#but i can see myself watching foe at least as often as BE

[tardis--dreams]

I'm so glad i watched flower of evil, so that i now have a 3rd drama to add to my endless rewatch cycle of beyond evil and the devil judge

[stealthnoodle]

How to Scrape Your Way Through Honour Mode and Look Reasonably Good Doing It

I won't say I beat Honour Mode on my first try, because my Dishonour Mode playthrough served as a critically useful dry run, but I will say that the first character I made with the intention of completing Honour Mode properly did in fact complete Honour Mode.

Below are the 13 most important lessons I learned along the way that made this possible.

1) Do not be Mothman.

You really want to minimize fights and maximize available vendors. Ask yourself "What would Mothman do?" and then do not do that thing.

2) Do be a half-orc.

Fights can go real wrong real fast, and in the early game, you are perpetually one bad round of combat away from oblivion. In my case, the harpies critted Shadowheart to death, and then every chucklefuck in my party failed their wisdom save at the same time. The other two members ate more multiattacks than they could handle, and then so did Pizzazz, but she held on with one single precious hit point after the last blow. She dug herself out of the hole with heal potions and her fists of righteous anger.

Pizzazz being a half-orc saved the entire run here. Having Death Ward once a day comes in fucking clutch when you're below level 5, and tbh the hardest part of Honour Mode is getting to level 5.

The harpy fight was also when I realized the need for a critical strategy:

3) Make one party member your panic button.

I only really needed this trick in the early game (I cannot emphasize enough how most of my close calls were before level 5), but it saved my ass several times. Panic early, panic often.

Pick the party member who has the least to contribute to a fight and park them where they can't get drawn into initiative. You can leave them all the way back at camp, or if you're me, just put them far back in hiding so it's easy to pull them in to help with late-fight cleanup if things are going well (or to finish a fight in the goofiest way possible, see above). Either way, their job is to run crying to Withers if everyone else dies.

Speaking of which…

4) Exploit Bone Daddy's indifference to being pickpocketed.

You can get back whatever "the price of balance" is by yoinking it right out of Withers's pockets. If you fail the sleight of hand check, no worries; you get pulled out of hiding, but he doesn't react at all, and you can just squat back down and get right back in there.

5) Tell Jesse you need to cook.

Potions of Speed are the goddamn Philosopher's Stones of this game. So I made Gale a Transmutation Wizard, made him proficient in Medicine, and put him in charge of alchemy. Just clearing the gnoll zone got me pretty well set for the first two acts.

Getting double heal pots sure doesn't hurt, either.

6) Start a local chapter of the Warding Bond Cleric Club.

This is something I discovered was possible while I was fretting over prepping for the end of Act 2, because last time was such a clusterfuck. You can hire three hirelings, give them fun names like Ouchie Magnet, Sexy Pincushion, and Yoohoo Loviatar, get them to cast Warding Bond on the party members you actually intend to use, and enjoy the full benefits of it out in the world while your hirelings stand around bleeding at camp.

Any buff that lasts until the next long rest and doesn't require concentration works like this, fyi. Death Ward and Longstrider are also especially handy (and once you get to level 11, Heroes' Feast). Setting this up is tedious enough that I only did it a few times during the game, when I was going into situations I couldn't easily extricate myself from in case of emergency. (So the Mindflayer Colony, the Iron Throne, the Steel Watch Foundry, and one last time for the Temple of Baal.)

7) Break big battles up into bite-sized skirmishes.

Why would I fight all the cultists at Moonrise Tower in a grand climactic battle when I could sneak around before finishing the Gauntlet of Shar and pick off my future foes in packs? Since they're not hostile yet, it's pretty simple to wipe them out one room at a time, using Minor Illusion to lure guards away from their posts. Then I got the joy of showing up with Jaheira and all her Harpers to curbstomp the two (2) guys I missed.

Also good for removing all the intellect devourers before you pick a fight with Mindflayers in the Mindflayer Colony and for surviving gnoll swarms. Sometimes you even get lucky and a hyena falls into a hole, somehow.

8) Fill your camp with literal tons of explosives.

