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theggning · 4 years ago

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Codsworth Is So Underrated, You Guys

ALTERNATE TITLE: Codsworth and the Totally Understated Mindbending Evolution of Artificial Consciousness

I find Codsworth is often the most underrated of the 16 companions in Fallout 4. Your faithful robot butler is among the very first you can recruit and an excellent early-game ally, but he has a few disadvantages in gameplay that mean he’s often sent back to Sanctuary before long. Codsworth is a mid-to-close range fighter only, cannot wear armor or be equipped with weapons. He cannot be healed by stimpak, which makes him a liability if you’re playing on Survival mode. He has no companion quest of his own, so unless you particularly enjoy him there’s not a compelling reason to keep him for a long time. He also becomes recruitable exactly 2 minutes after adorable puppy Best Boy Dogmeat, so he is often (understandably) replaced just as soon as he’s made available.

But there is this great, completely understated facet to Codsworth, so understated that the game does not draw attention to it in any way. And yet, it is a wonderful reflection of many of the themes of Fallout 4 and, I believe, a pretty strong indication of its thesis statement.

Now what in the hell am I talking about?

Like many sci-fi/fantasy universes, the Fallout series is home to many highly-advanced robots. Robots were commonplace before the Great War, and many have survived the bombs intact and in working order. Others have been built or modified by wastelanders to serve various tasks (Percy, Ada.) The most important thing to understand about robots, though, is though they may have vivid personalities programmed in, they are widely accepted to be objects. They are thought of the same way as an appliance, a machine built for a specific purpose and programmed to follow a strict set of protocols.

Many jokes revolve around the relatively rigid intelligence of robots. Pre-War, many were deployed in inappropriate jobs or designed haphazardly (Mister Handies acting as nurses in a hospital, “paramedic” Protectrons with massive deadly tasers for hands, military robots constantly going haywire and erupting in friendly fire.) Others continue to man businesses and play out daily tasks as they were programmed to do over 200 years ago. Most robots are incapable of understanding anything beyond their initial programming, and most pre-War robots are completely unaware that the Great War ever happened.

When the Sole Survivor reunites with Codsworth at the ruins of their home, it seems like he, too, doesn’t understand what’s going on. He talks about tending the (dead) garden, references the (ghoulified) neighbors, and generally acts like the chipper robot butler Sole left behind on their way to Vault 111.

But there is something slightly… off in Codsworth’s dialogue here. Though he acts like the war never happened, he also specifically mentions details that suggest it did:

Player Default: Codsworth! You're still... fully operational?

Codsworth: {Defiant} Well of course, mum. You can thank the fine engineers at General Atomics for that! At least, you could have. Had they not been... vaporized.

A bit over 210 actually, mum. Give or take a little for the Earth's rotation and some minor dings to the ole' chronometer. That means you're two centuries late for dinner! Ha ha ha. Perhaps I can whip you up a snack? You must be famished.

You've no idea the desperation for human contact one develops over 200 years. {Upset, recalling bad memories of encountering raiders and scavengers. / Disgust} And when you do encounter them? Oh the cruelty! You're either... target practice or... spare parts!

Even stranger, Codsworth mentions details that are plainly made-up (or some kind of delusion):

Codsworth: It's been ages since we've had a proper family activity. Checkers. Or perhaps charades. Shaun does so love that game. Is the lad... with you...?

Player Default: Codsworth... listen to me carefully... have you seen him? Have you seen Shaun?

Codsworth: Why, sir had him last, remember? Perhaps he's gone to the Parker residence to arrange a play-date?

(Shaun is an infant. He is too young to play charades or to go to the neighbors for a play-date.)

So at once, Codsworth does and does not acknowledge the war. He does and does not seem to understand what’s happened, and he does and does not seem to follow Sole’s urgency regarding their spouse’s death and Shaun’s kidnapping.

And then, after a speech check, Codsworth finally snaps and breaks down sobbing in despair. Not only does he understand that the war happened, he has developed the ability to get depressed about it. Longing for human contact and with nothing else to do, he’s even developed coping mechanisms to help him try to deal with his loneliness and despair—futilely trying to do his chores and deluding himself into pretending everything is completely normal.

Wait a minute. Sobbing? Despair? Depression? Coping mechanisms and delusions? This Is all pretty sophisticated stuff to be programmed into a robot, and if you spend more time with Codsworth, the reality of what’s happened to him becomes apparent:

Codsworth has evolved beyond his programming. In his 210 lonely years of existence, he has developed emotional reactions and self-awareness far beyond that of most other robots, and, indeed, has basically evolved an artificial consciousness.

“Emergent intelligence” is the theoretical ability of an AI to eventually develop something resembling human thought processes, and it seems that our dear Codsworth has undergone this. Traveling with him, he displays many sophisticated thoughts and behaviors far beyond what most robots are shown to be capable of. He has memories of pre-War time and places, and understands how various locations have changed. He is capable of learning new information and forming opinions on it, gaining his own understanding of the people and factions in the Commonwealth. He can feel happiness, sorrow, fear, disgust. He can anticipate things, predict danger and imagine how people might respond to your actions. The mere he fact he has opinions and a moral code that he applies to you shows he has free will, something even other robot companions don’t (Ada has a personality, but absolutely does not care about your actions.)

He’s also smart enough to make many wry observational jokes, and to lay one hell of a sick burn on you:

{Joking - Found an old bowling alley. / Amused} Fancy a game, mum? Something tells me the bumpers are no longer available.

Codsworth’s intelligence is even more sophisticated than that. He displays stunning self-awareness, frequently referencing the fact he is a robot and what that means. He is very proud of his background as General Atomics’ finest, and seems pleased with his robot nature and his lot in life. (Unlike Curie, I don’t think Codsworth would ever really want to gain a synth body. He seems quite happy as he is.)

Here he is making reference to still feeling the tug of his programming:

{Seeing an office with chairs arranged in a circle. / Neutral} I've the most incredible urge to rearrange those chairs in a more perfect circle.

Understanding when other robots are restricted by theirs:

A pity. It appears Deezer's programming is too severe to allow for normal conversation. Ah well.

And when they’re actually not:

Codsworth: Greetings, sir. Good to see another robot in town. That chef hat becomes you.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?

Codsworth: Takahashi you say? I'm Codsworth, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?

Codsworth: Is that so? Well, we both know RobCo is no General Atomics. It's not surprising it failed, shoddy work and all. {Friendly - trying to cheer up another robot. / Friendly} Chin up, though. Never know when parts may turn up.

And here’s Galaxy Brain Codsworth ruminating on his own state of being and contemplating his nature:

{Disappointed that he can't be 100% human sometimes. / Sad} It's unfortunate that I lack the proper design to consume liquids. Something about camaraderie over a few drinks is very inviting.

I suppose if I had the hardware, I'd have the software as well. I'd hate to see how that'd affect my honesty and manner settings.

{Reconsidering what he thought was a good idea. / Thinking} Indeed. Perhaps I should rethink my initial desire.

Hilariously, Codsworth does not seem fully aware of how remarkable his intelligence is. He occasionally says things like “if I had feelings” and “if I could feel things,” indicating that in some ways he still believes he is only a robot and defines himself by what a robot is and does.

But as we can see, our humble robot butler has essentially evolved to become the smartest, most emotionally intelligent and person-like robot in the Commonwealth*, and potentially in the series.

([SIDE NOTE: Other FO4 robots nearing Codsworth’s level of consciousness and developed personality include Captain Ironsides, KLE-O, Whitechapel Charlie, and perhaps Takahashi. Curie is close, but also receives the unfair advantage of being uploaded into a synth body with a human brain. Jezebel also functions off of a human brain. Nick is not a robot, he’s a synth (though he does jokingly refer to himself as one) and also has the advantage of a human brain encoded on his processor.])

Also hilariously, the game basically does not acknowledge Codsworth’s impressive evolution. At all. There is absolutely no direct mention of it in the script. It is all left to ambient dialogue and the player’s own observations. And because so many people overlook Codsworth as a companion, they may not even realize exactly how unique his expanded consciousness is.

Now, you might call this total lack of mention a mistake, an oversight on Bethesda’s part, or that old chestnut “bad writing.” I don’t think it is. I think it’s a deliciously subtle little detail to include in a story about humanity, machines, artificial intelligence, and what makes a person.

Many of the themes of FO4 revolve around synths—distinctly not robots, but androids, artificially created beings with fully organic human bodies. Most of the storyline factions have strong beliefs about synths and the relative humanity thereof. The Institute believes that synths are objects, tools, machines no different from a robot who are only simulating their personalities through programming. The Brotherhood believes synths are monstrous abominations, a danger to humanity itself, technology run amok which needs to be destroyed. The Railroad believes they are people. Not humans, but people, built instead of born, free-thinking beings that deserve to be treated with respect and given rights.

Through quests, dialogue, notes, worldbuilding and other venues, players explore these questions. What makes someone a person? If your personality and memories can be rewritten or programmed, then who are you, really? Where do we draw the line between humans and machines, and how do we decide who belongs where?

Meanwhile, as the player contemplates the nature of personhood and the definition of intelligence, their robot butler quietly evolves into a fully-conscious person on his own, right beside them.

