform to us the ways of your land of Ulthar.”

Milo was uncertain of himself, but attempted to speak. He managed a scratchy grumble and said, “Yes, Unkle. Refreshment and rest. This sounds wonderful.” He was shocked at how easily the words came to him in contrast to the prior attempts, although it still seemed a tongue twister to say any words at all. “Indeed! Wonderful, wonderful! Hoy, Hoy! Wonderful. I told you Unkle would help!” Nephfew squawked happily, and then flew off in what Milo presumed was the way to Unkle's house.

The old bird gave a chuckling croak. “The enthusiasm of youth, hoy! Running ahead and leaving both the welcomed guest and his elder behind. It is fine, though, he is a good boy. There are indeed troubling things too that we must talk about, but there is no need to fall heavy on his high spirits. Please, friend cat, friend Milo; follow us if you will.”

With a hop he was off the stump, and with a bouncing waddle, Unkle began to walk into the dead wood swamp, giving a coaxing wave of his wing to Milo.

They walked for some time with Unkle leading the way, hopping on jutting stones and fallen logs to keep from the damp ground and Milo did his best to move in the crow's footsteps. As they moved, the swamp became wet with a dank sulfur smell of fetid decay that filled Milo's nose, causing a series of short huffing sneezes. He noticed fewer and fewer trees, and more and more stumps, each chewed down and fallen in the mud where they rotted into beds of fungus and green lichen. Eventually, the forest was behind them for a flooded field of stumps which Unkle and Milo had to jump between in order not to fall into the reeking bog.

A strange rectangular box overgrown with vines jutted out of the water on a small mound of mud. The wooden box tilted slightly to the side as it sat sunken into the undergrowth, and the crow flew up to perch upon its topmost corner. Unkle beckoned Milo to join him, and as he did, he noticed the object was some sort of old, large dresser or chest of drawers crafted by men. Elton had a similar piece of furniture in their apartment in which he kept winter coats, but the minor strangeness of the out of place antique was dwarfed in comparison to what Milo saw in the distance from this vantage.

A great pile of trees, branches, and mud in the center of a sizable basin quagmire; the heap was as large as a mansion and decrepit like a junk- ridden hovel. The queer island glowed with wraps of intermittent Christmas lights and was adorned with strange trinkets, garbage crafted charms, and tattered streamers of cloth fluttering like flags. Each of the decorations were tied in place with tangles of filthy colored string in such quantity that the structure seemed to be bound together by yarn more than mud. Milo watched as a stinking wind blew over the sloughed lake in a visible miasma, causing the dangling bits of debris to swing and jingle like holy wind-chimes and the twinkling lights flickered.

“That is my home,” said Unkle. "It was once the home of wise beavers descended from the Great Animal Master of their kind. But long ago this master left them to sleep in a hidden cave deep in the Nightmare-Zone, and without this guidance, they sought other mentors. Seeing their desire to be taught, a Great Human Master of the West taught them the movements of machines and the keeping of time, and thereafter, their simple dam became a tremendous mill of incredible production. It was a glorious castle on a beautiful and crystal clean, vale lake.”

Milo looked over the unsightly muskeg. “It's not very nice now. What happened to it?”

Unkle gave a somber groan. “Their progress was wondrous. Unfortunately, like their Ancestor before him, the human Master did leave after a time to take on other duties, and thus left them to their own devices.

“Some say it was the Greatest Sar-all who cursed them out of rivalry with the western Master, while others say it was the Dauphine- Despotissa Adélaïde who afflicted them with the sickness of men for learning the ways of men, as is her dark sense of humor. Still others say that it was the western Master himself, doing this for unknown reasons, for he was mysterious. Yet I believe neither the auspices and agencies of the Witch Queen, nor gynecocracy of the southeastern Sorceress, nor the ire of their old teacher.

"I say it was they themselves who, in aspiration and with lack of reflection, fostered the same illness of greed and miserly deed that so afflicts the men of your world. Three hundred years ago the beavers began to claim all they could survey, hoarded all they could hold, and soon after the land was unlivable and it was filled with death. Those who survived had their hearts filled with melancholy as they fled their foolishness, and where they went, not even the crows know.” “That's awful!” Milo exclaimed in disgust. “They sound like idiots, how could they do this to their own home?” He looked around at the wretched mire and asked Unkle, “This place is sad and dreadful, why bring me here?”

The old crow set his beak agape in a jolly expression and gave a haughty cracking laugh. “Hoy-hoy! Because as they fled, abandoning the place they made, I long ago made it my home! It is the way of crows to thrive in the essence of death and it is our providence to seek to rule over the myriad fields of decay. What was once their horrid factory producing the putrescence that made a brimstone morass of their sacred pond, now is a magnificent cathedral for me to pursue my workings. For though no Great Animal Masters remain awake in this world or yours, it is still the way of the beast shamans to seek enlightenment. And although I welcome you and any other guest who might quest to find my consul, it is a distant and secluded heart in darkness in which I might work as the guru; undisturbed.”

Milo nodded although he didn't understand some of it. Although speaking and listing 'from the heart' was becoming easy with a quickness, there were still many things the crows spoke of and things about this place that were not only unsettling, but beyond his comprehension.

He decided to focus on more practical things, and as he saw the dam rising like an island from brackish waters, he saw no means to reach it as the stumps rising above the surface became rare as one might near the structure.

“I know you can fly there but I cannot, and I would hate to swim to it even if it wasn't a stagnant pool of mud. How might I get there?”

Unkle cocked his head at Milo and gave his one good eye a playful wink and sang in a low breathy throat-song. “Ahoy! Ahoy! Follow, watch closely, what is just below the surface rises up. Follow, watch closely, and walk upon water. Walk upon the water without wetting your feet! Ahoy! Ahoy! Hoy, hoy, hoy!”