See a smokepowder barrel? Pick it up and send it to camp. Do this consistently and you will have deeply nervous party members every time you light a campfire, probably, but you'll also have a way to cheese boss fights that you're worried about. I chugged elixirs that raised strength before the end of Act 2 so that I could bring a dozen smokepowder barrels with me to the Myrkul fight and absolutely trivialized it.

9) Become a partial illithid.

Mourn your aesthetic and commune with that frosty little worm. (Take Volo's amateur eye surgery, too, btw. Just fuck yourself up.) The powers are worth it. A truly hardcore player would also get their companions to dip a toe into ceremorphosis, but I started by asking Astarion, who fucking loves regular tadpoles, to try it, and his response made me feel so bad that I abandoned the cause entirely.

10) Start your day with a delicious and nutritious Heroes' Feast.

So I never really read the description closely because sometimes I'm just like that, but thanks to the Warding Bond Cleric Club, I started paying closer attention to buffs and holy shit??? Thoroughly Stuffed is a baller condition, and it also makes food. I didn't have to go grocery shopping even once! Having three bonus clerics with spell slots to burn also meant the 6th-level cost wasn't coming out of Shadowheart.

11) Accept that late-game enemy saving throws will mercilessly fuck you.

It feels real bad when you cast a 6th-level spell that operates on saving throws and your target shrugs it off with 0 damage. Spells with attack rolls are usually better bets, and Artistry of War is a wizard's once-per-short-rest MVP. Open Hand Monk Pizzazz was consistently my best damage dealer, especially once I looted the Bonespike Gloves from Strangler Luke.

12) Skip the high-risk low-reward quests in Act 3.

Consider your party composition and tactics and whether any optional quest line is worth completing for its rewards. Cazador, the Sharrans, and Ansur are non-trivially difficult fights that I didn't need to subject myself to, so I didn't. But there's real good shit under Sorcerous Sundries, so of course I cleared out that vault.

Hell isn't actually that bad on Honour Mode (no, really! The restoration faucets have unlimited uses!), but it's not a sure thing and I could live without the rewards. Had a tense moment passing the DC 30 Persuasion check with Kith'rak Voss later, but he chilled out and even let me borrow his dragon's breath.

The only unnecessary hard fight I did was the Steel Watcher Titan, which was a bad call on my part; I kinda wanted the crossbow and I really wanted to keep the runepowder bomb in case I needed it, but Mothman didn't do this fight, so I was not prepared for the Hellfire Steel Watcher Titan's bullshit. I won, but it was a closer shave than it should have been.

Then I ended up not using the crossbow at all.

13) Thank Gale for his sacrifice.

The Netherbrain is fucking nasty on Honour Mode. Fuck Karsite Grip. Fuck Aegis of the Absolute. Does it feel bad to make Gale sacrifice himself? Yes. Would it feel worse to lose the run right before the finish line? Also yes.

I brought every explosive I had with me (which required two rounds of strength-boosting elixirs, because the game hits you with a long rest before the Astral Plane) just in case Gale got cold feet and I burned all my inspiration fucking up the persuasion roll, then went through the sewers to avoid the larger fight. Someone (Gale, so I couldn't be too mad) failed a stealth check and aggroed them all anyway, but Pizzazz covered the ground to the brainstem in like three rounds and everyone warped up after her for the cutscene, so no harm no foul.

Then Gale volunteered—nay, insisted on blowing himself up and I felt bad! Real bad! Not bad enough to change course, but Pizzazz's face was also my face during epilogue:

P.S. At least for me, the achievement procced after the epilogue, credits, and post-credits scene, and I was tense af the entire time. But not so tense I couldn't be sad about Gale (oh no he wrote me a letter) and Astarion (oh no he's still in hiding because of Cazador). Luckily my big hot wife was there to support me.

Anyway, let's load an old autosave on another campaign and check out those golden dice, shall we?

Ahhh, my horrible son

[hopeymchope]

So I’m 7.5 episodes into Chainsaw Man, and... uhhh? Huh?