Codsworth is unquestionably a machine, but also unquestionably beyond the appliance he was built to be. Which to some philosophies and players should really beg a few other questions. If a robot can be considered a person, then what makes synths so different? And how many excuses do we have to make to pretend otherwise?

Ya boy Codsworth may not be flashy, or powerful, or kissable. He may not be the most glamorous companion around. But he is a good friend, a beloved member of the family, and above all else, a loyal butler—content to serve, quietly and humbly doing his job where some may never even notice him-- or the fact that he’s casually become his own person and sent generations of roboticists and philosophers spinning in their graves.

#fallout 4 #fallout meta #codsworth #hey tumblr fuck you i win #i was forced to do an involuntary second draft #but i like it better now so hey

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zaph1337 · 4 years ago

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Monster Hunter Rating 18: Gravios, the Armor Wyvern

So, this next monster is kinda like the Cephadrome in the sense that it’s an adult form of a juvenile monster you can fight, but with the Cephadrome, its juvenile form is a small monster that lives and fights in packs. This monster, on the other hand, is the adult form of a Main Monster--in fact, the first main monster I ever covered! Let’s give a hand to the 0-time winner of the Parent of the Year Award, Gravios!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 4)

Appearance: A lot of the things I said about Basarios applies to its adult form (including the human teeth), but Gravios has a few differences. Gravios has a more draconic head with a wizened appearance thanks to its protruding, cracked chins and squinty eyes; its rocky appearance also looks a lot like its made of bones, and while Basarios kinda looked like that, too, something about the head just seems more skeletal. It also lacks the mountainous mass on its back that it had when it was a Basarios, but in its place is a row of stone spikes that go all the way down to its tail, which ends in what might as well be the head of a morning star (not a mace, ‘cause those actually don’t have spikes).

Gravios certainly accomplishes its purpose of looking like an older Basarios; in fact, looking at the MH1 render of Basarios now, it looks like a child that just noticed something off to its side. Gravios, on the other hand, looks like an elderly dragon that’s probably lived for centuries. And it’s certainly big enough to convey that, too; the largest Basarios could be 1754.6 cm, or 57.6 feet long, which is certainly big, but still small enough when compared to some other monsters that you could believe it being a juvenile. The largest Gravios, on the other hand, are 3065.9 cm, or 100 feet long--nearly double the size of the largest Basarios (though, funnily enough, the wiki says that the smallest Basarios is actually bigger than the smallest Gravios). Remember that anon who pointed out how big Diablos was? Yeah, Gravios are bigger than that, though only slightly. Size projects presence, and for a dragon, an ancient appearance means that it’s a survivor who’s likely fought whippersnappers like you before--and it won. Stone may be old, but that doesn’t make it easy to break, and with how well Gravios conveys that, it gets a 9/10.

Behavior: I’ve already mentioned that these guys abandon their kids shortly after said kids are born, so let’s move on to something new!...well, okay, first I gotta mention that like Basarios, Gravios feed on volcanic minerals, ores, and sometimes meat. They prefer explosive ores, though, as those fuel their heat beams (which probably goes for Basarios, too). They live in swamps and volcanoes like they did when they were young, but now that they’re grown, they don’t need to burrow and hide from predators anymore. Their size and nearly impenetrable hides don’t exactly give many monsters the munchies, and the fact that Gravios are known to travel by swimming in the lava channels of their volcanoes doesn’t exactly make them more appealing. Their only natural predator is the Akantor, which I won’t get to for a very long time.

Though they’re proud, territorial, and extremely aggressive when angered, Gravios are pretty chill most of the time. I guess when you’re that big and that tough, not much can really do anything to get under your skin--literally and figuratively!...what, no rimshot? Y’all have poor taste. Anyways, because they’re relatively docile, there have been some cases where people have actually been able to tame Gravios and make them pets, which seems like lore from Monster Hunter Stories, honestly, and I’m not sure if that game can be considered a reliable source for the MH series. Where do you even keep a 100-foot dragon, anyway? Well, whatever. The fact that Gravios go from being poorly-camouflaged Basarios to being feared volcanic sentinels makes them more interesting than their younger selves. 8/10.

Abilities: Like Basarios, Gravios are capable of flying for a short time, though they prefer to stay grounded. Their hide is also incredibly tough and capable of withstanding lava, though like Basarios, their bodies likely become more vulnerable when they’re drawing on their inner fire (you can see how the MH4 render’s tail has glowing lines to signify this). They retain their gas-spewing pores from their youth, though they don’t expel poisonous gas anymore, instead relying on their sleeping and burning gases. Gravios often expel the latter to cool themselves down in addition to defense, as the gas is a waste product created by the gut bacteria that help them digest minerals and ores, which, remember, also fuel their heat beams. And all of this is in addition to the weight they can throw around, as well as their tail clubs. There’s not really anything different from Basarios here, but Gravios are meant to be “Basarios but deadlier,” so their techniques are likely more effective anyways. 7/10.

Equipment: As expected, Gravios and Basarios equipment have basically the same theme, and they even share weapon trees in some games, but there are some subtle differences. Some of the Gravios weapons, when compared to their Basarios counterparts, are sharper and less rough. Gravios-themed weapons also ditch the blue highlights, but a couple of them have red ones, probably to reflect the greater volcanic power within them. This Sword and Shield called the Flame Syphos doesn’t really match any of the other weapons thematically, but it does look awesome:

I love how the blade looks like its made from a volcanic crystal of some kind, and the glowing gem in the shield’s center, combined with the chains, exude a sense of power that needs to be kept in check (before anyone says anything, you can attack with the shield by bashing enemies with it). This next weapon, a Heavy Bowgun called the Gravios Howler, also doesn’t match the other weapons, but it’s too interesting to not show:

Sorry, did I say interesting? I meant disturbing. I said that Basarios looked like it was made to scare kids, but Gravios clearly wasn’t, so the logic behind this monstrosity eludes me. I only showed it to imagine the reactions some of you had upon seeing it for the first time (it’s how I show you I care, honest!). But I gotta show something indicitive of the Gravios theme, so here’s the Graviton Hammer:

Y’know what’s funny? Aside from being really heavy, Gravios has nothing more to do with gravity than any other monster. I thought now would be a good time to bring that up since this weapon is literally named after gravitons. As for the armor, I chose the Gunner set again:

Okay, first off, that helmet’s visor probably isn’t practical, but it looks freaking awesome, and the fact that it’s only for the male armor is a crime. I also like how the arm guards kinda look like drills, and how the armor pieces are covered with Gravios spikes that kinda resemble volcanic vents. The other armor sets across the series (that are on the Gravios Equipment page, anyways) are less impressive, though, and a lot of the weapons could easily be assigned to Basarios, despite attempts to make them look distinct, so I’m giving this the same score I gave Basarios. 7/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: Gravios was meant to be more impressive than Basarios, and it succeeded. The rock dragon motif leant itself very well to the concept of an elderly, battle-scarred dragon, and its reputation as one of the most dangerous wyverns is likely well-deserved. They may suck as parents, but dang, if they aren’t cool monsters. 7/10.

#monster hunter #monster hunter rating #zaph1337

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wilhelmjfink · 6 years ago

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The Great Divide - Chapter 14

A/N: Sometimes I look back at the one smut piece that I’ve written and see that it has 300+ notes and then I remember this series and how there’s like 4 of us? Is it even worth it? But hey if I haven’t mentioned it lately, the like handful of you that are here are the fuckin’ best, man. I never ever in a million years would’ve thought I would ever share my fanfics anywhere at aLL EVER SO like that there’s other people that just read it and liked it?? Shit’s fuckin’ wild. Sorry, I’m drunk. Got me right in the feels. This one is LONG!

But forreal. Thanks for reading xoxoxo

“You can’t just waltz through the fuckin’ gates, pick out some random broad and just leave with her...”

Daryl eyed Warner where he sat in the grass, still tied up and unable to move, watching Daryl and his friends begin to load up their vehicles and prepare for the run. At least he was outside and able to get some fresh air. Daryl still had to violently stifle the urge to beat the shit out of him right then and there.

“’n why the hell not?”

Warner developed an attitude as if they were supposed to just know the rules; like it was a waste of his time having to explain it to them. And that was one thing the group noted of him: that he often went from one personality to the other, though there was not necessarily a dramatic difference between the personas inside of him. “Well, for one, they’ll shoot you on sight,” Warner explained flatly. His tone was getting sharper, more snarky -- Daryl was considerably proud of himself for not grabbing him by the neck and strangling the life out of him. It went unmentioned, but the others were as well.

And though Warner had learned well enough now to not poke the bear — Daryl, of course, being the bear — he genuinely offered up all the information he knew without issue, cooperating entirely likely in hopes of being freed from the ropes around his wrists and ankles. “But if you get in there, and you go get to the trade, and you just... instantly pick out the girl, they’re gonna know something’s up — ”

Rick interrupted: “So we’ll play it off -- hang around for a little bit first.”

With a slow shake of his head, Warner disagreed. No... just -- just trust me when I say that she will not last very long there. Ones like her, they -- ”

“Why do they even care?”