And as the elder corvid sang the refrain over and over he did jump onto the surface of the water with steps that barely rippled the surface. Milo watched closely and was careful to jump exactly where Unkle stepped, and although it was like walking upon unpleasantly wet pavement, he realized that there were upright logs standing as pillars rising upwards to sit just below the surface and concealed fully by the opaque water. Eventually reaching the mound, Unkle disappeared into a hole concealed by a curtain of damp cloth. Milo pushed aside the veil and followed.

The tunnel downward was dim but lit with the same sparse bulbs that were fastened to the exterior. It was generally an unpleasantly slimy little hall covered in feathers and filth that led down in a twisting tangle. Even with his luminous eyes, the slits of his pupils strained as the path became utter dark. Unable to see the crow, he began to panic and lost his footing, sliding down the descending incline with a fleeting terror.

Then ahead was a sudden and intense light that blinded him. With an undignified flop, Milo somersaulted into a magnificent chamber of high opulence and sanctity. Small statues sat on altars, glowing candelabra chandeliers illuminated the room, and sweet incense filled the air, overwhelming the funk of the swamp outside.

The room was full of bones but not littered with them; shelves of simple ossuary displayed ancestors with honor, and although most of the bones were obviously those of the crows, the remains of beavers and other animals were represented as well. It reminded Milo of the ritual chamber that Elton kept in the small side room of their apartment where he would wave around sticks and swords late at night saying strange words. As little as Milo had understood the strange habit of his friend, it reminded him of Elton and he missed him.

Milo became lost in thought at the overwhelming magnificence of the Unkle's grand cathedral, and the old bird gave a sharp and sudden caw that brought his attention back to the present. Unkle moved to invite Milo into a room off of the main chamber where it was discovered the younger Nephfew waited for them. It was a comfortable den whose walls were encircled by bookshelves filled with a weathered and worn collection of tomes, as well as various tchotchkes and doodads. The floor was covered with several layers of clean and soft pillows and blankets which were piled about a low table. Rising from the sea of cushions were several perches on which both Unkle and Nephfew sat, so Milo moved to join their circle by sitting across from them on a folded, eiderdown comforter.

On the table was a modest but appealing feast. A dish of clean water sat out for him next to a bowl of cream. A bag of cat kibble sat on the table open next to a large sack of birdseed, with some of each poured onto mismatched platters. There were also freshly opened tins of tuna and sardines set next to a cooling bowl of sticky rice, features that surprised him as these were rare favorite treats of Milo's. Less appealing were carrot sticks and apple slices, but these seemed to be favorites of the host as Nephfew was already chewing on one of the fruit cores. Several glasses held small live fish that swam around, but it was obvious that this was not decoration but an hors d'oeuvre.

"Thank you,” Milo said with a nod to the crows. Then he snagged and swallowed down one of the live minnows before starting on the sardines, rice, and kibble.

After they all ate for a while, they began to relax. Now that Milo was able to speak to them clearly, he could answer the questions Nephfew asked him.

“Tell us, why are you sad? For what did you sing your song of sorrow?”

Something made Milo feel foolish as he tried to compose an answer. It seemed that intention was how one formed words with this magical language, and thus uncertain of how he felt, he didn't know what to say.

After much deliberation, Milo finally explained. “I was sad because I have lost my friend. I saw him split in two, one half dark, cold, and still, and the other a warm glowing translucence. His light body I saw traveling up the silver stairs, and so I followed, bringing me to this place. I am uncertain as to these things I saw, and how he came here, and I am befret with the dreadful idea that I will not find him again. He walked ahead of me in an unknown direction and having lost sight of him I do not know which way to follow.”

The crows listened and considered. After discussing shortly in their own language, Unkle asked, “Can you tell us of your friend and your friendship with him? As a shaman, I believe I know what fate was bestowed upon him, but it is best if you tell us as much as you can so I may tell you with certainty. And also, you claimed to be a Paladin of the land of Ulthar, I know not of this place. Tell us of this, too.”

Milo nodded and told this story: “To know of Ulthar, I must first tell you of Elton. It was about fifteen years ago that I met him. He had been in the woods on Halloween and it had apparently been his intention to pay honors to the Goddess in the full moon. I later found out it was his practice, on special dates, to go alone into the forest and dance sky-clad in honor of spirits. However, that night he had found that his sacred clearing had been invaded by a group of miscreants. As he approached he heard a kitten cry out, and this kitten was me.

“A group of three boys had pulled me out of a box the day before. In this box, I had been placed with my litter mates, and together we were placed on the sidewalk, set there in hopes to help us find homes to share with lonesome humans. It had been my naive belief and hope I was going somewhere nice, but their house was smelly, their loud music hurt my ears, and they were mean to me, and I had to catch bugs for food. I was just getting accustomed to their squalor when they threw me in a bag, and it was then that I began to panic.

“When they roughly pulled me out again I no longer had any misconceptions as to their hostility, and I responded in kind; trying to scratch and bite them as best as I could.

“Although I managed to draw blood from two of them, biting the hand of one and drawing a raking slash across the other's face, they managed to overpower me easily since I was at the time very small, having been the runt of my litter. Thus they were able to hold me down on a large stone at the center of the clearing.

“As the two held me down, the third held a knife in the air and shouted out all sorts of strange noises, and then called for the ‘intelligence of all the earth, of the moon, of the sun and all the planets to enter our sacrifice so we might gain that knowledge through our dark feast! Let your cursed hand be my hand and with it move my knife. Let this beast receive your curse, let it pay the price in blood as we take its powers!’

“Just as the speaker drove down his blade, he crumpled. My future friend Elton had crept up from behind and struck him in the back of the head with a heavy stick. ‘You fool! Don't you know the Law of Ulthar? Thou shall not harm cats!’ he shouted as he attacked. Such a display was enough to frighten off the two flunkies but unfortunately, not all harm was prevented. Although the kitchen knife was detoured from striking my neck where it had been destined, it instead struck me in my leg, crippling it.

“Elton might have run after the two men, but instead stopped and tended to my needs, ensuring that I was all right. He rubbed his hand against my face to attempt to comfort me in my pain. It helped somewhat, but my injury was severe. The pain brought with it various images of horrible things swirling around me, filling my eyes.

