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dystopicjumpsuit · 10 months

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Watch and Learn, City Boy (Taylor's Version)

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sergeant Hound x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: fluff; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; playful partners; sex in a tent; dirty talk; Grizzer has seen some shit.

A/N: This was originally written for the Writer Wednesday week 1 challenge, and if you'd prefer to read a smut-free version, you can find it here. If you like spicy lemons, keep reading!

Want to read more Hound goodness? Check out this fic by @imarvelatthestars

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“Remind me why we’re doing this, again?” Hound grumbles as the two of you wrangle a pile of tent poles and canvas.

“Because the hotel didn’t allow massiffs,” you say, grunting a bit as you struggle with the heavy tent.

Technically, the hotel doesn’t allow clones, either, but you leave that unsaid. You had booked the room, paid the pet deposit, and traveled from Coruscant to Alderaan, only to be abruptly turned away at check-in. Before you left, you told the hotel concierge your opinion of their corporate bigotry, and now you are also banned for life. And so here the three of you are, setting up an ancient, decrepit canvas tent that you dug out of your parents’ attic.

Well, technically the two of you are setting up the tent while Grizzer explores your campsite, sniffing the lush greenery of Alderaan with interest. The massiff is accustomed to the hard plastcrete and rancid smells of Coruscant, and you wonder if she’s ever been in nature before.

“Relax,” you say. “I did this all the time growing up. It’ll be fun!”

“Sleeping in the dirt and eating rations is your idea of fun?” Hound asks.

“The tent has a floor,” you point out, “and believe me, we can do better than rations.”

Eventually, you wrestle the tent into submission and get two bedrolls laid out inside. The scent of old canvas, saturated with woodsmoke and memories, pulls you right back to your childhood: camping under the stars, swimming in the lake, lying in the sand and exploring the world around you. You can almost hear the shrieks of laughter and your father’s deep baritone as he sings a lullaby to you and your siblings.

You hang up a few strings of twinkle lights, and then, satisfied with the cozy little retreat you’ve created, you go back outside to get a campfire started. Hound is standing with his arms crossed, looking decidedly unimpressed with the entire situation.

“Has it occurred to you that there are wild animals in these woods?” he asks. “Gree told me about the wolf-cats of Alderaan.”

“Grizzer will keep us safe,” you reassure him. “Won’t you, girl? Who’s my sweet baby?”

Grizzer wiggles happily over to you and nuzzles into your chest as you squat to scritch behind her ear holes.

“Grizzer, have some dignity, for kark’s sake,” Hound says. “You are a soldier of the Republic, not a pampered lap-tooka.”

Grizzer ignores him and flops onto her back to beg for belly rubs. Seeing the way you fawn over the massiff, Hound can’t help but smile, remembering the day he met you.

“Grizzer! NO!” Hound chased after the bolting massiff as she charged an unsuspecting civilian in the middle of Monument Plaza. Grizzer had yanked the leash out of his hands and was running full-tilt through the scattering crowds. Too late, he saw her target: you. You were standing in the sun, laughing with a street vendor, and Hound would have taken a moment to appreciate your beauty if you hadn’t been directly in the path of certain doom. “Grizzer!” he shouted again. “Heel!” You turned toward the commotion with only a few meters between you and the charging massiff. Hound fought the urge to close his eyes before Grizzer launched herself and savaged you, but then something completely unexpected happened. You called out a word in a strange language, and the massiff skidded to a halt in front of you. You allowed her to sniff your hand, and then you pulled something out of your pocket and offered it to her. She took the treat and licked your hand as Hound finally caught up, heaving with exertion. “Sorry, ma’am,” he panted. “She slipped her leash. I don’t know what got into her.” You smiled up at him, and his heart thudded with more than just adrenaline when he saw the way your eyes sparkled. “She just smelled the treats,” you said with a shrug. “We always had massiffs when I was growing up, and I never got out of the habit of carrying a few treats in my pockets. I hope it’s all right that I gave her one; I really didn’t want to lose a hand.” In that moment, Hound knew he was utterly lost.

“Awww, is Daddy grumpy?” you coo at Grizzer as you rub her belly. “Is he a Cranky McGrumperson? Is he spreading his grumpy energy all over our campsite because he’s afraid to get his hands dirty?”

You shoot Hound a teasing look, and he stalks over to you, pulling you away from Grizzer and into his arms for a kiss. You sigh happily. You’ve been seeing Hound for a few weeks now, and you were hoping that a romantic trip to your home planet of Alderaan during his shore leave would give you an opportunity to take things to the next level. You had booked a room at a posh boutique hotel with a luxurious soaking tub and an incredible view of the mountains. Who knew the hoteliers would turn out to be gigantic dicks?

So you made a quick change of plans. You had been worried about Hound’s reaction to the idea of camping, but your other option was to take him to your parents’ home and sleep in your childhood bedroom, which… No thanks. Not the ideal setup for the intimate weekend you are planning.

You break away from Hound’s kiss feeling lightheaded. He’s an excellent kisser, and as you’ve discovered over the past weeks, a man who can kiss like that will bring a similar level of skill and enthusiasm to the bedroom (or the bedroll, as the case may be). Now all you have to do is coax him out of his sullen mood.

“Did I mention I happen to be an amazing cook?” you ask, fluttering your eyelashes.

His interest is immediately piqued. “How are you planning to cook out here?”

“Watch and learn, city boy,” you say with a grin.

One hour, two shaak steaks, and four bottles of ale later, Hound’s temper is remarkably improved.

“Where did you learn to cook over an open fire like that?” he asks.

“My dad taught me,” you say as you pull out a deck of sabacc cards. “I told you we used to do this all the time when I was a kid. You in?”

He nods, so you shuffle and deal.

“Your dad sounds like an interesting man,” he says. “Too bad he wasn’t home when we stopped by to get the camping gear. I’d like to meet him.”

You laugh, “Trust me, it’s better this way. You might be ready to take down the entire Separatist army, but you are not prepared for my parents’ boyfriend interrogation.”

“Boyfriend, is it?” Hound asks, his brown eyes twinkling.

“If you play your cards right,” you say with a smirk.

You play a few hands of sabacc, betting with pebbles since Hound doesn’t have any credits, and when it gets too dark to see the cards, you decide to change into pajamas. Grizzer goes into the tent with you and immediately flops down on a bedroll. When you’d packed for your trip, you were planning to be spending your nights in a luxury suite, and your choice of sleepwear was not exactly suited to the great outdoors, so you regretfully tuck away the lacy little chemise. You strip out of your clothes and pull on a pair of short shorts and an old Alderaan University hoodie—the best option you could find in your old bedroom at your parents’ house.

When you leave the tent, Grizzer stays behind. Hound watches you with an unreadable expression, and you worry that he’s still not having a good time. It’s time to break out the big guns.

“Are you ready to have your mind blown, trooper?” you ask with a flirty look.

He sits forward immediately. “What did you have in mind?”

You bend over and rummage through the bags of groceries you’d bought on your way out of Aldera. When you straighten up, you notice his gaze lingering on your exposed legs. You toss him a packet of marshmallows.

“What are these for?” he asks.

You hand him a stick that you scavenged earlier in the day and teach him how to toast the marshmallows over the coals of the campfire. Hound’s immediately catches on fire, which you assure him is part of the experience.

“It’s not a real s’more if the marshmallow isn’t at least thirty percent carbon,” you say.

You show him how to sandwich the resulting crispy, molten marshmallow in between layers of chocolate and sweet biscuits, and the bliss on his face when he tastes it for the first time makes the entire trip worthwhile. You haven’t eaten s’mores in years, and you’ve forgotten how rich they are.

“I think I can only eat one,” you say.

“Not me,” he says. “I’ll eat the whole bag.”

You give him a delighted smile, pleased that he’s finally come around. Hound has such a sweet tooth. All the clones do, he tells you. Something to do with their enhanced metabolisms, and the fact that they rarely get to eat anything other than ration bars and bland mess hall food.

“These are incredible,” he mumbles around a bite. “Messy, though.”

“I can help with that,” you offer. You raise his hand to your mouth, licking the melted chocolate and marshmallow goo off his fingers. “After all, we both know you don’t like to get your hands dirty.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. He swallows audibly. “You know, I take it back. Maybe camping isn’t so bad after all.”

You stand up and tug him to his feet, leading him to the tent. Inside, Grizzer has completely claimed one entire bedroll for herself.

“I guess we’ll have to share,” you say, already planning what kind of treat to give the massiff as a thank-you.

“Oh, no, anything but that,” Hound murmurs as he draws you close to him, running his hands down your back to squeeze your ass. “You know, with the lights on in the tent, I could see everything when you were changing.”

“Everything?” you ask, tipping your head back to gaze up into his beautiful amber eyes.

“Well, maybe not everything,” he admits. He slips a hand inside your hoodie to caress the bare skin of your back.

“Maybe we should turn them off so we don’t scandalize all those wild animals you’re so worried about,” you tease.

“Let them watch,” he says, pulling you into a searing kiss.

Your tongue brushes against his softly. He tastes like sugar and chocolate, and you melt into him. Your hands roam over his body, sliding the jacket down his arms, tugging at his belt. You silently thank the Force that he’s wearing civvies instead of his armor. Once you’ve gotten his trousers off, you both sink to your knees onto the bedroll so you can take his shirt off without hitting the low ceiling of the tent.

You press him backward until he’s lying down, and you move to straddle him. You’re still wearing your shorts and hoodie, and something about being fully clothed while sitting astride the very naked, very aroused man is intoxicating. You trail your hands over his smooth, brown skin, tracing his tattoos and massaging the hard muscles of his torso. He raises a hand to cup your face, and you kiss the gnarled, twisting scar on his forearm—a memento of a training accident with a young massiff. You roll your hips against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing against you through your shorts. He slides his hands up under your hoodie, cupping your breasts before lifting the garment off over your head. The air is chilly, and your nipples stiffen instantly.

“Oh, fuck, look at those perfect tits,” he groans. “Come here, babygirl. Let me taste you.”

You lean forward, and he captures one of your nipples in his mouth. Jolts of arousal flash through you. His large, rough hands are warm against your back, and you can’t hold back a moan of pleasure.

Grizzer huffs an annoyed snort, and without looking at the massiff, Hound commands, “Grizzer, stand guard.”

She stands with a grumble and pushes out of the tent. You hear the heavy thump as she sits down outside the opening.

“Are you telling me you could have gotten that bedroll back this whole time?” you demand with mock severity.

“Where would have been the fun in that?” Hound asks with a smug grin. “Darlin’, you look hot as kriff in those shorts, but I think it’s time to take them off.”

He holds you against his body and flips both of you over in one smooth motion so you’re lying on your back. You let out a whoop of laughter at the unexpected movement.

“Shh, you don’t want the wolf-cats to hear you and come eat us,” he teases, nipping playfully at your skin as he kisses his way down your torso.

“That’s true,” you say. “I’d rather get eaten by a Hound.”

You raise your hips, and he tugs down your shorts, then lifts your legs in the air to remove them. Before you can lie back down, he kneels and drapes your thighs over his shoulders.

“Nice trick,” you say. “Is that the kind of quick thinking that got you into ARF training?”

“They only accept the best,” he says as he lowers his face to your body.

He dips his tongue into you, sliding over your clit and into your entrance without hesitation. You arch off the bedroll with a cry, and he lays a reassuring hand on your abdomen, pressing you back down as he feasts on you. With his other hand, he strokes up and down your thigh, finally coming to rest against your ass as he grazes his thumb over your pussy.

“Oh, fuck, Hound, don’t stop,” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he asks, pulling away. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t think the wolf-cats heard you.”

“Kriff you, Hound, shut up and eat my pussy,” you laugh, tangling your hands in his long black curls and shoving his head back down.

He chuckles against your clit and gets back to work. Between his clever tongue and his skilled fingers, he soon has you writhing and begging beneath him, and then he does something impossibly wonderful inside you, and you shatter with a hoarse moan, squeezing your thighs around his head as you grind against his mouth.

And then he is on you, sliding into your tight heat. He fucks you without mercy, wringing a second orgasm out of you almost before you finish your first. You hold on for dear life as he pounds into you, growling words of praise and filth into your ear.

“Look at you, beautiful girl, taking my cock like a champ. Love the way you wrap those soft, perfect thighs around me, oh fuck, sweetheart. So warm, so fucking wet. Come on, baby, think you’ve got one more in you?”

You nod weakly and let out an incoherent sound, unable to form words. He reaches down to rub your clit, pressing against your lower belly. Faster than you think possible, you feel your body winding in on itself again.

“That’s my girl, my pretty girl. Fuck yeah, baby, come on—kark, you feel amazing, oh shit,” he pants. “Give me one more, honey, before I fill your sweet little pussy up with my cum. One more for your grumpy daddy, come on love.”

“YES!” you scream as the tension in your body snaps again and you convulse around his cock, bucking up against him over and over until your head is empty and your body is swamped with bliss.

He follows you into his own orgasm, thrusting hard as he empties deep inside you and collapses onto you, breathing hard.

“Fuck, baby,” he says. “You’re incredible.”

You lie that way for a long time, tangled together, until he raises himself off of you to lie on his side as he plays with your hair. You turn to face him.

“Daddy?” you ask with a tiny smile.

He shrugs. “It felt right in the moment. Did it bother you?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Just filing it away for future reference.”

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead, and within moments, you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The soft light of an early summer morning filters through the canvas of the tent. You awaken slowly, feeling deliciously warm and safe. As you drift towards consciousness, you feel weight pressing against you from both sides, and you realize that at some point during the night, Grizzer has joined you and Hound on your bedroll, sandwiching you between her and the trooper. You are wrapped securely in Hound's strong arms, your legs tangled between his, and his fingers are interlaced with yours. You hear the melodic chirpings of avian-song outside the tent, and you snuggle closer to Hound, feeling his warm, even breaths against your shoulder, and lower, something suspiciously hard nudges against your thigh.

It may not be the romantic getaway you had planned, but this may be your favorite holiday ever.

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Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @imarvelatthestars

#1000 words of smut #dystopicjumpsuit writes #star wars tcw #hound x reader #hound x you #sergeant hound x reader #sergeant hound x you #sergeant hound #clone trooper hound #dj's fic migration

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

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RWBY Recaps: "Rude, Red, and Royal"

Hello, everyone! Thank you all for your patience in waiting for this <3.

Time’s ‘a wastin’, so let’s dive right in. We open on the girls being escorted by the royal guards up to the palace which, as I said in my last recap, is in no way dependent on Ruby giving up Penny’s sword. They could have simply been ‘captured’ for the crime of denying His Highness a new birthday present and then, as Ruby does in a few minutes, weasel out a game by asking to cheer him up in recompense. The sword is superfluous to the plot, it doesn’t track that it exists in the Ever After, is only shakily compelling in its emotional impact on Ruby and, very soon, will literally be discarded. Though we had some genuinely good emotion last episode, what this could have been - should have been - is still far out of reach.

So they’re marching along and we get a shot of the palace as well as the... pieces? Monuments? Decorations? Embedded in the earth around them. I like the subtle nod towards a potential battle having taken place and the red stains against the white look - whether intentionally or not - like blood. It begs the question of what exactly occurred when Alyx visited.

Yang: “Are we sure we should do this?”

Ruby: “Well, the Red King helped Alyx”

Weiss: “We’re not Alyx”

Real talk: I'm sick of team conversations consisting of the girls vaguely disagreeing with Ruby and then immediately bowing to her whim. This is, structurally, the same exchange we got in Volume 7 when Ruby decided to lie to Ironwood. Yang and Oscar go, ‘I'm not really happy with this :/’ Ruby reiterates her position, and then that’s it, everyone drops the subject. Why? Because Ruby is their leader? That doesn’t hold water anymore since Volume 8 gave us a Yang who’s upset with Ruby’s decisions and actively challenges her role as leader... at least until she’s suddenly, randomly worried about Blake instead. Now, we’re back to where we were in Volume 7 with Yang (and the others) only making token disagreements for Ruby to ignore. Why is everyone moving backwards in this show?

Never-mind that I actually agree with Ruby here. The girls have been shown plenty of evidence that they’re broadly repeating Alyx’s story, the fairy tale next depicts a King helping human girls lost in this world, and Weiss already tried - and failed - to just bypass all that and walk her way to the tree. Plus, it’s not like any of these guards pose a threat to the girls. You’re telling me they can beat the Ace Ops immediately after a major grimm battle, but we’re simultaneously supposed to believe that a bunch of foolish goons made of wood could take them out? So I legitimately don’t understand what Weiss and Yang’s hesitation is when all signs point to needing to do this, those signs imply a good outcome, they’ve failed to do anything else, and they are not - for them - in any real danger.