Warner narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated at being interrupted yet again. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, if you would let me finish.”

Daryl glared at him and Rick remained silent, a wordless request to continue.

“The big slave trade always comes right after this big event they call The Reaping,” he explained, drawing the attention of the all four that were around within earshot loading the truck. Even before he’d told them what The Reaping was, the name alone sounded bad, and not a single one of them had a good feeling about it. “It’s where they volunteer another slave to fight against one of Asher’s best soldiers.”

Rick and Daryl exchanged glances, having remembered Warner briefly mentioning this earlier, but they’d blown over it at the suggestion of going to the slave trade as it seemed to be the easiest way to get inside The Divide. And Warner seemed to switch personalities, yet again -- this one a bit darker than the others, in the very least.

“But the thing is,” he continued lowly, as if he was telling a ghost story around a fire, “it’s never as random as they intend it to be. The oldest slave there — some old bag named Hilda or something — she always has to choose someone to fight. And there’s an agreement amongst the slaves: that she always chooses the newest addition.” He looked back and forth between the two men looming over him as they stared down at him with hooded eyes, their expressions vague, waiting impatiently for him to make his point though they undoubtedly knew where he was going.

“Alright,” Rick pushed. “And?”

“And if your girl was the newest capture, then fuckin’... Linda or whatever offered her up to fight.”

“Why are ya just tellin’ us about this now?” Daryl demanded in response, the only reasonable response that made sense inside his head at that moment was anger that he hadn’t been told earlier, as if that would make a difference.

And he only got angrier when Warner merely shrugged. “Didn’t think about it until just now.”

Fighting the fire inside of his veins, Daryl’s fists clenched at his sides while he looked over to Rick in search of answers, while also simply refusing to believe that Warner’s words were entirely true. The way that he told it, as if he was narrating a play with the way those other personas rotated who was in charge -- it was almost too practiced. There had to be a way to get into The Divide, especially if they had Warner there with them.

After a moment of silence while they all contemplated his words, Daryl spun back around toward the stranger and took a threatening step closer to him, pulse racing, breath huffing. “Listen: I don’t care if I gotta skin ya and wear ya like a god damn hat to get in. You’re gonna get us where we need to be if it’s the last fuckin’ thing ya ever do. So cut the bullshit and stop dickin’ around!”

“It’s not bullshit,” Warner replied defensively. He would’ve held up his hands in surrender if they weren’t bound together at the wrists. Every so often, a side of Daryl broke through the composed persona Rick had him putting on for his own good, and it was not very comforting for Warner. “It’s the truth -- it’s all truth.”

“Good. And ya better dig deep inside that head’a yours and figure out every truth ya wanna say to us right here, right now, ‘cause if we get there ‘n ya suddenly remember somethin’ relevant, I’m gonna put ya threw the god damn wringer ‘n y’all are gonna wish you was dead. Are we clear?”

Warner swallowed hard, struggling to remain stoic in response. “I’ve got nothing else for you.”

“For your sake, I hope ya ain’t lyin’.” Daryl clearly didn’t believe him still, but the others weren’t entirely convinced either. But considering it was the only lead they had, they knew they needed to at least take a shot because at that point, something was better than nothing.

Their plan was to go back to the original spot where Riley’d been when she disappeared — in the outskirts of the woods with the dead soldier on display as a checkpoint. They were going to strip him of his clothing and, taking into account the corpses stature and disregarding it’s abnormal, alarming outer appearance, Carol volunteered to dawn herself in the armor and join Warner in returning to the The Divide during the trade with Glenn and Michonne both posted up on adjacent buildings, with their sniper rifles trained on Warner should he decide to pull any subterfuge. Tara, Aaron, Abraham and Michonne would on standby incase things got out of hand. The less obvious it was that Carol was out too of the ordinary, the better.

If Warner was actually correct, and they could make it to witness the fight between the slave and the designated soldier, if it really was Riley, that would be even better. “We’ll leave at sunrise,” Rick said, slamming the doors of the van shut. “We’ll stop at the Hampton, grab the armor, and head north from there.”

“Why so soon?” Warner asked from where he sat on the curb of the road. Not even particularly malicious, either; he sounded genuinely apprehensive. “The trade may not even be that soon. It’s usually a week after the -- ”

“Because, if she really did get chosen for that ‘Reaping’, we wanna be there incase it goes wrong.”

“If it goes wrong, you’re better off staying out of it.” Warner looked between the group above him, finally a look of authentic concern on his features, though Daryl still wouldn’t believe it. It still took every bit of self control he was harboring to not beat him mercilessly right then and there. “There are one-hundred-and-thirty-six heavily armed Slavemasters at The Divide,” he continued, “and that’s just the main county. And no offense, but the six or seven of you guys won’t win that battle.”

Rick cocked his head in careful consideration before narrowing his eyes, a dark but familiar vengeful expression blanketing his face. “Don’t you worry about that,” he said lowly. “We’ll be just fine. Let us worry about that part.”

The drive was long and uneventful.

Warner’s directions matched the routes on the map and he sat in the back seat of the van, hands tied together still, to which he commented on several times during the trip only to be ignored.

“There’s a long underground tunnel,” he told them, alternating between staring out the window at the blur of trees and derelict buildings and his fallen comrades armor that lay stacked on the leather seat next to him, “like the Lincoln tunnel was went in and out of New York City years ago.”

“Is it clear?” Rick asked.

“Of walkers, yeah. But it’s guarded pretty heavily.”

Him and Daryl exchanged another silent glance. “How heavy is pretty heavy?”

Warner was aloof now, not tuned into the conversation and seemingly uninterested as he shrugged. “That depends on what you think you can handle.”

Rick knew that Daryl was fuming before he even looked over at him, his friend sitting next to him with narrowed eyes and audibly gritting teeth, but wordlessly a look out of the corner of Rick’s eye made him relax. Warner’s game seemed to be just that: offering insight, then shrugging it off and playing dumb. Rick was the one that cracked him in the first place; Daryl knew it was in his best interest to just listen as opposed to act.

Glancing up in the rearview mirror, Rick made sure the second vehicle was still in tow behind him, Rosita, Tara and Abraham keeping up and the third with Michonne, Aaron and Glenn close behind.

When he turned back around, focusing again on the road ahead of them, his foot went robotically to the brak at the sight of a motorcycle gang down the route, throwing a hand outside of his window to signal to the others behind to slow down as well. Ultimately, the gang roared up to them with little consideration to the racket they were making and some even left their bikes idling while they waiting for Rick and his group to exit the vehicles.

The leader was a stocky older man — not the weak and helpless kind of older, either; he had tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin they could see and his silver hair was greased back over his head, the sheen matching the chains that decorated his leather vest. He smiled, showing his yellow-stained teeth, and killed the switch on his bike. Rick had a hunch that they might’ve been related to Warner somehow, but the man spoke up from the backseat without even being prompted to confess.

“Hey!” Warner called out and Daryl stepped out of the van cautiously. “That’s Six — that’s my group — let me outta here, I can talk to them!”

Daryl hesitantly looked to Rick for confirmation and when he gave him a stiff nod in return, Daryl leaned into the back seat and grasped onto Warner’s dirty collar and just about dragged him from the vehicle. He stumbled out onto the pavement below, struggling with his bound limbs, but managed to push himself to his feet clumsily, trying to compose himself infront of his old comrades.

“Well, shit, looky here, boys! It’s fuckin’ Warner!” The man in front howled, eliciting a rumble of laughter and hoots from the gang behind him. “We was so sure that new girl you caught had killed ya, left ya for dead.”

It seemed almost too easy -- they knew instantly he was talking about Riley. It only made sense with how quickly they’d found him after her disappearance, right? Warner’s eyes were wide at the remark, looking like a deer in headlights. Daryl stepped forward, confidence wavering at the sight even though he was sure they were his crowd of people; they were not nice men and if they were anywhere as bad as Warner had been describing them as, he needed to tread lightly.

“That new girl,” he tried to remain stoic as to not show any emotional attachment and weakness though he was sure he’d failed. “She alive?”

“Alive?” Six grinned more to himself as he contemplated an answer and Daryl had to remind himself once again that these were fucked up people and that his answer was more than likely not true, whatever it may be. But he still needed to listen and, for fuck’s sake, be cautious.

Though, he was very happy to hear the answer Six gave. “She’s doin’ just fine. Real nice, actually. Feisty thing. She’s goin’ up in the Reaping tonight in the Pit — man, I can’t wait to see that broad swingin’.”

That confirmed their fears that she was the one selected to fight one of the toughest soldiers in the Divide that night. Daryl’s last few days had seemed like nothing but sadness and the constant struggle to keep a level head. And he’s accepted that they were already outnumbered at that moment, reminding him to remain calm. It was likely the only chance they were going to get. And luckily, Six continued before he could lash out even if he wanted to. “But never mind that — Warner! Where the hell ya been, man? Pit’s been searchin’ everywhere for you!”

His voice was dripping with smarmy sarcasm and he was clearly less than impressed with Warner’s appearance, though the sinister smile still haunted his features. There was nothing behind his face, a shallow mask the only thing that they could see before them.