“In an instant, they showed me many things, and my mind took a great focus, yet their shapes were terrible and frightening. I was afraid they would take me away, as the bad man had implied, but when they had tired of their tormenting teachings they swarmed at that fallen man, taking residence within him. It was at this point I lost consciousness from the loss of blood.

“I had feared that I was dying, but it was Elton again to the rescue; he took me to a doctor. My leg was lost to save my life but I learned to get on fine without it, and I was taken home to live with him.

“He was kind and good to me, treating me as his closest friend, giving me fine food, and reading aloud to me many stories which I found entertaining and fascinating. Much of what he read was dry and technical, speaking of various manner of formula and symbolic meanings. Others were strange fictions, and exciting tales of dread, with his and my favorites being those of a man called Lovecraft.

“This man told fanciful tales, many frightening but fun ghost stories of sorts, but one in particular spoke of a city in the land of dreams called Ulthar. At my request, and Elton always seemed to understand me when I asked in my cat song though he was a man, he would read me this story.

“In it, an elderly couple would hunt the cats that lived with the people of Ulthar. When the couple took a kitten from a group of nomads who were passing through town, the travelers cursed the couple for their misdeeds, and a swarm of cats banded together to enact that curse upon those wicked hunters. The people of that town then declared the Law of Ulthar: thou shall not harm cats.

“Perhaps I liked this story because I am a vengeful sort, although I have always sought to be relaxed and of easy temper. In both dreams and waking I found myself sworn to combat, fighting under the banner of that imagined place; claiming its valor in revelry and in many a late night brawl with the other cats on my block. I never meant any true harm, but it was necessary for me to fight fiercely until I bested each one. I am short a leg, but I grew larger, stronger, and more willful than any other in my domain.

“It seemed that vengeance was also permanently fixed in the heart of the bad man as well. One day many, many years later, as Elton and I walked down the street, the man attacked Elton with a poison-dripping dagger. To look at the bad man it was easy to see that the curse he called down had wasted him away, and perhaps this was his last desperate act to harm those who had denied him.

“Although he was able to stab Elton in the stomach, I leapt upon his face in a fury. This knocked him back before he could finish his foul deed, and as I retreated to let him fall, he stumbled into the road and was flattened by a passing truck.

“Elton was rushed to the hospital, and after a short time he seemed to have mended and returned home. Yet for the most of a year he was sick and did nothing but sit in his chair, reading aloud but little else. That is, until the day his body of light stood up and walked away from the dark of his form, and I followed him to this point."

Unkle seemed to understand and nodded. “I would believe I now know to what end your Elton may have traveled and in what form. But to understand this I should tell you of this place that men of your world call 'the Other-Side' and the natives call the New Hyperboria. The world of the real is surrounded by the Dream-zone above and the Nightmare-Zone below. The Nightmare- Zone is where the highest agents of nature serve the planetary intelligences, and through pact, guard the sleeping Animal Masters of ancient times in hidden caves. Below this frightful place are worlds of worse things: bad spirits.

“But here in the Above, reaching through the Dream-Zone, is this Other-Side: the place where wizards fled after the Fall, and the ancient cultures were rebuilt. The Great Animal Masters of old helped them build it. Their help was vital, but the act left them exhausted. They left the world in the care of the Human Masters under the lights of the divines, and they left to sleep in the worlds below. “Animal shamans such as myself still aid the workings of men and advise them to the balance of nature, but no animal has become a Great Master of the Way in the whole of the last epoch. The Opossum mother, the most powerful of those old Masters, was last to leave. She gave her name and blessing to the Grand Master of the North, but after that, the will of Animals lost sway. Instead, we either swear to the intrigues of the Masters, or isolate ourselves to our tribes. The Clans of the corvids seek to do both by doing neither.”

“That is interesting,” Milo hazarded with some effort to follow Unkle's words. “But what pray does that have to do with the division of my friend, and the movements of the half I followed?”

“It is important because the reason he may have come here is shaped by this place. The Other-Side is a land built of intention and dreams,” Unkle said to the agreeing nod of Nephfew. “We may speculate, but from our present vantage we know not if he has passed and his spirit has moved on, or if his soul was projected leaving his living body in stasis to await the soul's return. It is reasonable to speculate that he is a seeker, for his soul made a gate to this destination instead of the infinite other possibilities. In death, it is common to move here to the Other-Side where a magician might learn from the Masters to be reborn in power.

“But if he lives, with his life projected from him astrally, his body might have been left in a state indistinguishable from death. It is common for one who can do this to be called by the masters to play part in their intrigues.

“And in either case to know of our land and its conflicts will help inform your seeking which should find success by following his path.”

Milo was crestfallen to hear that Elton may, in fact, be dead, although he had considered this as a possibility, even when he had first climbed the silver stairs. It was a sorrowful although not surprising supposition. But Milo had all this time shoved the possibility to the side and ignored it, relying on the hope that the body of light was the truer form of Elton.

“If he is dead, is my seeking futile? And if not, this idea of his living projection I do not understand. How might he leave his body cold and waiting while his dreams take form and walk in this land? It all seems strange to me.”

“His body alive or dead matters little in this place, for over time even weak spirits might regain substance and be as living again, even if forever banished from the Real. It is that wholeness of that spiritual body which matters far more. The only difference between a projection and a ghost is whether he remains connected to his body in the physical world, or if he is free from it.”

Seeing the feline was still confused, Unkle attempted an example. “I have heard that cats are strong dreamers and might travel in their slumber but may return simply by waking once more.”

“That is so,” Milo confirmed. “The man, Lovecraft, implied that we cats travel to the dark side of the moon in dreams, but I have never reached that place. However, I have beheld many wonderful and terrifying vistas beyond the curtains of sleep. That, I understand.”

