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governmentintelligence · 3 years

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Hypothermia (happy birthday winter!!!!)

A/N: happy birthday @winterpower98!!!!! i made you angst :)

i saw all your notes from white tang au and honestly??? fucking love the vibes. i didn't do much with the Plot but i hope you still enjoy it :>

WARNINGS: hypothermia, it is cold, derealization/dissociation, choking, threatened murder/suicide, implied murder, implied blood, no happy ending

Words: 4041

enjoy!! <3

There were a lot of downsides to possession, but the one that Tang had expected the least was the cold.

That might also not be a fair description of the problem. He hadn’t expected to be possessed. No one ever expects to get possessed. Given the concept, though, he had some preconceived ideas of what possession would entail. A lot of them were more hands-on, like the visceral dissonance from physical form that came with watching his body move of its own accord. That was something he imagined when he thought of being possessed.

It was still striking, but it was something he’d expected, at least.

He hadn’t expected how numb he’d feel. How little and how insignificant it would feel to be sequestered away into his own head.

He hadn’t thought that she would invade his mind in the same way, echoing his own voice back at him. She perfectly mimicked his voice, his tones, his speaking cadence, such that even he couldn’t tell her apart on most days.

They would drudge up to the mirror in the morning, and Tang would stare into his ice blue eyes and have to convince himself that they weren’t always that color. Most days, he imagined himself staring at a stranger. Some days, he wouldn’t even be able to focus on his reflection. Those were the days he felt the most cold.

Mild Hypothermia Symptoms include shivering, increased heart rate, and mental confusion. Patient may seem dazed and unsure of themselves.

The Lady Bone Demon had been masquerading as a young girl, trying to find books at the library. In retrospect, it may have been on the nose for her to have been looking for a book on Dyatlov Pass. It was almost like a double emphasis on the ice theming, to be looking for another incident of people succumbing to the cold. Maybe even foreshadowing. Tang’s always been fond of stories.

The library was sprawling large. Tang had offered to help her find it. The library is quiet most days, so it wasn’t like he was busy.

He stopped by the shelves and, when he turned to direct her to the proper book, was struck by a gust of wind. It burned his throat like smoke, yet settled in his chest cold as ice, freezing from the inside out. The girl had just stood there, smiling coyly, knowingly.

Tang wasn’t sure what happened specifically after that, even if it had happened at all, because his memory picked back up with him walking to the help desk.

From there, it was a little spotty. He’d gone to sit at the help desk and found himself sitting down at his usual counter spotat Pigsy’s Noodles. Pigsy was sharp, much sharper than people give him credit for. Nothing could ever sneak past his snout, not MK’s poor sleep schedule and not Tang’s distant stare.

He could remember Pigsy asking if he was okay. Tang wasn’t very sure what he replied with, but he did remember that Pigsy’s banter was much softer afterward. He likely just thought Tang was tired. It was rare that he’d be this tired after work, maybe it was worrying. He didn’t know.

He couldn’t think, his head was so, so cold.

He’d wanted to bring it up, after the first day or two or three. He couldn’t keep track. Tang had definitely tried to tell Pigsy, though, at some point. Only to hear a voice in his head, and be unable to open his lips. His throat had tightened, too, like something was choking him. The ice burned.

Don’t speak, it told him. She, she told him.

That’s absurd, he’d thought back. He speaks a lot, thank you very much, and no two-bit voice in his head was going to tell him otherwise.

And yet, it did. He could just barely open his mouth, but no sound, no air, escaped.

Slowly, he’d just slurped more noodles, watching Pigsy’s back as he cooked. After a moment, once the thought to tell Pigsy had passed, so did his throat’s constriction. Tang was too dazed to try it again.

In hindsight, he should have. If only he’d kept pushing more, fought more, then maybe he would have gotten Pigsy’s attention before it was too late.

He’d been sleeping on the couch for the past few days, another idea that had settled in his head and he was too tired to fight against. His brain felt sluggish, as if trying to move through a storm, trudging ever forward against a wind that threatened to topple him. There was something warm wrapped around his back, glowing gold just out of the corner of his eye when he wasn’t paying attention, though Tang wasn’t sure what that was. He didn’t know enough about this soul magic to be able to identify it. Where would he have learned?

MK would probably know what was going on. He tried to tell MK, too, tried to signal that something was happening. He couldn’t remember if this was before or after he’d tried to tell Pigsy, but the same thing had happened. Tang’s throat had closed up and he’d been directed to eat once again. He had no choice other than to oblige.

His body wasn’t connected to him. It belonged to that voice he’d heard whisper to him. It was the young girl’s voice, at the library, but come now. Tang knew she wasn’t a random person. Perhaps she’d looked for him.

Perhaps she knew MK and was using Tang. It was morbid, but he would make a pretty good meat shield.

The first time that thought crossed his mind, he’d heard her laugh, a soft chuckle that was all too foreboding, and he’d known exactly what her plan was. It was before the cold set in fully, before his hands numbed beyond his recognition. He still had some control. But it was all too weak. His hands shook, so he hid them in his own sleeves, holding each other for warmth and because doing anything else would get her to hold him down.

Over time, it did feel more physical. He couldn’t move his body, not when he wanted to move it, but he could feel things being done to him. Felt Pigsy pat his back sympathetically when he’d explained that he was coming down with a cold, didn’t want to get him sick, too, so he’d sleep on the sofa.

She never introduced herself, not truly, but after long enough, Tang recognized her from legend. If it fed her ego, she didn’t acknowledge. But it was good to know who he was imprisoned by.

He felt phantom feelings, if that was even a possible thing. In his mind’s eye, when he wasn’t focused, he could see white shackles on his wrists. A glowing blue crack over his chest. But as soon as Tang tried to focus on what he was seeing, it would disappear.

Moderate Hypothermia Shivering will cease, though it will be replaced with increased mental confusion, slurred speech, and loss of fine motor skills. Confusion will include amnesia and slowed thought process.

“Hey,” Pigsy’s voice rattles him, gruff and angrier than he’d ever heard.

Tang feels his head lift. Now that he wasn’t actively fighting back at all times, he’d been allowed to feel his body’s movements. It was like the cold had solidified. Attempting to move his limps was impossible, but he could see his own body move, see his hand reach up to hold the underside of his own chin in a casual manner.

It was tiring. He wanted to doze off, but everyone knows sleeping in a snow storm spells death.

“Hey yourself,” he can hear himself speak, too, which was something he’d found he couldn’t do anymore.

“Who are you.”

The sentence hits Tang rough, the venom in Pigsy’s voice dripping, covered in anger, maybe even hurt. It was enough of a rattle to catch his attention, give him something to focus on.

Fiery anger. He cups the warmth and tries to focus.

His face shifts, eyebrow quirking up in an unimpressed, surprised look that he wasn’t making himself. He knew he couldn’t, this wasn’t his body anymore. Tang was just trapped, watching someone else, this demon, Lady Bone Demon, lift his limbs and walk him around.

It made him feel hopeful, almost grateful, that Pigsy had recognized the difference. A twinge of cold struck him over the reminder that he was a week late, maybe even longer, but, still, he was so thankful that someone noticed. And it warmed his heart ever so slightly to think that it was Pigsy who did.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tang’s voice says.

“You know damn well,” Pigsy growls back, and it was foolish of him to doubt Pigsy, to worry that he wouldn’t be able to help, to worry that it would be too late. “What’d you do to Tang and who the fuck are you.”

His head tilts again. “Well, aren’t you sharper than you used to be.”

Used to be? Tang doesn’t understand what the Lady Bone Demon is saying, but he knows it rattles Pigsy, because his eyes widen. His arms, which had been crossed at the confrontation, slowly lower. He’s scared.

Why would Pigsy be scared? Does he know this demon? How would he? Tang is confused by this reaction, watching with mounting anxiety. If his heart could race, he knew it would be racing right now.

Pigsy could get help from MK, and if he couldn’t help, then MK could get the Monkey King. There were multiple avenues to get help here.

“What’s wrong, Bajie. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” are the words that Tang hears himself say, and they surprise him most of all.

Tang recognized Lady Bone Demon, after some time. He’d known what she was, where her origins lay in the stories he’d been told, thrived in, repeated himself. He wasn’t ignorant of her. So he knew this was quite the situation. He didn’t know exactly what she was doing with him but, given her antagonistic relationship to the Monkey King, Tang could make some assumptions. Probably some way to watch MK. Maybe watch the Monkey King himself.

Never in his fucking life did he expect Pigsy to get called Bajie.

As in, Zhu Bajie? Pigsy was that Bajie? There was surely no way.

Until Pigsy flinched, answered to a name that Tang only knew from legends. Snapped back at her in acknowledgement of the name.

What the fuck do you mean he was in a complicated relationship with Zhu Bajie.

She laughs, with his mouth, his voice, and Tang doesn’t know if she’s laughing at him or at the panic in Pigsy’s (Bajie? That’s fucking Bajie?) face. How convoluted.

Tang is kept warm with the tangled threads of confusion over these new revelations, which is probably to her benefit. She continues to use his mouth to talk to Pigsy, Bajie, apparently, and he turns inward. A slight cloak of warmth keeps his consciousness guarded, and at least his troubled confusion was something he could think about, rather than the gnawing cold.

How had he never noticed? It made more sense that Pigsy wouldn’t tell, he probably had things to preserve and to hide, if it were true. But how had something that large just….slipped past him? He should have noticed. He’d studied the journey’s legends front and back, hell, he’d recited so many of the stories to MK from pure memory. And yet he’d spent the past few years sharing a bed with one of the heroes from his stories.

That was something that Tang could focus on, at least. He wasn’t very interesting to the demon wearing his body, and thus she didn’t humor him with her attention. It turned out to be something almost in his favor, given how his mind had been completely detached from his body, watching and listening and feeling things but never being able to act upon them. Better than to have her focus, lest she turn his anger onto him.

It was nice to have something to think about that wasn’t the revulsion of watching himself as if in a dream, unable to do anything himself. In his mind’s eye, he had no limbs, nothing to move, nothing to do. He did his best to be unassuming to her.

At least thinking back on every interaction he’d ever had with Pigsy was giving his brain something to focus on. Maybe too much.

Remembering and living in memory gave him a good distraction from seeing how she was using his body to treat Pigsy, too. Whenever he was cognizant of it, Tang would notice what he was saying, the sharpness of her words. She’d purred, once, that the human body could only go so long without eating, and in that moment he’d felt the visceral hunger of his body.

He’d forgotten how long he’d been kept out, and he didn’t know how long it had been since he’d eaten. Had water. Even slept. He, in his mind, was sleeping. All the time, actually. But when he became cognizant of it, focusing on how his body felt, he realized exactly how exhausted he was. She was wearing him into the ground.

It was also probably beneficial for her, to have him distance himself from the pain of existing in his body. He could do nothing other than feel how it felt to be in his body, and Tang didn’t want to exist just for him to feel how painful it was to be starved, cold, dehydrated, and exhausted.

In a small act of rebellion, though, he paid attention to when Pigsy would care for him. Pigsy sets out a bowl of noodles, glare stifled by MK and Mei’s presence, posture stiff with unforgiving, unrelenting anger. And Tang’s body leans over the noodles in a quick, lurching motion. Because he is hungry. And the food is familiar. Is warm. There’s nothing like his favorite noodles when he hasn’t eaten. She’s silent for once as she picks up the chopsticks with his fingers.

Tang doesn’t know if he made the motion or if she did, to be honest. He is hungry and he craves the food set before him, but he isn’t a fool to think that he would be allowed to move.

While Tang eats, or, rather, she eats with his body, Tang is acutely aware of how Pigsy watches. There’s something in his gaze, as if he’s unsure of something, trying to correlate the action to the person he knows is there. Tang knows he’s smart. He trusts Pigsy with his entire life. If anyone can tell who makes the motion, it must be Pigsy, even if Tang himself doesn’t know.

Maybe that’s her plan. Maybe it’s beneficial, for her, to have Pigsy on the edge of his seat, recognizing Tang as trapped in his own body. It’s the hope of him still existing.

Maybe it’s cruel, to want to signal to Pigsy that he is, indeed, doing his best to exist. But he wants to. He needs Pigsy to know he’s trying to stay conscious. He hasn’t given up. He won’t. He’s fighting a losing battle, but he won’t.

He wonders if his body could live if not maintained, inhabited by a demon. He would very much like to not know if that was possible.

Tang doesn’t know if he makes sense, even to himself. His brain feels so fast and so slow. His thoughts race into each other and create nothing. At the very least, it keeps him awake and alert, but it does nothing to help his circumstances. He doesn’t know if it’s possible for him to do anything.

It’s impossible for him to do anything, she warns him. Her voice is cold, frost growing at the tips of his ears. His body feels like a snowglobe. Trapped and on display and invisible, all at the same time.

You’re never getting out, she whispers to him. He tries not to believe her.

Severe Hypothermia Respiratory and heart rates will continue to decrease. Patient’s skin will be cold and inflamed, and mental confusion delves into hallucinations and increased combative state. The body tricks itself into thinking the cold has given way to warmth.

Days. Weeks. Maybe a month, even. Multiple months. A year?

Tang doesn’t have a method to keep track of time.

He sees his body age in the mirror every morning, but he doesn’t know if it’s the passage of time or exhaustion. She plucks a hair from his head, turning it over on close inspection, and he sees that it’s white. A white hair.

Is he just growing old, or is he cold?

The Lady scoffs, tossing it into the bin, and he watches her turn around from the mirror. Then, he reminds himself that he cannot allow himself to leave his perspective. He has to keep track of what she does with his body through his own eyes. It’s a little difficult. She must have gotten rid of his glasses because everything is just slightly out of focus, too far away.

Pigsy keeps him alive. Tang doesn’t know if he should be calling him Bajie or Pigsy and it’s not like he’s going to ever get the chance to ask, so in his mind, he calls him Pigsy. That’s the name that slot comfortably into his mind, which conjures a figure of the familiar, like a hearth. He holds the thoughts and tries so hard not to let go.

It’s still hard to follow what happens. His consciousness does waver, blinking in and out like a dying light. He rallies against the cold, tries to tug at whatever it is in the corners of his eyes that glow with warmth, keep him the barest alive.

He knows she’s cruel to Pigsy, in his body. She sleeps in the same bed as him, holds him at night, gives him a kiss on the forehead in the morning. Tang wishes he could be as mad about this as he should be, but he can’t bring himself to feel moth other than tired. He wishes he could feel what it would be like to hold Pigsy like that. She’d long stopped letting him experience the outside world at all, even the edges of his vision blurred with the loss of his glasses and the cold burning his senses.

She tells Pigsy, one day, that Tang loved him. That it was a shame he never worked up the courage to tell him. Won’t get the chance, anymore.

Tang doesn’t catch his reaction, but he hopes Pigsy knows that he still does love him. There’s little left of him but he does.

The demon attacks keep happening, he keeps following MK with Pigsy. Sometimes Tang is cognizant of the damage and the barrage of violence. Other times, he keeps drifting, trying to stay alert while everything grows numb. His motivation and energy pulsates, though he can feel it growing weaker.