Oh shit HOT TAKE INCOMING WATCH OUT

Look: I feel like I can usually understand why an anime is popular even if I fall off it for some reason or just never get that into it myself.

I fell off of My Hero Academia, but the appeal is pretty obvious. It does some things very well. Jujutsu Kaisen didn’t manage to hold my interest, but it’s got some neat ideas behind its world and the fights tend to be cool, I can see the appeal.

But... Chainsaw Man. Huh.

HUH.

I sincerely don’t get why THIS is such a popular/hot series. 

I can at least recognize a couple of obvious positives: 

I get that the animation is often pretty good, fluid and detailed. (Albeit not always. But often.) 

I COMPLETELY understand that the OP is an absolute bop. 

But surely that’s not enough to make the series a smash hit, right? 

.........is it just that a guy who can sprout chainsaws and cut through his foes sounds super metal and badass, or something? Is it all in the concept?

Because the execution in the writing is just... fucking OOOOOOF, IMO.

The characters we’ve met so far are all either A) idiots or B) assholes. Some are even idiotic assholes! (So far, if there are ANY exceptions to this, it’s Aki. Only Aki. And frankly? Even that much is debatable.)

So uh, all the female characters introduced so far are seriously of the “I’ll trade you my body/physical pleasures with me for you doing me favors” type? SERIOUSLY? Those aren’t characters; those are just Fujimoto’s gross fantasies.

....I guess there’s also Kobeni, sort of... ? Though I’m hesitant to call her a “character” at this point. She’s literally got ONE personality trait rn.

Even when something SEEMINGLY interesting happens, it consistently gets resolved in the most dumb/boring way possible. 

...FOR EXAMPLE: When they get trapped in a singular bubble of spacetime where clocks don’t move and the space they’re within only loops on itself and I’m like “OOH how will they work their way out of this?! I can think of at least one semi-clever idea... “ and then OH. It’s. Just. The second stupidest thing I could possibly come up with. (The FIRST stupidest would’ve been “They just walk out somehow. No explanation.” So I guess uhhh, you get a couple pity points for not doing that?)

I suspect part of the secret to the show’s success is the occasional gross-out humor. It’s pretty unusual to see that in manga/anime unless it’s gore-related, and it’s ABSOLUTELY NOT something I like. 

But hey, at least this show didn’t actively piss me off with wasted potential! ....... Because it was never engaging enough to make me care that much :P

[theliterarywolf]

If Barbie was trying to go for a "both extremes are bad" angle, they did a poor job. Even if ST!Barbie apologized to ST!Ken for taking him for granted, that doesn’t change their society as a whole. The Kens still have no say in anything, and that’s treated as just fine. Hell, they asked for ONE supreme court justice and got turned down. I can see why people are annoyed when the real world is shown as a sexist nightmare, but the inverted version is portrayed as fine even though in some ways /1

it’s worse. The real world HAS female supreme court justices. Like, being a Ken SUCKS, and it doesn't get acknowledged or get better at the end of the movie. They’re just told to "find out who they are without Barbie", which really doesn't work when Ken was literally created to be Barbie's boyfriend. We can have an ongoing scene talking about how awful it is to be a woman, but actually addressing that the Kens are essentially second-class citizens? Nah. We’re just gonna joke about how they don’t matter. Multiple times. I expected some kind of equality in Barbieland at the end of the movie, now that they’d seen how bad the other extreme was, but no. “Everything back to normal except now maybe the Kens will bother us less”, and that’s the good ending. It was disappointing. (And before anyone asks, I'm a girl) /3

Okay, but if you watched my video, I pretty much say:

"Barbieland is seen as a net-positive... for the Barbies."

You'll notice how often posts about 'the protagonist of a story is not always the hero of a story'. Us as the audience can see that Barbieland is a magical dystopia ruled by toxic-femininity, that the Big Barbie Barage isn't a group of heroes going up against an evil foe, but the equivalent of toddlers screaming 'My turn!!'/'No, MY turn!!' over a playhouse set.

The new status-quo at the end isn't an ideal, it's a bandaid.

Actually, this response ran a bit long, so...