“Then understand that some lands are fair and others vile, like the shifting weather of a storm. These are the zones of nightmare and dream. These are safe lands of fancy, yet other more dangerous visions can be found. Some cats, particularly those brought to their mortal ends, may in such travels find a bridge of rainbows built by my ancestors. It is a land of eternal summer and delight, but those who journey there may not return from that place, though still blissful and alive within it.

“The Other-Side is like this, though not such a hidden or terminal destination as that summer land. But it is much more true than any land perceived in the zones of lesser visions. If you were to find your Elton here in whatever state, it would be his true mind and spirit, living on in a state tangential but yet parallel to the fleshly life, not a false vision. It would in fact be your friend to whom you would be speaking, and not a phantasm created by longing.”

Milo considered this deeply. Elton himself had spoken often of the art of necromancy and what qualified as black magick in one's ritual practice. The greatest summation of this, as best as Milo could understand or remember was, ‘that which clings too hard to the world, or desires for reasons other than Love or practicing the Great Work, is a dark impulse.’ To speak with ghosts was not evil, but to contact them for greedy or wicked reasons was what made such an act ill in nature.

At this, Milo recalled another story by Lovecraft, a dark wizard named Joseph Curwen called up the dead to seek wealth, and blackmail others with information thought lost to time, and later was punished in measure. Milo's goals seemed purer to him. To speak again with his friend seemed no evil act, so Milo determined that alive or dead, he would still pursue Elton.

“Very well, if this is the case I will still seek. And if I seek I should know of this land and its ways for it is the land in which I will hunt for my ally. Tell me of where it is I am and who might be able to aid in my quest.”

“The place you arrived is the land of the West, those who would know what you need to know, previously lived in the South. Fate has already oriented you in the proper direction to seek this way, for you stand on the border of Appollon in the West and Selleneia in the South.

“These swamps divide the land of the West from the lands of the South, and it is the way of me and mine to guard this border as a border, not as patriots of either faction. Four great clans of corvids keep all four borders in this manner and the other five clans fly between to trade gossip as they fly about. Powerful lords rule these lands, each with great powers, and the tone of the gossip traded from every beak of rook, raven, and magpie speaks of a coming civil war between these men.

“Corpses may be a bounty on which my kind may feast, but a war between men of such power is a danger to life itself. I warn you for many great beasts wander this land who believe my kind to be spies in service to the Grand Master of the West, for he gave to us tribute in shining objects and we rewarded him with favor, but we swore him no fealty.

“Yet there are beasts who believe us sworn to the West that have themselves sworn alliance to the South. Most of these monsters are small but dangerous and have yet to move against my kind. But we fear it is but a matter of time. The Dauphine-Despotissa Adélaïde who was once neutral on her hidden island has come to find the ways of Appollon distasteful, and now swears to the realm of Selleneia. Given access for her oath, she is now free to whisper lies into the ear of the Witch Queen, the Southern Master, the Greatest Sar-all.

“The lies she tells are thus; that it is we crows of the West and the magpies of the East who give the vulture's agendas of espionage to jackdaw double agents. It is but lies, and I would know of such a stratagem if there was one. There is a family alliance between the crows and the jackdaws, as there is between all corvids, and they who passively served she who is most dreadful only reported the movements of the Greatest Sar-all but did not enact any ploy against her. Whether merely spies or true agents, the jackdaws were recently killed in droves for the hint that they may have been disloyal. Now they have been made refugees, hoping to make their way to this land where they might be protected.

“Their migration is slow, fearing that they would be shot down if they fly, and so are forced to cower and hide as they travel by foot. They flee with others that the witch queen has declared enemies, retreating from her tribes of berserkers and other animal servants; reptiles, amphibians, land-walking fish, filthy skunk-ape, and warrens of mice and rats.”

Milo interjected, “Politics such as these are beyond my understanding, and although I am sympathetic, I am left wondering what the peril of these blackbirds has to do with finding Elton.”

Nephfew excitedly interrupted his Unkle with the answer. “The Jackdaws are great seers. They long ago learned the arts of ghost scrying and all the virtues of necromancy from the turkey hawks, the vultures, and the condors. They would know better than any other where any spirit, live or dead, might walk in this world.” Nephfew then looked to Unkle to affirm his statement, and he did so with a coy cackle and a buffet of his wing to the youngster’s shoulder.

“Very well, so to find my friend I must find your allies. But you say that they are being routed? How would I hope to find them if their movements are so sequestered as to be concealed from detection? I am a seasoned hunter, but it seems that things found here are more hazardous than they are in my world. And what of the opposition, you said they are chased by evil mice and rats? Some sort of skunk? What danger might a batch of ornery rodents really provide?”

As he spoke, he was interrupted by a bone- shaking crash and his head spun to have this quiet sanctum interrupted by such a cacophonous explosion of action. There was a blast of some large thing erupting through the far wall of the dam. It was the prow of a ship, driving up logs and casting up the table, throwing food on the floor and swamping the cushions with a surge of wretched water. As he looked at the bow of the ship he saw the face of several rats peeking over the railing. Odd as this was, they were suddenly joined by another rodent face much more massive and terrifying: green molded fur, red bloodshot eyes, and wicked yellow fangs dripped as it leaned over the side of the ship, looming larger than a labrador.

Perhaps stranger than this gargantuan rat was another sizable rat who, though not so large as the monstrosity, was a huge ship-rat of the same size as Milo himself. But it was not his scale that distinguished him, but that he wore a pale, ruddy brown long coat with epaulets, and a black three- cornered hat bearing a jolly-roger.

This pirate rat jumped up and balanced on the railing where he stood easily on his hind legs in full biped, which seemed to be an outright defiance of his natural anatomy. He wore one fingerless glove on his right hand, and in it he held a sword with a grip that seemed far beyond even the capabilities of a raccoon; it seemed he could hold it as well as any human could. Distracting from this frightening revelation was the fact that he was missing the hand opposite; replaced with a large barbed hook adorned like a fly fishing lure.