Something keeps him from fading completely, a warm buzz of strength at his more dire times that reminds him he has so many reasons to keep focused, keep alert.

He catches MK’s expression once. He doesn’t remember the context, or why, but his eyes were glowing. The Monkey King had taught him that, once. It allowed MK to see through the surrounding world, could see the souls of the people around them.

He sees me, she confessed to Tang. Much less a confession, actually, and much more a statement of truth. Maybe even haughty. Proud.

The jig was up, then. It had to be. Another pang of hope through his chest, just like when Pigsy had noticed.

Hope is warm enough to coat himself in, but it doesn’t stop the temporal dissonance, and Tang tries to focus once more. He’s seated at the bar of Pigsy’s Noodles, as he always is. MK is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps MK noticing was only a dream. He’s been doing that, thinking up scenarios that had never happened. There was little else to do to keep his focus, because if he saw too much through his own eyes, he would grow sick of himself.

She liked to see his disgust at what she’d made his hands do, covered in blood every so often. He could have killed. She could have killed, with his body. He couldn’t remember if that was true, too, or just another hallucination. Another thing his brain thought up to try and keep him alert, as fake as it was.

Tang assumed this was another day. Just another day, easy enough to drift off once more. Conserve his energy. Keep trying to stay present. Or conserve his energy. A difficult decision, really, but the only one he’s had to make over and over.

Until a hand, a clawed paw, grabs his shoulder and whips him around. Tang’s body is yanked up and forced back. He hears a snarl of anger from his assailant, sharper than most sounds he’s heard lately, and in a visceral moment Tang realizes that he’s been pushed into the forefront once more.

For the first time in a long, long while, Tang feels the sharp slam too forcefully against the countertop. His mind screams out in shock, surprise as the tremor and pain at the motion. She hadn’t let him feel in so long that it might have been a mercy, to feel something so human as pain.

Outwardly, he can only feel his face fall into a smirk as she stares down at the Monkey King.

“Get out. Now,” the Monkey King’s voice is dark, threatening, teeth bared.

“Or? You’ll kill me?” Tang hates how confident the Lady sounds in his voice, like she were meant to wear it. “You’re welcome to try.”

It sounds distant from his own. Is that always how his voice has sounded?

“But you’ll have to get through my host first.” She keeps talking with his voice and the more Tang hears, the more he doesn’t recognize it. “And I don’t think your brother and his kid will be happy with that.”

She lifted his arms behind his head, casually leaning against the wall besides the counter. He wonders if it’s a natural pose with his body. It doesn’t feel natural to him, now that he’s feeling it. His shoulders feel stiff. Everything feels stiff, actually.

Everything feels cold, too. Why is he so cold?

The Monkey King glares, but the expression dulls, fades over the span of a few seconds. He looks shaken, even.

He knows what you are, now, she tells Tang.

Tang doesn’t even know what he is. She laughs at that. In his mind, of course. Right? Tang doesn’t know if he hears the laughter aloud.

Golden warmth wraps his shoulders again, careful and gentle, and he drifts away once again. He wonders if this is the first time his disciple has failed him. Curious, too, is the thought. Since when was the Monkey King his disciple?

Death to Hypothermia Bodily functions continue to slow until patient loses consciousness and, eventually, life.

The knife pressed against his neck was almost warm. It was warmer than anything else Tang had felt in a while.

He couldn’t remember what it was like to breathe. To be awake, himself. All of the days blurred together, distant from his own person as he watched the world move around him, body being puppeteered by his lady.

She liked that. It was deferring in leadership, the acknowledgement that Tang wasn’t in control. Was it giving up?

“Let’s not do anything hasty,” she says to the crowd.

Tang slips back, the frosty snow storm covering his view.

The knife against his neck is so warm, almost warmer than the wings draped around his back, golden glow the only color against the frozen backdrop of his mind. He hadn’t seen them up close, still just out of the corner of his own vision, but she had proudly chided him enough times that Tang knew what they were. What he was.

The Monkey King is scared, her voice purrs to him. I have you.

I have you now.

#fic #my shitty fic #my shitty writing #i forgot which one is the tag lmaooooooo #bad ending #i dont wanna put it in the tags lmaooooo #i hope u enjoy it #i didn't wanna overwrite ur plot #so i didn't do plot stuff #i just explored what it might be like to #you know #be frozen in your own head #love uuuuuu happy birth ur old now

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grither55 · 3 years

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The Princess and the Peasant - (An Azula Epic) - Chapter 115 - The Last of the Mystics

Team Azula now walked back on their utterly broken-down feet towards the Sentinel Tree once more.

While the forest had finally gone back to its previous peaceful quiet in the wake of both Silah and the invading soldiers being dealt with.

All the while as Azula glared on with unusually exhausted amber golden eyes as she braced her little girlfriend's small body over her armored back.

While the three noblewomen pulled themselves along beside their leader.

All while they watched through the corners of their gazes as the small girl lay face first in the princess's dark hair.

"Azula-sama…" Elle murmured in a timid voice as she hugged the older woman around the neck while she listened to her master let out a low growl that sent a pleasurable shudder down her spine.

"Just one more wretched talk Elle and then we will go home." Azula remarked in a commanding voice as she stomped along with the young girl hanging onto her back.

While the petite girl nodded with a smile on her lips as she clung adorably to the much taller girl's back.

All the while as the others stared on from behind in silent amazement.

And it wasn't too long after that that the princess kicked open the door to the hut.

While the four highborn women quickly poured in as they struggled not to collapse on their feet.

"Boy am I glad to see this tree." Mai grumbled under her breath as they rounded their way around the corner.

"You and me both Clan Saolin." Zoi stated as she stumbled her way down the hall of the hollow tree.

Only for the four highborn women to enter in the next room.

And it was then that Nako dropped the book that she was researching with her brown eyes gazing back at the group in horror.

While Saro glanced up with his mouth ajar in shock.

And even Jiao stopped what she was doing to turn to gaze their way in disbelief.

"P-Princess! Are you alright! What happened!" Nako cried out as she ran towards her princess while Azula's cold eyes turned to glance her way.

And for the most fleeting of instances the princess's harsh gaze flickered with something akin to relief to see that her subject cared about her.

"I am alive Nako. We ran into a group of dangerous enemies on the other side of that spirit portal." The princess responded in a drained voice as sweat still dripped down her regal brow.

While the three commoners listened with looks of worry in their eyes.

And while the seductress tried to hide it the younger woman couldn't help but stare back at her battered lover in concern.

'What kind of enemy is capable of doing that to the princess and the captain! It looks like they just went another round with that monstrous puppeteer!' Saro thought with his golden eyes flickering in worry.

"Are…. you going to be okay Zoi?" Jiao inquired in a softer voice than usual while the noblewoman nodded her head.

"I'll live Jiao. I just don't want to see any more snow for a long time." The captain replied while her lover gazed back at her with a confused look in her eyes.

"Snow captain? There was snow there?" The lieutenant pondered in a bewildered voice as he now took note in the wounds that could only have come from the cold.

"I-is there anything I can do for you Your Highness?" The royal pilot questioned in a devoted voice while princess pushed her way past her.

"You three! Go fetch us water and be quick about it! And that includes you too peasant!" Azula barked with her usual bossiness returning in full force while she watched the three quickly nod in submission.

"Yes princess! I will do so immediately!" Nako exclaimed as she rushed off down the hall.

All the while as Saro and Jiao ran after her to assist her.

While Team Azula numbly found themselves somewhat surprised that the seductress had obeyed without her usual lip.

Although there were all so exhausted that they hardly gave a damn.

Ten minutes later.

Team Azula pushed open the door to Mava's study.

Only for their eyes to widen in bewilderment to see that the mystical woman was hunched over before her spiraling flames once more.

All the while as they made their way in to talk to her for the final time.

Until the battle worn princess plopped down on her ass in a chair with her exhausted girlfriend still panting against her plated chest.

While the three noblewomen dropped down to sit on the floor.

All the while as they gazed on in astonishment to see that their princess was so exhausted that she didn't even care about maintaining appearances by booting their little sister out of her lap.

"Old hag! Let's get this over with already." The princess snapped with a deep scowl on her beautiful lips as she took a heavy gulp of a large jug of water.

While she even paid no mind to the droplets of water that dripped down her parched lips.

Only for her possessive amber golden eyes to glance downward when she saw her little girlfriend reach up for a drink.

And not even a second after that she held it up to the girl's lips while she watched the small girl take a large swig.

"Y-yes wise sage, I must agree with my princess. I…I am ready to go home." The handmaid stated in a tired voice while her princess gazed at her in approval from over her shoulder.

Only for the five girls to watch in confusion when the flames sparked up once more while a sense of unease began to develop in their eyes.

"This is terrible news! It's…it's broken! And now the gateway is closed! You should not have let him get away!" Mava cried out in a foreboding voice as she sat with her back turned to the confused group.

All the while as the flames rose up once more before their uneasy eyes.

"Let…who get away? That horrible man…Nero?" Ty Lee questioned with a fearful swallow only for Mava to grimly shake her head.

While the five females gazed on with their weary minds pondering if the old woman was speaking of Felix.

"No! Not the scientist. He saved your lives for his own twisted ends. If not for his attack on the emperor none of you would have escaped to return to the other side." The sage declared as she turned to face the group with her hauntingly glazed eyes staring at them.

All the while as a renewed look of humiliation flashed before all of their eyes.

The mere fact that they were saved by a man who sought to dissect the benders amongst them was the ultimate insult to injury!

While the princess's amber golden eyes danced with rage once more as she took a furious swallow of water.

All the while as she leaned back on her posterior with her little girlfriend trembling from where she sat on her robed thigh.

"As much as I despise to admit it…she had us completely and utterly beat in both strategy and might. Not only did she spy on us months in advance. She…she was much stronger than us." Zoi commented with shame in her voice as she sunk back against the wall.

While Elle, Mai and Ty Lee shuddered as they were reminded over how it felt when their bodies had started to freeze over.

"That's…that's just because of the cold. If it was in the Fire Nation and we were at full strength we would have won." Azula insisted in a prideful voice with her callous amber golden eyes glaring onward.

While the others gazed on in an unconvinced silence.

"No. No it was not. That monster was toying with all of you. And that is the only reason why you sit here to tell the tale. Had she actually fought you girls and the scientist seriously then it would have been a much different outcome for you and him." Mava informed in a wizened voice while the team fell back into a stunned silence.

All the while as the anger in Azula's eyes only continued to soar to even higher heights.

"Who…who should we have not let get away wise sage?" Elle queried in a gentle voice with fear in her amber eyes once more as she sat on her master's thigh.

"Your brother. You wasted your time…fighting the bomber…and the redhead…and all of the others. When your single greatest priority should have been his capture at all costs." The sage stated as she sat before the rising flames while a face began to form in the smoke.

While looks of outrage formed in the eyes of the four highborn women when they found themselves gazing back at Felix's madly laughing face once more.

All the while as Elle swallowed fretfully with her amber eyes glaring back at her brother's insane face.

"D-does this have something to do with my confrontation with Felix when I fired that ball of energy at him? I was meaning to ask how I did that." The handmaid requested in a puzzled voice while her princess loomed protectively over her head.

"In a sense young Component. The closer a holder of the Component is to the Spirit World, the stronger the power of the Component will be. You tapped into the spiritual energy of the gateway and harnessed it to attack your brother." Mava revealed in a gruff voice while the group listened with awe in their eyes.

While they all turned to gaze back at their young friend's adorably confuddled face with astoundment in their eyes once more.

"So…that's why Elle was stronger. She harnessed the power of the portal. That must also be how the girl was able to defeat that man Reynolds." The princess muttered in a moody voice as she held her jug in hand with her stern eyes gazing down at the back of her pet's golden head in amazement.

"You perceive correctly princess. The principal function of the Component is that it is able to cut through and remove mystical barriers that stand in the way of the holder. As you know…this is also why the Component is able to disrupt the flow of chi of the Avatar and beings like him. And it is precisely why Elle was able to cut through the colonel's foreign weapon." The sage explained in a weathered voice while the highborn women still at the teenager in shock.

While Elle's cheeks started to turn pink as she blushed under all of the combined attention from her friends.

"I still can't believe that you are capable of such power…tiger monkey." Azula snorted in a fondly strict voice as she eyed her reddened girlfriend with possessive amber golden eye.

"I-I still wish I wasn't Azula-sama. I don't want to be have this power… I just want to serve you and nothing else." Elle mumbled in a distressed voice as she fiddled her thumbs while Azula allowed herself to smile down at her.

All the while as both Mai and Ty Lee said nothing as they fondly shook their heads over the young girl's innocently obsessive desire to serve the princess.

"Oh Elle. Don't you worry. You are going to spend your whole life serving me and perhaps…even your eternity as well." The princess sighed as she began to coil a fingernail in her ebony hair while she allowed a small smile to grace her exhausted lips.

While the two noblewomen almost shivered over how terrifying that sounded to them.

Only for the two to watch their little sister's smile more brightly after hearing those words.

"I…I would like that very much Azula-sama." The handmaid muttered as she smiled when a strong hand patted her golden head.

While she leaned back with the back of her head pressing into her master's armored breasts.

All the while as she paid no mind when her girlfriend propped her elbow up in her hair as she reclined her tall body behind her.

"Considering that the Component is able to go through a mystical barrier it is only natural that given the right conditions the holder can also go through a physical object as well." Mava replied in a seemingly timeless voice as she held herself up on her staff.

While Team Azula listened with marvelment in their eyes as they tiredly nodded their heads.

"Old woman. I demand that you tell me why we should have brought back my servant's vile brother and while you're at it you better be able to also tell me more about this link to the girl's power than you were able earlier." Azula snarled as she let out a protective snort of blue fire over her little trembling handmaid.

"In order to tell you that. I must first tell you who and what I am." The sage responded in a mystical voice while the group gazed on with curiosity in their confused eyes.

"Ugh. Whatever. But it had better not involve anymore riddles." The princess grumbled as she sat back with her jug in hand as took another relaxing sip of water.

All the while as her callous amber golden eyes kept a close watch over the teenager sitting in her robed lap.

"But…you said that you are Mava…right?" Elle asked in a voice that was filled with innocent wonder while her master scowled back at the wrinkled woman.

"That is right child. My name is Mava and I am the very last of a fading order of mystics whose sole purpose is to guide the Component." Mava announced in a learned voice as her face was accented by the flames while the highborn women listened with their eyes wide in disbelief.

"A whole order of mystics just to guide me?" The handmaid repeated in an awed voice while her princess sat in astonishment above her.

"Our order has existed for over a thousand years. It was first established long ago with the assistance of one of the ancient Fire Lords of old. So long ago…that I do not even know his or her name." The sage revealed in a profound voice with her words causing the Fire Nation women to stare on in shock.

While the princess's lips now curled into an angered glower as a blue torch lit over the wall behind her as proof of her ire.

"And you had the nerve to insinuate that I was unworthy when this very order was created by one of my ancient ancestors! That by itself makes me more worthy than anyone else in this world!" The princess hissed with great anger in her voice that was only tempered in part when she felt her serving girl place her gentle hand on her arm.