The whole Supreme Court thing... While, yes, it is still kind of 'come on, now' that President Barbie says no, 1. you can kind of understand why she doesn't want to give the time of day after everything that just happened, and 2. she grants them an Appellate Court. So there is at least a step in the right direction there.

Yes, Ken (as a concept) was originally created to be Barbie's boyfriend/husband/support, in subsequent decades even Mattel has tried to stem away from that. Hell, they actually broke up in the 90s! I'm surprised that a lot of people forget that. And, as a mirror...

Hold on, I have to reconcile with myself that I'm going to make this comparison. ...Okay.

In Judeo-Christian faiths, Eve is literally created to be a support and mate for Adam (being created from the rib, or established foundation, of Adam). Yet, women have eventually had to come and realize that they are more than that and that they can find their own identities and purpose.

Could the movie have presented a comparison like this a bit better? Yes. However, that's what that part was supposed to mirror.

But the whole thing shows a series of checks and balances. The real world does have fields that are typically male-only. Sometimes people who have talents for certain jobs aren't allowed to have them. Like America Ferrera's character clearly shows a love and talent for fashion and doll-design... But they have her as a secretary.

And, yes, we do have women on the Supreme Court. The... same Supreme Court that has also been fumbling the bag in recent news. So they aren't perfect for having some pussy on board either.

I mean, it's pretty clear that Barbieland wasn't a utopia at the beginning of the film or at the end of the film when Stereotypical Barbie essentially embraces death and chooses to live as a human in the real world at the end.

[ngoclnm]

[WEEK 10] IRL BFFs, Online Foes? Why We Turn Savage on Social Media

Hit those comments on a news post lately? I’m talking about every kind of news, not just those celebrity scandals or political controversies. Comments sections often erupt into flame wars, and social media becomes a battleground of insults and negativity when people have different or opposing opinions.  But why?  What makes otherwise normal people turn into digital Dr. Jekylls and Mr. Hydes?  Let's dive into the psychology of online conflict and see what makes the internet such a breeding ground for bad behaviour.

The Disinhibition Effect: Unleashing Our Inner Troll

Psychologist John Suler (2004) coined the term "online disinhibition" to explain how our usual social filters get weaker online. In other words, it is where social and personal restraints weaken in the digital world. Suddenly, the fear of social consequences seems to disappear, and people feel free to express themselves in ways they wouldn't dare to face-to-face. Imagine inhibitions as those little angels on your shoulders, reminding you to be polite. Well, online, those angels seem to take a permanent coffee break. Here's why:

Anonymity - No One Knows Me: Online, individuals can engage without revealing their true identity, leading them to feel less accountable for their actions and more willing to express themselves freely.

Invisibility - No One's Watching (or So You Think): Without face-to-face interaction, the fear of getting called out seems to vanish. It's easy to forget there's a real person on the other side of the screen, leading to less restraint and more negativity.

Asynchronicity - Time to Craft the Perfect Put-Down: Online communication isn't always back-and-forth. This delay lets people take their time crafting the ultimate insult (or carefully consider a witty comeback, hopefully!).

Solipsistic Introjection - Me, Myself, and I (and Maybe My Misunderstandings): Without nonverbal cues and the full context of a conversation, it's easy to misinterpret online interactions. This can lead to people assuming the worst and reacting poorly.

Dissociative Imagination - The Online Disguise: The internet can feel like a place to reinvent yourself. This disconnect from your real-world identity can make it tempting to act differently online than you would in person.

Minimization of Authority - Everyone's Equal (at Least on the Surface): Social hierarchies and authority figures seem less powerful online. This perceived anonymity and empowerment can lead to bolder (and sometimes ruder) behaviour.

More Than Just Anonymity: The Psychology of Cyberbullying

This disinhibition effect, however, can have a dark side. When that feeling of anonymity and reduced accountability is mixed with a lack of empathy, it can easily lead to cyberbullying. Cyberbullying can take many forms, from nasty comments and flaming to harassment and doxing (revealing someone's private information). But why do people stoop to this level?