It honestly feels like RT is continually tossing in ‘disagreements’ so that they can claim the team still has diverse and rich relationships, but that only works if you ignore the realities of the situation and the fact that nothing ever comes of this division.

As they make their way the camera shows a bright blue butterfly following them. Given that this isn’t the last time we’ll see them, I can’t help but assume that the butterfly is another character (Alyx? Lewis?), or else is foreshadowing for someone with an association with butterflies. You know, like how we saw a crow a bunch of times when Qrow first showed up to fight Winter. Originally, I thought the butterfly was our Cat, but then the Cat just chases butterflies and tends to disappear rather than transform... so idk. We’ll see.

They arrive at the entrance to the palace and the guards start a big ta-do for His Majesty’s arrival. I'm not sure why the girls are freaking out? They’re supposedly oh so knowledgeable about fairy tales, this one in particular, they're going to see the King, but they don't realize that this is how the King is introduced? I can only assume this is an excuse to give us more absurd Weiss animations.

His Majesty arrives and, to the girls’ shock, he’s definitely not a King. He’s the Red Prince and the best thing I can say about him is that I really like the sound design. As a puppet, he clinks with every step and that consistency helps sell that this isn’t a human child. Other than that though?

Oh my god he’s annoying. Like, he’s obviously supposed to be, but he’s annoying to the point where he’s not enjoyable to watch. I saw someone else compare him to Cordovin - an antagonist whose position and beliefs are immediately undermined because the narrative doesn't treat them seriously - but at least Cordovin was capable of holding a conversation without shrieking. Also, note that once again the girls’ conflict boils down to a joke. Why present them with a legitimately intimidating Prince they have to outwit when you can just give them a temper-tantruming child for the audience to laugh at, complete with snot bubbles?

The Prince doesn’t take kindly to them thinking he’s the King. “Well, I never! Coming to someone’s castle without even know who they are - and on my birthday!”

Eh, he’s kinda got a point lol.

As the Prince goes through his repertoire of screaming and jumping around, one of the guards angrily points out that “if it hadn’t been for your kind the King would still be here!” and everyone quickly shushes him.

Okay wait, so the girls are clearly recognizable as human then, right? I ask because that’s going to come as a huge shock to the Prince later in the episode, but here it’s treated as an obvious fact. How dare you be questioning the King’s disappearance when “your kind” are the ones who did away with him in the first place. So what are we supposed to take away from this? That this one guard is the only one to realize what the girls are and none of his buddies pick up on what he’s implied because they’re too busy keeping talk of the King quiet? That all these very obedient, desperate-to-please guards realize the girls are human and didn’t bother mentioning that to their Prince?

That RT forgot this was supposed to be a Big Secret until the end of the episode and gave us a minor plot hole?

Regardless, Ruby curtseys to introduce herself and it’s cute enough to distract me. That's a nice shot.

The Prince continues to be annoying, to the point where I want to fast-forward through this scene, and Weiss whispers to Blake: “Ew. Did I use to be this unbearably pompous?” Weiss, I wish you were still unbearably pompous instead of unbearably ridiculous. Give me the Ice Queen over this goofy idiot any day. Still, I’m glad that she’s at least acknowledging her bad attitude from years ago, especially to Blake. It’s something... but not much. Again, this is primarily functioning as a moment of humor for the audience. We’re supposed to laugh at the Prince’s antics and Weiss’ unfounded worry - she was never that bad! Plus, the story doesn’t provide the time for an actual conversation. Like, say, Blake responding that no, you weren’t this annoying... you were just horrifically racist, which is worse.

I want everyone to remember that Weiss lost her inheritance and then deliberately escaped her abusive father. She returned to her Kingdom and was active in its destruction, leaving her without a home, without a title, and (to my ever-lasting frustration), no idea what happened to her own former ‘King,’ Jacques. She’s a princess without a throne, without a Kingdom, having spent years struggling with whether she’ll try to lead from that position of power and if so, how. What does it mean to rehabilitate the Schnee name? How does being a huntress and rejecting the 'crown' offered by her father (AKA being head of the company) accomplish that? Now she comes face-to-face with another entitled, bratty ruler who, on some level reminds her of her younger self...

... and we get a single, joke-y line about it.

If this Volume is meant to develop the characters, then actually let them develop. Next episode the girls will go through a literal seconds-long 'journey' that makes me go, "What was the point?" Each of these areas should have something that clearly ties into one of the girls' lifelong goals, acting as a sub-plot to Ruby's Volume-long depression. Visiting a palace with an annoying, abusive Prince is the PERFECT opportunity to let Weiss reflect on her own choices. Yet RWBY, as expected, has squandered it for more humor.

The guards take credit for finding Penny’s sword, despite Weiss’ protest, and present it to the eager, greedy Prince. However, he immediately kicks it away into the hedges because it’s green, not red.

Okay, two things. One, as mentioned at the start of the recap I think this is a terrible way to (presumably) end Ruby’s journey with the sword - with the reminder that her 'journey' happened at the tail end of last episode and into the first five minutes of this one. To reiterate: what was the point of any of that? To show us that Ruby is sad about Penny? Yeah, we know that already. It’s bad enough that the story is trying to give her a grieving arc that should have happened at the end of Volume 3, but the best the story can do is tossing in a sword that shouldn't exist anymore, have Ruby immediately give it up to her enemies, and then leave it behind in the hedges somewhere, forever lost? I’m not saying the sword won’t show back up - I obviously have no idea what will occur throughout the rest of this Volume - but for now that’s a real bummer of an ending. Ruby runs to try and grab the sword and the guards block her way, so all she does is whisper, “How could you?” I don’t know, Ruby, maybe he did that because he’s a bratty, literal toy who has no idea why that hunk of aura is emotionally significant to you? The audience knows though, so how about you use that semblance of yours to fly around the guards and grab the sword? Or stay behind to snag it? Or endanger everyone by refusing to leave the palace grounds until you’ve found it because fuck everything that's a part of your friend!! Give us something to show that this last piece of Penny means something to you and that you’re willing to fight for it.

I mean, if I had lost a dear friend - twice! - and their weapon was the last reminder I had of them, and the only tether I currently had to my home, and the only means by which I had to defend myself with my scythe missing, I’d try a little harder to hold onto it. RIP to Ruby but I’m built different.

I actually really like that the Prince kicked the sword away because yeah, why would he want something green? And as established, he's a brat. But Ruby failed to do anything with that action and that remains oh so disappointing.

Also, second, why isn’t Ruby’s presence helping their cause? After all, Ruby is Little RED Riding Hood. The Prince might be mad that the sword is green, but shouldn’t he be pleased that one of the girls delivering it is dressed all in red? Take a look at this shot and how perfectly Ruby fits into the aesthetic of his Kingdom:

I kept expecting Ruby’s polite attitude and her overall look to be their key into securing a game. Or, more interestingly, for the Prince to decide that she will be his present instead: the sweet, young, ruby red girl who can play games with him forever and ever (maybe even with a Ruby who'd be tempted to stay because yes, that would be so much simpler...). Yet her coloring - a staple of RWBY's advertising, an in-world symbol of peace - has no influence whatsoever. It’s moments like that really undermine the arguments that such-and-such had to happen because this is the character’s inspiration. It clearly doesn’t have an impact the other 99% of the time, so why is that suddenly relevant? These girls are in a fairy tale, yet their own fairy tales have no bearing on how they navigate it.

For the crime of trying to present him with a green present, the two guards are taken out into the hedges and beheaded by their fellow soldiers. Now, at this point in the story it's unclear whether they've been killed (because they're clearly sentient beings), or if they're just, uh... disabled? (Because they're wooden toys that can probably lose their heads without actually dying.) Though now that I've written it like that, Option #2 doesn't sound much better, especially in a story that's supposedly exploring disability through one of our main characters. Regardless, the point is that even though the second half of our episode will clarify the guards' fate a bit - more on that later - for now the girls have a reaction like they've been killed. Or at least, they recognize that something truly awful has occurred.

So my question is this: why aren't they doing anything about it? Look, I realize that's a loaded question in the fandom given how often people want to run to the girls' defense - they're too tired, it's too dangerous, you can't possibly expect them to fix the whole world, etc. - but the fact remains that we are watching a story about heroes. So how can they just stand by and watch that happen? Or at least, given that they may not have been able to stop it, why aren't they trying to do something after the fact? Try to make a change? Ruby is grappling with the death of a friend and her own feelings of inadequacy. Weiss is, supposedly, worried about her own position as the heir to an abusive hierarchy. Yet neither of them is interested in doing something about the Prince, only playing nice so that he will help get them home. Is that the standard now? Our heroes will ignore the injustices they come across provided that this ignorance benefits them? That sounds a whole lot like Ironwood overlooking Mantle for his own greater good, something the girls went, 'We condemn wholeheartedly!' about. Toss in the fact that both Weiss and Yang just admitted that they didn't want to ask the Prince for help and you've got a recipe for them working to leave the Ever After in a better place than they arrived, rather than just playing by the harmful rules of Alyx's story in order to get what they want/need.

Yes, you can make that 'greater good' claim given that they're trying to get back to fight Salem (and I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't weigh that given my own understanding of Ironwood's actions), but then at the very least give us a conversation where the girls debate the merits of risking a later/nonexistent return to help this world vs. ignoring injustice to help theirs. As it stands, I'm continually underwhelmed - if not outright appalled - by how the girls are depicted. What have they done since Volume 5 to actually help people? The most we've gotten is them trying to clean up messes they'd already made. Toss in the fact that there's no sense of urgency for them to get home - they're just meandering along, taking it slow, dodging the question of what they'll do about Salem when they get there, having cute romance moments on the side - and I simply can't buy that they're ignoring helping others out of a greater good necessity.

'Huntresses are heroes who help people who can't help themselves!' Blake will declare next episode and I'm like, okay, agreed... but when was the last time you helped someone? Was it when you ignored the Prince's horrible domain? Sat drinking tea while Atlas was besieged by grimm? Started a fight until you drew a Leviathan to an unsuspecting city? You've gotta put your actions behind those words, Blake.

And yeah, I get it. This is a small moment. It, like the vast majority of this Volume so far, is not meant to 100% be taken seriously. There's implied humor in the way the guards dig their nails into the path and beg for the Prince to reconsider. But at the end of the day, the story has given us a group of girls who, for the most part, already hate this Prince, watch him 'kill' two subjects due to a subpar birthday present, have a teammate who wants to be better than the caricature in front of her, and then... they do nothing with this.

Hey, if Yang is going to be angry all the time, how about she be angry about this? Where's the fire they had back during the Mountain Glenn arc to fix the broken pieces of the world and help those who were most vulnerable? Where's the realization that this is a job and what they want - or even need - will always have to come second to the people they exist to protect?

Given some of the nice beats last episode, I was really hoping that I'd have more to praise in this one.

So Ruby watches this guy kick Penny's precious sword away and 'kill' two subjects. How does she react to that? By politely asking if they can cheer him up, of course. As said, I think Ruby is right that following in Alyx's footsteps is the best chance they've got of getting out of here (according to the information they currently have), but the writing really should have bypassed Yang and Weiss disagreeing if they wanted readers to ignore the moral implications of this. I mean, the Prince outright responds that "Beheading people does cheer me up" and Ruby's got this expression going as she suggests they play a game:

We once again see the blue butterfly as it travels down through a tall tower of horns, straight into the chamber where the Prince's game is held. Oh, and we saw it before when the guard is distracted by it flying by and forgets to wish the Prince a happy birthday.

The Prince asks what Ruby will demand of him if she manages to win his game. "There's always a catch," he says. Actually, that's not true. Later the Prince will say, "If you win I will help you with what you ask," but initially his question is, "What exactly do you desire from me in exchange for playing my game?" As someone who loves fairy tales and constantly hopes RWBY is going to be more smartly written than it actually is, I jumped on that with an, "Ah ha! Rookie move, Prince! It doesn't matter now if you cheat to win the game, your original offer was to gift the girls something simply for playing, regardless of who comes out on top." Of course, RT didn't realize they'd written that loophole, this isn't even a cool world where loopholes matter, so absolutely nothing comes of this.

Still playing at the polite little subject, Ruby curtsey's again and tries a compliment: "Your Majesty, you are as wise as you are..." and then she stumbles, unsure of how to praise someone who's such an asshole. Little comes to the rescue - sort of - by whispering in Ruby's ear. She blurts "small" before she can think better of it.

To everyone's shock it goes over well with the Prince. I'm unsure if this is meant to imply that Little actually knew what the Prince would like to hear, or if they just chose a descriptor they were familiar with and ran with it. The latter seems a lot more likely to me, given the ongoing joke that Little is far less useful than they continually claim they are and the fact that, by their own admission, they’re an incredibly young mouse who has never traveled past their own acre. How in the world would they know about royal customs?

Now in a better mood, the Prince agrees to take the girls to the tree if they win the game (not merely play with him). Ruby settles in and asks how they play, which sets off over-the-top laughter from the Prince and guards alike. I suppose this is just supposed to be off-putting or something? There’s no comment along the lines of, “You don’t know how to play [insert fantasy game here]? Everyone knows it! I play it with every subject who passes my way!” The Prince just starts explaining the rules, easy as you please. I can only chalk this moment up to the writers trying to get a, “They’re so weird and vaguely scary” reaction from the audience.

The actual rules are, frankly, unimportant. To the story, I mean. They have absolutely no bearing on who wins. Not just because the Prince is cheating from the get-go, but because the function of the game is to send all your pieces forward during the same turn and whichever piece wins their battle against the opposing side get to stay there. You could finish the game in two turns, tops--which is precisely what happens. Fool that I was, I had hoped that RT would put more thought into the game-battle that takes up the majority of the episode. You know, maybe hampering the girls’ combat abilities through a set of difficult rules they’re forced to follow, necessitating that Ruby step up as the team’s strategist for the first time in years and find a way to win through means other than brute force, even if the end result is still a technical loss due to cheating. I thought this might amount to something other than throwing 3/4ths of the team onto a battlefield with weak goons and letting them go to town, the trappings of rules and a game board and a puppet(tier) existing as more than just a distracting backdrop. Functionally, this is no different from the Prince angrily sending all his guards against Team RWBY, hoping to behead them for the crime of bringing him a green birthday present. We could have gotten this exact battle outside of the game, which makes the game itself superfluous. Which, you know, sucks when the girls are traversing a Wonderland-esque world where their ignorance should be their biggest weakness. But it turns out they’ve always been familiar with this fairy tale, Blake’s worry that they’re repeating Alxy’s mistakes is dismissed, and the girls don’t actually have to play the games they’re forced into. They can just punch things!

Am I glad that we actually got some combat in the combat show this week? Absolutely. However, this has been one of the problems with Ever After from the start: designing a world governed by fairy tale logic, knowledge of stories, nonsense rules, contradictions... and then dropping a group of protagonists there who, as Yang herself says, would prefer to just solve everything with a punch. Suddenly, a core expectation of the series - that the girls will fight stuff - undermines the expectations of this specific Volume, made worse by the post-Volume 3 message that the war they fight isn’t winnable by brute force, yet, six years in, that’s all the girls have tried. As I believe I mentioned elsewhere, I think there’s a simple solution here in divvying up those expectations: force the girls to solve Ever After problems with Ever After tools, let them fight the Jabberwalker and Neo, and let them finally start the conversation about what they can do with Salem other than fight her head on... but unfortunately, none of this has occurred. Blake will later shut down Ruby’s Salem thoughts before they can begin, there’s no adherence to what Ever After is asking of them, and the girls won’t encounter the Jabberwalker again for another two episodes.

So we’re left with... this. Yang, Blake, and Weiss getting shrunk down when, narratively, that’s entirely unnecessary and the journey to get them unshrunk will take a fifth of the Volume’s entire runtime. I know we’ve already acknowledged that this Volume is filler, but given how much important stuff actually resides within that filler - discussing what happened in Volume 8, figuring out Salem, helping Ruby recover, mourning Penny, finding Crescent Rose, finding Jaune, dealing with Neo, etc. - it seems like a waste to be taking these detours when they’re so thematically unsatisfactory. Obviously in a story it’s about the journey, not the destination... but if the journey is badly written, how about we at least stop wandering from the main path so often?