“Yar! Avast! Wot a delightfully squalid little cove yeh gots here. I think that tonight we be eating crow with a side feasting of feline. Yar-haw-haw! Squee!” The captain bantered as he jumped onto the huge rat brute's back. “Forward! Attack and take to spoil what ye kan! Har Har!”

Milo was filled with rage, his claws flexing from his fingers as he sprung to defend his new friends.

To be continued

#original character #non-human characters #trans author #original setting #crows #afterlife #disabled characters #cats

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mylittlewanders · 7 years

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Destruction Site

My four-year-old son Declan has mostly left behind the cute misnomers of a small child learning how to talk. Gone are the days of the bushy-tailed “squir” and opening the “kerns” to let in the morning sun. My personal favorite, the “trinaucerous” dinosaur, now goes by the much less interesting name triceratops. Nowadays, Declan uses words like “magenta” and “impressive” and “staccato”. I should probably start carrying around a pocket dictionary soon, in case I need it to keep up.

Declan does have a couple of lingering linguistic tweaks. Every morning he puts his dirty pajamas in the “camper”. And when we pass a building site, he says “Look mama, they’re doing destruction!” The laborers in their hard hats? Destruction workers.

This is an easy conflation to understand. The words themselves are similar, and construction sites often do have an element of dismantling about them. Things must be taken down before being put back up, the old removed to make way for the new. There is a touch of the metaphysical at work there, too.

Creation stories throughout time are rife with destruction. Shiva’s divine arrows obliterated the material world to clear a path to cosmic bliss. The Norse gods met a tragic fate in the story of Ragnarök, but humans survived and created a mortal world. Eve ate that apple and Pandora opened her infamous box. And of course there is the phoenix, penultimate riser from the ashes.

There was a dark time a little over a decade ago when I lost the life I thought I wanted and was mired in grief and a sense of aimless drifting. I wasn’t sleeping or eating enough and I spent many pre-dawn hours on the deck of my new studio apartment, missing the husband I no longer had, his children who I was no longer helping to raise, and my dog, who was not able to move into the studio apartment with me. One early morning I had a moment of clarity as I waited for the sun to rise so I could begin the long slog through yet another difficult day. “I can either let this create me,” I thought, “Or let it destroy me.” At that moment I chose creation, though in the end, I had to let it do both things. Leaving an old life behind so you are able to build a new one requires some serious destruction work.

Declan and I passed by a “destruction site” on the way to his preschool on the morning of Aug 21. We talked about what kind of building could be in the works and when it might be finished. A few minutes later I dropped him off at school, then picked up my friend Johanna. We were on our way to (hopefully) get a glimpse of the much-anticipated solar eclipse. The San Francisco Bay Area was slated for 76% coverage, peaking at 10:18 a.m. We needed to escape the San Francisco summer fog if there was any hope of witnessing the heavenly event. So, we were road tripping.

As we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and made our way north, we discussed our horror and trepidation around the white supremacist rally that had led to the murder of Heather Heyer in Charlottesville, VA the week before. We wondered together at the meaning of living in a country where, incredibly, hate groups had a growing platform and apparently the support of the President, who continued to hem and haw in his cowardly responses to the atrocities that were taking place. Hate groups were scheduling more of their “free speech” events, including one that was to take place the following weekend in our own city by the bay.

The clouds lingered in the sky as we journeyed on. We spied the exit for Napa and made a snap decision to go there. If we didn’t see the eclipse, we’d at least have some wine as a consolation prize!

We drove through Napa town and on to the backroads that meander their way up the foothills of the mountains. It was getting close to the peak of the eclipse and the clouds seemed to be clearing a little as we gained elevation. At 10:15 we joined a small cluster of other cars in the driveway of a vineyard near the top of a steep hill. Amazingly, the sun emerged.

A couple nearby had driven up from a job site in Napa where they had been doing some metal work, and they kindly let us use their welding helmets to take a look at the eclipse. Suddenly, there it was - a watery yellow crescent of sun peering out from behind the dark body of the moon. Victorious, we descended the mountain and celebrated Napa-style at the lovely Jessup Cellars tasting room in Yountville. We sipped wine and munched on cheese, chocolate and nuts.

By the end of our tasting, the sun was completely back to normal. Approaching my parked car outside the tasting room, I noticed a cyclone fence across the street, behind which rose the raw wood and rebar of a new structure in progress. There was a large banner on the fence, but instead of the usual “pardon our mess” apology, there was just this single quote:

“Every act of creation is first an act of destruction” - Pablo Picasso

Of course, I immediately thought of Declan. The earlier conversation about Charlottesville lingered in my mind and I wondered somberly what kind of country my little boy was going to grow up in. As easy as it is to blame our odious president, his condemnable actions are not the sole force driving events like Charlottesville and the ideas at work therein. Hate and evil and fear have had a seat at the American table for a long time. Our country was itself built on the hypocrisy of men who spoke of freedom while enslaving other humans for profit.

I wondered as I stood there if the painful events of the present moment could in fact be the destruction that creates a path toward building a better future, with widespread liberty, kindness as a value, and tolerance as a foundation. Could it be that all of this gut-wrenching awfulness will become an opportunity for us to rebuild? After the peak of an eclipse, even where the darkness is total, the moon moves away and the sun slowly regains its light.

I sent a little prayer of hope into the stratosphere and got into the car. Johanna and I headed south, back into the fog, and I imagined the sunshine that would chase away the summer gloom in a few weeks as the earth turned slowly toward a new season.

