I don't have anything to say, just that this all sounds really good.
...Kinda wish we had Juane take cooking classes.
I'm kinda glad you didn't, I've been losing weight recently and not having a reason to tease my appetite every time cooking classes come up is a blessing in that arena. On the other hand, actually cooking the food and photographing it after every class.
Ah, the art we lose in the decisions we make-
As a hobby chef, the probable sausage used would be a different part of the same animal. Which after being butchered, at least half of all megafauna would be jerkied or treated like pemmican (a form of jerky that can last up to three years without refrigeration because how much fat it's coated in). Or treated like hard tack and baked until Death Valley in summer has more water than it. Which is probably how "hunter" rations are made nowadays. Then again, dust is a partial fix for some of these issues, especially water and fire dust.
Not always, look at crab and sausage jambalaya. Or chicken and sausage gumbo.
Or half of Cajun cooking, now that I think about it. But yes, most likely in this case- turtle would have the right consistency for sausage. Crab... less so. Maybe if you find a softshell one, them suckers is tender, give it a fine grind and I'M MAKING MYSELF HUNGRY AGAIN
So perception filtering, and apparently it work on the transistor as well.
Just regular invisibility. The Transistor isn't going to spoil what little fun the neurotic little bastard finds around here.
I am not the most knowledgeable of identity stuff but this makes me think of a really fancy mattress, is such a good name for a mattress that I had to check if there were any on sale.
Aromantic and asexual, are the untruncated terms. Basically, Tucker has very little interest in romance or sex.
I based that purely on the other guy saying "a dozen times" and the fact that a normal sedentary human consumes about 2000 a day.
... Eh, Past Prok remains unabsolved of his sins.
He knows what he did.
Also the ship, please remind me, do the grim need to breathe? If they do we can just sink the ship and then rescue it whit the process when it's safe.
Grimm breathe, and drown, unless they're amphibious or aquatic like the Nereid was. However, sinking the entire ship is maybe a mite beyond what's necessary here.
That said, I could see Atlas not having made a blueprint of a large railgun that doesn't make use of Dust to function. Unlike with a laser, you'd probably want to use Dust to take care of problems like not warping/scraping the rails into uselessness with each shot, and the Process can't make Dust.
((Railguns are probably not as loud as conventional guns because the mechanism they use is electromagnetism, not a chemical explosion of gasses. It's still loud because you're hurling a slug of metal at supersonic speeds, but magnetism and electricity don't make sound by themselves.))
Oh, no, Atlas has railgun plans without Dust- for Atlas
City. Wonder why that might be
Also, a railgun firing, because of said slug moving at supersonic speeds, is anywhere up to 180 decibels- the equivalent of standing next to a rocket at launch. 150 decibels is enough to rupture a human eardrum instantly- 180 is enough to rupture
organs.
Remember- sound is just a pressure wave. So are explosions. The line between those two things is somewhat blurry.
Anyway, long time coming, it's finally here, a day after I said I'd post it, and two years after I started writing it.
You can pinpoint the
exact moment that you decided that messing with Weiss was going to be your new hobby.
It was in Port's class where he needed a volunteer to stab a Boarbatusk to death. It was when you tried to volunteer because if you didn't you were going to fall asleep, and he picked Weiss instead- and then it was the point where you watched her get angry enough to grab the Boarbatusk by the latter half of its name and
suplex it, before stabbing it in its soft underside seven times
after it was already disintegrating, only stopping when she breathed in enough smog to give herself a cough for the rest of the day.
The shift, from the prim and proper little princess strutting out there with perfect form and perfect footwork to try and kill a Grimm as gracefully as she could, to this
beast of primal anger, who could no longer
give a damn about something so unnecessary as
grace, ending the fight about two seconds away from just throwing her sword down and
punching it to death, had Port not broken the spell, that...
…
Yeeaahh, that had you at half-mast for a while and you're not sure how you feel about that.
The thing is, now,
now, you know that underneath that shell of primness and propriety and
noblesse oblige and generally being a stuck-up cow to everyone she meets, there actually
is a fire that is burning green and white like the one in you and every other human on the planet, and you want
more of that on display. You can draw that out of her.
As with all things to do with Spiral Power, it's just a gut feeling. But you'll be damned if it ain't one you're going to follow.