Only for the fury in her eyes to grow when the weathered woman slammed her staff down on the floor of the hut.

All the while as the three noblewomen sat there in a puzzled silence.

"No, it does not! The Fire Lords of old were noble leaders that cared about their people. Ever since Sozin the Royal Family has been naught but a line of tyrants. All your family has cared about is making yourselves richer at the expense of the peasants that suffer under your family's oppressive rule." Mava retorted in a resentful voice as she pointed a wrinkled finger back at Azula's furiously glaring face.

While the other three highborn women sat in an unsettled silence as they wisely avoided stating aloud that it sounded as if the old woman had a valid point.

"T-the princess isn't like her father and the others Mava. When she becomes Fire Lord, she is going to make it better. I know so. I…I believe in her." Elle insisted in a faithful voice as she chewed on her lip while Azula found herself visibly calming over her.

While Mai sighed under her breath as she mused that she could only hope that Azula at least made an effort.

Otherwise sooner or later she was bound to lose Elle's innocent admiration.

"Perhaps she will young Component. We shall see. In any event our order was created to keep the secrets of the Component alive for the day that the holder should return. And that is what we did…all of us for over a thousand years." The sage admitted in a greatly tired voice with her words stunning the team so deeply that the fury vanished in the princess's widened eyes.

"Your order managed keep such powerful secrets in memory for that long?" The captain asked in a stunned voice with her golden eyes wide in shock.

"F-for over a thousand of years? Just to talk to me or whoever came through?" The handmaid repeated in a disbelieving voice while her princess gazed on in awe from over her shoulder.

"We did. And we didn't do it just so some spoiled princess could make light of our sacrifice. I didn't do this because I wanted to spend my entire life in a tree you know. I did it because there was no one else left to take up the task and if I didn't do it then the order would have died off. And then there would be no one here to enlighten young Elle's mind." Mava explained in a sage voice as she balanced herself on her staff while Elle's amber eyes widened with emotion.

All the while as the highborn women sunk back in their seats in an affected silence.

"I…I am sure that Azula meant no disrespect Sage Mava. She…she just has never been very good at showing her emotions. And she is only just now starting to learn how to do so with Elle's help." The acrobat spoke in a hastened voice while the princess sat in a prideful silence.

While the mighty princess just let out a haughty snort as she turned to stare at the old woman.

Only for her amber golden eyes to glance down in puzzlement when saw her girlfriend standing up from her lap.

"Arigatou gozaimasu for doing so Sage Mava. I…and all of my friends are forever in your debt." Elle stated in a highly sentimental voice as she bowed at the hip while Azula sat scowling down at her.

Just as Zoi lowered her head in a respectful bow while Mai followed suit soon after.

And soon so did Ty Lee.

While Azula still sat scowling with her arms over her breasts only to find herself growling when she felt the acrobat push her head into a slight bow.

And not even a second later the princess sprang back up with her amber golden eyes still glaring back at the old woman.

Just before the team turned back towards the flames when they arose higher once more.

"We…have carried these hallowed secrets with us for all this time. All the while we were unable to share them with anyone outside of the order." The sage continued in a wizened voice while the five younger females listened in a spellbound silence.

"You couldn't speak to the Royal Family and the noble clans of it? Not even before the days of Fire Lord Sozin?" Zoi inquired in a fascinated voice while Azula still sat scowling in her seat.

Just as the princess's cold eyes took note of how her girlfriend's legs were wobbling in exhaustion.

And just when the teenager started to sway on her woozy feet.

She let out a lovable squeak when she was pulled down to sit in the older woman's lap once more.

All the while as her cheeks turned pink once more as she peered shyly up at her caretaker's stoic face while the woman frowned sternly down at her.

Only for the couple's attentions to be rapidly regained when the old woman shook her head no.

"We could not. Because with Sozin and afterward the sacred knowledge would have been used to cause even further suffering in the world. And before Sozin…the Avatar would have destroyed it." Mava answered in a timeworn voice while the team stared on with astonishment in their widened eyes.

"The Avatar…would have destroyed it?" The markswoman inquired in an unnaturally spellbound voice as the old woman nodded her head.

"The order lost the support of the Royal Family over eight hundred years ago because the Avatar believes us to be evil. The Avatar cannot understand because the Avatar cannot see the Primordial One or what it is doing. Therefore, the Avatar swayed the Royal Family and beyond to pay our warnings no mind. So, we were left with no other alternative but to sit and wait, and hope that the rune in this valley would prevent the Primordial One from coming for us." The sage remarked in a grave voice while the younger females listened in a stricken silence.

The more they heard the more frightening it became!

"That's what you're doing in this valley? You're…hiding from this creature?" Azula asked with utter disbelief in her amber golden eyes while Elle shivered in fear in her lap.

While a sense of newfound dread came over the entire team when the sage nodded her head with unrivaled graveness.

"Well, you don't have to worry anymore Mava! You have Azula-sama's support now! If the Avatar comes around Her Highness will give him what for!" The handmaid cried out in a devoted voice while the princess's lips curled into a small smile.

While the three nobles gazed fondly at their young friend.

Just as the princess patted the smaller girl's golden head while her hand then took to resting in the girl's hair.

"All of these improvements that you girls have been making in strength would not be possible if you told yourself before you even tried that the Avatar is the only one who can do it. And that is why this being wishes for the Avatar Cycle to remain intact…so that humanity will stay weak. Therefore, the creature has created a cloud over the minds of nearly everyone on this planet." Mava stated in a weathered voice with her hands clutching her staff while the team sat in an unnerved silence.

"Y-you said that it is doing something…what is it doing?" Elle stammered with fear in her voice while Azula gazed on with protective amber golden eyes from over her shoulder.

"The Primordial One does what your princess does when she gets her hands on a large bowl of cherries. It devours." The sage explained with her wrinkled fingers holding her staff while all but Azula stared on in amusement.

All the while as Azula sat there with her amber golden eyes burning with the infernos of war.

"Are you…making fun of your Crown Princess's appetite?" The princess questioned in a menacing voice while her girlfriend listened in an enraptured silence.

"I-it eats? Eats what?" The handmaid gulped in a fretful voice only to find herself comforted by the sound of her master growling behind her trembling ear.

"Chi." Mava responded in a vague yet utterly dire voice while highborn women and their young servant friend gazed back in an unsettled silence.

"It…eats chi?" Azula pondered in a greatly intrigued voice while she rose a regal brow.

"A great deal of it. To put it lightly. In any case Princess Azula. I will give you a word of warning. If you are truly serious about becoming worthy…and wish to remain alive long enough to do so. You will take great care who you speak of this being around." The sage advised in a deathly urgent voice while Azula rose an elegant brow.

"Are you…telling me that it is not safe for me to discuss it with my own subjects?" The princess snorted as she rolled her amber golden eyes while her serving girl shivered once more.

"That is exactly what I am saying. It has many followers throughout all walks of life. And if word gets out that you are looking for it. Its followers will infiltrate your palace staff…perhaps a servant…perhaps one of your guards…regardless of the mask it will get to you." Mava warned in a frighteningly ominous voice while a look of great paranoia passed over Azula's widened amber golden eyes.

While a newfound sense of terror came over the air as the entire team sat in a disbelieving state of quiet.

All the while as Elle swallowed in fright once again as Azula gazed on with searching amber golden eyes.

"So…it has a cult that is capable of penetrating even the ranks of the Royal Family?" The captain queried with a wary voice as she narrowed her golden eyes as she clenched her fist at her hip.

"A vast cult. A cult that is the entire planet." The sage declared in a terrifying voice as the team sunk back in their seats with their eyes wide in shock.

"T-the entire planet? But how is that possible?" Ty Lee stammered with great fear in her voice while Mava's flames rose up behind her.

"Because it has the whole world outside of this valley and Silah’s citadel is under its rune…its veil. The only people in this whole world that I know with certainty are aware of this creature's existence are everyone in this room…Silah and the one called Vega." Mava informed in a beyond dire voice as Team Azula gaped on with their eyes wide in incredulity.

"That's it?" Azula repeated in a disbelieving voice as she tried to fight down the sudden sense of paranoia that she felt rushing over her.

If the old hag was speaking truthfully…and she has yet to catch her in a lie.

That would mean this being can find them anywhere at any time!

"Now do you understand? If left unchecked…this creature will eventually kill every living being on this planet." The sage declared with her flames rising up over her while the younger females sat back with their eyes wide in horror.

"A-all life? We have to stop it Azula-sama!" Elle cried out as she reached up to tug on Azula's sleeve while her master let out a heavy sigh.

"You want to be worthy Princess Azula? Think not of how you desire power for your own whims and think instead of how you can save the world. This isn't about you or me…or Elle…it is about all of us. For we will all share the same fate if we fail." Mava spoke in a venerable voice as Azula stared on with her hardened amber golden eyes pondering those words.

"You said that this Vega will come riding on the wings of this force of darkness. But what of Silah? Is she allied with…it?" Zoi pondered with her golden eyes staring on coldly while her princess also glowered over the mention of the woman's name.

Only for all five girls to gaze on with curiosity in their eyes when the old woman let out a depressed sigh.

Almost as if…she was saddened by the loss of the other woman's enigmatic friendship.

"Silah…. was supposed to be the one sitting here speaking to the young Component…not me. She…was the one who was originally chosen to become the next sage." The sage confessed with sadness in her voice while the team gazed on with speechless looks in their widened eyes.

Out of all of the things that the old woman had told them.

That had to rank up there as highest with the existence of this…Primordial One!

"Silah and I are the last two members of the great order of mystics. My former master…chose Silah to succeed him and carry on this sacred knowledge until the day that the holder returns. But Silah…fell to her darker impulses." Mava spoke in barely perceivable whisper while the highborn women sunk back in unfathomable disbelief.

The simple fact that they were originally supposed to be speaking with the woman who wants to slaughter them just for pleasure was mind boggling!

"W-why…why didn't she?" The handmaid stammered in an emotional voice.

While she started to feel a sense of guilt for making people wait so long for her to reappear.

"Because child…to become the sage you must bind yourself to this infernal tree." The sage muttered as she sat holding her staff while the group stared on with their eyes widening in realization.

And now the entire team understood what Mava meant.

She…bound herself to the Sentinel Tree just for the sake of keeping this information alive so it could one day reach little Elle!

"Silah chose to reverse the power of the sage…and bind people to her as her puppets instead of binding herself to the Sentinel Tree. And after that…she left to follow the path of a dark sage and to live the life of the hunt. I know not whether she has aligned herself with this revolting creature but I know this. All Silah cares about is the thrill of her hunt." Mava commented with a scowl on her aged lips while a shudder spread throughout the air.

"And so now…we have to deal with this…Primordial One and its followers…while facing the Avatar and on top of all that…we have to deal with this doll freak chasing us down? Joy." Mai snorted with a shiver traveling down her spine while Ty Lee shuddered beside her.

While Azula and Zoi glared on with prideful fury in their eyes as well as an eagerness to pay the puppeteer back for their underground battle.

All the while as Elle began to shake once more when the flames rose up yet again.

While her amber eyes widened when she saw that her brother's face was forming in the fire once more.

All while the highborn women gazed on with looks of hatred in their narrowed eyes.

"All of that and much more. Your situation just got many times worse with your defeat on the other side of the gate." The sage began in a low voice as the team listened with their unnerved eyes gazing back at the young man's laughing visage in the flames.

"H-how?" Elle squeaked as she sat on Azula's lap while the woman stared on with murderously narrowed amber golden eyes.

"Child. The power has been in the blood of your family for countless generations…perhaps even as far back as to the days when the Fire Lord of old founded the Order of the Mystics. You see it was this noble Fire Lord who also founded the Component holder lineage." Mava announced with her hands gripping her staff while a sense of profoundly disbelief swept over the air.

While Elle turned to peer up at Azula with a newfound adorable admiration in her eyes that would have made the others chuckle if not for the gravity of what the old woman was saying.

All the while as Azula swelled with pride as she puffed out her breasts with a smirk already forming on her lips.

And that was all it took for both Mai and Ty Lee to sigh as they knew that Azula was going to make the poor girl worship her even more than before out of some perceived gratitude for what her ancestors did.

"Really? I really do have a divine right to rule over this one then." The princess boasted with a flip of her hair while she held her head high as she took delight in how her serving girl was now gazing up at her as if she were Agni herself.

"A-Azula-sama…I didn't know that your ancient family founded it." The handmaid stuttered in an awed voice as her princess stuck her nose up over her while her big sisters sighed in the background.

"Yes, well you can make it up to me by spending the rest of your little life worshiping the ground that I walk on." Azula huffed as she scanned her fingernails on her clenched fist with a spoiled smile already gracing her lips.

While she paid no mind to the sisterly growl that Ty Lee was sending her way.

Only for the old sage to cut the couple off before they could speak of it any further.

"No! The Fire Lord did not found the power itself. The Component was originally a force that was held inside an ancient tablet that held the key to breaching the Primordial One's defenses, so that the Matrix of Light could then be used to destroy it and its creations once and for all. What this Fire Lord did do…was merge the power within the tablet into a loyal follower of the then Royal Family." The sage explained in a greatly wise voice while the team listened in shock once more.

All the while as the mighty princess turned to gaze back down at her serving girl with a look of awe in her amber golden gaze.

"A loyal follower of the then Royal Family? Does that mean that young Elle is a descendant of this follower?" The captain asked in a marveled voice as she felt even more desire to protect the girl build up within her.

Under no circumstances could they allow Fire Lord Ozai to distort and use her as a tool of war!

It was a thought that was on all of the four highborn women's minds.

Even the Fire Princess herself.

"It is likely. As I told you all before. It is not restricted to just lineage that the founding Fire Lord created. It can transfer to someone who has no connection to the original lineage. I do not know all of the rules. What I do know is that the lineage was created so that the Primordial One could not destroy the power of the Component so easily." Mava replied with upmost seriousness in her gravely voice while the group sat in a stunned silence.

"Does…. that mean that Azula-sama and I are descendants of an ancient team of princess and servant? Am I really meant to serve her?" Elle asked in a lovably sweet voice as she gazed up at Azula's still surprised face.

While she and her girlfriend gazed back into each other's eyes as she smiled shyly under the older woman's stern stare.

All the while as she twiddled her thumbs while her princess's lips pulled into a charming smile.

And then she gasped when a strong hand lowered into her hair once more while she sat in shock as she found herself being petted under the princess's warm once yet again.

While the acrobat and the markswoman exchanged a wary look as they hoped that the princess wouldn't let it go too far to her head.

"It would seem so servant but fear not. I won't mistreat you." The princess assured with a smile on her lips while her girlfriend flushed under her domineering stare.

"O-oh Azula-sama. I know that you would never abuse me." The handmaid murmured with a hand on her reddened cheek while her big sisters sighed heavily.

Only for the adorable teenager to deflate when the old woman sighed as well.

"No. You two are not hearing me. The objective was not to create a servant that catered to the Royal Family's whims. The purpose was and is to save the world from the Primordial One." The sage explained with a gruff voice only for the three noblewomen to gaze on humorously when the couple seemed to not hear her.