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readbookywooks · 7 years

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The Gulf Stream

THIS DREADFUL SCENE on April 20 none of us will ever be able to forget. I wrote it up in a state of intense excitement. Later I reviewed my narrative. I read it to Conseil and the Canadian. They found it accurate in detail but deficient in impact. To convey such sights, it would take the pen of our most famous poet, Victor Hugo, author of The Toilers of the Sea. As I said, Captain Nemo wept while staring at the waves. His grief was immense. This was the second companion he had lost since we had come aboard. And what a way to die! Smashed, strangled, crushed by the fearsome arms of a devilfish, ground between its iron mandibles, this friend would never rest with his companions in the placid waters of their coral cemetery! As for me, what had harrowed my heart in the thick of this struggle was the despairing yell given by this unfortunate man. Forgetting his regulation language, this poor Frenchman had reverted to speaking his own mother tongue to fling out one supreme plea! Among the Nautilus's crew, allied body and soul with Captain Nemo and likewise fleeing from human contact, I had found a fellow countryman! Was he the only representative of France in this mysterious alliance, obviously made up of individuals from different nationalities? This was just one more of those insoluble problems that kept welling up in my mind! Captain Nemo reentered his stateroom, and I saw no more of him for a good while. But how sad, despairing, and irresolute he must have felt, to judge from this ship whose soul he was, which reflected his every mood! The Nautilus no longer kept to a fixed heading. It drifted back and forth, riding with the waves like a corpse. Its propeller had been disentangled but was barely put to use. It was navigating at random. It couldn't tear itself away from the setting of this last struggle, from this sea that had devoured one of its own! Ten days went by in this way. It was only on May 1 that the Nautilus openly resumed its northbound course, after raising the Bahamas at the mouth of Old Bahama Channel. We then went with the current of the sea's greatest river, which has its own banks, fish, and temperature. I mean the Gulf Stream. It is indeed a river that runs independently through the middle of the Atlantic, its waters never mixing with the ocean's waters. It's a salty river, saltier than the sea surrounding it. Its average depth is 3,000 feet, its average width sixty miles. In certain localities its current moves at a speed of four kilometers per hour. The unchanging volume of its waters is greater than that of all the world's rivers combined. As discovered by Commander Maury, the true source of the Gulf Stream, its starting point, if you prefer, is located in the Bay of Biscay. There its waters, still weak in temperature and color, begin to form. It goes down south, skirts equatorial Africa, warms its waves in the rays of the Torrid Zone, crosses the Atlantic, reaches Cape Sao Roque on the coast of Brazil, and forks into two branches, one going to the Caribbean Sea for further saturation with heat particles. Then, entrusted with restoring the balance between hot and cold temperatures and with mixing tropical and northern waters, the Gulf Stream begins to play its stabilizing role. Attaining a white heat in the Gulf of Mexico, it heads north up the American coast, advances as far as Newfoundland, swerves away under the thrust of a cold current from the Davis Strait, and resumes its ocean course by going along a great circle of the earth on a rhumb line; it then divides into two arms near the 43rd parallel; one, helped by the northeast trade winds, returns to the Bay of Biscay and the Azores; the other washes the shores of Ireland and Norway with lukewarm water, goes beyond Spitzbergen, where its temperature falls to 4 degrees centigrade, and fashions the open sea at the pole. It was on this oceanic river that the Nautilus was then navigating. Leaving Old Bahama Channel, which is fourteen leagues wide by 350 meters deep, the Gulf Stream moves at the rate of eight kilometers per hour. Its speed steadily decreases as it advances northward, and we must pray that this steadiness continues, because, as experts agree, if its speed and direction were to change, the climates of Europe would undergo disturbances whose consequences are incalculable. Near noon I was on the platform with Conseil. I shared with him the relevant details on the Gulf Stream. When my explanation was over, I invited him to dip his hands into its current. Conseil did so, and he was quite astonished to experience no sensation of either hot or cold. "That comes," I told him, "from the water temperature of the Gulf Stream, which, as it leaves the Gulf of Mexico, is barely different from your blood temperature. This Gulf Stream is a huge heat generator that enables the coasts of Europe to be decked in eternal greenery. And if Commander Maury is correct, were one to harness the full warmth of this current, it would supply enough heat to keep molten a river of iron solder as big as the Amazon or the Missouri." Just then the Gulf Stream's speed was 2.25 meters per second. So distinct is its current from the surrounding sea, its confined waters stand out against the ocean and operate on a different level from the colder waters. Murky as well, and very rich in saline material, their pure indigo contrasts with the green waves surrounding them. Moreover, their line of demarcation is so clear that abreast of the Carolinas, the Nautilus's spur cut the waves of the Gulf Stream while its propeller was still churning those belonging to the ocean. This current swept along with it a whole host of moving creatures. Argonauts, so common in the Mediterranean, voyaged here in schools of large numbers. Among cartilaginous fish, the most remarkable were rays whose ultra slender tails made up nearly a third of the body, which was shaped like a huge diamond twenty-five feet long; then little one-meter sharks, the head large, the snout short and rounded, the teeth sharp and arranged in several rows, the body seemingly covered with scales. Among bony fish, I noted grizzled wrasse unique to these seas, deep-water gilthead whose iris has a fiery gleam, one-meter croakers whose large mouths bristle with small teeth and which let out thin cries, black rudderfish like those I've already discussed, blue dorados accented with gold and silver, rainbow-hued parrotfish that can rival the loveliest tropical birds in coloring, banded blennies with triangular heads, bluish flounder without scales, toadfish covered with a crosswise yellow band in the shape of a Greek t, swarms of little freckled gobies stippled with brown spots, lungfish with silver heads and yellow tails, various specimens of salmon, mullet with slim figures and a softly glowing radiance that Lacepede dedicated to the memory of his wife, and finally the American cavalla, a handsome fish decorated by every honorary order, bedizened with their every ribbon, frequenting the shores of this great nation where ribbons and orders are held in such low esteem. I might add that during the night, the Gulf Stream's phosphorescent waters rivaled the electric glow of our beacon, especially in the stormy weather that frequently threatened us. On May 8, while abreast of North Carolina, we were across from