A few months have passed since then, and
what a few months it's been. You suplexed Cardin into a lunch table; found out Blake was a Beastman, which, honestly with those teeth, how no one noticed earlier is one big question mark; that Weiss is (was? She's pretty chill with Blake) an unrepentant human supremacist; that Penny's a robot that fires Bullhead-bisecting laser beams, a fact that does
more things to Little Jaune you don't know how to feel about; and that SDC cargo containers are actually built to withstand bulk Dust explosions, but the
door hinges aren't.
So when they go up, they funnel the whole affair out one end or the other, turning the damn things into
God's personal party poppers.
That, you have
no qualms about having a kink for.
Now that everything's quietened down, though, something rather important has changed, after all that. Everyone notices it, of course. Even you.
Especially you, actually, considering you've spent the few months you've known Weiss actively going out your way to figure out
exactly what she considers proper behaviour then doing the exact opposite whenever she was around, and gauging her reaction to it. You've turned annoying her into a science, and now your tests are bringing back much more
extreme results than they did even a few weeks ago.
Stuff that would normally get an annoyed scoff out of her is now apparently worth yelling at you for. Stuff worth yelling at you warrants being slapped. For fear of escalation, you've exercised the little caution you possess and not done any of the stuff that usually gets you slapped yet.
You're pretty sure that's how you get find out what getting sodomised with a rapier feels like.
Regardless, there's no other way to put it-
Weiss Schnee is losing her shit.
Everyone can see it, but nobody knows
why- if the rest of her team know, they're staying quiet about it, but judging by their reactions to her now regular outbursts, they're just as clueless as you to why she's teetering the deep end. All they've been willing to share is that she's been getting calls regularly, that she's taking them as well as she can without breaking her Scroll against the wall, that she refuses to divulge their source, and that those are the
good days.
Something is happening, and it's doing its best to make her angry, and bitter, and jump at every shadow…
You're not angry
at her, God no- you know full well you deserve the shit you get from her, you're going out of your way
to piss her off. Jaune Arc ain't no hypocrite, even if he is a laundry list of other fifty-Lien insults.
So when Goodwitch calls you to her office, sits you in the chair across from her, and tells you that one of Schnee's cousins was in a guarded hospital after an assassination attempt that happened a week after the night of your pro bono dock security gig, and that the attacks have continued since, you realise you really should learn to school your face a little more.
"Is that
funny to you, Mr Arc?" Goodwitch asks you, a caustic hiss to her voice.
It isn't, of course, a relative of someone you care about is in the hospital. That makes you angrier than you can put into words. No, you're smiling, because now you're starting to
piece things together.
You may be smiling, but it's not a
nice smile, by any means.
"Nope!
But, now I know what's got her panties in such a twist." You tell her bluntly. "Papa's pulling her leash."
Professor Goodwitch's face twists, barely concealed anger turning to wary curiosity.
"... And how, pray tell, do you deduce that?"
"Well, she's not grieving. If her bastard cousin's still alive-"
"Language."
"-then Schnee money will
keep him that way, for better or worse,
but, the attempt scared people. Specifically, it scared daddy, and now daddy wants his dear little heiress back in Atlas, where he can
personally keep an eye on her safety. Now look, I'm not going to say I
like Weiss, but she
really likes her independence, and I can respect that. So, constantly being yelled at to come home, by a man she's
probably not on the best of terms with, considering she moved to a completely different continent to get away from him? Yeah, that'll give anyone a short fuse."
This is it. This makes
so much sense.
This is what you've been looking for.
The professor looks at you like you've grown a second head, but slowly nods, genuinely considering your theory.
"... While… that, does make a degree of sense, it doesn't excuse your constant antagonism of her."
You raise an eyebrow at her.
"
I'm just being
me. She's the one taking offence to my perfectly normal behaviour. She can't handle me not being all high-class and proper, that's her problem." You half-truth through your teeth.
An idea comes to life in your head, the final thing to tie all the threads in your mind together, a
crystallisation of your anger, and it takes everything you have not to yell it at Professor Goodwitch.
"Lemme fight her!" you
most definitely do not yell.
She blinks at your statement.
"... Mr Arc, why on
earth would I let you two fight, when she's already two seconds away from skewering you at any given moment?"
You stop, trying to think over what exactly it is you want to say in defence of your idea.