"You…you really are my master Azula-sama." Elle spoke up in an adorably sweet voice while Azula smiled down at her in even more approval than ever before.

"Indeed, I am dear. And you really are my fated servant." Azula stated with a wide smile on her lips while her childhood friends stared at her in disapproval.

"A fated bond with a princess charming that was meant to be…how romantic." The handmaid gushed as she wrapped her arms around the taller girl's belly while the princess smiled down at her.

'So, my Elle really was meant to belong to me?' The princess thought with her beautiful lips curving into a content smile.

This just made Elle all the more special.

They truly were fated to stand side by side as the princess and her peasant.

"So…anyhow what happened to the founding Fire Lord? Obviously…whoever it was did not succeed. Is that right?" Zoi questioned with a stoic voice while the couple turned their attention back to the old sage.

Only for all five members of Team Azula to feel a sense of dread fall over them once more when the flames rose even higher.

"Wiped out and erased from most history books. The same fate that awaits all who the Primordial One destroys." Mava informed in a grim voice as the team sat back with their eyes wide in a sense of rising unease.

'Is all of this true? Is this being truly this powerful?' Azula thought with her amber golden eyes glancing on while she scowled deeply.

"What I was trying to get at child…is that there are means in which another member of your family can become the new holder with or without your consent." The sage declared in a voice of unequaled graveness while the team felt their stomachs drop as soon as they heard those words.

All the while as their eyes widened as they recalled the words that Felix spoke to them back in their encounter.

I know all about that power of yours Elle. And soon…very soon you will see that you need me.

It is time that we showed the world the power of the Turner family!

While a newfound look of rage came over the princess's mighty narrowed eyes as she glared on imposingly over her young girlfriend's fearful shoulder.

All the while as she began to clench her bloodied fists in her fury as she watched the flames take shape in Felix's face once more.

"My child…I regret to inform you…that you only possess half of the Component." Mava announced with evident unease in her serious voice as Elle sunk back with her amber eyes widening in confusion.

While the four highborn women stared on with their eyes wide in shock over the sage's grim declaration.

All the while as they swallowed in trepidation as they thought back to the power that Felix showed in their encounter.

Just as the princess abruptly stood up with her amber golden eyes burning wide in rage while her girlfriend fell from her lap with a squeak.

"You mean to tell me that the ability that worn showed in battle…was the Component!" Azula roared with her fists lighting up with blue fire once more while her lips sunk into a snarl.

All the while as Zoi gazed on with her golden eyes wide in fright like never before.

While Mai and Ty Lee now looked as if they had turned as white as a ghost!

"H-half? B-but I thought you told me that I was the Component!" Elle cried out from where she lay on the floor at her princess's boots while the woman towered over her.

"You are child. You used to possess all of it. But somewhere along the line you lost half. Did he do something to you at any point while you were unconscious?" The sage pondered in an urgent voice as the four highborn women stared on with absolute outrage in their murderous eyes.

While Elle now shook on the floor as she tried to sit up with her angered eyes gazing back at the visage of her monstrous brother.

"H-he…he always liked to put sleepy pills in food and drinks…that' why I…learned to cook my own food." The handmaid stammered in a voice of fearful realization as she audibly swallowed.

While the captain now stared on with her golden eyes agape in utter disgust.

While the princess and her two noble friends now looked even more regretful that they had not met their sensitive young friend sooner.

"Come here child. I'll see if I can pull it from your mind." Mava requested with a wag of her hand while Elle shakily stood up.

All the while as the highborn women glared on with promises of murder in their eyes.

And then the teenager came to a stop standing on her nervous legs before the old sage.

Just as the old woman reached out to place her wrinkled palm on the blonde's shaken forehead.

While the team stood back with their eyes wide with anticipation.

And then after what seemed to be a minute of unsettling waiting the hermit withdrew to face her fire.

While the teenager took a frightful step back as she saw her brother's image finish taking shape in the mystic flames.

All the while as the princess stepped forward to loom behind her frightened girlfriend with her callous eyes glaring imperiously back into the fire.

Only for her amber golden eyes to widen in a sense of some horrible foreign emotion when she saw an image of the girl laying on what appeared to be an operating table surrounded by a masked medical staff.

While Elle's amber eyes widened in horror like never before with her big sister's arising to their feet to stare on in shock behind her.

All the while as Felix stood over Elle with a man at the forefront who looked to be a doctor of some kind who appeared to be administering anesthetic to the girl.

"H-he's my brother…my own brother. Why…why would he do this to me?" The handmaid inquired with a tear in her eye while the princess now looked as if she were about to explode in her royal rage.

While the noblewomen stood stricken into a horrific silence unable to answer their adopted sister's sorrowful question.

"I must warn you…there is a chance that your sister will not survive this…" The doctor began in something akin to a hesitant voice while Elle in the present stared back in disbelief at her unmoving past self.

By the look of it this couldn't have happened more than six months before she came to the Fire Nation!

All the while as Team Azula was rendered into a state of absolute shock as they watched Felix roll his eyes in an almost Azulalike fashion.

Only even Mai knew that there was no way that Azula would have ever done something like this to Zuko!

"Elle will be fine. At least…more so than you will be if you decline me. If you have any moral reservations about it, I could just feed you to my seekers…" Felix spoke as he smiled menacingly back at the older man's terrified face.

While the highborn women listened in utter repugnance that the man hinted that he fed people to his pet beasts.

"No! N-no! I…have no moral compunctions…I…am ready when you are." The older man swallowed as he stood over the teenager with his remorseful eyes keeping a close watch on the girl's vitals.

And it was then that the entire team began to turn hot white in their rage as they watched the brother lean over their young friend's unconscious body!

"Poor Elle. You try so hard to win but you always lose." The brother remarked cruelly as he reached down to wipe a stray tear from his sister's eye.

And then just like that a sickening light shot out from the teenager's body while everyone watching was rendered into a speechless silence.

Even the sage who had seen the repressed memory in the teenager's mind had was stunned by the sheer level of the man's cruelty.

All the while as Elle backed up until the back of her head hit the bottom of her princess's armored breasts.

While the Fire Princess stared on with bubbling fury in her amber golden eyes.

All the while as she smashed her fists at her hips with her subordinates staring on in endless disgust.

And that was all it took for the team to gaze on in horror when the young man began to withdraw a bright light from the girl's chest.

And then Felix took a step back with the orb of light humming beneath his power-hungry hands.

And then not even a second later he slammed it into his chest while the group stood in shock as they watched Felix force it inside him!

And with that Felix tipped his head back as he began to release disturbing cackles with his glasses shaking over the bridge of his nose!

While the doctor seemed to be almost riddled with remorse as he turned away to gaze off into the distance of the room.

All the while as the team of medical staff stared on with fear in their eyes when the young man's body began to emit a frightening glow.

"So, this is the inheritance of the Turner family! It feels so sublime! And it belongs to me now!" Felix shouted with his gloved hands held out before his delightfully grinning face while the team stared into the flames in horror.

"W-what did I do to…deserve this?" Elle stuttered with heavy emotion in her angered voice while Azula trembled in rage over her.

And then the mystic vision in the flames finally faded away while a lone tear slid down Elle's cheek.

While the calamitous sound of Felix's lingering laughter as it sent a chill down the spines of all present.

Until that too soon vanished leaving only the sense of indescribable dread of what this will mean for the conflict to come.

Although one thing remained clear to Elle.

And that was that she had to stop her brother and take back what he stole from her.

The lives of everyone that she cherished were depending on it.

For the sake of all of her friends in both worlds.

For the sake of her Princess Azula.

And for the sake of the legacy of her mother.

There was no way that she could let Felix win!

He had to be stopped!

No matter what it takes!

#Azula #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #ty lee avatar #mai avatar #femslash fanfiction

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snowbellewells · 4 years

Text

“Bless What is Given You” (a birthday fic for @searchingwardrobes)

I am getting this in just barely under the wire, and I am truly sorry you’ve had to wait so long for your birthday present, Melanie. Also, I’m really hoping you will enjoy this, because it morphed and took various forms as I went. I set out to give @searchingwardrobes some Captain Charming Hood friendship and shenanigans, as well as some 3b canon divergence - perhaps fighting flying monkeys - and there is some of that, but I’ve also discovered that when I let myself write Robin Hood he tends to take over. I always liked him and wanted more of him, and apparently when I intentionally include him in the story, he really wants to take over. Anyway, there’s possibly less Charming and Killian than you might have expected, but I do hope you’ll have some fun reading this all the same.

I will add that Emma’s younger brother is called Leo in this - I just can’t do the whole “Prince Neal” thing. Maybe pretend somewhere along the line Charming and Snow learned the full, true story and so changed their youngest’s name -- in my head, to Leo Graham. This has some 3b missing moments/divergence, and then some future fluff as well. No other pertinent warnings I don’t think, expect maybe for turkeys being hunted for the Thanksgiving table. But I really know very little about hunting, so it shouldn’t be too disturbing.

You deserve the most wonderful birthday and coming year. You’ve done so much for some many shipmates in this fandom to brighten their birthdays, and I just wanted to give a little bit back to you. Enjoy!!

“Bless What is Given You”

by: @snowbellewells

“Do you mean to tell me you think you know better than a queen?” Regina’s haughty voice practically dripped disdain from each clipped, precise syllable she spoke. The perfect arch of her sculpted brow rose in question, disbelief and disapproval clear on her challenging, flawless face, even if her tone had not made her opinion more than apparent. “My mother was Rumplestiltskin’s most prized pupil; he sought me out himself to train me as well, chose me to cast his precious Dark Curse… Do you honestly think the fact that you can scare off a few monkeys with your arrows and you’ve been squatting in his deserted castle makes you a better judge of...of…” Even though she spoke the “you” as though her mouth was swallowing something foul and her face scrunched up accordingly, it seemed that the formerly Evil Queen was at a rare loss for words to express just how ridiculous the very idea was.

Unfazed, the scruffy archer gazed right back at her cheekily, seeming more than a bit amused by her ruffled feathers and inability to continue. “Not sure that is quite the distinction you’re making it out to be, Milady,” he offered with a smirk.

From across the way, Snow couldn’t seem to resist chiming in with the outlaw who had once befriended a princess on the run; who, in what now seemed like another life had helped her fine-tune her skills with a bow and advised her on spots in the forest where one could most easily hunt game to eat without encountering Regina’s guards. Though Snow had long since made the choice to put their painful and sordid history in the past, there was something that teased a warble of delighted laughter up her throat at the sight of this bandit who once graced “Wanted” posters by her side agitating Regina to the point of losing all her icy, polished reserve. “It is a bit of a dubious honor, Regina, you have to admit.”

Charming beside her dipped his head to hide the chuckle rumbling in his chest as well, reaching across their round council table’s polished surface to squeeze her hand. The shepherd-prince consort would have been lying if he refused to admit there wasn’t a part of him who enjoyed watching her Majesty flounder for her unaffected poise. It went without saying that the curse they were speaking of had ripped he and Snow apart and taken their daughter from his arms almost the moment she was born; consigning them all to 28 lonely years of misery. The truth was that plain and simple, but he wisely held his tongue. At least since his recent pirate friend had gone off on his own after their arrival back in their land, Robin was someone to break a bit of the tension and who might lighten all of their dark and despairing moods once in a while.

As they returned to discussing the plan to raid Gold’s castle here in their home realm, knowing Zelena had holed up in the Dark One’s stronghold - with Rumplestiltskin himself still prisoner - it became clear it was really the only method they had left to try, to hope that the man who always knew so much more than anyone else would also know some way out of this mess, some way to stop Regina’s rage and envy fueled half-sister. Belle across the table looked pale and strained, her lips pressed together in a thin line but determined, needing to help in whatever way she could. Even if they couldn’t free her True Love, even if his mind were already too fractured by his near death, the half-possession that had held his son’s mind within his body as well, and then that son’s violent loss him, he wouldn’t want things to continue as they were; him under Zelena’s control and bent to her will. Belle had to cling to that truth if nothing else.