Alright, enough of all that. I will say that I’m was quite pleased when the Prince revealed his ability to shrink the girls, displaying some pretty formidable magic. My first thought during the beheading scene was why the guards were obeying the Prince when, to all appearances at the time, he was just a bratty child with no way of enforcing his authority. I was afraid that this was just a case of, “They’re loyal because they’re guards and that’s just the way things are!” or that RT really hadn’t given this any thought; why hundreds of men-like beings with weapons were obeying a vulnerable child when, clearly, that wasn’t working out so well for them. Here though we see that the Prince is not vulnerable, he’s quite powerful, and that really helps to sell the fear we see permeating his Kingdom.

Ruby is obviously concerned when her teammates are shrunk down to Little’s size, but honestly I can’t take her, “No one’s going to get hurt... right?” very seriously. Ruby is WAY past this kind of naive innocence. Girl, your friends are positioned alongside a bunch of beat-up warriors, facing a Prince who just beheaded two of his subjects. What do you think is going to happen here? More importantly, why are you worried? I’ve seen a couple of fans praise this moment because it highlights Ruby’s perspective post-Penny’s death: none of her friends are safe, anyone could die at any moment, etc. But Penny was facing off against a freaking Maiden, not a bunch of itty-bitty chess pieces with toothpick swords. (Here I point out their relative size because even if they’re now equal to WBY, Ruby is still large and could just flatten them all with one good stomp.) The point is that I’m continually unconvinced by this “So horror, much danger” characterization of the Ever After when we’ve spent the last three Volumes emphasizing how powerful, brilliant, strategic, and all-around perfect the girls supposedly are. We’re really supposed to believe that these literal pawns are worrisome to Ruby after they’ve faced down the likes of the Hound, the Ace Ops, Ironwood, Neo, Cinder, and their like? Imagine if Ruby saw a couple of Beowulfs 2/3rds of her team was about to fight, which to her were the size of mice, and she was all, “You won’t get hurt, right?” Ruby, those are literal MONSTERS out to EAT them, but that doesn’t matter because you’ve been taking out this kind of monster fodder since you were TWELVE. The show continually has it backwards, making the characters smug against legitimately powerful enemies and biting their nails over stuff they could squash in their sleep.

Which, you know, is precisely what happens. The girls have absolutely no difficulty taking out the chess pieces, further undermining Ruby’s worry.

Before that though she asks - very politely - for one of the pawns to move ahead a space, facing down the bigger, badder, meaner looking piece across from him. At first it looks like they’re pretty well-matched, but with a pointed look from the Prince, Ruby’s piece pretends to succumb to his wounds, collapsing until a magical stretcher appears to carry him away. He kicks back with a yawn, happy to be off the battlefield and, presumably, off His Majesty’s shit list.

Three other pieces meet the same end until Ruby gets to Weiss.

Ruby: “Weiss, do you think you could take that space?”

Weiss: “Have some faith!”

Again, I feel like the Volume is going for a total decimation of Ruby’s confidence, to the point where she’s entirely disengaged from reality (AKA, obviously Weiss can take out these talent-less pieces). Ruby can no longer summon up enough hope to fill a jar, she’s oh so worried that her elite team will fall to these grunts... but she’s also constantly telling people that yeah, they can handle this, and of course they’ll get back, and look now she’s acting like she always does with smiles and jokes - a part of the endless gags. There’s also no relief when Weiss does win her fight. I think Ruby’s smile is super cute there

but it doesn’t piggyback off of that worry at all. There’s no sigh and maybe a comment whispered to bring herself back to reality, “Come on, Ruby, of course Weiss was gonna win” - something to alert the viewer that Ruby is actually struggling with this kind of irrational anxiety and attempting to fight against it. As it stands, we keep seeing Ruby’s depression introduced and then it slips away again, unacknowledged until it randomly pops back up. “Have some faith!” Weiss says, which is clearly a callback to Ruby’s lack of it last episode, but nothing that happens either confirms or denies Ruby’s struggle. That shot of her smiling, while adorable, could have been taken from any moment where Weiss is being a badass. It’s entirely disconnected from the extreme of, “Omg can a full-fledged Huntress take out a toy in a fight what if another one of my teammates DIE?” Ruby has two completely separate personalities going this Volume and they don’t mesh at all.

The pawns are also super impressed with Weiss’ victory, same with Yang’s, and that feels... wrong to me? I mean, I’ve got nothing against a team that’s been beaten for who knows how long re-discovering faith (like Ruby) and rising to the occasion. (C'mon. I’m a Ted Lasso fan. I eat that shit up.) However, that’s not the conflict here. The conflict the white pieces are facing is not that they think they can’t win, it’s that they’re being told they can’t win. By the Prince. That was the entire point of the Look™ the white piece bowed to: Either you pretend to fall and deliberately lose this game, or I’ll ensure you suffer something so much worse.

Why then would the pieces suddenly rise to the occasion and try to help Team RWBY win? What have the girls done that convinces them to go against the Prince, risking who knows what - beheading, probably - in the process? Now, if I were writing Volume 9 I’d have had the girls trying and failing to save the guards, or at least arguing forcefully about whether they can risk losing a route to the tree in order to help others. Then, during the game, let Ruby realize not only that her pieces are deliberately losing, but that they’re doing so out of fear. Weiss and Yang’s success can be used as a rallying cry and a promise of safety. You help us win this game, securing our necessary prize, and we’ll use our incredible power to protect you from the Prince. The game dissolves into an actual battle, Team RWBY wins, the Cat arrives with an escape route, Ruby gathers up all the pieces using her semblance, and she sets them free once they escape the castle. Maybe they return at the end of the Volume to help in some final battle.

The point of this is not to do an actual re-write in 30 seconds, but rather to acknowledge that there’s no development here. We know the pieces’ initial motivation, but not what makes them change their minds. Really, this micro plot is representative of the entire show, with characters just suddenly doing things that make the audience go, “Wait, what? Where did that come from?”

“Hey, hey, what about us?” The white chess pieces cry, suddenly eager to try and beat the Prince. “What do you want us to do?” This question shouldn’t even be on the table because you all are clearly terrified of what will happen if you fight for real and Team RWBY has done nothing to persuade you to their side. Indeed, once it’s revealed that the girls are human the red and white pieces start attacking them, the entire board eager to defend their Prince. This feels like a round robin Volume where every episode - every scene - has different characterizations.

As said though, Weiss, Blake, and Yang all take out their pieces easy-peasy and that produces some super cute interactions between the girls. My fluff-obsessed ass if kicking my feet and twirling my hair at those screenshots. At the time of this writing, I’m a couple episodes behind in Recaps (RIP I tried), which means that I’ve already experienced the less than stellar support Ruby receives in "The Parfait Predicament.” So I was pleased to return here and see strong moments of companionship - and romance. Yang works the crowd while Blake politely claps for her. In return, Yang cheers exuberantly while Blake blushes beet red. Putting aside that this is our bumblebee moment for the episode, I legitimately love that they’re supporting each other in this way, even during - perhaps especially during - such a comparatively easy fight. Combined with Weiss’ bow, it feels like they’re actually friends in this moment, playfully showing off for one another and providing unconditional support. This feels like old school RWBY, back when Ruby would cheer for Weiss during class, or Yang would bask in the Vacuo crowd. It was nice to see this dynamic again.

The Prince gets more and more frustrated as his pieces fall while simultaneously becoming suspicious of Ruby. Wanting to get to the tree is weird enough - especially to creatures who, as far as we’ve seen, never leave the safety of their own acres. Little who does not yet possess a purpose is the exception - so when Ruby reveals that they know someone who also used the tree to leave this world, the Prince really starts to lose it. He leaves the game table and... well...

Opinions about his character aside, are non-RWDE folks starting to see why we labeled Volume 8 Ironwood a “cartoon villain”? No, he doesn’t strike such an overblown pose like the Prince, but that kind of spotlight is (usually) used to showcase a drama worthy of ridicule - as we’re seeing here. RT obviously recognizes this, so the fact that Ironwood is given a similar spotlight to reveal his totally rational plan of bombing civilians heavily implies that the writers wanted him to look ridiculous; exaggerated to the point of dismissive humor. By the end of Volume 8 Ironwood was not a complex, fallen hero whose journey showcases RT’s writing chops, he was very close to another Prince: nonsensical, over-the-top, unworthy of respect not because of his actions, but because the environment is going out of its way to say, “Look how ridiculous this guy is.”

So in the grand scheme of RWBY the spotlight is a #choice. Within just this scene it’s fine, simply another way to show us how spoiled the Prince is and, potentially, that this world doesn’t follow the rules of Remnant (though it is harder to argue that the spotlight is real-real in a Volume making use of markers like sweatdrops, angry speech bubbles, etc.) The Prince finally asks the right question: “What type of creatures did you say you are again?”

Now, I get why some fans are upset with Ruby differentiating among humans, mice, and faunus. The line leaves a sour taste in my mouth too, if only because it severely undermines the allegory Blake represents in a Volume where she will (so far) compare herself to a literal cat three times. The point of giving the faunus animal traits and having others discriminate against them on the basis of that is to mirror the Civil Rights movement and, to a lesser extent, other minorities with visible differences. They’re all “human” in the sense of being bipedal primates with intelligence - emotional and logical - equal to others around them... they just happen to have an extra set of ears, or a tail, or the ability to change colors. It’s obvious why RT meant to equate that with the real life social issue of, “They’re human, they just happen to have dark skin,” or were born without a leg (disability), or can curl their tongue (a biological “talent” that not everyone shares). The point is that the faunus have been going, “We are your equals! We’re not a different, lesser species just because we have minor, biological and cultural differences!” the same way social justice movements have said the same about skin color. There’s such a variety within the definition of “humanity” as to make separate categories not just horrifically dangerous, but ultimately meaningless too.

However... RT doesn’t know how to write a racial allegory, which means that the faunus have been treated as a separate species from the get-go, in direct opposition to what their story is meant to represent. They’ve always been separated verbally like Ruby is doing now - “Humans and faunus” - and if you’ve engaged with RWBY’s supplemental content at all you’ll know that the faunus have a separate origin story, though one that does include humanity as a common ancestor.

It’s a mess of contradictions, but that means that Ruby canonically does have the wiggle room to make such statements. According to the rules of her world - generously helped along by being sci-fi fantasy - she is not in the wrong to describe Blake as a separate “creature” from the rest of her team... but that doesn’t erase the discomfort for the viewer as we go, ‘Wait? What happened to Blake being treated as an equal, not a literal animal and all that represents within her allegory?’

Of course, all this culminates in Ruby ignorantly admitting that the rest of them are human. I LOVE the first shot of the Cat’s eyes. They’re just like, ‘Oh, girl... you didn’t smh.’

Legit, there are so many fantastic shots this episode. The animators are working so hard, god bless.

As I mentioned earlier though, it’s weird to me that this moment is treated as a huge revelation for the Prince, especially since his entire guard seems to realize that they’re human from the get-go. Given what we learn later about Ascension, it makes sense that the Prince wouldn’t remember what humans look like, but none of his super loyal subjects were going to bring him up to date? Especially after what happened when Alyx visited?

So much of RWBY just feels unnecessarily contrived. Characters don’t react to the information they have, or work under their motivations, or remain consistent in their personalities. Things just #happen to move the plot along, regardless of how that sits within the story as a whole. At least it's all pretty this season.

But that’s hardly news to anyone reading this. Regardless, the revelation shocks the Prince and in his fury his face literally cracks down the middle. Frankly, I would have liked if this moment heralded a turn in the Prince’s attitude, moving from bratty and mostly harmless to terrifyingly cold... but that’s just me. I like characters that appear embarrassingly incompetent on the surface, only to reveal how dangerous they truly are when push comes to shove.

Weiss remembers that she can use her glyphs to steady herself - yay! - and a jazz-y soundtrack starts up that I really dig. All in all, I think this fight is solid. Nothing to write home about, but not a failure by any means, either. Though I fully expect the combat to get backloaded to the end of the Volume, it is notable that this is our only true battle so far. There’s a brief skirmish against the Jabberwalker in “The Parfait Predicament,” but to my mind it’s so short and easily won as to not really “count” - not in a combat-focused show, anyway. So this is the highlight battle of the first half of this Volume and though, as said, it’s by no means bad... it’s not exactly carrying the weight of those expectations either.

First, I stand by what I said earlier that it’s downright weird how Team RWBY treats these toys as a legitimate threat, especially after they just demonstrated how easily they are to beat. And again, Ruby could say screw the rules and help out by flattening them with her comparatively giant size. Blake gets thrown into the side of the game board and Ruby acts like she’s been stabbed--“You’re going to hurt them!” Ruby... honey... they have aura. You literally slammed your friends against a wall for FUNSIES during a food fight. The show (and the fandom) has always been weirdly unclear about which attacks are emotionally significant and which are not. These little nobodies shoving Blake is cause for great concern, but everyone should shrug off Qrow punching Oscar because duh, any huntsmen can take a hit. (Never mind that he wasn’t a huntsmen.) Yang losing her arm is a multi-Volume tragedy, but Weiss nearly dying from a stab wound isn’t worth a second mention. I feel like every scene I’m trying to find my bearings again - is this supposed to be a moment when the girls are legitimately scared? Confidently smug in their skills? Why is there not an obvious difference between when we get one over the other?

I’m not buying into the stakes here, is my point, which means that Ruby’s moment of doubt really fails to land. Yeah, I get that she lacks hope right now and is likely working under a very warped perception of their strength post-Fall of Atlas, but why not have her briefly crumble against something that truly tests her, either in skills or via trauma: the Prince’s magic, the Jabberwalker, Neo? A mere three episodes into the Volume, against a collection of low level grunts, does not feel like the time to put Ruby in this state:

Plus, it doesn’t last. Volume 9 continually proves to be very good at introducing Ruby’s hopelessness, but not doing anything with it. What’s the point if, literal seconds after she’s given up, she rediscovers her faith - WITHOUT EXTERNAL HELP! - and yells that they’re going to “Kick their wooden butts!!” Ruby doesn’t lack the hope to fill a jar, her hope supply is just fluctuating radically, depending on when the show is sick of her being a downer. This doesn’t feel like Ruby on an arc, it feels like Ruby continually edging into one and them immediately getting yanked backwards.

That aside, there are definitely some high points to the fight. It has a good flow to it, especially in the second half. It makes complete sense that the whole board would turn against the girls once they learn that they’re human, red teaming up with white, and I suppose that helps sell the danger a little more. I enjoyed how happy Yang was at the start, using Blake’s ribbon to plough through the crowd like one of the old-school team fights, even if she’s unexpectedly angry just a second later.

I’ve come across a lot of criticism of Weiss’ wing shot and... yeah, I can see where that’s coming from. It’s in pretty bad taste to keep giving the racist billionaire’s daughter angel imagery, especially during a Volume when she’s supposedly grappling with the guilt of destroying a Kingdom. RWBY has never been any good at picking up on the implications of its “cool” style. That being said, it is an awesome shot and I love the Yang was able to make use of the Knight’s sword. I mean, it would have been even cooler if we had scenes devoted to the girls’ training/character development and they’d discovered that this was even possible before enacting it with full confidence during a fight... but again, still cool. It’s another nice not provided you don’t think about it too much.

Also, I had to laugh at that epic image transitioning to Ruby, showing us just how tiny Yang actually is...

Yeah, that undermines the awesomeness a bit lol.

We’re given the shot from our trailer as the Prince looses his temper and does what I wanted Ruby to do the moment she was supposedly frantic over the safety of her team: upset the game board. Blake, Weiss, and Yang are thrown across the room and Ruby activates her semblance, catching them right before they go over the ledge.

...

.......

OH, SO YOU CAN INSTANTLY KICK-START THAT ABILITY AND SNAG SOMEONE MOMENTS BEFORE THEY PLUNGE TO THEIR DEATH. FUNNY, THAT.