“Well, uh... I — “

“Oh, ‘n shit, before I forget...” Six reached around his belt, searching for something in particular as he muttered to himself and both Rick and Daryl watched curiously by the sidelines, attentive to his every move in anticipation of what might happen next. “I have a message from Asher for ya...”

Warner’s eyes widened and he through a fleeting glance over his shoulder like he was searching for something or someone, afraid of being watched or tricked. “Asher? For me?” Daryl’s crossbow was tight in his grasp and he was feeling particularly trigger happy.

“Yeah... what was it? Oh, that’s right!” In the blink of an eye he’d unholstered a .357, cocking the hammer back and pulling the trigger in one swift motion that sent a bullet right between Warner’s eyes. He fell like a bag of sand, eyes still opened, blood pouring from the circular wound just above the bridge of his nose.

Silence.

Daryl and Rick both visibly flinched at the sudden action, neither having expected that response out of the strangers and only reinforcing the fear in their bodies and reminding them once more to be abnormally cautious and wary around them.

Six chuckled. Dary’s blood was boiling beneath his skin. He was furious — he was fucking livid. Even more so because he knew that, for his own safety and the safety of his friends, there wasn’t a mother fucking thing he could do about it but stand there and stare.

The one fucking piece of the puzzle that Daryl had that held any sort of possibility of leading him to Riley and the one fucking thing that gave him a glimmer of hope that he could reach her again. The one frayed, narrow thread that connected him to his girl that he was grasping onto for dear life... it was laying dead at his fucking feet.

It’s Fallout. Thanks for playing everyone. It’s the Fallout 3 DLC The Pitt. *flips table*

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lunarfanfics · 6 years ago

Text

Jade & Sapphire

Words: 4712

Pair: Eren Jaeger & Annie Leonhardt

Time Skip | Marley AU. PART 3 of THIS fic! It took awhile. But part 3 got pretty long, so I cut it into 4 parts instead. ANYWHO! Enjoy this continuation!

[Fanfic.Net] & [Ao3]

WAVER PT. III

Time was of the essence. Upon leaving the pier, Annie had Thirty-two hours to come up with a plan. She now had twenty-four hours to set the plan into motion.

And counting down.

The day ran its course, hour after hour passed by. The crack of dawn was spent running drills for the young warriors to keep them in shape. As the morning came by, Annie had gotten a hold of Pieck, claiming she needed the cart girl for a special mission.

The ‘mission�� in retrospect just turned out to be that Annie had need of Pieck’s womanly advice in shopping for more enticing clothing. Pieck had reminded her it was against the Marley regiment to be seen out of their standard warrior uniform when out in town. Yet she still gave some decent tips involving fashion. Though Pieck herself wasn't much of a shopaholic either. Her taste in casual clothing often involved long ankle length skirts, stark white blouses and boots. That wasn’t exactly too far off from their own dull standard uniform style.

If there was a way, Annie would have longed to contact her old roommate Hitch Dreyse of the Military Police and ask her for advice regarding quality feminine fashion.

After all, that was an ingredient to the scheme she was cooking. To capture the eyes, to draw away attention. Feed into the obliviousness as to not alert her prey. What better way to do that than to use her own body? It was all part of the plan.

Annie Leonhardt was not above luring in naive men like a black widow does its meals by flaunting her femininity, or feigning innocence for that matter. It was one way to get what she wanted without breaking arms. Though she found she lacked the charismatic charm many young women so often do have; she made up for it with a more salacious wardrobe to tease and taunt. Never too touch, however. She would never stoop that low.

In the end, many men only wanted one thing after all.

But Eren is different.

Annie crinkled her nose at the sight of a tacky blouse patterned in seashells. She moved the blouse to the side, sifting through the rack of clothing for something to catch the eye.

Well… Maybe not so different. He does want something from me. My loyalty.

Pondering, Annie fingered the sleeve of a cashmere pullover. The material was softer than any of the clothes she owned. Though she grimaced when she caught sight of the outrageous price written on the slip of paper dangling from the hem.

He thinks I’m easy to manipulate. He thinks just because I showed some sympathy for his people I would willingly join his side.

She had mulled over his words after that meeting. What did it matter that she spared a couple of lives in Paradise when she had killed hundreds more? In fact, what did it matter to him?

Annie shook her head, losing interest in the line of colorful blouses and sweaters. She moved about the small shop, squeezing through racks of polished leather shoes and fake pearls. But nothing caught her eye.

Pieck came burrowing out a thicket of frilly skirts than, a bit clumsily on her crutch. She smoothed the stray away tendrils of her long black hair that had gotten stuck on a button. The cart girl’s hair tended to get caught in anything. Annie folded her arms, nodding to the dark silky bundle Pieck clutched to her chest with one arm.

“What’s that you got there?”

Pieck only smiled, she held her arm up, unfolding the garment. It rippled like waves down to her ankles, a navy color greeted Annie’s eye. The dress looked decent; the sleeves stopped halfway down the forearm, the top was loose with a low neckline. And the skirt was cinched at the waist, it wasn’t too long, nor too short. Annie at least wouldn’t have to get it tailored to suit her height.

She gave Pieck a nod of approval. “Not bad.”

“Thought you might like it.” Pieck held out the dress, dropping it into Annie’s awaiting arms.

“Not to be intrusive, Vice Commander. I know you said you wanted to look for more flirty styles. But you yourself aren’t a very flirtatious person. It begs me to wonder who exactly it is you are looking to impress, hm?”

Annie rolled her eyes, turning her back to the cart girl in search of the shop owner. “That’s none of your business.”

“Aw.” Pieck pouted. “Well, if you don’t tell me I’d just have to assume you’re playing dress-up for Reiner.”

Annie made a noise of disgust, to which Pieck giggled at.

She ignored Pieck’s japes after finding the shop owner. Annie had tried on the dress, and confirmed it was indeed a good fit. After she changed, she’d paid the shop owner the dresses full price; which was unfortunately half of the large sum she made as her rank of Vice Commander. It was even more expensive than that cashmere pullover.

Annie knew even Hitch would balk at this. But silk wasn’t cheap, and it especially wasn’t cheap for Eldians’.

Though it shouldn’t matter to her. Money being spent on frivolous things.

It’s all according to her plan. She will avoid engaging Eren in a fight. She will distract him, feed into his ideals of her joining his cause. She will keep him at the Seaport for as long as she could.

He will never board that train to Liberio.

Annie was going to make sure of that.

~*~*~

The Market’s only liquor shop closed during the afternoons. Annie had to meet with Reiner and the young warriors for lunch at a quarter to 13:00. But she had sent Colt to make her order with the old man that tended there. Colt was skittish at first. This districts law was different from that of Liberios when it came to alcohol. They prohibited those under the age of 18 to purchase alcohol under the suspicion that they might try to make off with it across the heavily guarded waters.

Though the old man was an Eldian himself. And Sometimes when the Marleyian authorities were out of earshot, he complained that his eyes were so bad, he couldn’t tell a young adult from an elder.

Her order was quite a popular drink. Marleys’ own special brew of red wine. Made up of fresh black grapes from the farms they’d hijacked from Eldian families in the far country side. Annie had tried it before though. Not being a fan of alcohol, she thought the taste was mediocre at best.

Perhaps Eren would think differently.

Annie waited outside the luncheon Café for Colt to arrive with her wine. She leaned against the boarded windows with Reiner accompanying her. He sat to her left on the bench by the front doors, and held a tin can of boiling lemon tea, occasionally taking sips. The inner skin of his palms was tinged a brighter red than tomato. Annie knew the tea must’ve been scalding him, yet Reiner had no reaction to it.

He welcomes the pain. It keeps him awake, reminds him he’s still alive.

She made no attempt to start a conversation with him. It always ended the same way. She didn’t like looking at his pathetic state. It made her feel almost guilty if she stared at him too long, and she believed she had no right to start sympathizing with him, yet.

From Inside the Café Annie heard Gabi’s proud piercing voice, the young cadet was going on about how she had destroyed the Mid-East Union’s armored train with a homemade bomb she concocted. It’s only the 25th time Annie had heard the story since they had gotten back from the trench. Annie doesn’t understand why Gabi was thrilled to offer herself as a willing sacrifice for a foolhardy plan. Though it worked, it was still reckless.

And stupid.

She wondered what a meeting between Gabi and a young Eren would’ve been like.

Like two stones scraping against each other perhaps. Emitting spark after spark, until they get a fire going. But that fire would slowly grow too big because, as reckless beings, the two would just keep fanning it until that fire became wildfire. And that wildfire would slowly spread and consume any and everything in its way.

In short, they’re both obtrusive, quick-to-fiery people. But that was a meeting only in theory; if she were to compare Gabi, and the Eren she was forced to follow less than a day ago. There wouldn’t be as much similarities. In fact, Eren never truly came off as being enraged at her. Maybe irritated.

Though he was certainly forward…

Annie’s mind came to that not-so kiss he’d given her before she fled. She tsk’d, turning her face away from Reiner so he wouldn’t spot the embarrassing blush that adorned her cheeks. Not that he’d notice anything within a foot of him these days.

“Hey, Miss Leonhardt!”