Seeming to sense her flagging spirit, Charming saw Leroy sitting next to her place a clumsily large, axe-calloused hand over her slender, tiny one and give it a reassuring squeeze. The dwarf leaned over to whisper encouragingly to the petite beauty, and the prince realized that even within his inner circle of friends and allies there were deeper friendships, and stories leading to them that he didn’t know, as Belle’s petite frame relaxed and her tense shoulders lowered slightly at the stout little man’s clearly welcomed assurances. The former shepherd thought he just made out the kind, if gruffly voiced, words, “Hang in there, Sister, the battle ain’t over yet.” Charming smiled; that might as well be a mantra for all of them.

~~~~~~~~~****

Robin of Locksley, otherwise known in the Enchanted Forest these days by his more colorful moniker of Robin Hood, simply could not seem to help it. He knew something about him - be it his cavalier attitude towards risk and danger, his leisurely and rather lax methods of ruling over his crew (can he help it if he’d trust them with his life and has never had cause to question their loyalty or skill?), or perhaps it was just his very form and person she objected to. Whatever the case may be, he couldn’t help goading her, rattling that posh control of which the woman seemed so proud. Behind the cool and haughty veneer Regina Mills carefully wore, he sensed something injured - fragile, even - though she would be appalled at the thought that any weakness showed, he had no doubt of that. The irony, of course, was that bit of a chink in her flawless armor was the one thing that kept him from dismissing her as another selfish, cruel royal stepping on the backs of those less fortunate to get ahead. Her tiny show of pained humanity, the loneliness hidden behind those large dark eyes, beguiled him no matter how hard he tried to resist; that drew his empathy where otherwise he would have had only scorn for her past actions and the villain she had been.

They were in the Dark Castle; seemingly, hopefully, having escaped Zelena’s notice so far, but stymied by a large door into the chamber where Rumplestiltskin had to be imprisoned. They had searched the entire rest of the castle and found it empty. None of them were foolish enough, however, to assume that the fact that they had not yet seen the Wicked Witch meant that the way ahead was safe or that she had not laid hidden snares for any intruders. Particularly not if this door were the barrier beyond which she was hiding the powerful being she meant to both use and prove herself to. There had been no other closed doors until this one, after all.

With a huff of impatience, as if she couldn’t be bothered to waste another second of her time - even with safety - the former Queen reached forward, her perfectly manicured hand nearly to the golden inlaid handle despite the Princess Snow’s warnings for caution and the Lady Belle’s wise suggestion that they wait. What appeared as bold unconcern and decisiveness radiated down her spine of steel, held ramrod-straight, but there was a slight tremor in those pale fingers, one he would have missed if he hadn’t been seeking it, just before they closed around the polished metal.

Some strange shiver of foreboding knowledge borne of a life in the forest, in the shadows, constantly on the move, pursued and on the run, made a shiver of more than tangible knowledge run through him, and Robin’s limbs and muscles were reacting before his mind issued a conscious order. Knowing the proud woman plowing ahead would not heed any words he called out anyway, he had silently reached over his shoulder, pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it to his bow, and let it fly before another moment passed, startling Regina enough as its course whistled past her ear to make her jerk back several steps.

The feathered missile embedded in the heavy oaken portal with the solid “thunk” of a shot ringing true, but to the horror of all, rather than remaining there, vibrating from its landing, the arrow was lost from sight as the entire door was engulfed in instantaneous flames.

Watching the blaze which would undoubtedly have devoured her as well had he allowed her to touch that door before loosing his arrow, Regina paused for mere moments before whipping around, dark eyes flashing, to arrest him angrily. “That arrow nearly took off my head!” she barked, voice as sharp as jagged glass.

Robin shot back, unable to keep himself from rising to the bait. Her lack of gratitude didn’t even surprise him by that point, but he hadn’t intended to be chastised for his quick-thinking aversion of danger either. “Where I come from a simple thank you would have sufficed.”

The regent’s black eyebrow rose in eloquent derision, making her opinion of where he came from quite clear without speaking a word. Yet, despite that hateful, snarling facade he could see the slight tremor he had previously noticed in her pale hands become a full-body quivering that, while still not plainly visible, had to be making it hard for her to remain standing, much less glaring at him with such vitriol. Her full, blood-red-painted lips trembled minutely as well until her perfect white teeth bit into the lower one, stilling it and making him swallow heavily with some reaction he couldn’t explain. She was shaken; that much he knew. But he could understand refusing to admit fear, not being able to let it show for the sake of those who follow, who must see strength to stay their course.

Thankfully, the clearly magical blaze soon expired and the way before them was as clear and unbarred as all the previous entryways they had encountered. Not without a bit of trepidation, but also as brave and determinedly as he had long since learned their hero contingent to be, Prince Charming and Snow pressed forward, followed anxiously by Belle (whom Robin’s heart panged for as she clearly ached to find the man she loved still able to recognize her and navigate his own mind) and the rest of their group.

Regina just to the side, looked for all the world as if she were in no particular hurry to enter and see her former mentor, but could instead care less one way or the other. Hanging back, the outlaw of Sherwood Forest made sure the others had passed through the door and into the other room, well out of hearing, before he stepped up to Regina’s side, drawing almost nose-to-nose with her. He then leaned forward practically brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured. “There’s no need to pretend you’re made of stone, your Majesty…” He put precise emphasis on the title that she had let him know in no uncertain terms that she preferred upon their first meeting in the forest. “In fact, with the present company, I believe you might get much further by letting them see that you have doubts and fears, just as they do. I know I like you much better seeing you as more than the Evil Queen.”

At her sharp intake of air with his last pronouncement, he pulled back quickly, half expecting a slap to be stinging his skin at any moment. Instead, he found color rising hotly up her neck, her chest rising and falling strenuously in that ridiculously low-cut corseted gown, and her generally looking more flustered and affected than he had ever seen her before. She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly for several seconds until her tart tongue seemed to return to her, then spit out a quick, “Insolent bandit,” before moving to brush past him and follow the others.

Something in Robin snapped and surged to life in answer of her challenge; not allowing her to push him aside, he grasped her upper arm firmly and held on, her back to the wall and crowding in close to her, until their breaths were mingling in the same air, their faces were so close. Even as his pulse pounded and his heart rate skyrocketed, Robin wondered what had come over him. The woman had maimed and killed, schemed and plotted for her own selfish ends, and stood for everything he had devoted himself to toppling. She was nothing like his beloved Marian had been; someone with whom he would not have imagined sharing a thing in common - and yet he couldn’t fight the pull he felt. The need to imprint upon her not to put her life at risk so needlessly again.

Sweeping forward, he dove into an all-consuming kiss, taking her mouth with his and giving no quarter, delving further instead, and swallowing the whimper and hum that escaped her throat unconsciously, despite her best attempts to remain unaffected.

Regina’s hands grappled blindly at his biceps as if trying to steady herself. She scrabbled for solid support before helplessly melting against him, opening for his questing mouth and giving herself over to the heated embrace.

When they finally broke for air, she was breathless, and he huffed out a winded chuckle himself when she managed, “Well, Thief, that really was quite pleasant… Even if you do still smell of forest.”

”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

Several realms, curses, and years later, in Storybrooke

The three men and their half dozen offspring of various ages creeping through the woods on the border of Storybrooke out near the town line are quiet and intent, completely and unabashedly focused on their prize. Up ahead, atop the small rise of a hill as the sun climbs fully into the cold, clear November morning sky, their prey struts proudly, stopping occasionally to offer its warbled call or peck at the rough ground beneath its feet. They have been tracking the large turkey for some time now, since before day fully dawned, and the time to strike has come at last.

Briefly, the thought flits through Robin’s head that this could be the same tom that had escaped himself and his Merry Men in this same forest years ago, when the hunt had been interrupted by the nightmarish interruption of a winged simian attacker and LIttle John’s subsequent transformation - to this day the large and otherwise unflappable man stays far away from this particular section of the forest and refuses to go anywhere near the town line on foot. A quick glance at David and his preteen son to the right, then Killian and his little girl and second son to the left, gives him the hint from both men’s expressions that they are also remembering that rather ill-fated day, as bows are readied and last instructions offered.

He can only hope they will face nothing so unexpected this fine morn. The turkey before them has been promised to grace the main table of the large community Thanksgiving feast, and between the three men and their brood of adventurous junior hunters it is a matter of pride that they not return empty-handed today.

Roland was promised the first unobstructed shot, and the young man, just barely a teenager but already capable and thoughtful as an adult, has already taken aim and is readying his shot to fly, much to his half-sister Margot’s displeasure as she stands just behind her big brother at Robin’s elbow. She is as untamed and mischievous as Roland is quiet and serious, and was much put out at the decision that Roland as the oldest child should get first chance, arguing rather heatedly that Roland might be biggest but she was the best shot. His blond-braided, green-attired second child is one of the best shots he’s ever seen at barely ten, but if she doesn’t learn to keep her temper and her slightly spoiled younger sibling petulance under control, he is certainly in for further trials in a few years.

Even in the few silent moments afforded him as they all hold their breaths, Rob feels the gratitude and love he has for his children, and the friends and adopted family surrounding them, surge through him with new strength. He had so very nearly left this world, numerous times over, as had the men on either side of him, and the women each of them loved. It was part of the heavy mantle they wore when standing against the Darkness in the world and fighting it back from the light and good time after time. Still, what better time than the present holiday to give thanks for the fact that they are all still standing and present to celebrate together?

Roland lets out a soft breath and then releases the arrow, just as a sharp cry rings out to the left. His son’s aim is true, but the bird is startled from its perch just in time to have the shot glide by beneath its talons as it takes flight. David on his right is already directing Leo to adjust his aim quickly and get off a second shot, even as Robin’s eyes sweep to where Killian is picking Hope from tripping over a jutting tree root and brushing off her dark leggings as she clearly struggles to hold back embarrassed and disappointed tears.

What he hasn’t banked on is his daughter’s inability to wait her turn or hold back any longer. Quick as whip, Margot lets fly, striking the bird right as she intends and sending it toppling from the sky. Mouth falling open in surprise at her audacity and her skill in equal measure, Robin can’t help the surge of pride at his daughter’s prowess, even if he knows he should admonish her for taking Leo’s moment from him and wondering if he should be making certain Roland doesn’t feel overshadowed.

However, his eldest spares him the trouble when he whoops and claps Margot on the shoulder, crying out “You got him on the fly, Sis! Nice one!”

When the whole group converges together, he decides to let the lecture about abiding by the rules and taking turns slide for the time being upon noticing that Leo looks rather relieved that the pressure to prove his mettle before their quarry escaped has been taken off of his shoulders. Instead, he claps his little girl on the shoulder, squeezing with gentle affection until she looks up at him, beaming. Like her brother before her, she is growing much too fast, turning into a young lady before his eyes, and so for a moment, he lets himself revel in the fact that she still wants to spend time out in the woods with him and wishes to make him proud. Her papa won’t hold the favored spot in her heart forever, so he may as well savor it while he can.

He thinks Killian’s youngest, barely old enough to be tromping around out here with them in truth, looks a bit teary at the downed and unnaturally still bird before them, so he hurries to bag their prize for the journey homeward and puts it out of sight over his shoulder while Killian picks his tired youngest up off his feet and begins asking him how many different types of trees he can recognize from their leaves on the way back. That seems a bit difficult for a five-year-old until little Liam David begins happily babbling (suitably distracted thankfully) and pointing out oaks, maples and scotch pines as the pirate’s unerring sense of direction leads their whole troupe out of the forest toward the main road where they’ve left their trucks, Margot takes his hand, and Hope her grandpa’s, and Roland and Leo fall in behind talking amiably and carrying the bows. Apparently they have a budding naturalist in their midst as well, and Killian Jones - as usual - knows exactly what he is doing.

When he, Roland, and Margot trail back into the mayoral mansion some time later, discarding their muddy boots by the door, but still scattering crumbled leaves and dirt in the entryway, Regina stands in shaking her head, and directs the children toward the laundry room to discard their outerwear before heading upstairs to wash for dinner.

She looks at him as if trying to muster exasperation, but is unable to do so. That flawless Queen is long gone; she has come a long way since they snapped and snarled at each other in self-preservation back in their home realm, neither wanting to fall in love and risk heartbreak again.

Snatching his jacket collar and pulling him in close, she nips at his lips playfully before murmuring against his scruffy cheek, “You still smell like forest,” she mocks, “but somehow you’ve managed to steal my heart.”

He shakes his head, offering back words she’d stunned him with once long ago, “That’s not quite the way I remember it. If I recall, your heart was given to me,” he whispers, emotion taking over the jest, “and a person can’t steal what’s been given to them.”

All in all, he’s been given much more than a simple archer from Sherwood Forest could have ever hoped to deserve.

#shipmate birthday fic #for @searchingwardrobes #captain charming hood ff #ouat 3b divergent fic #3b missing moments #future family fluff #ouat one shot

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shadows-twilight · 5 years

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RWBY Volume 6 Finale

At long last, and yet way too soon, we are here. The big finish. The closing curtain. The are my various thoughts and opinions for the season finale of RWBY Volume 6, "Our Way"

SPOILERS BELOW:

You know, I think I'm really going to miss this opening. It quickly became one of my favorites. The song is really good, and the visuals are probably RWBY's best yet.

I love the nighttime scenes in the Maya engine. They are by far some of the most beautiful in the series.

Ok, I just want to point out how funny is that the character with the most variety of outfits on this show is the one played by a famous cosplayer. While it doesn't have the traditional color scheme, I do like Cinder's new look. Neo's is pretty dapper too. It's got more elements of Roman while also throwing in plenty of new stuff.

Woah, so Neo can extend her illusions to entire ships now? Not just a couple of people? Nice. Ok, fuck you Cinder. You don't have the right to make callbacks to Pyrrha.

It wasn't until Blake and Yang arrived on the scene when I realized...they missed everything. The last they heard, the rest of the heroes were just waiting for them on the cliff side. Then they come back from the battle with Adam, and suddenly there's Cordovin in a disabled giant ass mech and a horde of Grimm attacking Argus. And they thought their adventure was interesting.

I liked Cordovin's little breakdown. It starts off with her ranting at the heroes, but it quickly dissolves into her directing it at herself. Nice little moment.

Ok, I've been giving praise to the 2D effects up until this point, but massive kudos to the 3D crew here. Water is a very difficult thing to animate, and the way the water broke as the Leviathan resurfaced looked absolutely stellar.

You want to show someone just how far RWBY has come on a technical level? Show them the background characters in any of the first three volumes, then show them the background characters in the shot with the Cotta-Arcs. These designs are good enough to belong to central characters.

You know, whenever I see these Fence-Like hard light barriers, it did always bug me how no one ever thinks to go for the obvious generators. How messed up the the one that does is a mindless Grimm that didn't even notice the shield until it ran into it.

I don't know why, it's such a small thing, but seeing Ruby just casually refer to herself as a Huntress gives me a very warm feeling

You know, for declaring that the Atlesian fleet won't give the heroes any support, they're doing a pretty good job of giving them support.

Hehe, the way Weiss looked back at Ruby. "You're going to make me aid you in something stupid, aren't you?"