Cape Hatteras once more. There the Gulf Stream is seventy-five miles wide and 210 meters deep. The Nautilus continued to wander at random. Seemingly, all supervision had been jettisoned. Under these conditions I admit that we could easily have gotten away. In fact, the populous shores offered ready refuge everywhere. The sea was plowed continuously by the many steamers providing service between the Gulf of Mexico and New York or Boston, and it was crossed night and day by little schooners engaged in coastal trade over various points on the American shore. We could hope to be picked up. So it was a promising opportunity, despite the thirty miles that separated the Nautilus from these Union coasts. But one distressing circumstance totally thwarted the Canadian's plans. The weather was thoroughly foul. We were approaching waterways where storms are commonplace, the very homeland of tornadoes and cyclones specifically engendered by the Gulf Stream's current. To face a frequently raging sea in a frail skiff was a race to certain disaster. Ned Land conceded this himself. So he champed at the bit, in the grip of an intense homesickness that could be cured only by our escape. "Sir," he told me that day, "it's got to stop. I want to get to the bottom of this. Your Nemo's veering away from shore and heading up north. But believe you me, I had my fill at the South Pole and I'm not going with him to the North Pole." "What can we do, Ned, since it isn't feasible to escape right now?" "I keep coming back to my idea. We've got to talk to the captain. When we were in your own country's seas, you didn't say a word. Now that we're in mine, I intend to speak up. Before a few days are out, I figure the Nautilus will lie abreast of Nova Scotia, and from there to Newfoundland is the mouth of a large gulf, and the St. Lawrence empties into that gulf, and the St. Lawrence is my own river, the river running by Quebec, my hometown-and when I think about all this, my gorge rises and my hair stands on end! Honestly, sir, I'd rather jump overboard! I can't stay here any longer! I'm suffocating!" The Canadian was obviously at the end of his patience. His vigorous nature couldn't adapt to this protracted imprisonment. His facial appearance was changing by the day. His moods grew gloomier and gloomier. I had a sense of what he was suffering because I also was gripped by homesickness. Nearly seven months had gone by without our having any news from shore. Moreover, Captain Nemo's reclusiveness, his changed disposition, and especially his total silence since the battle with the devilfish all made me see things in a different light. I no longer felt the enthusiasm of our first days on board. You needed to be Flemish like Conseil to accept these circumstances, living in a habitat designed for cetaceans and other denizens of the deep. Truly, if that gallant lad had owned gills instead of lungs, I think he would have made an outstanding fish! "Well, sir?" Ned Land went on, seeing that I hadn't replied. "Well, Ned, you want me to ask Captain Nemo what he intends to do with us?" "Yes, sir." "Even though he has already made that clear?" "Yes. I want it settled once and for all. Speak just for me, strictly on my behalf, if you want." "But I rarely encounter him. He positively avoids me." "All the more reason you should go look him up." "I'll confer with him, Ned." "When?" the Canadian asked insistently. "When I encounter him." "Professor Aronnax, would you like me to go find him myself?" "No, let me do it. Tomorrow - " "Today," Ned Land said. "So be it. I'll see him today," I answered the Canadian, who, if he took action himself, would certainly have ruined everything. I was left to myself. His request granted, I decided to dispose of it immediately. I like things over and done with. I reentered my stateroom. From there I could hear movements inside Captain Nemo's quarters. I couldn't pass up this chance for an encounter. I knocked on his door. I received no reply. I knocked again, then tried the knob. The door opened. I entered. The captain was there. He was bending over his worktable and hadn't heard me. Determined not to leave without questioning him, I drew closer. He looked up sharply, with a frowning brow, and said in a pretty stern tone: "Oh, it's you! What do you want?" "To speak with you, captain." "But I'm busy, sir, I'm at work. I give you the freedom to enjoy your privacy, can't I have the same for myself?" This reception was less than encouraging. But I was determined to give as good as I got. "Sir," I said coolly, "I need to speak with you on a matter that simply can't wait." "Whatever could that be, sir?" he replied sarcastically. "Have you made some discovery that has escaped me? Has the sea yielded up some novel secret to you?" We were miles apart. But before I could reply, he showed me a manuscript open on the table and told me in a more serious tone: "Here, Professor Aronnax, is a manuscript written in several languages. It contains a summary of my research under the sea, and God willing, it won't perish with me. Signed with my name, complete with my life story, this manuscript will be enclosed in a small, unsinkable contrivance. The last surviving man on the Nautilus will throw this contrivance into the sea, and it will go wherever the waves carry it." The man's name! His life story written by himself! So the secret of his existence might someday be unveiled? But just then I saw this announcement only as a lead-in to my topic. "Captain," I replied, "I'm all praise for this idea you're putting into effect. The fruits of your research must not be lost. But the methods you're using strike me as primitive. Who knows where the winds will take that contrivance, into whose hands it may fall? Can't you find something better? Can't you or one of your men - " "Never, sir," the captain said, swiftly interrupting me. "But my companions and I would be willing to safeguard this manuscript, and if you give us back our freedom - " "Your freedom!" Captain Nemo put in, standing up. "Yes, sir, and that's the subject on which I wanted to confer with you. For seven months we've been aboard your vessel, and I ask you today, in the name of my companions as well as myself, if you intend to keep us here forever." "Professor Aronnax," Captain Nemo said, "I'll answer you today just as I did seven months ago: whoever boards the Nautilus must never leave it." "What you're inflicting on us is outright slavery!" "Call it anything you like." "But every slave has the right to recover his freedom! By any worthwhile, available means!" "Who has denied you that right?" Captain Nemo replied. "Did I ever try to bind you with your word of honor?" The captain stared at me, crossing his arms. "Sir," I told him, "to take up this subject a second time would be distasteful to both of us. So let's finish what we've started. I repeat: it isn't just for myself that I raise this issue. To me, research is a relief, a potent diversion, an enticement, a passion that can make me forget everything else. Like you, I'm a man neglected and unknown, living in the faint hope that someday I can pass on to future generations the fruits of my labors - figuratively speaking, by means of some contrivance left to the luck of winds and waves. In short, I can admire you and comfortably go with you while playing a role I only partly understand; but I still catch glimpses of other aspects of your life that are surrounded by involvements