Okay, obviously there are differences between Yang’s fall and this one, including that a) Little helps Ruby out and b) on the bridge Ruby would have been trying to snag a fully grown woman. But I’m not here to debate the details. I’m not here to quibble over whether Ruby would have been able to save Yang. I only care that she (and the others) didn’t try. The fandom has bent over backwards to explain that moment, how all these fighters with various forms of flight and well-honed instincts just stood there, leaving only Blake to make the attempt. Fans are so desperate to praise RWBY that they’re consistently overlooking the simple explanation of bad writing: RT made the characters stupid so that Yang could “die” and there could be a bees moment as a result. That’s it. Now that there’s nothing attached to the outcome, Ruby is free to remember that she has super-speed and grabs her friends like she always should have.

Man, what a detail to include just a few episodes later...

The Curious Cat finally reveals themselves, distracting the Prince with some ambiguously authentic sympathy. It’s just so sad that he’s failing to do “the one thing you were put on this acre to do.” AKA, win games. They warn the Prince that beheading Team RWBY would be a far more permanent consequence than taking the heads of his soldiers - implying that the guards are “fine” but, again, Team RWBY couldn’t have known that when they were being “killed” - and they slip a little bit of themselves into the Prince’s chest, helping him to calm down.

The Prince dissolves into crying instead of screaming and... weeps jeweled tears? I don’t understand how that fits his aesthetic - what does that have to do with being a wooden toy? - but far more importantly, Yukina did it better:

Ruby takes the Cat’s advice and high-tails it out of there, getting chased by the guards all the while. The castle is a bit labyrinth-like, so she has no choice but to trust the Cat’s directions - which turn out to be sound. That’s potentially an important thing to keep in mind as the Volume continues and we learn more about the Cat’s personality and motivations.

“I don’t know how that went so wrong,” Ruby says when they finally have a moment to breathe. Really? You met a temper-tanruming toy that beheaded his guards and threw Penny’s sword away without a second thought, but you’re surprised that he wasn’t eager to help you after you beat him at this own game? I get that they’re going for a ‘Ruby is vulnerable and tentative in her depression’ vibe, but these moments read so strangely after her hubris of Volumes 6-8, to say nothing of her experience in the wider, morally gray world. Ruby doesn’t trust established allies, but is surprised when an asshole who owes her nothing doesn’t come through? Consistency, consistency, my kingdom for some consistency.

I do like that Ruby thanks the Cat for their assistance though. This episode is the most polite we’ve seen Ruby in years, even if part of it is a manipulation tactic to get on the Prince’s good side, and honestly I’m digging it. This feels like a kindhearted huntress who understands the importance of unifying to succeed. Not, you know, the Ruby we saw with Cordovin, Qrow, Ozpin, Ironwood, and the Ace Ops.

As a minor point, I’d like to note that throughout this whole escape Little has been completely quiet about the Cat’s appearance. They were awake to help catch the girls and the Cat showed up just seconds later. They then flee through the castle and have a conversation in the hallways, yet not once does Little react to a Cat getting up in their face.

This is notable only because at the very end of the episode we’re going to get another, “Cat? What cat??” joke, because heaven forbid we let Ruby sit with their failure for a moment without interrupting it with a bit of humor that doesn’t even track.

Finally outside, the girls realize that getting a Prince instead of a King and his lack of help means that they’re not really following Alyx’s story. Weiss complains that they’re in the “stupid sequel” instead. Despite this revelation, the next thing Blake notes is that Alyx met the Curious Cat... so they should get their help!

So which is it? Are you following the story or not? I’ve got nothing against the girls still heading for the tree because that’s the only lead they’ve got, but we just established that an assumed ally is actually quite dangerous, so why would the Cat be any different? Again, not saying they shouldn't ask for their help given that the only other option is wandering aimlessly towards the tree (and that's if the world let's them go any farther), but maybe at least acknowledge the problem here?

I'd chalk it up to a "Wonderland-esque worlds are inherently contradictory" vibe if I actually thought RT was deliberately going for that.

We end this episode with the return of the Jabberwalker. It runs across an ~evil~ looking acre--kinda similar to Salem's continent, actually. Will we establish a historical tether between Remnant and Ever After?--and it leaves a trail of blood on a group of razor-sharp leaves, which is a cool detail. It comes across Neo, presumably having just arrived, cycling through various illusions in her fury. As the Jabberwalker closes in Neo's semblance...

*Sigh*

It evolves.

Look, outside of RWBY's larger context having Neo power up post-Fall of Atlas is a good choice. She's certainly at her lowest here, not just lost in a new world, but having just been betrayed by Cinder (again). Plus, it raises the stakes for when our heroes next meet her. No, my issue is that RWBY's semblance upgrades as a whole are fairly random and we've long lost the ability to distinguish a true evolution from incremental change due to growth. Harriet simply announced in Volume 7 that Ruby's semblance has hidden depths, but is splitting into three red blurs the upgrade? Is Nora handling that level of charge meant to be indicative of a change, or did she simply push herself to an already known limit? On the surface it seems obvious that an evolution is when the actual function of the semblance changes - Ren can now mask emotions and track them - but we've still got wrinkles like Weiss' semblance where, apparently, learning to summon instead of just producing glyphs isn't a distinct, evolved ability, it's just the standard end-goal. (And don't get me started on how she remains the only one with an inherited semblance, but no one seems interested in that.) Are we supposed to understand that Qrow's semblance changed on the airship when the bomb didn't drop? How do we measure Blake's abilities when she's stopped using them? I can't help but continually compare RWBY to other shows with power ups, ones where the characters have to work hard to unlock them, train anew to control them, deal with significant downsides that come with this power, or go through horrific emotional arcs in order to unlock them. RWBY- with the small exception of Neo for the last one- has none of this. Evolution simply happens, unprompted, the character can immediately use this new skill perfectly, and unfortunately it's rarely a strong reflection of their growth.

Ren can magically track his friend smack dab in the arc where he's supposedly being the worst friend ever? Right.

So Neo's semblance evolves, make of that what you will. Rather than simply changing herself or something she's touched with illusions, she can now create a large number of copies with (as we'll see later) their own morphing abilities. Wow, wow, wow, that's super op!!! I can't wait to see Neo fall to some generic Team RWBY attack.

I'm kidding. Actually I'm not, but I do hope I'm wrong 🤦‍♀️

For now though there's only the Jabberwalker in her way. Neo's clones close in as the Jabberwalker screams "No!" in true fear. Kudos to the voice acting there. This creature remains one of the few things I'm legitimately interested in this Volume.

And thus ends episode three! In lieu of flowers, please send prayers that I can eventually catch up on this project :3

#rwde #rwby #RWBY Recaps #mymetas

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totkdaily · 2 months

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Day 39: Attack on Hyrule

Spot is still on the hillside when I get back from hunting Misko's treasure, though the treasure hunter I left him with, Kaffi, isn't.

We head south, meet the road and cross the river at Owlin Bridge. Addison is trying to put up a sign on the other side, so I stop to give him a hand.

I follow the river south and then east towards the Dueling Peaks. I rescue Benny from being attacked by a bokoblin again. She says there might be a geoglyph here somewhere. I wonder…

I climb a rocky vantage point, and I see lines amongst the trees. I find the pool at the top of the hill.

A vision. I see...

The Demon King, before his transformation. He looks out on the Great Plateau. He commands the Gerudo - he has their red hair.

And he sends beasts thundering towards Hyrule - Molduga! Racing down the canyon.

Ancient Hylians stand on the wall of the Plateau. Rauru, Sonia - and Zelda, all with them.

They join their power and defeat the monsters.

The Demon King fixes his eyes on Sonia's secret stone. I know what he intends to do to gain it.

I ride on towards the Dueling Peaks, but I realise I can't cross the river with Spot, and I'm loathe to abandon him. I ride back to Riverside Stable and register him there.

Then I head back down the river on the other side, and cross further down. On the other side of the bridge, a member of the survey team - Lammz - says a chasm has opened in an outpost west of here.

I ride up the hill to reach the tower I've marked as being here somewhere, but it involves climbing, and right now I just want to head to Kakariko Village. I know the way. I don't need the map. I head back down to the road.

I find a memorial with a Silent Princess laid on it. "I dedicate this monument to the memory of the souls lost to the Calamity." Zelda put this here. I feel her gentle hand.

But I can't stay here. There's monsters everywhere. I ride on towards the Peaks.

I come across a giant piece of sky island debris - there's even a Steward here! Possibly guarding a shrine - they don't seem clear. "Give keys born of water to the three altars. The sacred shrine will appear."

I cannot tell what that would mean. I will have to return, once I've visited Kakariko Village.

#totkdaily #day 39 #totk #loz #zelda #legend of zelda

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youssefguedira · 1 year

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iron maiden joe prequel snippet for you all happy sunday (this takes place the morning immediately after nicky, andy and quynh find yusuf in the main fic)

At six twenty-five am – according to his watch, which runs two minutes slow, so it's probably more like six twenty-seven – Nicky gives up on the idea of trying to get more sleep. Yusuf has not stirred all night; or if he has, Nicky has not heard it. He's briefly worried about going too far, even though he knows, logically, there is no need for him to keep watch like this. But the kitchen is close enough to Yusuf's bedroom that Nicky will be able to hear it if he cries out, and if he is to get through today, he'll need something to eat, and probably coffee too. So it is with that in mind that he gets up and goes into the kitchen.

Nobody else is awake yet, and it is late enough in the year that the sun isn't quite up either, but the sky is beginning to grow light in anticipation of it. This safehouse is far enough from any other major settlement that the only sound outside is the wind, which hasn't let up all night, and the birds. Nicky turns the lights on and gets to work.

At seven thirty, Nile joins him in the kitchen. She doesn't ask how long he's been awake, and he doesn't volunteer the information. He offers her a cup of coffee, and she takes it, settling herself at the kitchen table.

At eight twenty-two, according to the clock above the kitchen counter, which is seemingly more reliable than Nicky's old watch, there are the first sounds of movement from Yusuf's bedroom. If Nile notices the way Nicky immediately looks up towards the sound, she doesn't say a word about it, nor does she give him the knowing look Andy or Quynh would have. There has been no sign of the two of them, yet.

To keep himself from straining to hear every single tiny sound coming from behind Yusuf's door, Nicky sets about making breakfast. There's not much in this safehouse – they'd come here in a rush after Copley had called – so he just makes oatmeal, adding sugar to Nile's and nothing to his own. Nile, normally, would make fun of him for this, but today she says nothing.

He reaches for the honey and cinnamon, setting it down on the counter next to the third bowl, but then pauses. He thinks that Yusuf has, or at least used to have, a sweet tooth to rival Andy's. He thinks that this is the way he would have made it a long time ago, when they had the luxury of being able to get the ingredients they needed. He thinks that he would not have thought twice before.

He does not remember any of this for certain. This is precious information that he has kept guarded in his memory for centuries, and yet at some point in the last four hundred and eighty two years, he has let it fade, and now he does not remember. He'd sworn to himself not to forget these things, small as they may be, out of desperate hope, and now he does not remember. It is such a tiny thing to forget. It feels like a monumental loss.

And who is he now to assume that things have not changed, when he knows that the man he'd found in that alleyway is not the same as the one they'd taken from him? How can anything be the same as it was, after so long? Nicky loves him still, so much he aches with it, but what if they are both too different, now? What if there is nothing left to repair?

He does not realise, until he goes to pass Nile her bowl, that his hands are trembling.

"Nicky," she says, but whatever would have followed is interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

Yusuf stands just in the doorway of the kitchen, not quite in, not quite out. This safehouse is not all that large; the distance between them is barely two meters, if that. It feels insurmountable.

"Are you-" Nicky begins and then reconsiders, clears his throat. "Will you eat something?" He'd barely eaten a thing at dinner last night, and Nicky is worried for him, though perhaps he'd just been too tired.

Yusuf doesn't say a word, just lingers there, lips slightly parted as if he'd wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. It does something funny to Nicky's brain, seeing him there in a hoodie and sweatpants that are just a little loose in the shoulders and thighs, a far cry from the clothes Nicky had last seen him in. His hair is shorter, too, though the cut isn't exactly neat. Nicky had done his best, but he'd gotten the sense Yusuf wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Finally, after an eternity, Yusuf nods, shuffling forwards to sit at the table. His shoulders are hunched underneath the grey fabric of the hoodie. He looks – Nicky doesn't know. He looks tired.

Nicky offers him the bowl, and the honey and cinnamon with it, just in case. Yusuf doesn't look at him, or at Nile, while he eats, and that doesn't hurt. It doesn't.

It's slow, but at least he's eating something, even if he takes small bites and only finishes half the bowl. Nicky will take it.

Only when Yusuf finishes does he look at Nicky. "Thank you," he says quietly, still speaking the Arabic of his childhood, the version he'd taught Nicky painfully slowly, a hand offered in peace across the barrier between them, over the course of countless nights in the desert. This, at least, Nicky has not forgotten, making sure he spoke it at least with Andromache and Quynh, and with himself, too.

"Of course," Nicky responds, offering him a soft smile that he hopes looks more convincing than it feels. Yusuf doesn't quite smile back, but his eyes soften, and – it is small, perhaps.

It is enough to give Nicky hope, nonetheless.

#neon writes #iron maiden joe #the old guard #kaysanova #welcome back to: nicky scenes that plagued me until i wrote them. ignore any glaring inaccuracies historically speaking #this was written for the Vibes and the Angst.#userlinax #userlyde #lazynbored #cielo di cobalto

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chaotic-archaeologist · 11 months

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Field Notes: touring Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville battlefields, driving to my internship.

30.05.2023.

Battlefields are always strange. The land has been preserved; set aside; designated as hallowed ground. Often, they are beautiful, maintained with landscaping and paths while strip malls and highways encroach at the edges.

The air is sweet with the smell of freshly cut grass. Birds are singing. I am walking on a tidy gravel path that is bordered by a low stone wall. The scene couldn’t be more picturesque if it tried. It’s hard to believe that 160 years ago, thousands of Union soldiers flung themselves at this wall only to be slaughtered by the Confederates lined up behind it.

This is Marye’s Heights, and it’s where much of the memorialization efforts of Fredericksburg have been focused. Terraced rows of the dead line the hill overlooking the town (this is the Federal cemetery, the Confederate dead are buried elsewhere). Reading plaques about Lee and Jackson’s victory is a little disconcerting when there are Union ghosts looking over your shoulder. Maybe that’s the point.

In the town of Fredericksburg itself, I see my first Confederate flag bumper sticker. It’s small—not much larger than a deck of playing cards, but it’s there. At least it makes more sense here than the ones I’ve seen in Michigan.

For lunch, I go to Benny’s on a friend’s recommendation and get a slice of pizza larger than my head for around $6. Since the money from my stipend hasn’t been processed yet, it will do some double duty as part of my dinner (since my car is so full, it does the remainder of the journey riding in the passenger footwell, but don’t worry—it was in its own bag).

Visiting just Fredericksburg seems silly when there are so many other battlefields nearby. Only Chancellorsville has its own visitor center, which holds the interpretation for its eponymous battle as well as the Wilderness and Spotsylvania Courthouse. That’s a lot of death to pack into one building, but they do a decent job. When I ask the ranger working there, he tells me that they updated the visitor centers for the two battlefields back in 2014. (This was their first update since their opening in the 1960s. Yikes.)

This visitor center also has to compete with the little walking trail memorializing the fatal wounding of Stonewall Jackson. Various stone markers are scattered across the grounds like so many poisonous mushrooms.

Much like Fredericksburg, the Chancellorsville battlefield is beautiful. At the ranger’s advice, I spend most of my time at stops 3, 9, and 10 on the self-guided walking tour. Stops 9 and 10 are opposite placements of an artillery duel between the two armies. The earthworks (called lunettes, the sign informs me) from the Union position are still visible under neatly trimmed grass.

At stop 10, there is a meadow covering what used to be a field hospital (emphasis on field, not so much on hospital) where wounded Union prisoners were left to the elements for several days until doctors could arrive from Washington. Signs talk of the screams and the smell, but it’s almost impossible for me to conjure up a mental image of such suffering in such a lovely place. If I died a horrible death, would I want the area to smooth over the suffering with time? Yes. Yes, I think I would.

The interpretation at these two battlefields definitely skews Southern. The monuments are, by and large, Confederate. The plaques are about Confederate army movements. When the Union army is mentioned, it’s usually because Lee or Jackson are doing something to hapless Burnside and Hooker. One gets the impression that the blue exists as a foil for the grey.