Holy shit, the 2D drawing flashbacks. They didn't need to go that hard. They could've just shown the original Poser shots like they did in Volume 5, and no one would have thought any less of them for it. Instead they did this. CRWBY, you are absolutely killing it this volume!

Aaaand of course they had to give special attention to Pyrrha and Penny. Because, you know, can't have a moment like this without ripping my heart off in the process.

Ha, using Jinn as a Clockstopper device. Nice. I realize there are probably better movies I can reference for comparison, but sadly that's the one that immediately jumped to mind.

I love Jinn's personality. Moreso, I love that she even has a personality. It would have been so easy for her to be an emotionless magic-AI, like the Oracle from Aladdin and the King of Thieves. Instead, she has a spunky, almost mischievous attitude that makes her quite endearing.

AAAAAAAAAAAHHH, SUMMER!!! I HAVE WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS!!! WE FINALLY SEE SUMMER!!! AND SHE LOOKS AMAZING!!! That's it, this is the best volume ever. Pack it up, people, we're done here!

Holy shit, new song! And it's amazing! God, the soundtrack for this volume is going to be on frikkin' fire. June can't get here fast enough.

Wait, so the petrification was only surface level? They can break free from that? Is that due to the size of the Grimm, or Ruby's inexperience? Does that mean Kevin might end up breaking free later down the line? That would certainly make for some pretty good end game material.

I was wondering if the mech might have had any other weapons (because lord knows putting all of their eggs into the giant cannon basket would have been the dumbest move ever on Atlas's part). The drill is a very welcome surprise.

Aww, Cordovin got a redemption moment. That's nice.

My heart warmed a little when Qrow decided against the flask. It was a small, but oh so wonderful moment.

Aww, Qrow's small smile after his talk with Maria. I imagine getting praise like that from my hero would give me the warm fuzzies too.

Ren, tone it down buddy. You almost showed some proper emotion geeking out about Ruby's crazy stunts. Gonna have to ask you to calm down there.

Ooooooh, so Ozpin can still see and hear what's been going on, and isn't afraid to lend a hand if the situation is in need of it. Interesting.

Woooaaah, so Atlas is a floating city? That's so cool! I imagine the part that's still on the ground is Mantle, unless I'm getting the scale and geography wrong. Now I really can't wait to explore this new Kingdom.

Well, the discussion about the battleship's formation isn't frikkin' foreboding at all.

I can't understand the lyrics well enough to be able to tell who or what the end credits song is about, but good gawd do I love it. I was kind of hoping that it would be a Weiss song, what with Volume 4's being a Yang song and Volume 5's Blake, but I don't quite think that's the case. In fact, listening to it again I'm thinking it might be Team RWBY as a whole. Still I really love this song and I can not wait to hear the full versions of the rest.

Ok, that after credits scene was just...wow. I guess we can say for absolute certain that Salem is the Wicked Witch of the West. I mean, flying monkeys? Really? That is about as on-the-nose as you can get, guys.

So...that was Volume 6. What did I think? Well, I will still say that Volume 5 was immensely enjoyable, despite what the YouTube community may try to say about it, but holy frikkin' HELL did this volume blow it out of the water. I mean, we got so much out of this volume, proper pacing, amazing action scenes, Salem's backstory, Neo, the statue scene, I could go on. This volume did so many wonderful things that I could geek out about all day, but the most important things they did is that they put the focus where it's needed to be for way too long now: Ruby. This was Ruby's volume, through and through, and it's about time. I may roll my eyes at a lot of the hate that people will give this show but one of the criticisms that I will freely give them is how underdeveloped Ruby has been compared to the other main characters, including JNPR. Hell, even in Volume 4, when all of the members of Team RWBY were given their own story line and their own focus, Ruby was pushed back almost to the point of being a side character in favor of Ren and Nora. Now, however, Ruby has finally been given her time in the spotlight and I have loved every bit of it. This easily rivals Volume 3 for the spot of RWBY's best volume yet, and I can not wait to see what Miles, Kerry, and the rest of CRWBY bring us next volume. Until then, I hear Rooster Teeth has a new show coming out. Some weird mech anime or something. I don't know, it hasn't gotten a lot of exposure or anything, but I guess I'll go check out. Until next volume, my friends.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 6 #rooster teeth #rooster teeth animation

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paralianprince · 5 years

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12 and 50 :D

12: Do you read any fanfics and if so, what’s your favourite one?

rarely, but yes!! god uh … lemme try and bust out some rare ones. peace in two dimensions Fucked Me Up in a very ruthless way, it is at first like a cold cynical critique of how flippant & disrespectful the series is but somehow finds a way to end nicely. it requires a severe tw for violent war themes and like, gore and shit so please dont go into it unaware of that

the whale’s backbone is a classic and im pretty sure it inspired & laid the foundation for every Sincere Sealand Portrayal which came after it, including mine

because you said so is haunting the way it’s written like Painfully Canon Dialogue yet slowly slips into being really foreboding and i think the ambiguity and suspense of only-dialogue fics are a majorly untapped resource but i… can’t find it online i’ll add the link in if i can find it later! i can’t not mention it though

50: If you could have one wish granted that was Hetalia-related, what would it be?

honestlyyyy this is a very “a finger curls on the monkey’s paw” scenario bc As We All Know the aph fandom used to be VERY……… Like That, but i wish there was as much new content coming out as there was around like 2010 - 2012? i especially miss the halloween / christmas events on livejournal and like… if it was possible to have that kind of atmosphere back without also resurrecting the weird shit that inevitably comes of having an active thriving fandom then that would be really nice, i think

#ooc #thank u !!#heirxann

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bsd-bibliophile · 6 years

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I have read the prologue of No Longer Human (im still in the process of reading) and it took me by surprise because I already love it

I am so glad you are loving No Longer Human! Dazai-sensei has such a unique and gripping style! I hope you can love the rest of the book just as much or more!

The First Photograph

As I’m sure you know, the first of the three photographs mentioned is definitely based on a photograph of Dazai when he was a child, so it has become quite famous because of that:

The first, a childhood photograph you might call it, shows him about the age of ten, a small boy surrounded by a great many women (his sisters and cousins, no doubt). He stands in brightly checked trousers by the edge of a garden pond. His head is tilted at an angle thirty degrees to the left, and his teeth are bared in an ugly smirk. Ugly? You may well question the word, for insensitive people (that is to say, those indifferent to matters of beauty and ugliness) would mechanically comment with a bland, vacuous expression, “What an adorable little boy!” It is quite true that what commonly passes for “adorable” is sufficiently present in this child’s face to give a modicum of meaning to the complement. But I think that anyone who has ever been subjected to the least exposure to what makes for beauty would most likely toss the photograph to one side with the gesture employed in brushing away a caterpillar, and mutter in profound revulsion, “What a dreadful child!”

Indeed, the more carefully you examine the child’s smiling face the more you feel an indescribable, unspeakable horror creeping over you. You see that it is actually not a smiling face at all. The boy has not a suggestion of a smile. Look at his tightly clenched fists if you want proof. No human being can smile with his fists doubled like that. It is a monkey. A grinning monkey-face. The smile is nothing more than a puckering of ugly wrinkles. The photograph reproduces an expression so freakish, and at the same time so unclean and even nauseating, that your impulse is to say, “What a wizened, hideous little boy!” I have never seen a child with such an unaccountable expression.

The other two photographs are much more difficult. I have never found any pictures of Dazai that perfectly match the pictures described in the novel. This could be because Dazai changed existing pictures a little to fit the protagonist of No Longer Human better or it could be that the photographs never existed and Dazai just made them up for the novel. I’ll include the descriptions and some pictures of Dazai-sensei just for fun though, because I love looking up pictures of Dazai.

The Second Photograph

The face in the second snapshot is startlingly unlike the first. He is a student in this picture, although it is not clear whether it dates from high school or college days. At any rate, he is now extraordinarily handsome. But here again the face fails inexplicably to give the impression of belonging to a living human being. He wears a student’s uniform and a white handkerchief peeps from his breast pocket. He sits in a wicker chair with his legs crossed. Again he is smiling, this time not the wizened monkey’s grin but a rather adroit little smile. And yet somehow it is not the smile of a human being: it utterly lacks substance, all of what we might call the “heaviness of blood” or perhaps the “solidity of human life” - it has not even a bird’s weight. It is merely a blank sheet of paper, light as a feather, and it is smiling. The picture produces, in short, a sensation of complete artificiality. Pretense, insincerity, fatuousness - none of these words quite covers it. And of course you couldn’t dismiss it simply as dandyism. In fact, if you look carefully you will begin to feel that there is something strangely unpleasant about this handsome young man. I have never seen a young man whose good looks were so baffling.

The Third Photograph

The remaining photograph is the most monstrous of all. It is quite impossible in this one even to guess the age, though the hair seems to be streaked somewhat with grey. It was taken in a corner of an extraordinarily dirty room (you can plainly see in the picture how the wall is crumbling in three places). His small hands are held in front of him. This time he is not smiling. There is no expression whatsoever. The picture has a genuinely chilling, foreboding quality, as if it caught him in the act of dying as he sat before the camera, his hands held over a heater. That is not the only shocking thing about it. The head is shown quite large, and you can examine the features in detail: the forehead is average, the wrinkles on the forehead average, the eyebrows also average, the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the chin … the face is not merely devoid of expression, it fails even to leave a memory. It has no individuality. I have only to shut my eyes after looking at it to forget the face. I can remember the wall of the room, the little heater, but all impression of the face of the principal figure in the room is blotted out; I am unable to recall a single thing about it. This face could never be made the subject of a painting, not even of a cartoon. I open my eyes, There is not even the pleasure of recollecting: of course, that’s the kind of face it was! To state the matter in the most extreme terms: when I open my eyes and look at the photograph a second time I still cannot remember it. Besides, it rubs against me the wrong way, and makes me feel so uncomfortable that in the end I want to avert my eyes.

I think that even a death mask would hold more of an expression, leave more of a memory. That effigy suggests nothing so much as a human body to which a horse’s head has been attached. Something ineffable makes the beholder shudder in distaste. I have never seen such an inscrutable face on a man.

Sorry I don’t know of any exact photographs that match the last two, but hopefully between the descriptions and some similar photographs of Dazai-sensei the full effect is still there like it is for the first photo.

#asks #dazai osamu #dazai #quotes #novel #no longer human #pictures #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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silyabeeodess · 7 years

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Kuroshitsuji Chapter 127: A Speculation on the Second Killer

For those of you who've been following me for some time, you might remember a post I made a long while back about how cool it would be in the story if Doll were to be brought back as a Bizarre Doll to confront O!Ciel. At the time, I just thought it would be a neat development due to the emotional confrontation O!Ciel would be faced with by his sins coming back to haunt him. However, lately I'm beginning to see it as an actual possibility with some of the hints we've been given.

Now, even though I do a ton of analyses on here, I tend to stay away with trying to come up with actual theories just because--at any minute--we can have a monkey wrench thrown into them by the creator of a story that can make anything we've ever thought of null and void. This is why I'm saying "speculation" instead of "theory": It's not something I'd bet money on. It's just an educated guess that I very much like. So for this, I'm going to go part by part on why I think Doll is a plausible suspect for the knife-wielding killer and also include counter-arguments.

Motive/Choice of Victim:

Anyone who has seen or read Book of Circus understands why Doll would want to extract revenge from O!Ciel: He lied to her about his identity and slaughtered the other first tier circus members, her family. At the end of Book of Circus, Doll attacks O!Ciel, sobbing and screaming that she'll never forgive him. It can be assumed that, at the end of that scene, Doll was then killed by Sebastian on O!Ciel's orders.

I'll talk a little bit more about the possibility of her resurrection toward the end, but, for now, let's go over what we know about the Bizarre Dolls. We know that they retain their memories of their human selves as well as their desires for the future. In Doll's final moment, her fiercest desire would've been to kill O!Ciel or to make him suffer--and she wouldn't have forgotten that he killed her loved ones. Based on R!Ciel's reactions in the last few chapters, we may also speculate that the newest form of Bizarre Dolls are able to retain emotions as well, or are at least able to grasp an understanding of what they should feel about certain events based on past knowledge. Considering this, Doll's hatred likely wouldn't have faded much at all.

So why would Agni be a possible target for Doll? Because he's close to O!Ciel. Even on someone else's orders, I don't think Doll would have any qualms against taking the life of someone that O!Ciel cares about--and in a extremely brutal fashion--because that's exactly what he did to her. An eye for an eye. Doll may have shown reluctance back when she was alive about taking the life of another person, such as the incident with the police, but that was also when she still maintained a trickle of innocence. She watched her family kill because "they had no choice" in order to protect the children they believed were still at the workhouse. She felt they were victims more than criminals and she didn't have a desire to kill before. Losing Joker and the others is what pushed her to kill without hesitation or mercy. Humans can often be ruled by hatred, and Bizarre Dolls hardly show an understanding in mortality, so how could a resurrected Doll decide against killing an innocent if her goal is solely revenge against O!Ciel?

Mental Instability:

Going on the possibility that the knife-wielding killer represents Polaris, their favor of knives and the pattern of using them to rip things apart would make sense. Below are images of Polaris' room from chapter 117 and images of the attack at the townhouse in 127 and 128:

All three images show extreme destruction with the use of knives/daggers. What this has to do with Doll ties in with what I said in that last part: She would be ruled by hatred and rage, therefore, as a result, she would be destructive. The events prior to her death would not have kept her in any stable frame of mind: She was involved in kidnapping children, knowing what would happen to them; her brother-figure, Joker, killed a man right in front of her and told her she had to be killer as well; and then she watches Kelvin's manor burn down and gets told that everyone she loves is dead and her new friend was the one that killed them. She was completely shattered. As a Bizarre Doll, those feelings would be all that she's left with and she can't recover from them because she's soulless and therefore isn't the same Doll we knew--just a shell. Since she could only react from her hatred and want for revenge, tearing apart her environment would be her sole outlet until given an actual target.

The Candy:

This, I feel, may be the weakest point I'm going to make, but I find it an interesting one. When chapter 128 came out, a lot of us discussed the possibility of the phrase on the wall, "who stole the candy from my tummy," being carved there by R!Ciel as a symbolic, foreboding message regarding his being stabbed in the chest and O!Ciel having the Phantomhive ring. However, if we were to consider the message a bit more literally, it might have been Doll talking about the candy she had, which was used symbolically in BoC. If we recall, she had three candies: One she gave to Ciel, one she ate on the first night they shared a tent, and one she kept for another day. The first one was thrown in a fire by Sebastian at the end of BoC and the last one fell out of her satchel when she attacked O!Ciel. Not only that, but it's also the very last thing we see from that scene in place of watching Doll die. Those candies represented the beginning and the end of the friendship.

Now, I don't mean to take the whole message literal: Digestion would dictate that the candy she ate was well out of her tummy over the course of the days before she was killed. What was meant by that is probably this part's weakest point. However, it is also something of note that the person who killed Agni and wrote the message--if they are the same--shows signs of mental instability. Therefore, it wouldn't be off for a broken individual to write such a thing based on what the candies are all tied to. She could be talking about the candy she ate and might've been killed in a way that made her think someone ripped it out of her stomach. It might be that and a combination of that candy she lost when it fell out of her bag. Maybe it's symbolic to the her feelings of betrayal against O!Ciel or maybe there's another explanation.