A voice called out. Both Reiner and Annie swiveled their heads to the owner of that voice—a tall, fair-haired young soldier who was running up to them, clutching a brown paper bag to his chest.

Colt was out of breath once he stopped short of his small Vice Commander. “Hey—” He coughed, trying to catch his breath, “—I got your wine.”

He held the paper bag out to her by the handle of the wine bottle inside. Annie took it by placing her hand on the bottom of the bottle first. She spared a glace to the contents inside to ensure it was exactly what she asked for.

“The bottle is smaller than I expected.”

“The old man told me It’s a little less than the standard size, seven-hundred fifty millimeters, but that’s the kind of bottle you get for the amount of money you gave.” Colt explained as courteous as he possibly could. He had always been intimidated by the little Vice Commander more so than Reiner, and the Warrior Chief, Zeke.

Annie sighed. “This’ll do then. Thank you, Colt.”

Colt gave a nod to Reiner. “What’s that you got there?”

“Tea.” Reiner muttered.

“Ah. So, are you guys going to have your own celebration too?”

Annie shared a glance with Reiner, who shrugged in response. She turned to Colt, drumming her fingers on the wine. “This is our celebration, I guess. Some peace and quiet, it’s too rowdy in there.”

Colt chuckled, “Yeah they’re pretty loud, huh.” He shuffled his feet a bit, looking every bit apprehensive as his light-colored eyes darted from the front doors of the café, to his superiors.

“Erm- Ahem—Miss Leonhardt?”

“You can just call me Annie, Colt. Only the kids address me Miss Leonhardt, and you’re hardly a kid.”

The cadet jumped, a pink hue adorned his pale cheeks. “Right! Heheh, it’s just you’re the Vice Commander and I well— never mind!” He shook his head frantically. “I just—I just wanted to give my thanks to you… for training me, that is.”

Colt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know I’m not a quick learner, but I’ve been getting the hang of the techniques you’ve taught me. I’m hoping to put all your teachings into good use when I acquire the Beast titan.”

Annie stared quizzically at him for a moment. Colt swallowed under her piercing blue gaze.

“Yes well,” She nodded after a couple of seconds, “See that you do. I don’t always dedicate my free time to training soldiers who aren’t my priority.”

Colt grinned at that, pulling up the sleeve of his uniform. “Don’t worry, I will!” He flashed her the underside of his forearm; his sheet pale skin was littered with purple and green faded marks. Courtesy of the Vice Commander herself.

But he seemed proud to bare them. “I didn’t earn these bruises for nothing,” Colt rolled his sleeve back down. “Those kicks of yours really hurt, and you grapple way too hard, sometimes I feel like I’m going to pass out from it.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

Colt laughed again. “I suppose so. Well that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll see you guys later! I promised Porco I’d make up to him by buying him lunch this time.”

“Try not throwing up on anybody.” Annie called out after him. Colt flushed, ducking his head as he entered the café. The doors opened, noise erupted from within—then the doors swung shut behind him, quickly muffling the racket.

Annie took her place against the boarded the windows. Still drumming her fingers against the wrapped wine bottle.

Eren said the same thing to me once too… Didn’t he? During our trainee days…

“You trained with Colt?”

Reiner’s gruff disused voice almost startled her. Almost.

She shrugged. “I trained Colt, for some time. Yes.”

Reiner sipped his chilled tea once, then asked. “Why?”

“Why not?” Annie rubbed her temple, feeling the feather light fingers of déjà vu prod at her brain. A conversation had started like this between them years ago, hadn’t it? It almost seemed like she was a trainee again, back on Paradise Island, back within the walls. Back with the 104th squadron. In that memory she had bitterly answered, “Because you threw the idiot my way.”

In the here, and now. She only sighed, “He asked me too. And Zeke isn’t the best at hand to hand combat. Colt will be at a disadvantage if the only thing he picks up from the Chief is how to pitch a ball.”

Reiner made an airy sound, like a laugh but not quite. “… You know sometimes I see them when I look at the others.”

Annie perked an eyebrow, but she knew what he was going on about. She was glad she wasn’t the only one who did.

“Bertolt, Marcel…” Reiner leaned against the back of the bench, craning his neck up to the cloudy afternoon skies. “… The entire 104th squad. I see them all here. All the time. The dead ones especially.”

He grimaced, “I wish I didn’t. They haunt me everywhere I go. Especially him.”

Reiner took a hard chug of his tea, swallowing audibly. Annie swore she almost heard the man whimper.

“This is my penance I suppose… I hurt him the most.”

~*~*~

Thirty minutes to 20:00, Annie hurriedly made her way down the same back alleyways Eren had led her though a day prior. She clutched the top of her long trench coat with one hand, underneath it she carried a satchel. The wine Colt had purchased for her was safely hidden inside. Night had already set in, and the skies were a clear indigo speckled with distant twinkling stars. There was a brisk chill in the wind, coming from being too close to the sea, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle

The silk dress she bought in the morning felt light, and pleasurably smooth against her skin. The hem of the dress swished around her lithe pale legs. She would have worn some woolen stockings she owned too; but they itched badly so she discarded them in favor of shorts to wear beneath the dress.

Annie had styled her hair to the best of her ability. She settled on a loose braid; combing her long bangs to the side, tendrils of platinum blonde still obscured her eyes. She also had applied a bit of light make-up. A sweep of mascara to make her eyes stand out, nude lip stick, a dust of dark eyeshadow for a sultrier look. She even powdered her face to a livelier rouge complexion. This game wasn’t new to her, so she had taken to learning about cosmetics and beauty earlier on.

Though Eren wasn’t the type to care much for appearance. If she was being honest with herself; Annie didn’t know what Eren looked for in a woman. Or if he favored the opposite sex at all.

She’ll find out soon enough though. It’s not like it mattered too much to her. She knew him. And he had known her. They had respect for each other. That’s what mattered most. That familiarity. That admiration. If she played her cards right, she might be able to manipulate him; as he had tried to manipulate her, using only her words.

There might not even be a need for the wine.

Still, she tried not getting her hopes high. This was Eren Jaeger, after all.

“-Isgusting bastard!”

Annie halted in her path.

Glass shattered in the distance, followed by raucous laughter.

What was that?

Going for a stroll at night pass the Marleys’ curfew hours was dangerous; walking in the back alleys at night pass curfew hours, was even more dangerous. Annie squared her shoulders, continuing down the narrow cobblestone path towards the noise. She walked carefully to avoid having her heels clack too much.

Annie stopped short of a corner, just when that same obnoxious laugh erupted.

“Oh shit, Look! Look at his eye! Haha!”

She crept forward cautiously. Keeping one hand on the grimy wall, she peeked around the corner. There was a dumpster which obscured a lot of her view. But Annie did see two young men. One who was sharply dressed, and laughing like a hyena, and another who stood off to the side with his back facing her, that one’s arms were crossed. But she saw clearly the absence of the star arm band on both men.

Marleyian Civilians? What are they doing in an Eldian neighborhood? …

The dumpster hid her view of what she was certain was a poor incapacitated Eldian.

The laughing man kicked at the body behind the dumpster, Annie heard a low groan.

“C’mon gutter rat, preach to us again. So we can knock you the fuck out some more.”

Annie swallowed inaudibly.

This is none of business. Turn around. Don’t look back. These things always happen.

And she was. She was just about to step away, to put what she saw behind her, and erase it from her memory. Until she heard his voice.

“You’re only going to… damage your delicate fists.”

Annie shut her eyes, sighing exasperatedly.

Damn it.

“C’mere, you one-eyed bitch.”

Annie peeped around the corner again, the laughing man was no longer laughing, but snarling into the face of the suicidal idiot she was supposed to use her nearly non-existent charm on.

Damn it Eren!

Annie could barely see the other titan shifter, and his long hair fell over his eyes and much of his face. But that well-dressed young man was holding Eren up by his shirt high enough that she could make out the cuts on his cheek, and the smear of red covering his chin. The one holding Eren hissed something, before launching his fist into Eren’s stomach—Eren doubled over, but the suited man caught him, holding him up by his shoulders, before striking Eren’s chest with his knee.

Eren fell limply; Annie winced.

That’s twice he’s been kicked in the chest now.

The well-dressed man who seemed to be doing all the violence gestured to Eren, looking to the other young man who stood idly off to the side. “Walter, frisk him. Dirty rat may actually have something of value on him.”

The one called ‘Walter’ cringed at Eren’s crumpled form on the ground, “Fuck no. You do it. I don’t want to touch him, he looks so filthy.”

The well-dressed one sighed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Ugh, fine.”

Annie decided that was enough. She stepped out into the open.

“Hey.”

Her presence startled the two young men enough for them to look fearful for a split second.

“What!—Oh…” The suited man jumped to his feet, looking every bit like an angry well-dressed pig in Annie’s eyes.

“it’s just another Eldian…” He smirked, his eyes landing on her armband, then scoured the rest of her body.

“But this one’s a doll, you got money pretty girl?” His smile was lecherous.

Annie ignored him. “That man there, leave him alone.”

“Or what?” The suited man was approaching her now. Sure footed, and cocky.

These types are always cocky.