These are Southern victories on Southern land, and credit where credit’s due, they’ve turned down the Lost Cause dial quite a bit. The fact that Lee came away from both confrontations victorious leads itself towards a narrative that matches his brilliance against the blunders of his Union counterparts, and I don’t feel like the parks have done enough to counter that. Slavery is talked about, but nowhere is it explicitly condemned. Ultimately, National Parks have to lean towards the middle ground while also making do with whatever funds they’re given. The ranger said that they were allotted something like one third of the budget they asked for in 2013, and that’s certainly a limiting factor. I’ll be paying close attention to how the signage compares to that at Gettysburg when I return there later this summer.

When 3 o’clock hits, I climb back in my car and hit the road. This part of the drive is where we get into the Blue Ridge mountains, which are beautiful but also come with reduced speed limits. There are still some cars that think we should be going 90, but as a Midwesterner used to the flatlands, I stick to the right hand lane and let them do their own thing.

It starts to mist as I near my final destination. Even though it’s not that hot outside, it’s so humid that I have to have the AC on. The mountains are steaming as I pull into town. And wow, the mountains really are blue, verging on purple. Country Roads isn’t playing on the radio, but it should be.

So my first year of grad school was bracketed by rain and Civil War battlefields (if my life were a movie, they would call that a cinematic parallel). What this internship has in store for me, I don’t really know. That—along with some grocery shopping—is a problem for Tomorrow Reid.

#field notes #travel log #the internship (tm)#summer research 2023 #american civil war

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louisupdates · 11 months

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Louis Tomlinson at Kemba Live! in Columbus, OH

June 8, 2023 Maddy Meade

Eager fans started lining up at Kemba Live! before 9:30 AM for Louis Tomlinson’s Faith In The Future Tour in Columbus, Ohio.

The line of fans ended up stretching hundreds of people deep and looping around the corner of the street. Shortly after the doors opened, the pit area was completely packed with fans.

Opening act, Snarls, kicked the night off and was met with a warm welcome from fans. The Columbus-based indie rock band exudes cool kid energy and fans were definitely vibing. The band consists of Chlo White, Riley Hall, Mick Martinez, and Max Martinez. Snarls hit songs include “Walk in the Woods,” “Marbles,” and “Fixed Gear.”

Taking the stage next was the indie rock band The Academic from Ireland. Fans enthusiastically greeted The Academic to the stage with their handcrafted “I love The Academic” signs. The band is comprised of brothers Matthew and Stephen Murtagh, Craig Fitzgerald, and Dean Gavin. The Academic played several of their most popular songs including “Different,”“Mixtape 2003,” “Bear Claws,” and “Don’t Take It Personally.” The Academic did a phenomenal job of having fans dancing on their feet and ready for the highly anticipated Tomlinson to take the stage next.

Louis Tomlinson started his monumental career in 2010 in what would be one of the biggest boy bands in the world, One Direction. Needless to say, Kemba Live! was packed full of original Louis Tomlinson fans who have supported him since the beginning. His fans were sporting current merchandise but were also sure to bring out their original One Direction merchandise for the occasion. They had One Direction merchandise ranging from blankets to One Direction-branded Converse.

Tomlinson started his set off on a huge dynamic note with his song, “The Greatest” which was accompanied by pyrotechnics. He had an impressive stage setup that included multiple large-screen displays that showed live video coverage of the stage. It was apparent that fans share a special connection with Tomlinson and relate to his music on a personal level. “The Greatest” is the opening track to Tomlinson’s second album, Faith In The Future, and sets the tone for the remainder of the album. This album exudes an element of confidence that stems from being able to make the kind of music an artist wishes to make. It largely departs from Tomlinson’s previous pop music and, instead, leans toward indie rock. The setlist for this tour felt largely authentic to Tomlinson.

Of course, Tomlinson paid tribute to his former band by playing popular One Direction songs “Night Changes” and “Where Do Broken Hearts Go.” Fans were incredibly supportive, singing along through the entirety of the concert but it’s hard to ignore the energy fans gave to the throwback One Direction songs. Tomlinson also played his hits “Bigger Than Me,” “Written All Over Your Face,” and “Out of My System,” and wrapped up the encore with “Silver Tongues.” Tomlinson did an impressive job interacting with fans throughout the duration of the concert. At multiple points of the show, he would hop off of the stage and join fans at the barricade.

The Faith In The Future North American tour continues on throughout June and wraps on July 7th in Austin, TX. Some dates are already sold-out so be sure to get your tickets soon to secure your place.

#louis press #fitfwt23: columbus #louis tomlinson #6.6.2023

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justagalwhowrites · 8 months

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I was on AO3 attempting to finish Beskar doll (I read 3 chapters) when I got the notification that you posted a new one-shot. I couldn't get it pulled up fast enough! It was amazing just like everything you write.

I also decided to reread Yearling. I told you I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it until I got answers. So here are some thoughts.

1. Chapter one was really sad. I read it thinking of how scared she must have been not knowing what was going on. I couldn't imagine having to kill someone I love like that to save myself. It was also sad because it really gives a glimpse into who Bambi was before she was Bambi. She was a totally different person back then. I'm sure living through the end of the world would change anyone but for her, it was so much more than that. I want revenge against everyone who even thought about hurting her!

2. I absolutely love the fact that you wrote Bambi to be bisexual. It was a sweet story but I hate that Marisa just left her though. Although, I'm not really that upset about it because now she has Joel.

3. I found more breadcrumbs! If the breadcrumbs are what I think they are there were a few in chapter 8 that I missed. I think that was the chapter. It's the one where we learned about Marisa. I'm pretty sure I'm on the right track with my theory. I'm also pretty certain what I was wondering after chapter 9 is true.

4. Dear god, you love angst! I mean we all already knew that but I didn't realize just how much angst there was until I read it all together.

5. It's funny to me how things just hit differently in a slow burn. You find yourself being so damn excited that they touched even if it's accidental. Then when she asks him to hold her she may as well have asked him to fuck her. It was THAT monumental. I think I'm more excited for them to have their first kiss than I was for the Lavender fuckening!

6. Yup, you're definitely going to be at the top of every best seller's list there is one day. You can't convince me otherwise and I will have signed copies of ALL of your books, damn it!

I'm not going to apologize for rambling this time because you said you liked it. So just remember you asked for this! 🤣

HI BESTIEEEEEEE :D

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OK HERE'S MY INSANELY LONG REPLY

Break because the reply is SO DAMN LONG lmfao

Yes, chapter 1 was sad. I love who Bambi is now but I also love who she's trying to get back to. We see parts of her every now and then - like when she was full on about to brawl with Simon for hurting Ellie for example, all her banter with Tommy for another. I think, eventually, she's going to reach a point where there's more of who she was before along with the parts of her that have changed or sprung into existence with her trauma. But as she becomes more and more comfortable with Joel - and Jackson and humanity in general - we'll see more of chapter 1 Bambi.

BISEXUAL BAMBIIIIIIIII! I love this character in part because I feel like she really does contain multitudes. She gravitates toward a lot of stereotypically masculine things - like breaking horses - but also LOVES the feminine - like women rockers and romantic movies. She kind of exists all over this spectrum and likes it that way. She feels most at home in her Levis and a button down and cowboy boots but, before she figured out how to effectively rebel against her mother's beauty pageant wishes, she won pageants because she can fully look the part all glammed up. Her horse experience reflects this, too, doing both bronc riding and trick riding. We'll see more Marisa - and other women in Bambi's life - in flashbacks too :)

Some of my most explicit breadcrumbs were in chapter 8! There was one where I was like "this is almost fully telling people what this is" and no one has mentioned it to me yet. I'll point out the big things in the reveal chapter, though!

I AM SUCH A SLUT FOR ANGST it's a problem. Thanks for putting up with it lmfao (also, it's gonna get REAL ANGSTY for a while too)

And OMG I'm LOVING how the small intimacies feel with this kind of a slow burn. Because it's not so much like will they/won't they longing kind of stuff there's so much tied up in it all. Any kind of intimacy - especially physical intimacy, not just sexual intimacy - is such a huge thing for Bambi. For literal years, the only touch she had was cruel. That is a lot of conditioning to undo. I think it's hard for her because - as I think you can tell from the flashbacks especially - she's always been a physical person. Her love language would probably be physical touch if I really thought about it, so feeling like she needs to be physically disconnected from people to be safe while also desperately WANTING touch so she can feel loved are these warring drives inside her. Right now, the safety need is outweighing the need for love with everyone BUT Joel. Maybe Ellie, too. She, at least on some level, wants to be the person who would walk up to a coworker who had been blatantly checking her out, tell him she'd fuck him and then do exactly that. I will say that, because of how physical Bambi is as a person (in just about everything, she really feels most herself when she's using her body) that, once the dam breaks with more explicitly romantic/sexual intimacy (which is getting close to happening with Joel) the rest will come rather quickly. That need for love and physical touch is going to overpower the safety need real quick.

And AHHHH BESTIE!! I sure hope so! I'm going to try to get off my ass and query Ace this week and see how it goes. Fingers crossed for me?

Thank you SO MUCH for all your rambles because I love them every time! And thank you for being here and for reading and always being so kind and supportive and lovely and wonderful. You're the best <3

Love you!!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #yearling

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redlegend-a · 11 months

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door . hold a door open for my muse .

She holds the door open for Red in order to give herself a moment to marvel at the machines, aides, and activity buzzing around Oak's lab. Such environments are all but foreign to her, and Clair wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the sick Dratini.

Now, she's on a mission.

Ohkido's out somewhere, changing the world in some small way as he usually does. His absence in his lab is felt, but doesn't dim the energy of the half a dozen like or unlike minds he'd collected to manage things in it while they were gone. As far as public access went, the main portion of the lab was run by his team. Behavioral sciences met environmental sciences in rich debates spanning the whole of five or six whiteboards that spanned the publicly accessible parts.

Some of the trailing notepad and sticky note conversations were arguments, some were agreements, and some were in the middle trying to figure out lunch plans. It was an entertaining source of color to walk into, sick and people asking what he was doing there. Green knew, so everyone on his grandfather's side also knew because they were the ones trying to figure out what was wrong with him in the first place.

Clair held the door for him as he followed and then led her through the busy lobby space, gaggles of kids flocking towards looking glasses into the Professor's current rehabilitation projects. He's an eccentric, an obsessive, and above all, completely obsessed with Pokémon.

Red led her with a quiet whistle down a hall, signing to the Professor's assistant, <<Can we go back to my dragon?>>

It's easy enough. They favor him a lot in Pallet, and even more if possible because of the PWT. There's a lot of pride in his accomplishments that people share. They file him back into a recovery care unit, where other smaller pokemon are housed behind curtains, in special machinery.

And then there was Remy's Dragonair. The frustrated little dragon was in a warm soaking station. He was tiny, and his scales were still Dratini quality and color. A proud monster.

But Oak himself sat there to look at him, because when they pulled the prizes from the Game Corner, half of them were milled or poached, and the other half were carrying problems. The clipboard next to him had with it sheets on sheets of magnified microbes and samples.

He flipped through the sheets, pointing at one of the more insidious, triangle-looking microscopic creatures with barbs on every side of it.

It looked like a scale with tiny dots for eyes.

It's a pretty bad situation, because he fished a wild Dratini out with the same parasite in the last month. He points, ambiguous, at the little dragon.

It takes a monumental effort to get the notebook out of his pocket, and even more to write, tiredly.

[What do you think?]

#draconscious #ALRIGHT HERE WE GO!

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warsofasoiaf · 9 months

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Is there any evidence FDR was just a Communist and thats why he was so keen to go along with Stalin and the USSR, or is that too much of a simplification? I had seen this from press critical of FDR and the new deal from that time period but no idea how real vs propaganda it might be. Some of the westerners were really dupped by the Russians early on, and some not so early. Its really embarrassing then and now, kids walking around with hammer and sickles where I work etc etc rant rant, monumentally ignorant.

No, in fact all the evidence points to that FDR was not very fond of the ideology and saw it as deeply destructive - he even used the term “un-American.” His public speeches said as much, and his private documents do not really offer a contrasting opinion. He and the New Deal were variously described as communist and socialist, along with authoritarian and fascist, depending on who you talked to or what news publication was writing the article. At various points, communist groups supported and opposed FDR. Early on, the CPUSA despised the New Deal, but changed their opinion later on. After the signing of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, the CPUSA was harshly critical toward Roosevelt’s Lend-Lease policy to Britain and actively campaigned in support of Nazi Germany. This changed in a heartbeat after Barbarossa, and previous pro-fascist articles and posters were suppressed and thrown down the memory hole.

The explanations why FDR was so accommodating to Stalin vary greatly. Most FDR supporters explain it as pragmatism in pursuit of his ultimate mission to stop Nazi Germany - FDR knew the Soviets were fighting the Nazis and supported them in pursuit of that end. That doesn’t really pass muster with me, largely due to FDR’s pro-Soviet foreign policy starting in 1933. Other supporters suggest realpolitik as the answer, that the Soviets by that point were there to stay and it was in the national interest to recognize them, as evidenced by the trade deals that were signed. The issue with that is that those trade deals didn’t muster out, but they were continued despite businesses complaining that there was no benefit for them or for the US as a whole. Of course, opponents suggest that it was because he was a crypto-communist or that he wished a stronger relationship to dismantle capital, which also doesn’t really muster out because FDR maintained strong relationships with the British and French empires.

For my part, I used to believe in the realpolitik position, but I’ve changed my mind after researching more about FDR. These days, I believe it’s due to his overriding desire to complete his United Nations project, and fear that if Soviet practices were exposed it would cost him significantly in the political sphere. I believe that FDR believed he needed Soviet (and British) buy-in for the UN, and while the British would largely be on board with the project, FDR needed to ensure that the Soviets were willing to sign on, Stalin recognized this and exacted a pretty penny. Then, whether it’s a case of sunk cost fallacy or because FDR earnestly believed he could change Stalin’s mind (FDR and Stalin were noted to have had a strong working relationship, and spoke well of each other even privately), he kept rolling over for Stalin and giving him everything he wanted. As for the latter reason, one of the conditions of the diplomatic recognition of the Soviet Union was stopping espionage attempts and funding subversive groups that committed crime in the United States. This never really stopped after the diplomatic recognition, but if FDR admitted it, he’d be forced to admit that he was wrong about the Soviets, and that was something he couldn’t abide. So instead, he directed his White House to help cover up Soviet espionage and actively sought to squash counter-intelligence investigations or informants like Whittaker Chambers. Unlike with something like the Air Mail scandal, FDR wouldn’t have had a fall guy to pin the blame on, so he and the party would suffer significantly if it came to light.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#history #fdr #soviet union

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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And deliver us from evil | Dream of the Endless

[Notice: swear words; 90% of this is OC lore]

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

SUMMARY: Morpheus is busy rebuilding his kingdom and searching for escaped dreams when he learns that the League of Nameless has appointed a new leader. Nazurtheth, a faceless title he has grown to fear, warns him that she's going to take care of the rogue nightmares if he doesn't and make him bear the consequence of his failure.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.5k

Although Morpheus had clearly requested not to be disturbed, Lucienne sought him out anyway. Deep in thought, he was sitting on one of the monument-less pedestals. Keeping one leg close to his chest and the other dangling freely, there was nothing regal about his demeanour. Hearing Lucienne’s footsteps, Dream lifted his gaze, about to dismiss the Librarian but she was quicker:

“A letter from the League of Nameless has arrived.” Upon hearing those dreadful words, Morpheus’s expression immediately fell. “Prime Warlord Umnurth has passed away and as tradition entails, they’re going to visit Dreaming to introduce their new leader.”

“They come at a quite inconvenient time,” he admitted in a low voice as his eyes slid towards the ground. There was still so much he needed to do, even if he had restored his power. On top of that, letting the Prime Warlord notice a shortcoming on his part was a sure way to opening a new, completely deranged and terrifying, can of scorpions. From what he had heard, they tended to be quite meticulous.

“That’s not all, my lord.” Lucienne pressed her lips together when Dream’s thoughtful gaze travelled from the tiled floor to her face. In all fairness, it was quite impressive how much bad news one message could contain. “The letter was signed by Nazurtheth.”

The palace, if not Dreaming in its entirety, fell deathly silent at the mention of that name as though the king's own fear struck all of his creation at once. If someone listened closely, they could surely hear weeds grow in the Waking World. Fluttering of Matthew’s wings disturbed the quietness for a moment but whatever unnamed tension was in the air, swallowed the sound of his arrival.