"... Sometimes… it just really helps you feel better when you get to punch someone in the face. Especially someone y'don't like."
Goodwitch raises an eyebrow.
"Or stabbing them over and over again," she raises a
totally not valid point. "In case you've forgotten, 'Spiral Power' doesn't afford you some of the same
perks that normal Aura does, and I heavily doubt Ms. Schnee, in her current state, would have the restraint to respect that, if I put you in the ring with her."
You sigh.
"Look, fighting's good for letting off steam, and I can take whatever she can throw at me! I just…
fuck me-"
"Language!"
"-I wanna help her, and I know I'm too much of a moron to do anything
but this! Maybe I ain't done anything to earn this, fine, but it's not like I'm asking for a miracle, I just…"
You break eye contact, looking at your hands for a moment as you try to let out some frustration with a sigh. It doesn't help.
"... I just want you to trust me. I know it ain't earned, but... this'll help. I know it will."
Something in your face or your words softens Goodwitch's eyes a little, and eventually she gives a tired sigh.
"... I'll
consider arranging something during class time. Under
strict supervision. Should that happen, I
trust you'll have the good sense to not make the situation worse."
You thank Professor Goodwitch, telling her you'll try and let up on annoying Schnee as best you can, and leave. Elation, determination, and a wave of
bone-deep anger towards the things that'd break your friend like that fills your chest to bursting. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, the drill under your hoodie is spinning like a top.
Combat class can't come soon enough.
… No, like, it
actually cannot come soon enough, you realise, as greenish-white flames begin to form on your knuckles, spiralling out and licking their way up your forearms. Now
you need to find a way to blow off some steam- you almost regret leaving your sword in your dormitory, but a seven-foot length of steel is a bitch to carry around if you're not actively using it.
After some rushing through the halls, you find somebody who isn't doing anything too important and all but drag her to a sparring ring with you, her team following along with no dearth of amusement at the scene.
As you haul your chosen opponent over the ropes, hopping up after her while she straightens her beret, you take up a fighting stance. She does the same thing, unhooking the handbag from her shoulder and holding it low.
"... I know you. You're the guy that Schnee keeps railing on for no good reason."
You snort at her, dashing forward and going for a gut punch, fending off her surprisingly weighty handbag with your other hand, feeling the bones creak under the force.
"Pfft, nah. I give her plenty of good reasons to get angry at me."
"Why, though?" She asks as she effortlessly swings the ton-weight bag at your head, and you just dodge by a matter of hairs. You bring a hand up and push at her shoulder as she completes the swing, throwing her off balance for a moment.
"Because she's
already angry! Underneath that shell of ice-cold bitch and acting better than everyone else, she's just as, as bullheaded and determined and
pissed off about the world as any other red-blooded human being! And I
need her angrier, if I wanna get through to her."
Watching her footing as she stumbles, you manage to hook her ankle with a foot and pull it out from under her, only for her to turn it into a graceful flip/heel to the forehead. Stumbling back yourself, feeling exactly where the sniper's dot is going to form later, you grit your teeth and set your stance once more.
"... And what, pray tell, do you want to
get through to her so badly that you need to mess with her rapidly deteriorating mental health?" Your opponent asks you over her sunglasses, dark chocolate eyes drilling into yours, a sharp undertone in her question.
You completely ignore said undertone and the accusation accompanying it, and give her a wide grin.
"I just wanna see her grit her teeth."
|||
The day is here!
It's time for combat class!
The rest of your team is ever so slightly scared by just how
restless you are, through the day; your usual boredom in class replaced with such a single minded focus on Weiss that they're amazed she can't feel your eyes
boring a hole into the back of her head.
"Jaune, uh, not to tell you how to spend your time, but… this is a little creepy, by your standards," Nora mumbles at you on your way to Goodwitch's lesson.
You imagine the low, machine-gun chuckle you give in response doesn't help assuage her fears. But that's fine. You've got bigger fish to fry.
Fresh Atlesian salmon, to be exact.
As you settle into the crappy vinyl chairs of the auditorium, Goodwitch announces the first fighters- Dove Bronzewing and Blake Belladonna, and you can't help but put your obsession aside for a moment when you see that knife block grin of hers.
God, you love Beastmen. Beastwomen? Beastettes?
Do grammatical gender noun rules really apply to the name of a species?