Weapon/Attack Pattern/ Physical Similarities:

As made clear by the multitude of knives/daggers in Agni's body, the killer favors them. We never saw how adept Doll was with them, however, it was the weapon she used when she tried to kill O!Ciel. Furthermore, the way in which both she and the killer hold the knife is the same overall: Rather than favor any one hand, they usually wield their blades using both hands. We see Doll wield it once that way and the killer wield it in the same manner in several panels from the assassination. The knives/daggers that Doll carries compared to the ones stuck in Agni's body and in Polaris' room from the previous images are also of a similar size, showing a favoritism to a specific size of blade. (The knives themselves aren't the same.)

The killer was also acrobatic, as was Doll. Because of this, they easily dodged Agni.

As for similar physical aspects, of course I can't say much since the killer had themselves cloaked. However, they should have about the right height for Doll since Agni was lowered into a fighting stance when they attacked him. They also seem to have similar body types, nose types, and angles of their jawlines. Evidence that would work against these similarities, however, is that Doll's freckles and part of her scar should've gone below the shading that the killer's face was hidden by beneath their hood.

The biggest issue here would be that the Doll we knew shouldn't have been able to take down Agni. However, if this new generation of Bizarre Dolls is stronger than the previous ones and have been gifted superhuman abilities, that would chance things.

Resurrection:

Based on chapter 108, we can guess that Undertaker is involved with what's happened in some way. If he is, it would be possible that Doll's resurrection and appearance here could be explained by Undertaker's appearance at the end of BoC. He watched Kelvin's manor burn down, and might've collected a few bodies from it. Since Doll was away from the fire at the time of her death, her body should've been in good condition by the time he would've collected it. As for how it remained in its condition, it's been apparent from the Bizarre Dolls from Weston that Undertaker has mastered preserving them for well over a year without signs of decay or damage besides some scarring around the scalp.

The issues with this is if the Undertaker is involved to this extent and how Doll would react to R!Ciel. Many of us can imagine R!Ciel being the killer with the gun. If this is the cases, it seems more likely that Doll would've attacked the twin--thinking it was O!Ciel--rather than have worked alongside him. Undertaker, however, does how the ability to control his Bizarre Dolls to the point where he can summon/send them off at will as well as talk through them, as seen at Weston and particularly with Agares.

In conclusion, I think Doll's Bizarre Doll would be a plausible suspect as well as an interesting thing to bring into the arc, but this speculation isn't without it's holes.

#Doll #Kuroshitsuji #Chapter 127 #Black butler #Manga #Speculation #Agni #Blue Sect Arc #Book of circus #BoC

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jrazillashadowworks · 7 years

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Second Chances

A new, original story. ^,,^

Warning: Blood. Violence. Sexual themes. Language.

Word count: 3322

Enjoy!

Waking up to the all too fancy apartment, the young man opened his dark eyes, staring at the blackened wall, the blur of sleep easing away. The alarm clock sitting on the nightstand beside him shown four am, the hologram luminescent straining his eyes even in its dim function. He had woken up before the alarm yet again. Feeling the grogginess lingering, he had to fight to sit up, pushing the covers off of him. His partner shifted in the bed, letting out a soft sigh.

Turning, he brushed the thick bangs from his face, eyes adjusting to the darkness to notice the mop of wavy hair flowing out on top of the pillow next to him, face marred within the tufts. Smirking, he tried his best to get up without making a sound. Stepping around the room, he found the bathroom and went inside, shutting the door behind him before turning on the fluorescent lights that blinded him when he clicked the switch. Groaning, he hovered his hand over his face, letting light filter through his fingers until his eyes had adapted.

The shower was all it took to clear away the last of the sleep and he was awake and alert. Doing the other cleanly necessities, he exited with a towel around his waist, coming back into the darkness. The lamp suddenly flashed in the room and his partner stared at him through the tresses of her messy hair. “Hello, sexy,” she said half groggy, half sensually. “Up already?”

“Morning,” he replied with a smirk. “Yeah, I figured I’d just get started since I woke up anyway. You got class today?”

The woman combed her hand through her pale brown mane, moving it from her beautiful face, full lips still molded into a smile. Sleep did not dull her looks like it did ninety-nine percent of the population, including himself upon waking up. “Not today. It’s my layover day.”

“Lucky you,” He scoffed.

She gave a mock pout. “Don’t be jealous.”

Walking over to the wide, oaken dresser, he pulled out his simple clothes for the day, moving over to the bed and sitting them down. Dropping the towel, he raised a brow. “I’m not.”

She scanned him up and down and wiggled her brows, blue eyes alight. “That’s a good start to my morning.”

Chuckling, he pulled on his boxers and jeans. “Just a sneak peek for now, I’m afraid.”

“You better make it up to me later.”

Pulling on his t-shirt that meshed to his muscled torso, he gave a nod. “Count on it.”

Walking up to her, he bent down, giving her a kiss on the lips, her arms wrapping around his neck in a vice, threatening to not let him go. Not that he minded much. But after a minute, she let go and slapped his ass as he turned to leave. “Good luck,” she breathed.

“Enjoy your day off.”

Pulling his zipped, black hoodie from the wall hook in the alcove by the door where all the jackets and shoes sat, he shrugged it on. Pulling on his shoes, he finally gave his partner one last wave before heading outside.

Staring out over the railing of the second story of the apartment complex, the sky was still pitch, the countless skyscrapers of the city raising up to the hidden clouds, only visibly by the ever relentless, neon lights that practically decorated every building. The light posts below however, remained darkened. As he strolled down the walkway, the little half orb lights above him flickered on, revealing his way down the descending stairs to the front and then to the side parking lot filled with futuristic vehicles, luminance following him.

Finding his VX-motorbike at the very back, he straddled the cushion and unhooked his helmet from the flank, pushing it down on his head. Flicking open the panel on its side, he pushed the button, the holographic visor glowing a green, showing coordinates to his location based on his brain waves, as he visualized where he needed to go. Squeezing his grip on the bars, his hands signaled the bike to start with a loud roar that was sure to piss off at least one of his neighbors.

Leading the long bike out with his legs, he revved it, nearly hovering off the ground towards the streets. However something jumped in the way of his bike just as he passed the threshold and he had but a millisecond to freeze the bike with his mind. Inhaling sharply, he glared daggers at the Doofy face of the person who got in front of him.

With a stupid smile, the upper corners of their mouth twitching, the man was immediately recognizable. “Sup, Clever?” He said, calmly.

Feeling a vein pulse on his forehead, Clever’s body tensed in pure rage on the bike, thinking of running him over after all. “Lucky, you dumb piece of shit, what the actual fuck?!”

The one known as lucky, giggled like a dork, making Clever immediately want to punch him in his dorky, punky face. “I could have run you over, you dip shit…”

“Nah you wouldn’t,” he replied with a laugh. “You got good reflexes!”

Though it was a compliment, it just pissed him off further. “What the hell are you doing out here so early anyway?” Clever grumbled.

“Walking Puff!” Pointing waggling hands downward, he proudly showcased the fluffy husky, pup, staring up at Clever with a silly face matching his dumb master. Puff gave a quick bark, acknowledging him.

“This fucking early?”

“Yeah…so?”

“Just get out of my way Lucky. I got to get to the school now.”

“This early?” Lucky Mimicked.

“You know. You consistently know how to piss me off.”

“I suppose that’s a skill.”

“Consider yourself Lucky, we are friends.”

“I am Lucky,” he chimed.

“Move,” he warned. “Or you’ll be a friend I used to know…”

Lucky tilted his head, the dog doing the exact thing. “I don’t get it.”

“Get the fuck outta my way or I’ll run your ass over you stupid, dumb, fucking asshole piece of monkey shit, bag of dicks!”

Moving away, he nodded, keeping the same light hearted expression. “Okay! Have a good day!”

Flipping off Lucky, with his metal implanted middle finger, he shot the bike forward, blasting a burst of air that ruffled up his friend’s hair and the dog’s fur into a fluff ball.

Leaving him behind, Clever revved the bike, soaring down the empty streets and overpasses towards the city. Before long, the roads suddenly filled with other vehicles of the early morning commute. Myriads of glowing colors zipped passed one another, leaving after images as they raced down the five lanes. His pathway was lit in a golden line for him to follow towards the school.

Soon, he was in the thick of the city, as buildings and sidewalks surrounded him, already bustling with people on their own missions. It still surprised Clever how different the city was compared to the slum lands he had lived and thrived in for the early years of his life, fighting to survive. These people had not the struggles he had once gone through. After the crazy events that led him to this path, things had definitely changed for the better. At least, for most.

Having to halt at a stop light, the gentle thrum of his bike rolling throughout his body, he happened to turn his head in time to see a group of men walking down a dank alleyway, dressed in much the same, punkish garbs as one another. Only a couple stood out between them, fear evident in their strides, encircled by this group. It left him with a foreboding feeling that set into his stomach. “A new gang huh?”

It was of course none of his business, and yet one last glance cemented the nagging irritation. A single, patch embroidered in one of the jackets of the men was the face of the Jester. His blood ran ice cold, brows furrowing over his dark eyes. A horn blared at his back, causing him to jump. Flipping off the one behind, he jerked his bike into the alley, silencing it before the noise would make it to the gangsters. Kicking the stand, he sat it upright, setting the thief lock that would send ten-thousand volts into anyone who tried to take his bike. Not that it would start for them anyway. Curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Taking off his helmet, he sat it on the seat and creeped after them, keeping his back to the wall. Something devious was obviously in the works and he was going to find out what. Though he was never the nervous type, he felt a slight shudder. “There is no way he can be alive,” he whispered. “Probably just remnants of his dead ass gang.”

Skittering towards a corner, he peeked out at the group who forcefully pushed the couple, Clever could now make out, wearing upper class suits and held glossy, briefcases. A robbing perhaps, he wondered. Probably procuring funds to restart their fallen gang that once ruled over the city and slums in terror. Though it was a pain, he knew he couldn’t let that stand. Though, he needed information first.

“This’ll do, you city slick, cock suckers,” a gravelly voice spat. It sounded much like rocks in a blender. “Now you wanna git out of this alley alive, we gonna need a million from each of you. We have our own bank account, all’s you gotta do is hand it over right now.”

Clever could already tell how stupid they were by their outrageous demands. Small timers. Should be easy, he thought. He could hear the couple of business men mumble incoherently.

“You don’t has it?! Then wire it from one of your business accounts! I aint foolin! I’ll bust ye up into a bloody mess, not even your money grubbing kids will be able to identify.”

That caused a cry of fear from one of them. It was obvious he would have to intervene and get information out of them the hard way. Good. Inhaling one long breath, he sighed loudly enough for them to hear him.

Rounding the corner, he pulled the hood over his head and shrugged his hands in his pockets. “It’s a nice morning isn’t it?”

A wave ran over the shoulders of the gang members, who spun on their heels to look at the newcomer. “What the hells you want? This aint none of Yo business!”

“What’s with the patch? You guys worship a dead bastard who was nothing but a bitch ass cockroach?” Clever inquired.

“The fuck you say?” They each replied, utterly offended, rage boiling on their ugly faces.

“Let’s not make this take long. I got places to be.”

The obvious leader, a man a bit wide in the middle threw his hand towards Clever. “Take that short fucker out!”

Clever shook his head. “I did miss this.”

The morons ran at him, sloppily, fanning out in front of him. The first one to make it to him swung his right fist, a pathetic move that Clever easily dodged, sending his own fist into the man’s stomach, knocking air and spit from his maw. Two next, swinging wildly at him, in which he simply moved around. Kneeing one in the groin, he kicked him into the one behind, toppling them over. A knife glinted past his face, nicking a strand of black hair free from his head. Another swipe. Stepping back expertly, Clever caught the man’s arm, his metal fingers pistons, hissing as he crushed the man’s wrist, the bone snapping completely. They wailed, in agony.

From the perspective of the leader, he could only see a mass of bodies shuffling around, footsteps and whines echoing out in the back alley with each thump and crash. “Git him good!” He urged them, still keeping the two businessmen in his grasp.

It was a pathetic fight in which Clever barely broke a sweat. However, they did get a couple of lucky hits which he glanced off, and countered with ease. Within a couple of minutes, they were all defeated, sprawled on top of one another, unconscious. The short man’s body was electric with adrenaline, his blood burning hot. Chuckling, he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. “Damn, I missed this!”

The leader glared incredulously at him. “Who the fuck are yah?!”

“Just a civil servant, keeping the streets clean of has-beens and wannabe fucks like you and your crew. What a fall from grace.”

Tightening his thick arms around the necks of the two men, whose faces paled, the group leader threatened to break their necks. “Come closer and I’ll fuckin kill em!”

“How would you get the money then? Not a smart business strategy.”

“We can find more!” As he blinked, he failed to notice the flash as something sharp punctured his hand, sinking deep. Rearing back, the two escaped and Clever demanded them to make a run for it. They of course obeyed as the gang leader wailed in pain, staring at the knife that was plunged into his flesh, oozing blood.

“With a weak grip like that, you probably can’t even wank yourself properly,” Clever teased.

Eyes bulging, the fat man’s lips moved over invisible words, drool leaking between his few, grit covered teeth. Grabbing the knife, he winced and then pulled it free, lining a streak of blood before him. Pointing the sullied blade at Clever his face burned a bright red. “I’ll fucking kill you here and now!”

With monstrous steps, the behemoth that towered Clever over a foot, bumbled forward, thick, meaty arms curved outwards. “Raaaaah!”

“I don’t want hugs, tubbo.” Sidestepping away from the downed fools, the short man circled the buffoon, easily escaping his charges, followed by a swing of the knife. It was the definition of sad.

With one leg sweep, the fat man tumbled, nearly smacking into the brick wall. Face scrapped against the pavement. He remained there unmoving as Clever stamped his foot on his back, pressing down with as much strength as he could on the patch of the Jester, which was enough to make the man grunt and clench his jaw.

“It’s like standing on a mountain,” Clever said. “Now, tell me, what’s the deal?”

“None of your fucking business,” he growled.

Clever stomped on him five times for good measure, letting his anger out on the fat man’s spine. “Fucking tell me! I don’t have time for this shit!”

“Fine! FINE! I’ll tell you! We are-“

Suddenly a blaring, ear piercing, siren cut them off, as red and blue lights flooded into the alley, dancing off the walls. Armored and armed officers filled the tight space, surrounding them. “Raise both hands in the air!” they demanded.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Clever complained, raising both hands as high as possible. “I was getting to the good stuff!”

He was jerked off the gang leader, thrown against the wall and searched, rolling his eyes as they brushed over his crotch. “Don’t forget your change.”

“Just be quiet while we handle this,” the officer hissed.

“I don’t understand the unnecessary force. I did your job for you.”

“Silence. You are coming to the station so we can get a statement.” They read him his rights, though he simply just nodded.

“Whoopee,” he replied, exasperated.

Hands cuffed, he was lead to the cruiser and shrugged into the back, glancing at the cops looking over the downed gang members. “Well, now I’m going to be late as fuck.”

And that he was. The station was packed and it took him three hours to get through the proceedings, talking with dispassionate cops about all that happened. Luckily for him, the testimony of the two businessmen got him freed with a slap on the wrist. Leaving, he shrugged. “Do your job and none of this shit would have happened!”

“Have a good day, sir,” the female receptionist said, smacking her lips, giving him a sarcastic smile. “Your bike is out front waiting for you.”

Pushing out the double doors, he ran towards his bike and slammed his helmet on and skid out onto the streets yet again, leaving behind a black streak of tire. He pushed the speed limit, making it to the school in five minutes. Bursting through the front door, he ran through the sleek hallways of lockers and pin boards, hurrying to his classroom.

Huffing in the clean fumes of the school, he bound the stairs to the third floor and slid across the paneled steps onto the landing and froze when he saw who was standing before the door of his classroom, shoulders dropping. “Fuuuck,” he mumbled to himself.