For a moment, Morpheus didn’t say anything. The pensive look in his eyes quickly soured, becoming haunted instead. Then, returning to gawking at nothingness, his chin rested on his clasped hands on top of his knee. “This day had to come, I suppose,” he said quietly.

“Hey, boss,” the raven spoke up. “Everything’s alright on my end but I see things aren’t as good over here.”

“Nazurtheth and the League of Nameless will be arriving,” Dream answered in an absent voice. “While Gault, Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green are unaccounted for.”

“And that’s bad?” Matthew interjected in a vaguely awkward tone. “What exactly is that League? Who’s Nazur-something?” He kept looking between Lucienne and Morpheus, both of whom appeared troubled even if their concerns were yet to be voiced.

Lucienne was the first to put the spotlight on the relatively enigmatic source of their worries. “The League of Nameless mostly kills unworshipped gods as well as those who are lousy in their responsibilities." Although true, her words were hardly exhaustive. “They’re a rogue faction started by a man called Vachor, the Purge.”

“They have no names, only titles given by peoples of other realms,” Morpheus began without sparing his messenger a look. A strange waver resounded in his otherwise low, stern voice. “Nazurtheth, Divine Nightmare, was named a very long time ago. The memory of the people who had given her that title has already vanished.” Only then did Dream direct his undivided attention at Matthew as though to accentuate the point he was about to make. “I have never feared the League of Nameless, Matthew, as I’m fulfilling my duties with proper thoroughness. But she… Something about Nazurtheth deeply unsettles me.”

“I don’t get it, boss,” the raven croaked. He still had so many things to learn. “What is ‘divine nightmare’ supposed to mean?”

“That just like mortals, gods dream. And if they dream, they have nightmares, too - nightmares about her. Matthew, go and spread the news that the League of Nameless is arriving. I wouldn’t want my kingdom to drown in fear when they see ships without flags come alongside Dreaming.”

Without saying anything more, he slid off the hardly comfortable pedestal. Morpheus turned around, his steps directed somewhere only he knew. Lucienne knew she should be doing the same but before leaving the empty hall and beginning preparations for the less-than-welcome visit, her own turmoil forced her to inquire: “My lord Morpheus, if I may ask. Is it true?”

Although he stopped walking, he didn’t face her again. Dream merely looked over his shoulder, silently asking her to be quick. “Is what true, Lucienne?”

“Has Nazurtheth actually killed a god?”

Morpheus didn’t answer right away. That haunted gloss covered his eyes once more as he thoughtfully stared into space. One might have assumed that he was remembering. “If only one of them…” his low voice drew out. “The Nameless wear trophies from their hunts. When you see Nazurtheth, count them and believe.”

But belief meant a leap of faith, accepting something even when there wasn’t enough evidence to unanimously state it as a fact. When Lucienne sees the evidence of Nazurtheth’s conquers, she will not believe but know.

Morpheus was quietly sitting on his throne of skulls and candles, awaiting the moment one of his guardians informs him about a fleet with no flags or crests, announced by drums and pipes made from bones. All attempts at talking to him were futile as he dismissed anyone who disturbed his tense silence even by their mere presence in his vicinity. Truth be told, Morpheus had never met Nazurtheth. He learned about her only through nightmares, gossip and songs sung to misbehaving children. One such memory was especially alive in his mind during those slow, nervous hours he had been anticipating the Warlord to knock on his door:

A young girl dreaming about her childhood, before the plague had taken her brother and friends. They’re playing with a jumping rope amidst meadows. It’s a beautiful summer day, the sky is cloudless and the cool breeze eases the hot sunlight brushing against their skin. Laughing, running and playing without a care in the world, they sing a nursery rhyme well-known in this realm but not quite understood by their innocent minds:

My daddy told me of a mean, mean hag Beware, almighty gods, she hates sloth and lies If you keep your word, she’ll spare the sword I heard of a mean, mean hag Beware the stars, beware the moon Our souls are in her bag

“My lord?” Gryphon called out again. Reminiscing the downright skin-crawling dream, Morpheus must not have heard him. “The League of Nameless has arrived.” Unconsciously, Dream tightened his hand into a fist. King of Dreaming was afraid.

The fleet was beautiful. At least a dozen of three-masted junk rigs floated through the air only to gather at the front of the palace, their red sails and dragon figureheads were about as impressive as they were unsettling. Onboard the ships were mobs of warriors, all of them looking generally the same: do-maru armour, long swords and faces covered entirely by steel masks. Mainly by the coverings could one discern which troops were only soldiers and which were overlords as the commanders’ masks represented angered beasts, while their subjects had single symbols painted on. The other approach could be an inspection of their weapons - overlords carried polearms meant for severe bodily harm, just not killing. The punishment for any transgression was far greater than the glory of rebellion.

As the ships lowered their flight, animalistic roars of the overlords filled the tense silence hanging over Dreaming. The soldiers began preparing for docking, dropping sails and pulling in the oars. Something about their perfectly synchronized movements was wholly impressive but also disturbing - as though they weren’t really alive and if so, their nature was ridded of free will. When the sides of the rigs were close enough to the ground, warriors of the League began throwing anchors, which sharp hooks ruthlessly ploughed the soil of the realm. Whether they were carrying out their duties or not, the Nameless always left a mark on the kingdoms they were visiting. It was intentional really: they wanted all entities to remember about the pending judgement.

In a swift motion, a few warrior dropped the gangway connecting only one of the ships to the land. The crowd onboard stepped aside to let the three visitors pass: a woman, a snake, a tiger. Once the envoys came on shore, one of the soldiers pointedly sat on the gangway. According to the treaty, unless there was a military conflict, only Warlords can step on peaceful land but despite that, the League of Nameless remained exactly who they were - always ready pick up their sharp swords and fight like they were already dead; feral and unafraid. The lone guardian stared at the gryphon, pegasus and dragon at the front of the palace and they looked at him, both parties respectfully admired each other’s might.

The heavy entrance door opened and Morpheus instantaneously stood up from his throne. Right then, for the first time, his gaze met Nazurtheth’s. A cold shiver run down his spine. ‘If you keep your word, she’ll spare the sword’. He hoped there was an ounce of truth in that because nothing about her vacant stare revealed anything close to lawfulness or mercy. It’s hard to say whether Morpheus knew or even suspected, at the moment, that this wasn’t going to be the last time he has to face the Prime Warlord. If he had a heart, would it thunder in his chest? Beat feverishly against his ribcage as though it was sounding an alarm? Only three visitors disturbed the peace of his realm that day but the shadow they cast was long and dark.

As she marched towards him, Nazurtheth’s silver eyes never looked anywhere else but Dream’s face; she was a hunter before she was a person. Her white braids reached somewhere around her chest. Between those strands, hooked on golden rings, were remnants of supposedly immortal creatures, not only gods: fangs, talons, scales, bones, feathers, even a finger or two. Decorating her neck were three golden coils but they weren’t a fashion choice. It was merely a symbol of enslavement but Nazurtheth had learned to wear it with pride. Even if back in Avalon she would have been worth more or less a yak, across all the existing worlds she struck fear into deathless hearts; she burned with anger only known to those who had survived. On her face, painted in white, were ritualistic symbols legible only to the Nameless. Although no one else could decipher their meaning, the tradition entailed that when a new Prime Warlord is presented to different pantheons and rulers, blessings and oaths should be inscribed on them. Dressed in a long leather loincloth and a vest made from pelt, Nazurtheth gave the impression of someone who was not expecting resistance during her visit, much less offence. Her exposed olive skin was littered with scars and tattoos. With each movement, even the smallest of them, flexed truly imposing muscles as though they were a mere foreshadowing of her strength, a warning. A shotel hung by her side - the same curved sword wielded by all Prime Warlords since the Purge.

The Prime Warlord of the Nameless did not come alone: following her were two, equally frightening in appearance, characters; both famed for their efficiency in this craft. Their judgement was said to be inescapable as many had tried and all of them failed miserably. Although it might have seemed surprising that not all five of the second-in-command Warlords followed their leader to announce her promotion, it was all very understandable. Change in the chain of command did not mean the League could take a break from their responsibilities.

By her left side walked the oldest of Warlords, known by the name Yvrec, Last Wish. Walking on his hind legs, he appeared to be a strangely humanoid white tiger. Each of his four arms was decorated with intricate bands. The teeth and fangs attached to the jewellery chattered with each step the warrior took. Looking at Yvrec’s face, fearful respect filled anyone’s heart and it wasn’t only because of his constantly sour expression, no, it was in the torn ear and a milky white eye. Judging by the scars on this side of his face, something tried to fight Yvrec once - the most it could do, however, was half-blind him. The scimitars hanging around his waist shone in the candlelight brightening the otherwise dark palace.

The second Warlord, no more appealing than his bedfellows, was named Rotten Breath, so most creatures in this universe called him Fanorshi. Sunlight reflected off of his slithering snake body. Looking closely, one could notice that even above the waist, where he appeared generally human, his skin was riddled with scales. Resting on his shoulder was the sharp blade of his naginata, prepared to strike at any given moment. Admiring the long polearm lead one’s eyes to Fanorshi’s face, which - just like Yvrec’s - elicited fear and submission. The Warlord had to lips and judging by the clean, regular outline, they had been removed with great precision. Above his exposed fangs, piercing his flat nose, was an ivory spike. Each of its ends had a thick chain attached to it, probably leading to his ears but those were covered by his sleek, black hair. Fanorshi’s coiffure required some attention in itself. Most of the raven-coloured strands had been put into thin braids ending in brass rings. Weaved into those plaits were terrifying trinkets: teeth, feathers, bones, talons. One was left to hope that only some of them were actual trophies.

Defiantly crossing their arms on their chests, Fanorshi and Yvrec halted not too far from the throne but Nazurtheth continued walking until she was standing right in front of Morpheus. Disrespect or confidence - it was hard to tell them apart. Despite towering over her, Dream looked in no way intimidated compared to the Prime Warlord. After all, it is not the size of the wound that renders it fatal but the severity of the infection festering it.

The warrior silently studied his expression for a moment before she continued with the official part of her visit. “It is with great sadness that I announce the death of Prime Warlord Umnurth, Pathfinder in Shadows.” Her voice was low and raspy for a woman. “The Warlords have conferred to appoint me, Nazurtheth, Divine Nightmare, to take over his duties. From this day on, I shall bear the responsibility of judging those unbound by any laws. Trust that the League of Nameless will deliver you from evil.”

Morpheus was left disillusioned about the ambiguous meaning of the last sentence: whether she’d kill him to free him from his own malice or kill someone else to save him, he was going to be delivered from evil.

Then, to his surprise, she offered him a handshake - perhaps a superficial peace offering like the softness of a wolf’s fur. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Dream of the Endless.”

“I am truly sorry for the death of Umnurth.” Reluctantly taking up the offer and shaking her hand, Morpheus noticed that the skin of her right arm was burned nearly all the way to the bone. It was quite surprising she was capable of moving it in any way. The detail made him wonder what beast could scorch her limb so severely and still lose the strife. Did one of the fangs or talons among her braids belong to the unfortunate monstrum?

“Thank you.” Although she spoke politely, her voice was emotionless. Those pleasantries were meaningless to her, it seemed. “I don’t know if this is going to hold any meaning to you, Ruler of Dreams, but he regarded you with great respect as do I. Maybe one day you will make for a feted hunt. I’d proudly weave your hair into my braids.”

In the jargon of the Nameless, being described as a dignified prey meant that the poor creature was perceived as powerful and ending their reign should be a challenge. Nonetheless, Morpheus couldn’t read her words as a compliment they really were. “I can’t say I’m honoured.”

Nazurtheth, on the other hand, appeared unmoved by his dismissal. Her silvery irises kept boring into his. Those thinly plucked eyebrows only made her look more strict. Staring into a muddied mirror, they could be each other’s reflections. “But my father’s death is not the only reason I’m visiting your kingdom, Dream of the Endless. It has not escaped our attention that some of your creations have trespassed into the Waking World and are running rampant. However, taking into account your recent, well, unavailability, I am willing to give you more time to sort out this issue on your own.”

Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows as he lifted out an important piece of information from her words. “You know where the rogue dreams are?”

She only shrugged in a dismissive manner. “Corpses usually pave a clear path.” It was quite obvious that if she knew where the escapees were or at least what they were doing, she wasn’t going to tell him. The very same law that allowed her to judge and execute deathless entities, rendered her at no liberty to reveal that information as she could take no part in the events she was, maybe, going to base her judgement on.

“I appreciate the generosity, Nazurtheth. Although I must admit, I am quite surprised by it, having heard about your accomplishments.”

Strangely, Nazurtheth smiled at him and although her eyes creased, there wasn’t anything happy about her expression. It was challenging; sinister. “It is not generosity I’m offering but mercy. I presume you are aware of the consequences of your failure in this matter,” she spoke barely above a whisper. He never did ask about it but something told Dream that she’d be more than willing to remind him of the primaeval laws. “I am cruel, lord Morpheus, like my father was and his mother before him. But I am neither impulsive nor unreasonable.”

He watched her for a moment, waiting for the calm facade to fall and reveal a creature tormented beyond imagination. But that did not happen. The woman’s vaguely mocking smile stayed on, her physique straight and regal as he should be, rendering her all the more frightening in his eyes: a beast somehow both feral and collected. “Yes, I can tell as much,” he answered in an absent voice.

The remnants braided into her hair chattered quietly, a fateful giggle of the damned, as she slightly bowed her head towards him. “There are other rulers and deities I have to see. Until next time, Dream of the Endless.”

“Respectfully, I hope not.”

But Nazurtheth did not respond. Both Yvrec and Fanorshi watched him closely until she walked past them and only then did they turn around to follow her. Up till the doors to his palace closed behind them, Morpheus’s gaze was stuck on the shotel Nazurtheth carried. Despite all the lives it has taken so far and the centuries that should have brittle the blade, it remained sharp, ready.

Hearing the entrance close behind the envoys, Dream looked at the stained-glass window behind him. Fiddler’s Green, Gault, Corinthian… If he wanted to save his creations, and he did, he was going to have to race against time and Nazurtheth’s intrinsic fury. But Morpheus knew, although there was no evidence to prove it, that even if he succeeds, she wasn’t going to let him go easily. Yes, there was something strangely unforgiving about her, in the way she made sure he knew she was not impressed by him.

At the same time, the League of Nameless was preparing to leave Dreaming and sail through realms to visit another monarch. Masked warriors worked tirelessly to prepare the boats, setting sails or pulling up the anchors. Nazurtheth was leaning against the bulwark, staring at the beautiful landscape before her. The clear skies and meadows of greenery reminded her of her home, Avalon. Entire millennia had passed since she left and although Nazurtheth missed the kingdom of marble and light, she wasn’t exactly keen on returning. Besides, there were more important things at stake than melancholy.

Leaving his subjects to work, Yvrec decided to join her for a moment in this little pastime. Making sure that he can see her without whipping his head around, he stood by her right side as his left eye was the one left unharmed. “Do you think Dream can actually see this through?”

Still staring at the breathtaking, white castle in the distance, Nazurtheth gave the commander an honest answer. “He needs a fucking miracle.”

Yvrec let out a raspy, hearty laugh before walking away to check on the preparations to leave the dock. Overlords in beast-like masks were roaring out their orders while the warriors obediently completed them. No one dared ask questions, no one even thought of defiance when the weapons of cruel punishment shone in the morning sun. Perhaps this discipline was one of the reasons why the League of Nameless remained so successful in their mission. Soon enough, the flagless fleet continued their sail towards faraway lands.

#the sandman imagine #the sandman fandom #the sandman fanfiction #morpehus #morpheus sandman #lord morpheus #morpheus #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #dream of the endless fanfiction #the sandman netflix #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus imagine

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madmazmind · 2 years

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Prompt for you to write on the tube: Maxiel lost at Bank station.

"Daniel, be serious," Max sighed, exasperated.

"We're not even at the right station, Max. The round thing clearly says Monument," Daniel said though giggles.

"We are going to be late and your new friends will think I am incompetent at everyday, normal tasks like navigating a metro system."

"Whoa, what?" Daniel asked, switching his tone to concern.

"Just," Max paused, controlling himself. He knew he was being irrational. "We need to get to the central line?"

"Yes, we're going out East," Daniel confirmed. "But we need to talk about this, why are you worried?"

"I just want to make a good impression," Max responded quickly, trying to brush his question off. "Look, there is a sign."