and secrets that, alone on board, my companions and I can't share. And even when our hearts could beat with yours, moved by some of your griefs or stirred by your deeds of courage and genius, we've had to stifle even the slightest token of that sympathy that arises at the sight of something fine and good, whether it comes from friend or enemy. All right then! It's this feeling of being alien to your deepest concerns that makes our situation unacceptable, impossible, even impossible for me but especially for Ned Land. Every man, by virtue of his very humanity, deserves fair treatment. Have you considered how a love of freedom and hatred of slavery could lead to plans of vengeance in a temperament like the Canadian's, what he might think, attempt, endeavor . . . ?" I fell silent. Captain Nemo stood up. "Ned Land can think, attempt, or endeavor anything he wants, what difference is it to me? I didn't go looking for him! I don't keep him on board for my pleasure! As for you, Professor Aronnax, you're a man able to understand anything, even silence. I have nothing more to say to you. Let this first time you've come to discuss this subject also be the last, because a second time I won't even listen." I withdrew. From that day forward our position was very strained. I reported this conversation to my two companions. "Now we know," Ned said, "that we can't expect a thing from this man. The Nautilus is nearing Long Island. We'll escape, no matter what the weather." But the skies became more and more threatening. There were conspicuous signs of a hurricane on the way. The atmosphere was turning white and milky. Slender sheaves of cirrus clouds were followed on the horizon by layers of nimbocumulus. Other low clouds fled swiftly. The sea grew towering, inflated by long swells. Every bird had disappeared except a few petrels, friends of the storms. The barometer fell significantly, indicating a tremendous tension in the surrounding haze. The mixture in our stormglass decomposed under the influence of the electricity charging the air. A struggle of the elements was approaching. The storm burst during the daytime of May 13, just as the Nautilus was cruising abreast of Long Island, a few miles from the narrows to Upper New York Bay. I'm able to describe this struggle of the elements because Captain Nemo didn't flee into the ocean depths; instead, from some inexplicable whim, he decided to brave it out on the surface. The wind was blowing from the southwest, initially a stiff breeze, in other words, with a speed of fifteen meters per second, which built to twenty-five meters near three o'clock in the afternoon. This is the figure for major storms. Unshaken by these squalls, Captain Nemo stationed himself on the platform. He was lashed around the waist to withstand the monstrous breakers foaming over the deck. I hoisted and attached myself to the same place, dividing my wonderment between the storm and this incomparable man who faced it head-on. The raging sea was swept with huge tattered clouds drenched by the waves. I saw no more of the small intervening billows that form in the troughs of the big crests. Just long, soot-colored undulations with crests so compact they didn't foam. They kept growing taller. They were spurring each other on. The Nautilus, sometimes lying on its side, sometimes standing on end like a mast, rolled and pitched frightfully. Near five o'clock a torrential rain fell, but it lulled neither wind nor sea. The hurricane was unleashed at a speed of forty-five meters per second, hence almost forty leagues per hour. Under these conditions houses topple, roof tiles puncture doors, iron railings snap in two, and twenty-four-pounder cannons relocate. And yet in the midst of this turmoil, the Nautilus lived up to that saying of an expert engineer: "A well-constructed hull can defy any sea!" This submersible was no resisting rock that waves could demolish; it was a steel spindle, obediently in motion, without rigging or masting, and able to brave their fury with impunity. Meanwhile I was carefully examining these unleashed breakers. They measured up to fifteen meters in height over a length of 150 to 175 meters, and the speed of their propagation (half that of the wind) was fifteen meters per second. Their volume and power increased with the depth of the waters. I then understood the role played by these waves, which trap air in their flanks and release it in the depths of the sea where its oxygen brings life. Their utmost pressure - it has been calculated-can build to 3,000 kilograms on every square foot of surface they strike. It was such waves in the Hebrides that repositioned a stone block weighing 84,000 pounds. It was their relatives in the tidal wave on December 23, 1854, that toppled part of the Japanese city of Tokyo, then went that same day at 700 kilometers per hour to break on the beaches of America. After nightfall the storm grew in intensity. As in the 1860 cyclone on Reunion Island, the barometer fell to 710 millimeters. At the close of day, I saw a big ship passing on the horizon, struggling painfully. It lay to at half steam in an effort to hold steady on the waves. It must have been a steamer on one of those lines out of New York to Liverpool or Le Havre. It soon vanished into the shadows. At ten o'clock in the evening, the skies caught on fire. The air was streaked with violent flashes of lightning. I couldn't stand this brightness, but Captain Nemo stared straight at it, as if to inhale the spirit of the storm. A dreadful noise filled the air, a complicated noise made up of the roar of crashing breakers, the howl of the wind, claps of thunder. The wind shifted to every point of the horizon, and the cyclone left the east to return there after passing through north, west, and south, moving in the opposite direction of revolving storms in the southern hemisphere. Oh, that Gulf Stream! It truly lives up to its nickname, the Lord of Storms! All by itself it creates these fearsome cyclones through the difference in temperature between its currents and the superimposed layers of air. The rain was followed by a downpour of fire. Droplets of water changed into exploding tufts. You would have thought Captain Nemo was courting a death worthy of himself, seeking to be struck by lightning. In one hideous pitching movement, the Nautilus reared its steel spur into the air like a lightning rod, and I saw long sparks shoot down it. Shattered, at the end of my strength, I slid flat on my belly to the hatch. I opened it and went below to the lounge. By then the storm had reached its maximum intensity. It was impossible to stand upright inside the Nautilus. Captain Nemo reentered near midnight. I could hear the ballast tanks filling little by little, and the Nautilus sank gently beneath the surface of the waves. Through the lounge's open windows, I saw large, frightened fish passing like phantoms in the fiery waters. Some were struck by lightning right before my eyes! The Nautilus kept descending. I thought it would find calm again at fifteen meters down. No. The upper strata were too violently agitated. It needed to sink to fifty meters, searching for a resting place in the bowels of the sea. But once there, what tranquility we found, what silence, what peace all around us! Who would have known that a dreadful hurricane was then unleashed on the surface of this ocean?

#20000Leagues

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