“What’re you going to do little girl, hm?” He stopped just a foot away from her. He attempted to be dominating but it didn’t work on her, he wasn’t so tall, in fact, he only had three more inches on Annie. She wondered how Eren could let himself get beaten by such a shrimp of a man.

Annie shrugged. “Nothing. I’m only asking you to leave him alone. You’re beating up a defenseless civilian, and for what? I thought the Marleyians of this district were already rich. You certainly look so, why waste your time stealing from the poor?”

The suited man looked bewildered for a moment, then he laughed that hyena-like laugh of his that had Annie, and even the one called Walter cringing at the sound.

“Why the fuck,” He stepped closer, “would I care about what you think? Walter get over here!”

Walter hesitated, “Uh—but I’m watching the gu—”

“I said get the fuck over here!”

“Okay.”

The suited man leered down at her, “You see, nobody gives a shit what you think. You’re nothing, you were born a little squealing rat like that one over there. Little Eldian girl, you might dress prettily but you’re worth no more than shit off my shoe.”

“Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?” Annie dead-panned.

The suited man chortled. “You think you’re tough, huh?” He leaned into her face, this one reeked of musky cologne and sweat. Annie wrinkled her nose but looked directly into his eyes. Challenging him.

“No, I’m just a bystander. Are you really going to force yourself on a frail woman like me?”

“Frail?” His eyes trailed downward, lingering on her chest some. His eyes narrowed upon meeting her face once more, his hand reached out to grasp her, “Let’s see how frail you really are—Huh!?”

Annie caught his wrist, twisting it. The suited man yelped, not expecting any retaliation, he tried to pull away, but she quickly dragged him down to her height.

“Very.”

She kicked his ankles, so he tumbled over, but she still had a firm grip on his wrist. She yanked his arm higher, forcing him to his knees.

“Ah, fuck! What—what the fuck, you bitch! Walter!”

Annie expected this ‘Walter’ to intervene. She acted fast, without a second thought— she kicked the suited man’s head into the nearby dumpster. Her polished black heel went flying in another direction. He was out the moment the impact came, sliding down the dumpster like a forgotten rag doll.

Walter hadn’t reacted quick enough, he stared at his friend’s unconsciousness body. Too overwhelmed to do anything. “Holy shit… Heinz! Fuck!”

Walter waved his hands hysterically. “You fucking killed him!”

Annie rolled her eyes. “I only knocked him out. He tried to grab me after all, we may not be protected against violence, but we are when it comes to sexual assault. I had every right to defend myself against a molester.”

Walter shook his head frantically. “Heinz is not a—a molester! He—Oh, fuck off! I’m going to report you to the authorities!”

Walter turned to run. “An Eldian whore like you should be locked up—”

Annie tilted her head. Eren stood in Walter’s way.

The Marleyian’s hands were trembling. “Get—get out of my way…”

Calmly, Eren took hold of Walter’s throat. Walking him into the same wall the suited man Heinz had held him against.

Strangely, Annie felt her stomach drop. As if this was the part where she knew it was going to get out of hand.

“Wait… Eren—”

He squeezed Walter’s throat, so tightly that the dirty tan of knuckles became a lighter tint. The young Marleyian emitted a choking sound, grasping at Eren’s arms, weakly shoving at his face, Eren merely brushed off the other’s hands.

“Eren.” Annie cautiously approached his side, like one would a rabid dog. With him closer now, Annie could see the damage the two Marleyians’ did to his face. There was a bruise blossoming underneath his right eye, his lip was split, bleeding profusely, and his left eye—Annie gaped— was gone. Where there should be an eye was just shriveled eyelid skin, and a nail length scar running from his brow to his cheek bone.

“I don’t get it,” Eren’s voice was soft but gruff. “I felt his fists on my face, he made me bleed. I never made any attempt to fight back, and yet,” Eren leaned in, “… Yet the true hatred I saw was in your eyes, how you did nothing but watch. You secretly enjoyed watching him beat me.”

The whites of Walter’s eyes were wet and reddening from lack of oxygen. He beat at Eren’s chest, to no avail. Eren observed him with a lack of emotion. He could’ve been looking at the wall itself, the way Eren regarded this Marleyian boy.

“Do you really hate me so much? Is all that hate well-earned for one Eldian? Did I deserve the beating he gave me, for simply existing? To what—atone for what my ancestors did to his hundreds of years ago? This is a new age now, why do we have to stay living in the past?”

Annie tentatively touched his elbow. “Eren, that is enough.”

He looked at her, finally. Annie almost wished he didn’t. His one eye didn’t look like his own, brightly peering down at her through his tangles of dark hair.

Walter was starting to gag, clawing at Eren’s hands. His feet beat on the pavement. Eren focused on him again. Holding him for a moment longer before releasing him. Walter sucked in a breath, red welts lined his throat. Sensing freedom, he tried to run, but Eren immediately shoved him back.

Walter coughed, “Just let me go, please!”

Eren delicately grabbed the Marleyian by the chin, he turned Walter’s head so the Marleyian’s view was focused on the petite blonde before him.

He leaned in so that his mouth was aligned with Walter’s ear. “Apologize to her.”

“W-what?”

Annie stepped back, folding her arms. “Eren, this is unnecessary.”

His behavior was unsettling her. Already had the moment he got back up.

What is wrong with him?

“Not to me.” Eren didn’t take his eyes off Walter. He clutched the Marleyian’s face tighter, causing the man to whimper pathetically.

“This woman here. She’s the Vice Commander of the Warrior’s Unit. In other words. A titan shifter.”

Upon hearing that sentence. Walter’s eyes bulged from their sockets more so than when he was being strangled. His mouth went agape in shock.

Annie’s face rivaled Walter’s. Though she appeared more furious than anything.

This bastard just revealed my identity!

“She’s a high-ranking soldier,” Eren continued, ignoring the blonde’s murderous glare at his side. “Not a bitch, not a whore. She’s the reason you never became fodder for your enemies.”

Eren let go of Walter’s chin, nudging him toward her. “Apologize.”

Hot tears ran down Walter’s cheeks. He looked even younger, bawling like a child in front of her.

“I—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—we didn’t know. I’m… please—” He turned to Eren. “Can I leave now? You were right about Heinz! But I never laid a hand on you o-or that girl, please let me go. I won’t tell… I won’t tell anyone I swear!”

Eren looked to Annie. There was something in that vivid green eye of his she didn’t like, something that caused her insides to turn cold as ice. Feeling uneasy, she hugged herself tighter. Giving her back to him.

Eren kept his sight on her but lazily gestured to Walter. “Go.”

Walter sprung to his feet, ready to flee from the dumps of the Eldian tenement back alleys. Eren caught him by the arm before he could make a break for it.

“Bayside Pier, by the docks, where the trade boats come in.”

Walter blinked away his tears. “H-huh—”

“Your mother lives by there.” Was all Eren said. Walter was silent, comprehending Eren’s words, then he sobbed louder. Eren let him go. For sure this time.

#annie leonhardt #eren jaeger #ereani #ereannie #snk spoilers #marleyannieau #j&sfic #snkfic

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platykool · 2 years ago

Note

Hii Clus!! Vampire, armor and fachen for fantasy asks? ^^

Hi Goose ! Thanks for asking <3

Wait so there's actually two "armor" question so I'll answer this one, but if you were talking about the other please tell me !

Vampire : Something that you’re proud of :

I think I've made a lot of progress in drawing in the last few months, and I'm gaining a little more confidence in myself ! Of course I still have a lot to learn, but I'm still proud of myself ! I've always had a complicated relationship with drawing and a hard time appreciating what I do, and it's something that's starting to improve, I'm working on it a lot (both my self-confidence and drawing in general) so I think I can say it's something I'm proud of :)

Armor : Are you still friends with people from kindergarten?

Yes, I kept in touch with some of my friends that I grew up with, but sadly we don’t speak a lot as we are all busy with our lives, and we all live pretty far apart (I say “all” but it’s really my two childhood best friends ghzcfehd) but they sent me a text for my birthday recently, wich made me incredibly happy haha, I have to plan a time when I can see them again ! it's the kind of long distance friendship where we don't talk much but we love each other anyway (that sound sad but it’s not that much don’t worry !)

Fachen : Do you have any pets ?

I do !! I actually have three cats living at my moms house (I don’t really live here anymore since I’m 20 and I have my own appartement, but I go there quite often anyway haha) and they’re all a little weird. Both of them are around 14-15 years old (old guys) and they’re with me since I was 5 I think ! I have an amazing relationship with them, especially with the older one who follow me everywhere when I’m home and who absolutely needs to be on my lap or in my arms, just the opposite of what you would think of a cat. The third one arrived recently in the family, it was a young abandoned cat and now he is very happy at home, he sleeps and eats a lot (we call him gnocchi). I love them very, very much, they have been part of the family for a long time !