Daniel grabbed Max's arm to stop him walking towards the walkway. "My friends will think it's hilarious that we got lost, what are you worried about?"

Max shrugged Daniel off easily. "Can we walk, please?"

Daniel frowned and nodded. "We can try but we came from that way. I think the little arrows change."

"Then how the fuck does anyone find their way?" Max said in a more annoyed tone than the situation warranted.

"My boss said she just knows which way to go," Daniel replied then pointed up the stairs. "there's another sign that way. Let's try it?"

Max sighed. "Sure, ok."

They walked up the stairs and down a long corridor, falling into step with each other, standing close.

"You said that your friends take the piss out of your famous, rich, driver stuff, like they're not impressed and they think you're useless," Max said.

"Max you just won another championship, you've already impressed them."

"I want to be able to do normal things too," Max explained, speaking quietly.

They rounded onto a spiral staircase, taking two at a time.

"You have no idea how often I talk about how incredible you are," Daniel said.

"But this is about racing."

"You're kidding, right?" Daniel replied quickly. "I talk about how honest and unapologetic you are and how that makes me so secure. How kind you are and how much you care about me. How good you all are at FIFA. If anything I talk about racing too little."

"Yeah?" Max asked. He had a light blush on his cheeks.

"Yes," Daniel assured.

They reached the top of the spiral staircase, turning the corner and seeing the central line and jumping on the train that was sat on the platform. They took two empty seats.

This is a central line train to White City, rang the announcement.

"White City? What the fuck?" Daniel mumbled under his breath, squinting to look at the map. "Max?"

"Yes?" He asked.

"We're going the wrong direction."

#daniel ricciardo #maxiel #max verstappen #max/daniel #dr3 #maxiel fic #f1 #f1 rpf #mv33 #mv1 #i actually wrote this on the jubilee line but still tube vibes #retired daniel verse #healing

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astaldis · 7 months

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Whumper's Monthly Issue 21 - Failed Execution

@whumpers-monthly

Fandom: The Witcher Netflix

Whumpee: Cahir

Caretaker: Triss Merigold

Words: 17,049 Chapters: 8/8

Published: 2021-10-11 Completed: 2021-10-20

Excerpt from Chapter 5 of Long Story (Written Pre-Season 2):

After numerous speeches had been held by both kings and sorcerers to honour the fallen mages, the last to speak was King Foltest. By the end of his powerfully eloquent oration, several Temerian guards entered the hall, in their midst a prisoner.

Triss Merigold had to look twice before she recognised the man. He was still wearing the typical Nilfgaardian striped uniform trousers and the same black shirt, however, after many weeks spent in a dungeon cell, his hair was considerably longer and he had grown a big, bushy beard. Having been rather on the slender side to begin with, he now looked decidedly emaciated. And sick.

"Today we shall not only honour the memory of our fallen brothers and sisters, mages and humans alike, and form a lasting alliance with the Aen Seidhe, the People of the Hills, against the Nilfgaardian aggressor," King Foltest concluded his speech, "but also see justice done. Bring forth the prisoner!"

The guards walked the Nilfgaardian toward the head of the hall where King Foltest was standing. Adjacent to the monument there was a wooden platform, on it a shrouded, mysterious cuboidal structure that was now revealed as an executioner's block.

"This here," King Foltest pointed an accusing finger at the shackled man, "is the Nilfgaardian commander who led the attack on Sodden Hill and thus is responsible for the deaths of the heroes we have gathered to commemorate. However, this is not all. He also killed our fellow ruler, King Eist of Cintra!"

'Murderer!' 'Death to the king-slayer!' and similar angry shouts rang through the hall. Foltest turned towards the prisoner.

"In my authority as King of Temeria, Pontaria and Mahakam and Prince of Sodden, I, Foltest the first, sentence you, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, to death by beheading!"

On this clue, a tall, bulky, bare-chested man entered the room, his face covered with a pointed black hood with only slits for the eyes, in his hands a heavy axe. The executioner stepped onto the podium. The prisoner, who had drawn himself up proudly, followed, accompanied by two guards.

"Any last words, Nilfgaardian?"

"I'm not a Nilfgaardian. I'm from Vicovaro," the condemned man said hoarsely and with difficulty, trying to suppress a dry cough.

"Well, that won't change anything. Kneel!"

The prisoner went down on his knees and put his head on the executioner's block on his own accord. A guard parted his longish curls so the executioner would better see where to hit.

"Headsman, proceed!" shouted King Foltest. The executioner raised his axe.

"Wait, Your Majesty! I have a proposition to make," Vilgefortz of Roggeveen intervened just seconds before the axe fell. Not a little surprised, King Foltest motioned the executioner to halt. Knowing the cunning sorcerer well, this might be worth listening to although the timing was quite annoying. Well, it was common knowledge that mages loved dramatic entrances, and Vilgefortz was no exception, on the contrary.

"I usually adhere to the motto 'business before pleasure'. Why not let us begin our peace negotiations first and have the execution after dinner, as just deserts, so to say, the blood of the common enemy sealing the pact. Highly symbolic. And it is going to be a lot more dramatic in the dark."

An approving murmur went through the crowd, some even clapped in consent.

"You are not wrong there, Vilgefortz. Symbolism is important. And it seems most of our revered guests approve. So be it then," said King Foltest consenting to the sorcerer's proposition. "Let the historical peace talks between elves and men commence!" He gave a sign to the executioner and guards to withdraw to one of the adjoining rooms with the prisoner. The headsman would not mind as he earned good coin for his services.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The negotiations were dragging on. It would be far from easy to reach an agreement as there were diametrically opposing interests between the different factions. Naturally, the elves demanded an independent elven kingdom of Dol Blathanna, which the Northern kings, especially the rulers of Aedirn and Kaedwen, could not possibly agree to. The Brotherhood of Sorcerers did their best to mediate, but so far to no avail.

Feeling an upcoming headache behind her temples, Triss Merigold decided to take a break. Some fresh air would do her good. Excusing herself politely, she left the hall. There was a shortcut to the terrace from one of the siderooms. Coincidentally it turned out to be the same sideroom where they were holding the Nilfgaardian prisoner. He was slumped against the far wall, eyes closed, a hacking cough wracking his body. He seemed to be feverish again. Damn Vilgefortz, it would have been more merciful to let the execution proceed as planned. It might still be hours before the negotiations concluded, if they concluded at all today. This was only prolonging the prisoner's suffering. Anyway, weren't the condemned entitled to some comfort on the day of their execution? A last meal, some wine? This prisoner had obviously not had either, not even a simple drink of water. Determined the sorceress left the palace and walked the short way to her home.

Returning with her medical bag, she entered the sideroom again and approached the prisoner. Knowing the chestnut-haired sorceress the guards let her proceed. What was the man's name again? Foltest had mentioned it. Cahir something? From Vicovaro, not Nilfgaard.

She hunkered down in front of the young man, who was still coughing painfully, and picked a vial from her bag. A magical linctus that would help alleviate the acute bronchitis that he had contracted in the cold and damp dungeons. Another one against the fever. And, considering what was to come, a strong pain-killer. If the executioner was good, death by beheading was supposed to be quick and rather painless, but who knew? Nobody who was executed could ever tell the tale. And it was not uncommon that the headsman had to strike twice or even three times ...

"Cahir?" The prisoner blinked, then opened his bleary eyes. "Drink," she ordered with a distinct sense of déjà-vu. Since his hands were shackled behind his back, she had to hold the vials to his lips. After he had swallowed the three potions, she produced a flask of wine from her bag and a glass. Usually she would not recommend taking wine together with magic potions and definitely not on a presumably empty stomach, but this here called for an exception. A surprised look appeared on the Nilfgaardian's, no, Vicovarian's face.

"Why are you doing this?" he rasped.

"I guess I'm an idiot. Now drink before I change my mind."

"Est est," the prisoner said after a few sips looking even more surprised since it was an excellent and very expensive wine. Surely not something you would waste on an enemy prisoner. They had on very rare and special occasions enjoyed it in Darn Dyffra, his family's castle, the last time when he was bestowed the title of count by the Emperor. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

"You know your wines. Drink up, I don't have all day."

"Thank you," the prisoner, having drained the glass to the last drop, offered, his voice sounding a little less raspy and strained. "I remember you," he continued hesitantly. "From Sodden Hill. The dungeons."

"You better do. I spent hours of my life patching up your sorry arse although my hands were itching to strangle you. Mind that."

"I understand." The prisoner said softly, a dejected look in his eyes.

"I need to go." Triss stood up. "Good luck with the execution," she added, not mockingly but actually meaning it. The Vicovarian followed her with his gaze as she left but did not say anything. What was there to say?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

When Triss joined the convening lords and ladies, mages and elves again, it seemed there had been no substantial progress. She sighed. Would they ever come to an agreement? She really hoped they would, it was vital to prevent another elven uprising or the possibility of the elves collaborating with Nilfgaard against the Northern kingdoms. Rumour had it that already bands of dissatisfied young Aen Seidhe had formed, so-called Scoia'tael commandos, attacking human caravans and outposts, spreading discord and terror in Aedirn and Kaedwen. The elves fighting a guerrilla war against the North would certainly play into Nilfgaard's hands. Who knew, the Empire might even be encouraged to launch another attack on the Northern kingdoms and they would have to fight on two fronts at the same time.

It was getting late. Dusk was falling and candles, torches and big braziers were lit inside the hall. The discussion got more heated. Fierce arguments arose. Triss looked over to Vilgefortz. He was sitting back in his high chair, a sneer playing around his lips, and did nothing. What was he waiting for? He had arranged this convention. Why was he not interfering, coming up with a feasible solution? He had not given up the hope of finding a compromise, had he? Actually, the powerful mage had not said anything for a while, had let the other participants rile each other up, even insults could be heard now. This seemed to get out of hand and their leader did nothing? He had even disappeared from the hall for quite a while in spite of the ever increasing turmoil. What was he up to? Did he have some cunning plan B? Triss really hoped he had. But as the situation was getting more and more tumultuous, doubt was creeping in.

Suddenly a guard came into the room. "The prisoner! He is gone!" the man shouted agitatedly. Triss could not believe her ears. How was it possible? There had been at least six guards in the room with the condemned man. And more guards in the hallways and corridors! Together with king Foltest and some others she rushed into the sideroom. The guards as well as the executioner were lying deep asleep in one corner and there was not a trace of their prisoner. More sleeping guards were adorning the corridors. This must be the work of a mage and a very powerful one to boot, there was no other possible explanation.

On waking up, some guards remembered having seen the prisoner being rushed through the corridors by a dark, hooded figure before they had blacked out. Others reported having caught glimpses of the two men mounting a white horse and galloping through the castle gate. Then they seemed to have disappeared. Probably by portal.

The news of the escape of the Nilfgaardian commander did not help the already extremely tense atmosphere in the great hall. Now accusations were thrown into each other's faces. There must be a traitor among the mages who had facilitated the escape, an inside-man or -woman working for Nilfgaard, but who? Mistrust was growing like a cancer, most of all directed against the elven mages. Had they been siding with Nilfgaard all along and this gathering was just a farce to hood-wink and deceive the Northern kingdoms? Or, were there other parties who would profit from these obviously dead-end negotiations? And if so, who? Already the first groups of guests were leaving the great hall, agitated, affronted, angry and disillusioned, the elven delegation, unsurprisingly, one of the first.

There was no way of sugarcoating it, the well-intended peace talks had failed spectacularly.

Read the complete story on Ao3 (WARNING: torture!): https://archiveofourown.org/works/34428718

#whumpers monthly #issue no 21 #the witcher tv #the witcher netflix #cahir whump #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #triss merigold #triss #vilgefortz of roggeveen #vilgefortz #cahir x triss #triss x cahir #the witcher fanfiction #whumpers-monthly

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savage-rhi · 2 years

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Immortal Shield Chapter 6: Healers Touch

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Readers: @seradyn

Caelan could feel her lungs wanting to catch aflame. The air within Insomnia, once pristine was now ransacked with smoke and debris. With every step she took, more ash would fly around. She tried her best to keep her steps small while traversing through the city center and all its broken homes and mangled towers. Caelan’s eyes began to water as every so often she’d step over body parts. Feet, arms, an occasional head. Appendages that were once part of a living breathing person.

Julian had told her to stay put in the Pax District when the first of the bombs went off in the citadel during the treaty signing. Caelan didn’t protest while her father joined the rest of the crownsguard to defend their king. She stayed put while preparing herself to fight. The TV in the background of their residence blaring as reporters desperately tried to keep up with the chaos unfolding. It wasn’t long until the TV died, along with most of the power and then she could hear Niflheim troops begin to occupy the Pax District. Caelan knew her only shot at safety at this point was being near her father. So she disobeyed orders and left Pax. Fear and duty keept her alive as she tried to shut out the terrors unfolding around her home.

Caelan ran at first, going through the back alleys and passages that only young folk could truly traverse. Her mind cancelling out the screams and barked orders from Niflheim soldiers. Caelan’s adrenaline was high as she stopped to catch her breath, then heard the booming echo of a Niflheim Dropship fly overhead. Her neck and head turned to follow, seeing the large machine was flying towards the same destination as she was headed.

For what seemed like hours, Caelan braved through hordes of strangers and dodged bumping into magitek troops. Eventually she found herself in the present. Walking among the remains of Insomnia and the home of the king. Caelan coughed as she drew close to the epicenter, flames from the attack still carrying on their light without having much to hold onto. The groans then started to sneak into her ears. The pleads and broken cries of citizens and troops under rubble creating a haunting melody as she prayed to the Astrals her father wasn’t among the dead.

“Zamfir,” A familiar voice though croaked and broken radiated in Caelan’s ears. She followed the sound, then came across a member of Julian’s Einherjar. The thirty two year old was trapped under a huge piece of rubble that once belonged to a monument. His legs were beyond recognition. She couldn’t even make out if he had feet. Once the initial horror passed through Caelan’s vision, she was quick to meet his side.

“Hector!” Caelan didn’t care that she broke protocol and honors of her fellow crownsguard. He had been a huge part of her life. One of her father’s finest.

“Hector,” Caelan’s eyes rapidly glanced over him, trying to conjure up a plan to get him out. She then started ripping away chunks of debris here and there, but alas there was only so much the body of a 14 year old could handle. Regardless of her training. She panted heavily, removing another large piece as Hector shook his head against the ground.

“Zamfir, please stop.”

“I can’t give up! I’m gonna get you out!” Caelan pleaded. She rose once more, only to let out a gasp as Hector grabbed a hold of her arm and pulled Caelan to her knees.

“Zamfir, it’s okay.” His voice choked out as Caelan shook her head in protest. Her whole body quaked as emotions of sadness and rage took hold of her heart.

“The king is dead, Zamfir--” Hector paused, choking on his own bile as he used every last bit of his strength to relay what happened and what had become of everyone so they weren’t mere lost ghosts to Lucis. The truth of what happened would be known to someone, even if they were still a child.

“They’re gonna say some awful thing about us---that Lucis started it. The treaty, it was a trick. They took the crystal. They took everything. Insomnia is no longer ours. Find your father, and get out of here. Go as far as you can. They’re--they’re rounding up crownsguard and their children as we speak.”

Caelan’s eyes widened in horror at the news. The gravity of the situation within Insomnia had now become more apparent to her.

“Cae, did you hear me?” Hector raised his voice, snapping Caelan out of her thoughts as she nodded. With that, Hector smiled.

“Atta girl,” His right hand coated with his own blood reached up and caressed Caelan’s face. She instinctively grabbed a hold of it, squeezing the flesh tight as the remainder of Hectors life began to leave.

The piercing sound of a bullet meeting between Hector’s skull caused Caelan to suddenly turn around, her spear summoned as she screamed aloud at Hector’s killer ready to impale whoever it was. She hesitated seeing a familiar face, her fingers trembled against the shaft of her weapon as warmth in her father’s cold eyes showed themselves for the first time in years.

“Dad,” Caelan mouthed. She watched as he stepped past, ignoring her altogether as he knelt before Hector with his head bowed and eyes closed.

“Duty by blood and duty by faith. Be with the Gods and our late king, Custos Hector, Ad Astra.”

Julian made the gestures of the rites with his hands, his voice solemn as he closed Hector’s eyes. He was careful to put the handgun away on his belt, then turned to face Caelan. There was a long silence between the two as Julian registered that she was alive. That somehow throughout the calamity that transpired, his daughter hadn't met the hands of death.