Do you particularly care, also sidebar, is this another kink forming?
The answer is 'nah' to the first two, and after some consulting with Little Jaune, a solid 'yeah sure why not' on the third, but you're still going to enjoy watching Dove get his face bounced off the stage.
"Combatants, at the ready!"
They draw their weapons, Blake her sword and cleaver, Dove his single sword with the revolver in the guard, and take up their stances.
"Fight!"
The 'fight in progress' klaxon blares out, warning people to not be near the stage unless you're fighters or Professor Goodwitch.
Seconds. It takes seconds for her to dodge the overhead swing, slash at his eyes as a feint to pull him off balance, drop low, sweep his front leg when the weight's off it, transitioning from a kip up to
dropkicking him in the chest, sending him, quite literally, bouncing off the stage.
"Cease!"
Dove blinks, from his place in the lane between the cheap vinyl chairs you're all sitting in, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Mr Bronzewing, are you injured?"
"Only my pride, professor..." he mumbles, slowly getting up, wincing a little the moment he has to use his back.
Goodwitch catches it, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses.
"Go to the infirmary to be sure," she tells him, and with a nod, he shuffles out of the auditorium, looking every bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole.
You catch Goodwitch's eye as it scans the room for victim two, and try your best to silently plead with her. On reflection, you think you might just look a little constipated, but hey, if it works-
"Mr Arc. You're up."
You stand up, trying not to grin too much as you rip your shirt and coat off, only then realising Goodwitch didn't tell Blake to sit down. You frown deeply as you make your way down the aisle, up the stairs, and stop near the professor.
"I don't know if you've developed a sudden case of face blindness, but Weiss Schnee is the one without cat ears," you mutter to her as you pass.
"I can't just pair the two of you up without drawing suspicion- get through Miss Belladonna, and you'll earn your chance at pugilistic therapy," she mutters right back.
A less than pleased
tch leaves your mouth as you face the beastwoman, placing a hand on the hilt of the katana at your hip. It's not that you feel like you can't beat her, you're just not a fan of unexpected obstacles—especially ones with such big teeth.
Blake finally seems to notice you and quits picking at her teeth with the corner of her cleaver, instead giving you the same knife block grin that Dove got.
When you don't return it, she realises that, for once, you actually look kind of
serious about a fight, and the grin shifts to a look of quiet concern.
In truth, you've drawn so far into yourself to try and figure out how to either, A, beat her without looking too nasty about it, or B, convince her to throw the fight as quickly as possible.
"Combatants, at the ready! Three-strike rule!"
You lock your thumb under the
tsuba- ready to pull it the second the klaxon goes off.
A second passes.
Another.
…
Goodwitch, hurry the fuck up-
"Fight!"
FINALLY.
You draw your blade, and feint out an overhead swing, stepping back from the eye slash and putting your weight on your front leg when she goes for the sweep, putting her just where you need her for many things, but right now, grabbing her by the back of the head and driving your knee into her nose works for you.
Blake's head snaps back with a snarl, black Aura fading away as you press the offensive, slashing down at her and-
GODDAMN SHADOW SEMBLANCE- wheeling around just in time to pull your saya and block her own sharpened cleaver, biting into the lacquered wood as you dodge her sword, then slap it away with your katana, then pull away when it shifts into a sickle, which is also a gun, because
she can't make her mind up like every other Huntress you know.
You take a few steps back to create some distance to use your sword with, and Blake presses the advantage- then stops. She stares at you for a long second, tilting her head in confusion.
"... You're not smiling," she says. "You're usually grinning like a maniac right now."
You blink.
"... I don't grin like a maniac, hell you talking about?"
"Language."
"Sorry, Prof."
You can feel the change in the hall- people are
taken aback by you actually apologising to Goodwitch without a fight. Or, at all, for that matter.
Blake narrows her eyes, ears flattening against her head in something like concern, you think.
"You… always smile when you're fighting," she says hesitantly- almost… like she's disappointed?
...
Oh. She is.
"I got bigger fish to fry, kitty cat," you say bluntly. "Any other time I'd be havin' a blast, but right now you're just in the way of me doin' something important. Goodwitch's just usin' you to test me, I guess."