#ask game #me talking #I do have other things that I'm very proud of but it's too personal for here xtfsdzz

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nightsmudge · 4 years ago

Photo

I'm really enjoying what I'm doing for Inktober this year, it's been a while since I've been able to sit down and just let my creativity loose

For many of these, I ended up using various random generators to help me with inspiration on what kind of character to draw, and to help me with figuring out things like what species the character is, how old they are, what sport they play, etc. (also yes I know the first set of drawings says Days 1-3, I did a dumb and scribbled on the labels without thinking) I'm probably going to just dump all my Inktober drawings on weekends since I'm usually too busy with work and school during the week And now, a description for each character if you are interested

Day 2: Wispy Skeleton Dog Her design is based on the Welsh Springer Spaniel My current idea for her is that she’s the pet of a famous witch celebrity/model. Though she’s been trained to be well behaved and to sit in front of a camera for photoshoots, as well as being surrounded by glamour and luxury, she still lives the life of a normal dog for the most part. Her owner is pretty down to earth, letting her visit regular old local parks to play with other dogs roll around in the dirt, and do typical dog things.  When her owner is on tour doing signings or meet-and-greets, she’s usually sitting right next to them patiently, happy as can be, and receiving the occasional head scritch  She is good girl, best doggo, very pretty and photogenic Day 3: Tired Plague Demon For this day, I looked over a couple other October drawing prompts, and from there picked “Fatigued”  So, I decided to make a demon character who looks old, sickly, and perpetually tired  And thus, I made an old demon with Plague magic. I think I’m going to have her be the grandmother of a background character idea I’ve have for a while; a plague demon who’s a fairly well-known and renowned doctor in his local town.  The grandmother is probably going to be the cranky and slightly entitled type, though cranky mainly because she’s old and kinda lonely. She might feel entitled to get care from her grandson whenever she feels like it, since she helped him pay for university, but there are times where she admits she’s proud of him for being a hero. Day 4: Classy Skeleton This little guy is part of a species I’m working on called a “necroform,” who are basically skeletal creatures that assist the Grim Reaper in organizing the inner workings of the afterlife and documenting all the souls that come through This guy in particular doesn’t have anything too special about him, he just thinks it’s neat to carry around an old radio in his ribs.

Day 5: Guardian Angel He just an angel with a sword big enough to gain the attention of a Final Fantasy character  I don’t have much story-wise for this guy, but the design inspiration came from D&D Paladin armor  Though admittedly her looks a tiny bit more like a Spartan soldier eh, it still works Day 6: Red Squirrel Kookaburra He’s a part of a species I have called “griffans,” which are humanoid chimeras who are one part bird, one part any reptilian or mammalian animal. This guy is large bit cheerful and a good bit humble, living the simple life of farmer. His main line of work is pumpkin and gourd farming, and shipping out the harvest every fall. He usually likes to set up a little patch by the edge of town or in local parks so he can sell pumpkins directly to people, just so he can see people’s smiles firsthand when fall comes around.  He’s very friendly and happy fella, though be careful if you get him laughing, it’s hard for him to stop Day 7: Rich Vampire This guy is a pure blooded, or full blooded vampire, also known as a dhampir.  Pure blooded vampires usually congregate into different houses, each house containing descendants of old vampire lords or other royalty. These pure bloods take heavy pride in the household they are part of, and are often shamed by all of dhampir kind if they forcefully kicked from their clan.  That’s what happened to this guy. He was once a wealthy descendant of a duke, but after embezzling money from the family’s collective funds, he and his only direct family member; his niece, were kicked out. Both were lucky enough to be taken in by a separatist house, one that consists of other pure blood vampires who were exiled from their family house for various reasons. Despite the generosity he was offered, he still acts snobbish and entitled, and he likes to act as if he’s still an honorable duke. Day 8: Toothy Fear Demon  He has a face that only a mother would love.  Since he naturally looks terrifying, and his magic is based entirely on instilling fear, he was kind of set up to have a hard life since the beginning. He can’t exactly land an honest job since most places don’t want customers to be greeted with his scary mug, so he had to turn to shadier business in order to make a living.   If you go down the right alley or go to the right part of the woods, you’ll find him selling bootlegged curses, counterfeit charms, and possibly illegal potions. Because the only ones who don’t have a problem with his face are the ones who are the most desperate Day 9: Track and Field Angel  I had a hard time figuring out a good design for this one, all I knew was that if I wanted to use the theme “throw,” it’d make more sense to get a sport involved. One random generator told me to draw a half-angel, the other told me to do track and field  So yeah, high school student who does shot-put

#Inktober #inktober challenge #inktober2020 #skeleton dog #wisp #fatigued #radio #rodent #vampire #fancy #demon #teeth #angel #blade #throw #shotput

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preservationandruin · 7 years ago

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Oathbringer Liveblog: Part Two. Chapters 33-37

Sorry for the delay, gang! Life has been busy and I haven’t had time to keep up my reading and liveblogging at the same pace. But! I should be able to get at least some out now.

Shallan gets a lecture, Dalinar has a conversation, Kaladin chats with his men about their lives and also starts training them; we have a Dalinar flashback, and a Rock POV.

Just at the beginning, we have actually-accurate drawings of Urithiru, ,and the letter that will be this chapter’s epigraphs is addressed to Cephandrius, who--I believe--is Hoid. Whoever’s writing it calls him “Dearest Cephandrius,” which is either someone being sarcastic or someone who likes Hoid much more than most other characters who know him.

Anyway, Shallan is reacting to the fact that Jasnah is alive. She also refers to what she did as “grope an eldritch spren,” which is pretty hilarious.

Jasnah claimed to always look at things from a logical perspective, but she had a flair for the dramatic to rival any storyteller.

That’s because she’s a Kholin and, as we all know, drama runs in their bloodline like blue and purple eyes and Alethi dark hair. And again, every time Shallan looks at Jasnah is a Relatable Bisexual Mood:

Storms. She was perfect. A curvaceous figure, tan Alethi skin, light violet eyes, and not a hint of aberrant color to her jet-black hair. Making Jasnah Kholin as beautiful as she was brilliant was one of the most unfair things the Almighty had ever done.

SAME, Shallan. And of course, Jasnah sees this return as a teaching moment. Jasnah also tells Shallan that fabrials are, essentially, made by imprisoning spren. Also, when Shallan starts sarcastically talking back to her Jasnah smiles. I think she missed her over-inquisitive sarcastic ward. And Jasnah has run into Kaladin, once--kinda sad we missed that encounter. Shallan also is heartened, kind of, by the fact that Jasnah too has no idea what she’s doing.

The letter mentions that the writer, among other things, notices Hoid’s “many intrusions into my land.” That’s interesting--implies whoever wrote this is some sort of ruler over an area. A Shard, or just a king of some sort? Hard to say.

Anyway, over to Dalinar. He’s having his meeting with Queen Fah in the storm. He’s showing her the Knights Radiant saving people--the vision with the family that Dalinar got in the first book. Also, a rare moment of philosophy from the Stormfather as Dalinar asks about the place of endless white stone where they talk:

I IMAGINED IT, the Stormfather said more softly, as if he were admitting something embarrassing. ALL THINGS HAVE A SOUL. A VASE, A WALL, A CHAIR. AND WHEN A VASE IS BROKEN, IT MIGHT DIE IN THE PHYSICAL REALM, BUT FOR A TIME ITS SOUL REMEMBERS WHAT IT WAS. SO ALL THINGS DIE TWICE. ITS FINAL DEATH IS WHEN MEN FORGET IT WAS A VASE, AND THINK ONLY OF THE PIECES. I IMAGINE THE VASE FLOATING AWAY THEN, ITS FORM DISSOLVING INTO NOTHINGNESS.

This has some interesting larger implications, too. Much as the cognitive form of the vase sticks around when its broken...the Stormfather is almost the same thing in regards to Honor, you know? A Cognitive Shadow. Is one of the things keeping the Stormfather “alive” the fact that people think of him as the Almighty?

Anyway, Dalinar has taken the place of one of the radiants, the female one in amber shardplate. He isn’t in Shardplate, though, and is wondering about the differences between Radiant Shardplate and Normal Shardplate. So am I, to be honest. Anyway, he’s trying to fish for information about it, but Stormy dissuades him.

“How,” Dalinar whispered to the Stormfather. “How do we get the armor?” Speak the Words. “Which words?” You will know or you will not. Great.

Anyway, he meets up with Queen Feh, and they start talking. She points out that it sounds like bullshit that the Almighty would pick Dalinar--”a tyrant and a murderer”--to lead the knights Radiant, and it hits Dalinar pretty personally because, well, it’s right.

“Maybe all the good men are dead, so all you have is me!”

Anyway, Feh is pleased that Dalinar is honestly shouting at her, rather than being tactful and diplomatic. Also, she points out that the vision--which the Stormfather has paused--is really creepy. And Dalinar realizes--the way he was acting, the way he was eerily calm over the spanreed--it made him seem like he was in league with the Voidbringers.

Dalinar also points out that he learned one important thing--he learned that if he talks to Feh by being himself, she listens more easily.

Bridge Four, now! Have I mentioned I love Bridge Four. Sigzil was having that nightmare where you’re about to take important tests but you forgot how to read. Lopen is using the fact that Kaladin is back--and, thus, that they’re squires again--to walk upside down on the ceiling. Lopen also uses the nickname “hooch” to refer to Sigzil but refuses to explain what it means.

Sigzil also reveals that he didn’t pass the important tests, got himself into trouble, and Hoid ended up rescuing him. That’s an interesting note. And then somehow he ended up a slave on Sadeas’ least lucky bridge crew.