“I thought I told you to remain in Pax.” Julian said firmly, curbing whatever emotions threatened to breach his stoic exterior. Disappointment lingered in his gaze as he watched Caelan stumble on her words.

“I--I--Pax was overtaken. I was scared you were dead, dad. I came to find you and--”

“Don’t disobey me again, Zamfir.” Julian commanded. His voice rose as he watched Caelan quickly bow to him.

“Sir, I am apologetic. I thought I could help!”

“Like you helped August and Aila?” Julian bitterly yelled as the gore around them triggered memories of the last time the Nifs took something precious away. He stopped himself short, seeing Caelan wince as she kept her head low. Her sobs now becoming prominent. Though Julian blamed her with every fiber of his being, he couldn’t fully disown the instincts he had as a father to show his child things would be alright. That she was safe for now.

“I thought I lost you.” Taking in a deep breath, for the first time in years, Julian pulled Caelan into a tight embrace. Ignoring the commotion around them to show that he still loved her despite being harsh.

The kind gesture only lasted for precious moments, and when Julian pulled away his commanding presence returned. Julian knew from this point forward he could no longer afford to be sentimental. If he was to become judge, jury and executioner, he had to give up what was left of his heart. It was the only way to beat Niflheim at their game.

“Zamfir, we need to evacuate as many Insomnian’s as possible. Then we’re going to round up whoever is left of the Einherjar, and we’re going to bring the men responsible for this to justice. We’re going to avenge Custos, your mother, brother, everyone that the Nifs took. ”

“Justice?” Caelan murmured, watching as the last sparks of humanity in Julian’s eyes died along with King Regis and the rest of the city.

“That’s right, justice.”

Caelan shot up from sleep in a cold sweat. Her breathing irregular for a few moments as she registered being awake. Calming breaths soon took over as Caelan pushed back strand hairs out from her face. There was a painful throb that followed suit, and her eyes glanced to her left shoulder seeing the clean dressing that had been applied.

This must’ve been Ardyn’s doing . Caelan thought to herself as she blinked, getting a good look around. The familiar texture of the tent was a comfort. A strong smell of petrichor went through her nose as she breathed. Furrowing her brows out of curiosity, Caelan unzipped the opening of the tent. The light from the sun briefly blinded her as she crawled out. Her mind taking in the new scenery as a landscape of trees and foliage hit her. Wherever Ardyn had made camp, they were long gone out of the Leide region. There was no trace of the desert within her field of vision.

“Ah, you’re awake!” Ardyn’s voice made Caelan cringe for a moment. The action didn’t go unnoticed as he laughed, standing in front of her as she looked up.

“You’re blocking out the sun,” Caelan muttered unenthusiastic as Ardyn shrugged.

“They didn’t call me the bringer of darkness for nothing,” He teased and then crouched to get on level with her. He had a cup of something warm in his right hand, careful to balance himself as he looked her over.

“How are you fairing?” Ardyn asked as he handed the cup to Caelan. His lips contorting into a mischievous smile seeing the look of disgust that flocked to Caelan’s face when she caught a whiff of the concoction he had brewed.

“I feel like I blacked out from being stabbed, that’s what.” Caelan said bitterly, and then glanced between Ardyn and the drink. To say she was cautious was an understatement as memories of Ardyn daemonified came to her head, along with the fact the tea or whatever it was, had a strong earthy scent comparable to moist dirt.

“What is this stuff?” Caelan asked.

“An old remedy from my time,” Ardyn said with a certain fondness that had Caelan ease up. He then sat down, legs too tried to keep crouched. “It helps replenish blood. I promise I won’t poison you.”

Caelan rolled her eyes, then with a sigh decided to try and drink it with a quick gulp. She stopped halfway. The taste was rather potent as she cringed. A shudder traveled down her spine as her tongue began to tingle. The look of disgust she displayed had Ardyn more amused as he shook his head, his features akin to a parent that was proud their child finally took their medicine.

“Where are we right now?” Caelan asked calmly, her eyes glancing around further.

“We are near the Slough region. I decided to take the Scepter off road to avoid further run ins with your former compatriots.” Ardyn looked straight ahead, his brows knitted as he let a sigh escape.

“You okay?” Caelan asked.

“I’m good, yes.” For the past two days while Caelan recovered and he as well, Ardyn had been rehearsing what he was going to say to her upon waking. Now that the opportunity presented itself, he wasn’t so certain about sticking to a script. Much less knew what he wanted to talk about now.

“Back at the checkpoint, when I was fighting Tempus I saw that you looked drained.” Caelan began. Ardyn’s attention on her now as she continued. “Like whatever outburst of energy that initially set you off was fading away fast. Was it the weapons, the royal arms?”

Ardyn, for as relieved as he was that Caelan decided to steer the direction of the conversation, felt mixed. He was reluctant to share details regarding what happened, yet Ardyn also toyed with the idea of getting a second perspective on the issue.

“The arsenal was draining my life force,” Ardyn admitted. “The royal arms extract a heavy toll from their user. The phantom limbs of former dead kings. Back when I fought Noctis, and the Astral Bahamut, I didn’t have to pay the price. Now it seems the debt has caught up with me.”

Caelan contemplated his words for a time. “So you’re not immortal after all?”

“Yes and no,” Ardyn responded. “I think there is a limitation placed upon me. To what extent, I’m unaware. The cut on my cheek healed fast, but slow in comparison to what I am normally acquainted with.”

The uncertainty in his voice had Caelan wondering just how confident Ardyn was about his theory. It didn’t take long for her to reach a conclusion.

“You could technically off yourself with the royal arms without having to see the king.” Caelan offered, though she was quick to add further. “I don’t mean for that to sound cruel, but its an option if you still want to die without going through the trouble of reaching Insomnia.”

“I did think about that,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. “Though two factors came into play: one, I’m quite certain my grand nephew has to make sure its permanent, or another Caelum blood. Secondly, I didn’t feel it would be polite to leave you with a corpse to dispose of.”

“How very generous of you.” Caelan teased. Though there was a sincerity in her tone that matched Ardyn’s as he explained himself. She smiled as he chuckled at the remark. They both quietly regarded one another for a time.

“May I ask about what happened with your father?” Ardyn piped up, being mindful not to sound too nosey despite the topic dragging on his mind since Caelan blacked out. He was about to downplay himself, offer a later time in the day while she got her bearings, but Caelan had beaten him to it as she raised a hand to him and shook her head.

“It’s as I said. I killed him.” Caelan’s voice was numb as she confessed. Her eyes drifting up to the tall branches of the various trees within their camping post. “After Insomnia fell, Julian went on a murderous rampage and hitched me along for the ride with the Einherjar unit. He murdered many imperials. Individuals or families, it didn’t matter. So I put a stop to it.”

“So you didn’t partake in his bloodshed?” Ardyn asked.

“My hands aren’t completely clean,” Caelan admitted, knitting her brows as she felt her mind wanting to travel back to a memory she wasn’t prepared to check in with. Shaking her head she sighed. Brushing it off for the time being. She didn’t have the energy to reconcile with what she had to do to survive being around Julian.

“I’m not in a place to share that right now, and I understand that you’d think low of me.”

Ardyn shook his head, offering a solemn smile. “I’d be a hypocrite considering the many I’ve slain and the role I played in your unfortunate circumstances. Being the chancellor, I helped orchestrate the false treaty.”

“So it was you,” Caelan’s voice grew firm as Ardyn tensed. “Julian told me I should’ve been wary of you and all the imperials that came to Insomnia that day, that much I remember from back then. Everything that happened to me after the fact was your fault. You were the catalyst.”

“He was a smart man,” Ardyn returned a serious gaze, though he became contemplative. "For the record, there were certain initiatives in our little coup that I didn't play a hand in."

"Such as?" Caelan asked, tone clearly indicating she wasn't buying his words.

Ardyn furrowed his brows, a soft glare coming to his features upon her reaction. "The murder of crownsguard and their kin as a matter of fact. I'm sure you are aware of what happened to the ones rounded up that night Insomnia fell. Assuming you were present that unfortunate day."

Caelan's eyes widened some as she fixated her gaze upon Ardyn. A quiet yet tense sigh escaping her breath as she gave a nod.

"Who could forget? It's not everyday you see kids you trained with having their heads on pikes." Caelan simply replied. She wasn't sure of how to carry on the conversation as memories of the night Julian and her escaped traveled across her mind. It was a terrifying ordeal. So many had been slain for no good reason, and yet the Niflheim officials managed to spin a web of lies stating the crownsguard, the glaive, anyone associated with it were attempting to cause trouble or harm others. The unfortunate matter was so many people, including fellow Lucians fell for it.

A question danced in Ardyn's head as he kept his eyes on Caelan. He braced himself before unleashing it.

“What is your gut telling you right now, about me?”

Caelan was stumped by the inquiry. Not expecting the conversation to take this sort of direction. However she found herself checking in with her instincts. There was a long pause as a battle took place inside herself. Despite there being many warnings, and traumas wanting to steer Caelan elsewhere, she settled on a singular truth that felt real.

“My gut is telling me that if there was a part of you that didn’t feel remorseful, you never would’ve told me your involvement.”

Ardyn was taken back, yet he held his composure. An amused huff escaped him as he looked elsewhere.

“You’re quite perceptive.”

“So, where does this leave us?” Caelan asked.

“Beg pardon?”

“Well, I’m your shield. You still want to get to Insomnia, right? With my baggage out in the open, it won’t be easy. We’ll have to travel around for a bit and lose the Einherjar. Not to mention the Accordo and Lucis troops hunting war criminals.”

“You’re still going to help me?” Ardyn was visibly confused. His tone further conveyed it as Caelan shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean I got nothing better to do than running away from my problems, per usual.” Caelan said bluntly.

“It's honorable, considering what were discussing just now. However, I’m not sure this is a good arrangement for either of us. I’m certain your adversaries are going to spread rumors about my reappearance thus casting a bigger shadow upon you. You’d do well without me lurking close.” Ardyn admitted. Recalling this is what he wanted to talk about in the first place, what he had rehearsed upon. The irony didn’t leave him, that things were coming full circle.

“I think you’re wrong,” Caelan said. Her tone exuding a confidence as she continued. “Look at this way, we’re both not liked by any kingdoms--”

“An understatement, I’m sure.” Ardyn joked, nonetheless he was serious too.

“Anyway,” Caelan suppressed a laugh. “We stand a better chance making it to Insomnia together. You said so yourself, the Einherjar are probably going to open their mouths about you then you’ll be in the hot seat just as bad as me. Then you’re still reconciling with the fact your powers have deteriorated. There’s no point in flying solo at this rate. I still want to be pardoned, and if you can help me with that, I’m not giving up so easily delivering you to the king.”

“Ah, there it is. The catch.” Ardyn mused. “You still want to turn me in for your own selfish needs, and not out of the kindness of your heart to help this old soul rest in peace?”

“I--” Caelan made a face, feeling another bout of inner conflict begin to rise. She only snapped out of it when Ardyn laughed.

“You made some fair points,” Ardyn interrupted before Caelan could say anything further. “I suppose you’re stuck with me a little longer.”

“Don’t get it wrong, I’m not going to treat you any better. I was kind and put up with your horseplay because I assumed you’d be out of my hair by now.” Caelan said defensively. Not wanting to give away that she was actually relieved this ‘trip’ wasn’t over.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Ardyn smirked. He then adjusted where he was sitting on the ground, scooting closer to Caelan. His hands reached out to her shoulder, the wounded one, causing her to hiss. A sharp pain radiated down her nerves as she was tempted to shoo him off until Ardyn held his right hand up.

“I want to heal that arm of yours now that you’re awake.” Ardyn made his intentions clear as Caelan appeared confused at his statement.

“Why didn’t you do that when I was knocked out?” Caelan asked fairly. “I’d think that would be an easier time for you.”

“Not when I am unsure about my ability,” Ardyn admitted. “I haven’t properly healed anyone for thousands of years. I need to be certain if I hurt you. Can’t well voice your opinion on the matter if you’re out cold.”

“Have you done this on anyone else?” Caelan watched as Ardyn began to undress her bandages. His focus was entirely on the wound and nothing else. Much like the doctors Caelan had met a few times in her life when crownsguard training had nearly cost her an arm and leg.

“As of late, no. Save for an animal with an injured leg.” Ardyn said nonchalant. He carefully lifted the gauze on the cut as Caelan cried out. The material from the soiled piece had stuck onto what little scabbing her wound created.

“This won’t daemonify me, right? I don’t know if that’s true or not, but word of mouth said you could do that years ago. Turn people into monsters.” Caelan couldn’t help but ask, feeling the gentle hand of fear creep into the back of her head.

“Look at me,” Ardyn’s tone hardened. The authoritative cadence he carried had Caelan instantly looking up at him with no hesitation. The action was rather primal on her part.

“If there was any chance I could daemonify living things once again, I’d be insane to offer healing you.” Ardyn spoke earnestly. His eyes were burning into Caelan’s, making the situation all the more intense. Once he had a good indication she understood the grimness of his words, Ardyn focused on the cut. The entirely of his left palm covering it as he squeezed.

Colorful words escaped Caelan as Ardyn’s grip applied more pressure. She could feel the pain of the full injury down to the bone of her shoulder blade. It was almost as if Tempus once more jiggled a knife into her flesh and twisted. Seconds later, a pleasant warmth enveloped the spot and began to radiate through her body. It was a satisfying numbness, as if a hand had gone inside of her body and kneaded out every sore muscle, tissue, and vessel at the point of impact.

As soon as the sensations came, they easily went as Ardyn withdrew his hand. Caelan’s brows knitted as she immediately turned her gaze to where the wound once was. There was nothing left, nothing even remote as a scar.

“Wow, that was--” Caelan’s breath hitched as she met Ardyn’s eyes. Seeing that they were pitch black save his signature golden irises. He didn’t say a word. Only watched her.

Once the initial shock wore off, Caelan couldn’t help but turn her attention to Ardyn’s left shoulder. It seemed to throb with pain as he did his best to remain neutral, but it became increasingly clear he wanted to wince or do something to take the edge off. Nevertheless, he shifted around Caelan and made his way inside of the tent, minding to zip the entrance up.

“I’m going to take a nap. Try not to disturb me.” Ardyn’s voice was icy as he lied down on this left side and curled up.

“Are you going to be--”

“Cahl, please.” Ardyn pleaded with a growl. “I need some time alone.”

Caelan dismissed herself from as far away from the tent as she could be. Once she was several feet off to the side, she rubbed the back of her head. There was still so much that needed to be discussed, and much planning to do. Though Caelan was the one to initiate they work together again, she would be lying if she wasn’t nervous about the whole thing.

As her reminiscent dream from before started to seep into her thoughts, Caelan took in a deep breath. Maybe this whole situation with Ardyn was yet another sign. That she needed to find the courage within herself to confront the Einherjar, and bring them to justice as a crownsguard would. She briefly allowed herself to play with the idea, imagining dragging Tempus and the rest of Julian’s followers to the king or anyone who would listen and had power to change her fate. No, now was not the time to be thinking of idealistic expectations. Not when she was still a damn coward.

Caelan alas shook her head, the thoughts drifting away with each swipe as she decided to walk to the nearest gas station and grab something to eat at the Mini-Mart. She did stop to turn her head back to the tent, wondering if Ardyn truly needed to sleep before pressing on.

Ardyn meanwhile had been watching. A small section of the tents entryway unzipped, he was able to see that Caelan had left. Once she was out of the vicinity, he curled up on the sleeping mat and quaked.

There was no way he could keep his daemonic powers from leaking out. Not at this rate. The energy from her wound seemed to stir said powers up further. It didn’t take long to realize Caelan had been scared of him because of his eyes changing. He didn’t like the way she looked at him.

Ardyn closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath to focus on himself. There were no other voices. No sniveling creatures with only a primal impulse to consume and purge echoing through his brain. Yet it brought no comfort and only more questions than answers. The only comfort Ardyn took from this, was that he knew he couldn't turn people or living things into bloodthirsty creatures. The scourge couldn't be passed from him as far as he was aware.

Maybe he’d never know why he remained cursed. The thought troubled Ardyn to no end as he attempted to not dwell on the fact that Insomnia would be a distant memory for now.

#ardyn #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #fanfic #fanfiction #final fantasy xv #ffxv #original characters #story #yeah fuck it imma post anyway

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