Blake's eyes flick to the crowd, your gut says to
Weiss, and you barely nod, once. A moment of conflict happens- she obviously wants to fight you. On any other day, you'd be
enthusiastically obliging her, but you only have eyes for one girl right now.
Yes you're aware of how you made that sound, that was the joke. The joke is sex. The Huntsman thing is just a side-gig to your burgeoning career as Remnant's next open-mic night menace, you're sure of it.
In the time it took you to have that minor internal segue, Blake's heaved a great sigh, and sheathed her weapons.
"I yield," she says, hopping off the stage, stopping by Goodwitch to say something, who just nods.
"Miss Schnee," Goodwitch says. "Approach the stage."
"Absolutely not. I'll fight anyone else, but not
him," she sneers, her teammates genuinely a little shocked by her reaction, in the same way they were shocked by
yours. Weiss Schnee, giving lip to a teacher? Perish the thought, after all.
"It wasn't a request, Miss Schnee. Up on the stage. Come now- think of it as a chance for some catharsis."
Something about Goodwitch's tone- patient, almost
sweet- seems to both put Weiss on edge, and stop her from complaining any further as she strops her way up to the stage. You move back to your square as Weiss enters hers, glaring at you the entire time.
"Combatants, at the ready! Three-strike rule!" Goodwitch calls.
You didn't even get a chance to sheath your katana, nor do you trust your saya right now, so you just loop it through your belt and bring your blade into position. Weiss does the same with her rapier. Green flames begin to form along your knuckles, your fingers, licking at the tsuka.
The look in Weiss's eyes almost makes you think the three-strike rule won't save you- then you look closer.
"Begin!"
Weiss rushes forward, going for a killshot immediately- if you didn't redirect her attack, it would be in your heart right now. As is, you had to lean away to keep it out of your jugular.
She's
vicious. You can see it in her face, that curled snarl of disdain, the way she wants to just finish this and go back to her brooding. So the cycle goes, block dodge blockdodgeblockdodgeredirect, you hear the sound of a Glyph form behind you, and suddenly you're
yanked off balance.
The entire time, you're just focused on her eyes.
Weiss is empty. Devoid of spirit, just- driven by
inertia. A ball, rolling down a hill, pulled by gravity, not moving under its own power. All just so it can stop at the bottom.
The fire is dead. There ain't no drill left in her.
The revelation shocks you enough to miss a slash, and the Spiralless creature in front of you takes first blood- a light slash across a pectoral, a burst of Spiral flame pushing the blade away before it becomes any more than that.
"One strike!"
"... Weiss?"
"Shut up. Shut the
hell up," Weiss snarls.
"Language."
Weiss's sneer turns
venomous, but she doesn't respond to Professor Goodwitch.
"Weiss, this ain't you," you say gently between blocks, dodges, and exploratory slashes of your own. "What happened?"
"What
happened?" she asks incredulously.
"You did. You, and your
neverending quest to piss me off-"
"Language! Miss Schnee, I will not
tolerate-" Goodwitch starts.
"Hey, can you just keep a tally of these for the end?" you interrupt. "This is bad enough without havin' ta-"
Weiss very nearly slashes your arm open, and you're forced to leap backwards, landing with your toes gripping the edge of the stage. You windmill your arms, only just managing to keep your balance, until your opponent rushes forward, forcing you to leap over her. It leaves Weiss doing the exact same thing until you pull her back onto the stage by an arm.
You are
not getting blue-balled by a ring-out, goddammit.
"-
listen to ya interrupt every two freakin' seconds just because the language's gettin' a li'l blue!" you finish.
Past the stage lights, you can see Goodwitch's wide-eyed expression, somewhere between rage at being talked to like that, and shock that you might actually have a decent point.
… Okay it's mostly the rage, but if you aren't an optimist, the hell are you doing here?
With a sigh, she gives you a dismissive wave, then sets to rubbing the headache out of her temples.
Good enough for you!
When Weiss turns around, it's with that same snarl.
"What happened is YOU!
YOU'RE WHAT'S WRONG! YOU, AND YOUR ATTITUDE, AND YOUR ANTICS, AND YOUR PATHOLOGICAL NEED TO BE A THORN IN MY SIDE FOR REASONS I CANNOT BEGIN TO COMPREHEND!"