Sigzil found Kaladin doing morning push-ups on the stone floor. His blue jacket was draped over a chair. “Sir,” Sigzil said. “Hey, Sig,” Kaladin said, grunting as he continued doing push-ups. “Are the men up and mustered”“ “Up, yes,” Sigzil said. “When I left them, they seemed bordering on a food fight, and only half were in uniform.

Have I mentioned I love Bridge Four.

“And then there’s the matter of Drehy...” “What matter?” “Well, he’s been courting a man, you see...” Kaladin threw on his coat, chuckling. “I did know about that one. You only now noticed?” Sigzil nodded. “It’s Dru he’s been seeing, still? From the district quartermaster’s offices?”

Listen, this segment means a lot to me. it’s just...it’s very important to me that one of the guys in Bridge four is seeing another guy, and everyone’s cool with that, and Kaladin is invested enough in his mens’ happiness to know who the guy is and where he works. It might be stupid to be tearing up about this, but if that’s stupid, well, I’m stupid.

I’m just so tired of worlds where people like me just don’t exist that any one where they do is deeply moving.

Also Sigzil drops a cryptic reference to “you know what Teft’s gotten into” which knowing Teft could be, well, literally anything. Anyway, as they keep going Lyn joins them, mentioning that the “unusual request” Kaladin wanted has been filled, and Kal says he’s been noticing that she’s been trying to work with Bridge Four. He asks her to join--she’s hype--and then she realizes that he means as a scribe and just wilts.

LET! LYN! FIGHT!

Sigzil finds himself wanting to punch Kaladin, just a little. And literally repeats Kaladin’s same speech about trying to understand what people actually want out of life back to him and Kal is suitably abashed. And he has gotten his hands on a massive amount of gems, so they can practice being Radiants.

Blackthorn Flashback! 24 years ago. Evi sometimes has Vasheresque idiomatic translation problems: “the life will be as white as a sun at night!”

Anyway, Evi is pregnant with Adolin! She and Dalinar are watching the flamespren--she sees it as playing, Dalinar as sparring, and Evi points out that she knows how much Dalinar lived for fighting, and she doesn’t like it. And Dalinar at the very least knows he doesn’t deserve her--good, at least he’s got that straight. Evi is amazing and Dalinar, at this point? A train wreck. He’s still in love with Navani, and notes that he and Navani and Gavilar stayed up talking together--Navani was so interested in what she was doing, but Gavilar ignored her.

None of these marriages are going great, it seems. And Evi mentions that if you want to change who you are you have to go “petition the One in the Valley.” the Nightwatcher. She seems to refer to her as an aspect of the masculine Almighty, but it suggests that the “Almighty” worshipped in Iri and Rira might be Cultivation. Anyway, Gavilar has shown up.

Apparently, Rathelas, where Dalinar won Oathbringer, is demanding the Blade back, because he “never won it in a fair contest” and the heir returned.

...Dalinar couldn’t bring himself to kill the child, could he. He took the Blade but left the boy alive. The Thrill vanished when confronted with a crying child.

Interesting. I remember how, in Mistborn, being confronted with someone--usually someone young--pleading for their life or, more often, the life of someone else broke Ruin’s influence. Anyway, Evi is so proud that Dalinar spared the baby boy--he gave him to his mother and told her to hide him.

This. This makes me so happy. Dalinar didn’t kill a child. I mean, he was still a butcher and murderer. But there was a line, there. And Dalinar is happy that, just in this moment, Evi sees him as a hero.

Over to Bridge Four, again! And an alarming note in the letter:

You mustn’t worry yourself about Rayse. It is a pity about Aona and Skai, but they were foolish--violating our pact from the very beginning.

a) Aona and Skai literally died and you’re saying it’s just a “pity” that Rayse murdered them? Wow, asshole b) our pact. Implying that this person is a Shard or something on a similar level of power.

Anyway, we’re over to Numuhukumakiaki’aialunamor, better known as Rock. Turns out his Horneater nickname is Lunamor. He is making stew back out on the Shattered Plains, and is surprised to realize that he kind of missed them. Renarin is working the Oathgate nearby. They’re training along with some others, including five female scouts.

Let! Them! Fight!

Anyway, Teft has been gone for a while--he didn’t come back last night. That’s not great. Huio, one of the cousins, is helping Teft cook--he makes a chance to the drinks, Rock is SCANDALIZED, but...it turns out delicious. Bridge Four is pioneering fusion cuisine here. Lopen has accidentally stuck himself to the ground entirely.

“Just part of the plan, gon!” Lopen called back. “If I am to become a delicate cloud upon the sky, I must first convince the ground that I am not abandoning her. Like a worried lover, sure, she must be comforted and reassured that I will return following my dramatic and regal ascent into the sky.” “You’re not a king, Lopen,” Drehy said. “We’ve been over this.”

We’ve been over this. How many times do I have to say I love Bridge Four before the words come anywhere close to conveying my affection for them? It is a mystery.

Kaladin: Rock, do you think you use the term “airsick lowlander” too much Rock: [looks over to where Lopen is STILL stuck with stormlight to the ground, sweet-talking it] Rock: No.

Rock also invites them all to come visit the Horneater peaks. Anyway, Elhokar has shown up. Kaladin has agreed to reclaim Alethkar and the capital with Elhokar, provided he has a few more weeks to train. Also, Rock finds the old bridge itself--the Bridge of Bridge four. Rock also points out that while he was a soldier once, he always--always--loved being a cook.

He closed his eyes, kneading and humming his mother’s song to a beat he could almost, barely, just faintly hear.

Your friendly reminder that Horneaters have Listener blood; seems like some of them, at least, haven’t lost the Rhythms. And when Renarin approaches, Rock yells over to ask him to help with the bread. Interestingly, though, Rock can’t see Glys. Perhaps...he’s just really shy?

“That one, he will never hold spear again. He will not fly, but he is Bridge Four. I am forbidden to fight, but I am Bridge Four. And you, you might have fancy title and different powers.” He leaned forward. “But I know Bridge Four. And you, Renarin Kholin, are Bridge Four.”

And that gets Renarin talking--talking about how everyone always wanted him to be an ardent, because look, he was smart, and look, he was so bright--but he knew that what they were really saying was “wow, you’re not as strong as Adolin” and “wow, it would be great for the line of succession if the sickly one couldn’t inherit.”

“When you say these things, you are almost not bitter!” Lunamor said. “Ha! Much practice must have been required.” “A lifetime.”

HUG RENARIN KHOLIN 2K17

Renarin says he feels like the oddest of them--Rock points to Rlain, Renarin startles and says he’s not sure if Rlain counts (just like Renarin isn’t sure he himself “counts” as Bridge Four) and Rock says, yeah. That’s what everyone tells him. So Renarin goes and sits with Rlain.

Rock notes that one of his ancestors apparently met an Unmade, but doesn’t elaborate. That’s alarming. And we also get to see all the little ways Rock makes Bridge Four keep working--calming people down, listening, getting them to teach him things when they’re not confident.

And then Rock sees a group of “strong gods” like Sylphrena gathered around a tall spren woman with long hair, watching the training squires. It’s the most he’s seen, anywhere. Anyway, Syl comes over to talk to him--she mentions that the woman, the large one, is Phendorana, some sort of leader who called her out for searching out Kaladin.

Apparently, the other honorspren are seeing whether or not anyone in Bridge Four are worthy of being full Radiants. Rock walks back, and sees Hobber--the one whose legs were paralyzed by Szeth--trying desperately to draw out Stormlight from a sphere.

And he can feel his toes again! Everyone tows all of their gemstones over.

And then they find a raided caravan--but one of the Voidbringers who did it was brought down. By an unkalaki arrow.

Lunamor looked to the right, where someone had piled up furniture in a heat, almost like a fortification. A head poked over the top, a stout woman with a round face and a deep red braid. She stood up tall and raised a bow toward Lunamor. Other faces peeked out from behind the furniture. Two youths, a boy and a girl both around sixteen. Younger faces from there. Six in total. Lunamor dashed toward them and found himself blubbering, tears streaming down his cheeks as he crawled up the outside of their improvised fortification. His family, at long last, had arrived at the Shattered Plains.

ROCK’S! FAMILY!

IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM HE DESERVES THIS SO MUCH!!! His wife is Song (Tuaka’li’na’calmi’nor); the twins are Gift and Cord; the next son is also Rock (a different, smaller kind); the third son is Star, the second daughter Kuma’tiki--a kind of shell not present in the lowlands--and the last daughter is also Song-- “Beautiful Song.” She’s only four--she doesn’t remember him.

And Renarin, with healing, managed to save several people’s lives. We also get that something is very wrong with the Peaks. Also, Rock notes that he’s been lying to some of the other men. For example--he’s not really a chef, according to their order of inheritance, it sounds like. It seems like all of his older brothers are dead, which would make him a leader.

And Bridge Four does one last, final run with their bridge. They won’t need it, anymore--they’ll be flying.

#oathbringer spoilers #stormlight archive liveblog #FUCK YEAH BRIDGE FOUR #dalinar voice: unite them #let lyn fight

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