The old hag by the entryway, was glancing inside, her wrinkled, talon fingers flicking against her pointy chin. Her frigid, angular form was stuffed in a black suit, her grey, wiry hair tied in a tight bun. A witch in principal form. As if to notice his life essence, her vulture-esque face turned to him, beady, black eyes locked on her prey. The wrinkles in her face tightened as her mouth lowered into a frown that nearly sagged off her face. “Soo good of you to join us,” she seethed in witch speak, uttering the words as if she was addressing trash.

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to calm his frantically beating heart. “I got held up by some thugs.”

“Your excuses do not interest me, Lucas. And as far as I’m concerned, the only thug I see, is you.”

“yes.” he gulped down the hate in his voice. “Mam. My sincerest apologies.” He hesitated to step closer but finally did so, reaching for the handle. “It won’t happen again.”

She locked her crinkled, bone hand on his arm, holding it in place, the cold of them seeping into his skin. “See that it doesn’t or it will be….is that blood?”

Peeking down, he noticed many splotches of crimson, soaked into his hoodie, he had not noticed before. “Um, yeah… I told you, I got held up by thugs.” He could already see her disbelief set into her countenance. “Don’t trust me? Ask the cops. Now if you excuse me, Mam, I need to teach my class.”

“Not with that on you won’t,” she snapped, jerking his hood, harshly.

He had the sharp urge to punch her but exhaled to stop himself. “You are right.” Unzipping it, he took it off and folded it under his arm. Luckily, the blood only left very light spots on his shirt. The kids wouldn’t notice. “Thank you, Mam,” he said as sarcastically as he could. “Have a great day, Mam.”

She let him escape, with but a single claw before her face, pointed at him as if she was going to be watching him. No change there, he thought. Composing himself, he turned to his class who stared at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Good mor….day, class.”

“Good day, Mr. Lucas,” they all rang out in unison. It was a nice, relaxing sound. He had enough of dealing with adults for the day.

Back at the precinct, the lights flickered, broken bulbs snapping and crackling sparks. Walls were bathed in thick splashes of runny blood, as countless bodies were strewn below them, unmoving. It was a macabre scene of pure hell, as all officers were diced and left in pieces along the floor. The Cell doors of the jail were left open, emptied, all convicts freed. However, the thugs that were brought in only hours before, remained in theirs, a bladed card embedded into each of their foreheads. Expressions of slack jawed terror were all that was left, glossed eyes staring upward, frozen in death. A flash of stuttering light revealed the cackling face of the Jester painted in blood on the front of the cards.

#My writing #original work #cyberpunk

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xvonstroheim · 5 years

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"Een streel staaltje avant-garde donkere muziek zonder moeilijk doenerij. Straf." Gonzo (Circus)

"In den ruhigeren Phasen ähneln VON STROHEIM dem kanadischen Trio BIG BRAVE, die Doom-Metal mit radikalem Anspruch kompositorisch skelettieren. Auch das gigantische Erbe von SWANS scheint hin und wieder durch („Red Raw“). Einige Stücke sind von Filmzitaten aus den Fünfziger und Sechziger Jahren unterlegt, die „Love? Who Gets Love?“ bereichern und dem vollumfänglich gelungenen Album ein dezentes Mehr an Stimmung verleihen." Henrik Beeke - OX

"Chant aigu puis plus grave, sonorités haut perchées, paysages sonores puissants et avenants; tout y est, von Stroheim prouve sans attendre qu’il détient les clés d’un univers singulier." Muzzart.fr "C’est bizarrement aérien et lumineux, angoissant, souvent sombrement beau et envoûtant, une affaire d’ambiances construites patiemment, subtilement, avec des coups de butoirs idéalement placés sur Spit ou Red Raw aux rythmes plus accentués et riffs plus charnus." Perte et Fracas

"La voix de Dominique est hallucinante. Un peu théâtrale, pas mal habitée, elle nous transporte vers des sentiers où il est conseillé d’être accompagnés, tant son chant reflète des intonations mystérieuses. Derrière, la musique est répétitive, emportée, avec des riffs assassins qui sont justement « cinématiques » pour nous porter dans une ambiance qui nous ouvre l’esprit (vers l’au-delà ?). Quelque part dans les styles/profondeurs de Swans/Jarboe, Lydia Lunch, Godflesh, Melvins, Rowland S. Howard, Goblin, PJ Harvey, la musique sombre et lumineuse de Von Stroheim possède une force qui nous envoute. Pas d’inquiétude, c’est tellement bon, qu’on adore ça !" Foutraque.com

"… sonorità doom e stoner per mettere in scena una tragedia in 8 atti sempre abile a muoversi tra Earth e Come, tra fredda materia e bollori dello spirito, tra luce invisible e accecante oscurità. (…)" Alesssio Budetta - Blow Up

"Love? Who Gets Love? le confirme, von Stroheim est l'un des groupes les plus intéressants de la scène indie from Brussels." Concert Monkey

"…een uitstekende debuutplaat van een band die het binnen het doomgenre net even anders doet, risico durft te nemen en met zijn emotievolle muziek volstrekt geloofwaardig overkomt." Opduvel.com

"De hoge stem van Dominique Van Cappellen stootte ons wat af maar gelukkig heeft ze ook andere timbres in de aanbieding. Soms in één en hetzelfde nummer. In For A Beautiful Girl, gaat ze lager en vertellender, begeleid door een zware gitaar. Het is zowat de formule van Von Stroheim doorheen de plaat. Traag en heel sferisch binnenkomen, ietwat mysterieus gezang of parlando en daarna barst altijd een bom (luister bvb. eens naar single Cigarette Smoke). De gitaren neigen dan steevast veel naar metal maar passen wel in het plaatje. (…) Red Raw en afsluiter Blood Institute zijn hier de beste voorbeelden van én hun beste songs. Een goede film noir werkt ook altijd naar een hoogtepunt toe en zo is het hier niet anders." Luminousdash.be "Dunkle Doom-Kulissen und elegische Aggressivität vermischen sich bei den Belgiern VON STROHEIM mit psychotischem ThereminRock und einer bedrohlichen SynthGitarrenAtmo. "Love? Who Gets Love?"(Uproar for Veneration) lebt va. von der Kraft und der Manie der Sängerin. 4" Westzeit - Quicksilver Reviews

"Dès l'ouverture avec Moth lorsque ce bourdonnement se mêle au chant presqu'enfantin, nos sens s'éveillent et s'alertent. Love ? Who Gets Love ? ne rate pas son entrée et von STROHEIM va tenir la distance jusqu’aux dernières notes de Blood Institute. Avec cet ADN poétique, cinématographique et bruitiste, von STROHEIM assure cette filiation entre JUCIFER et ENABLERS." Fred Brichau - Shoot Me Again

#awesome reviews love lovewhogetslove vonstroheim doom webzine ox blowup quicksilver luminousdash foutraque bigtakeover shootme

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writer59january13 · 6 years

Text

When The Doomsday Clock Struck Twelve

PROLOGUE: Ever since the timeless immeasurable coalescence of consciousness viz wrought higher thought propensity, and bequeathed the rudimentary tools of the then nascent malevolent (though unbeknownst to themselves, innocent looking, knee high primates, would attempt a futile declaration of independence, nonetheless their biological constitutional bound them to chromosomal amendments), would affix the seal of disapproval alluding to archaic contraband arms trade (those most primitive hominids forged sticks and stones as defensive means), yet unwittingly, jarringly, and alarmingly – in due millenniums got cursed with their own demagogic demise.

The prism of hindsight allows, enables and provides a peg leg up for us grand children to the power of googleplex from those nattering nabobs of…nature scant survivors to parse and piece together an anthropological spectrum analysis.

We can advantageously, yet delicately isolate (much more easily than those bipedal millennial lowbrow swedish, nor wee gin, and dane hush knuckle dragging forebears of contemporary residents of Lake Woebegone) that roamed vast expanses and virginal plains on the prowl for seedy stems, root stock, and grubs that formed a zigzag pattern of trial and error asper what did not kill them got the shortish brutes (yet to attain the realm noble savages).

These early primates rode a figurative and veritable zip line toward domination upon the healthy terra firmae, and unstintingly planted the spores for vast generational realms spelling beasty boy modern day prairie home companions, who accidentally stumbled upon the long lost culinary delicacy earning the equivalent of Michelin awards for high demand best selling powder milk biscuits comprising raw bits of NON GMO, gluten and msg free vintage Triceratops ground horn meal circa millenniums ago.

Inconclusive questions still abound asper how one wimpy, scruffy, and outlandishly kooky band of ambling ape like creatures attained the rand and file of most dominant, hogtied, and lukewarm pygmies strode right topmost uber valiant warlords.

One school of thought ascertains highly touted punctuated equilibrium theory. This hypothesis ordains a sudden and inordinate burst of species differentiation versus gradual feints evolving determination to cope.

A brush stroke of chance graced one great descendent of a monkey’s uncle (christened matthew scott harris – who just by beginners luck linkedin with all in his family inside a radiation proof arched bunker) with empirical and unique wisdom – at least in comparison with other feral and furry jungle loving spoonful sized swinging creatures.

No matter whether one attributes bytes of divine intervention, a mere crapshoot in the dice throw of fate, the scattershot fits and starts among Darwinian survival of the fittest brought an undeniable net result, which in toto spelled light years away complete and utter extinction for a biological experiment that went seriously awry.

Over the course of millennial generations, a combination of beginners’ dumb luck, coevals of circumstance and happenstance proffered the L'Enfant terrible civilization with the subtle trappings of preponderant transcendence and imminent domain over all the other life forms great and small.

This godlike domination and mantle to rule with an iron maiden fist would eventually and in short order cook to a crisp the supposed ribs from cosmic creator.

Mushroom became a hot commodity and premium especially as invisible shackles proved to chain these prehensile beasts acquired, reveled in unbridled power.

This inimitable coterie of chest thumping missing links into deluded them into owning a fools’ paradise.

A parabolic trajectory arced elliptically toward chaos of lex Lucifer at that atrocious, nefarious, and heinous explosion.

An innocent, innocuous and subtle series of incremental transitions fostered physiognomy of arboreal mammals to climb, crawl, shimmy and slide across various and sundry terrain.

At some metastatic stage, these informal claques and clicks spurred an inexplicable brainstorm to tap out a manifesto and stand up for vaguely grunted inalienable rights.

Who knows really knows how, what or when precipitated one unsuspecting ring leader to prompt a horde of hairy brutes to lurch ahead of the pack?

Once in an upright pose, the de facto leader probably received the first standing ovation.

An erect and more upright posture stepped up the advantages, which ironically enough set the stage for one after the other epic tragic 2017 spatial odyssey.

In the end one nasty, shortish, brute could end up wielding a bigger club, rattle a sharper saber and sadly and lastly fire off a deadlier warhead.

Fain to argue against the existence of diabolic ambitions and concomitant sinister treason against scripted virtuous blueprint fleshed out on the divine creators’ drawing board, when tell tale signs abundantly litter the byways and highways of the actual and information superhighways of this human lot.

That slow but inexorable ascent from the primordial ooze thence reaching upon the highest summit of egoistic grandeur also condemned and forebode a relatively terrible swift descent from what would turn out to be a hollow and precarious precipice.

Difficult if not well nigh impossible to discern any traceable handy dance blues clue of such demonic motives in the rather cute and furrowed brow, heart and soul of those ape men, women and children that happened to be above average.

Although anthropological lineage can be traced with a rather jagged line from that hazy humid dog day afternoon, an ordinate amount of energy plus a preponderant exuberant expenditure of crusading conviction found pitched battles with battle axes and crucifixions following pomp and circumstances infusing the exploits with pomp and circumstances of the fighting machine.

Like overgrown children egging the enemy for a zealous fight, that lethal brinkmanship set in motion an irreversible lethal assault.

Instantaneous electronic and satellite communications automatically instructed formerly hidden weapons of mass destruction to get launched from their respective silos only to bore down heavily on the designated pre-coded targets.

Tracers arced and lit up one fatal view of the celestial orb, gamut of constellations and cosmic mysteries burned as one collective blinding nihilistic imprimatur – upon billions of seared retinas!

This veritable blitzkrieg zeroed in on major metropolitan centers before extinction of détente ripped a black hole in the heartland.

Time seemed to be suspended and still for one brief yet glorious moment before those sinister mushroom clouds sprinkled spores, sprouted and populated the radioactive heavens.

A deafening ear-splitting sound filled the air just before the cherished landmarks got rent a sundered by this encompassing apocalypse now, with critical up to date emergency specification blared via national public radio, yet audio soundcloud muted by the sonic threshold waking up the recently grateful dead.

All phenomena became liquefied into gruesome, macabre and twisted shapes.

Entire populations became hostage to an evil genii loosed from the bottle of atomic energy.

This entropy purportedly milked from noble heart felt blood sweat and tears for fears.

The long march of history presented a completely replete treat of supremely intelligent mortal men and women bestowed with the benevolent title of genius ineluctably contributed to the annihilation of planet earth.

Forsooth thy willowy young lass named lingua franc me childhood sweetheart and newfound bride long gone bonnie oh

abeyance promulgated by Prometheus

reigning eternal radiation to glow

no more splendiferous raiment

nor sylvan paradise

bloweth gale like from thine beau.

A small number of multi-cultural Homo sapiens from Lake Woebegone (myself included plus a claque of hearty strapping Norwegian Bachelor farmers, whose diet of powder milk biscuits and raw bits a possible preventive inoculation) in addition to a cadre of various and sundry other species chanced to be on a reconnaissance mission ironically to broker negotiate word peace.

This motley crew (a typical representative sampling of most all the gamut per creed, nationality, race, religion, et cetera) of humankind experienced a collective gasp of horror at the blinding flash that cleft the globe into smithereens and shattered the atmosphere into at least a millions little pieces.

No more ability to support life in all those various and sundry manifestations with a newly forged asteroid belt birthed into existence.

Such an ignominious end and total destruction of mother earth (formerly replete with all the attendant diversification of flora and fauna) far exceeded the ability of our shell- shocked vestigial eclectic tribe.

This emotionally tattered remnant (once part of a now vanished misty, mythic, swashbuckling and vainglorious past) awash with self proclaimed manifest destiny and emancipation a little to late swore unbridled allegiance to all manner of god and country (incorporating hidden and inconvenient truths to boot chrome windows) no longer inhabited the four corners upon the plane of Gaia.

Prognosticators of yore spouting this, that, and the other end of world hypothetical scenarios could never even approach this catastrophe on a biblical scale times the power of google.

Witnesses in now way, shape nor form could capture even a paltry approximation the fury nor wrath of these tectonic nuclear blasts.

Classic literature steeped in the annals of the noble savage banging the tom-tom and emitting that blood curdling and ear-piercing scream.

This eruption of ferocity meant to breed fear and sought (perhaps in addition to a scalp or two) nothing short of being heir apparent sovereignty, a salient trait to bank upon.

How quaint that now iconic image frequently reminisced by artists, musicians, writers, et cetera contrasted with those last surviving exploitative ideologues qua demigods, who in the name of busy whacking democracy similarly plundered and raped with reckless impropriety and nonchalance.

Those pulverized remain permanently ensconced forever pinwheel thru the air of those skeletal concrete and steel reinforced fortresses.

Hot vicious thermal winds blew the thick mass of cremated ashes across the rubble strewn and severely cratered landscape.

The devil made mince meat oye vay

as like one huge lumbering ogre massive as Uruguay

and grim reaper got feedstock upon lovely bone covered tray

rolled up into one not so jolly green giant did slay

good will to all men

and spat out pox with an emphatic nay

triumphing over godly salvation

using eponymous accursed pitchfork

made merry and rolled in the hay

simultaneously sneering out in delight

at wanton death and decay

whereby civilization forever mutilated

and perforated said spindled World Wide Web structure

where once proud and strong spikes radiated

now sundered in total chaotic disarray.

EPILOGUE: Ever since the beginning of time, when one select group of primates owned an advantage to survive and transcend pitfalls and predators, their abilities to forage, hunt and scavenge for food and safety likewise eclipsed other equally adept tribes.

Vagaries, vicissitudes and voices initially in the form of primal groans and grunts began to weave the rudiments of traditions, which in no short time seem to thrive on sacrifice, superstition and many aspects of the kill.

At some juncture, one branch from the tree of homo sapiens would practically subsume the entire trunk line, thus render the once almighty, beastie boy, crafty duty enemy fly guy humbled.

Thus, the varietal genes and chromosomes encapsulating latent internecine torture and extermination bred dreadful heathen jimmied, linkedin, nasty pirated reprehensible totemic vicars xing zone.

Eons would elapse with negligible yet faintly perceptible notches of sophistication. Ever more egregious methodologies would be dreamt up, employed in peevish mock war games

Only to be inflicted on innocent civilians or military personnel as collateral trophies in the name of mortal combat.

#one misadventure of chance events would not pave the figurative way for me #you any other mortal from yesterday

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