Every word, every beat, every
syllable, is accompanied by no less than three rapid strikes of the rapier, putting you fully on the defensive- even though you don't need to try too hard blocking them. They're too sloppy, too mistimed- footwork all over the place, swings wild and unaimed. This is a
child using a rapier, not a trained combatant.
The danger is all in the blade. This isn't a fight anymore- it's a
temper tantrum.
Her heart isn't in hurting you anymore- it's in…
nothing, anymore, but it's trying to be in those words, that burst dam that just getting a chance to stab you has opened,
Gods, she must have been about to snap already if it took this little to get this far.
Weiss's eyes are still dim, behind the snarl and the screaming. You don't think she's even aware that she
is screaming anymore, because she's saying shit a trained therapist would have to torture out of you.
"AND IT'S THE WAY YOU SMILE, AND THE WAY YOU LAUGH AT EVERY STUPID THING NORA AND YANG SAY LIKE IT'S THE FUNNIEST THING EVERY TIME, AND THE WAY YOU MAKE FRIENDS LIKE IT'S
BREATHING FOR YOU! WHILE I SPEND EVERY DAY I LIVE HERE BEING CRUSHED A LITTLE MORE, A LITTLE HARDER, ALL BECAUSE I FINALLY MADE A DECISION FOR MYSELF,
YOU'RE RUNNING AROUND LIKE THE FREEST MAN ON REMNANT, LIKE THERE ISN'T A THING THAT COULD KEEP YOU DOWN, STOP YOU FROM DOING WHAT YOU WANT, AND ALL OF IT JUST MAKES ME SO FUCKING ANGRY! ! HOW DARE YOU?! HOW DARE YOU TAUNT ME WITH HOW MUCH HAPPIER YOU ARE?! I JUST-"
The need to finally inhale rips the voice from her lungs, the voice from her throat. The constant barrage stops, and Weiss seems to come down from her rage, straight into hot tears and shuddering breaths. The rapier dips to the ground, as she just sniffles, wiping her eyes on a sleeve.
You lower your sword as well, waiting patiently for whatever comes next.
"... I just… I'm so… damn tired, all the time, and it's only getting worse, and I don't know how long I can keep it up…"
You hear a sniffle out in the audience. Pretty sure it's Ruby. Makes sense that it's Ruby. Might be Nora. You're not turning to look.
"... I'm sorry," you say quietly. "I went into this all wrong. Thought you were holdin' yourself back. Didn't realise it was somethin' else, and that I was just makin' it worse. That's on me, and no one else. I'm sorry- and I mean it."
Weiss doesn't respond.
"... You wanna know why I'm free?" you ask. "It's because I know I ain't the same person I was. I know I'll be a different person later. Because I know I'm moving forward from who I was, into who I'm gonna be."
Weiss scoffs, then sniffles again.
"How very enlightened of you."
"I mean it," you say, holding the pendant up from your neck. "Every year, every week, every day, every
second that passes, I move forward. I evolve beyond the person I was. That's how a drill works."
"And that's all it takes? Thinking you're a drill?"
"So are you. So is everyone else. Stayin' who you are is how you stop bein' a person. And if somethin's holding you down, holding you back, or just pissin' you off- then screw the consequences and punch it in the damn face. Gettin' mad ain't a bad thing- you just gotta use it right. Turnin' it on people, on the people you know, the people you love, turnin' it on yourself- that's just a slow suicide."
Weiss dries her eyes, and looks at you. She looks- and then she laughs. It's not much of one, more like a funny cough, but you see it, there. That
fire. The fire in her eyes that made you fall in love with Weiss Schnee bursting into green, spiralling flames all those months back is there again- dim, and guttering, but there.
You sheath your sword- then pull the katana, saya and all, off your belt, and throw it to the edge of the stage.
"Do you yield, Mister Arc?" Goodwitch asks.
"Nah," you say, bringing up your fists. "Just wanna change it up."
Weiss looks at you incredulously, before shaking her head and throwing her sword to the side of the stage too.
"Fighters! Reset," Goodwitch calls, and you swear you can hear something almost, but not entirely, like a smile in her voice. "Begin on my call."
The Schnee heiress brings her fists up, and when you swear you can see the little glitters of green in her eyes, you feel that manic grin tugging at your lips again.
"Grit your teeth, Schnee."
She just smiles back, and you feel your heart flutter like a tiny bird.
"BEGIN!"