Narcissistic traits: You know those folks who strut around offline, constantly craving attention and admiration to keep their egos inflated? Well, turns out, they're drawn to the internet like moths to a flame. Why? Because the online world offers them a stage to showcase their fabulous selves to a massive audience at the drop of a hat. They're the kings and queens of Social Network Sites (SNS), soaking up every like and comment like it's pure gold. And let's face it, they're fostering a generation with extreme digital narcissism who can't survive without a constant stream of applause and validation (Keen 2007).

Sensation Seeking:  Ever met someone who lives for the adrenaline rush, constantly chasing after novel and intense experiences? These folks have a personality trait called sensation seeking (Zuckerman 1979), and it has been frequently linked to problematic Internet use and is assumed to be associated with Cyberbullying (Kim & Davis 2009). High sensation seekers often take physical, social, legal, and even financial risks simply for the sake of the experience.

So, How Do We Avoid Becoming Online Ogres?

Before you unleash your inner keyboard warrior, take a deep breath and consider these tips:

Pause and Reflect: Take a moment to cool down before hitting post. Ask yourself, "Would I say this to their face?" Chances are, the answer is no.

Remember There's a Person Behind the Screen: Online interactions are still human interactions. Treat others with the same respect you'd expect in real life.

Disengage from Negativity: Don't feed the trolls! Sometimes, the best response is no response.

The Takeaway: Be the Change You Want to See Online

The internet doesn't have to be a digital battlefield. By understanding why online conflict happens, we can be more mindful of our own behaviour and promote a more positive online environment. So, the next time you feel the urge to flame someone online, channel your inner peacemaker instead. The internet needs more heroes, not more villains!

Remember, everyone makes mistakes online. If you've ever been part of an online conflict, it's never too late to apologize and move on.

References

Keen, A 2007, The cult of the amateur, Nicholas Brealey, London.

Kim, HK & Davis, KE 2009, ‘Toward a comprehensive theory of problematic Internet use: Evaluating the role of self-esteem, anxiety, flow, and the self-rated importance of Internet activities’, Computers in Human Behavior, vol. 25, no. 2, pp. 490–500.

Suler, J 2004, ‘The Online Disinhibition Effect’, CyberPsychology & Behavior, vol. 7, no. 3, pp. 321–326.

Zuckerman, M 1979, Sensation seeking: Beyond the optimal level of arousal, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale.

[supportingfire]

He doesn't know how often Thoma let's himself rest, but when Thoma appears, Chongyun already has food sitting out for the housekeeper. Reaching out with a smile, Chongyun gently grabs Thoma by the shoulders and steers him toward the chair, urging him to sit.

"Take a break." Strong words from someone who also does not take breaks, but considering how much they look up to Thoma, Chongyun wants to at least try to be better foe both their sakes.

Hands still on the housekeeper's shoulders, Chongyun gives a quick massage before reaching over Thoma to pull the food closer, then takes a step back. "Little brother is watching you." they tease.

touch my muse meme \\ accepting

thoma opens his mouth in protest, ready to combat the younger with a smile, a polite decline, but he doesn't get much further than opening his mouth. exorcist has shoed him into a chair, where he's made to sit. it's not as if chongyun was rough or anything, but thoma knew the desired result. not to mention, he wielded a claymore about equal to his size - it's no doubt chongyun had the strength to get the point across. the table is filled with a few dishes, some familiar and some not. one, he noted, was a cold noodle dish - probably the same he's heard exorcist talk about in the past.

"i…" he's not sure how to respond, at first, feeling pressure at his shoulders, only for the food to be brought closer to him. it smells good. and…perhaps he *has* been taking to the young lord's task a lot more recently in his absence. thoma has collectively gotten maybe twenty four hours of sleep in the last three days. chongyun, the perceptive person he was, seemed to have noticed during his visit to see the chinju forest. and here thoma had thought he was being clever.

"hmm, well," instead of protesting, thoma turns 180, and decides to embrace the gesture. he is grateful, and the last thing he wants is to come off as ungrateful for such a caring act, "i guess if you insist, i can't really say no! but, on one condition," he turns a bit in his chair to hold up his pointer finger at chongyun, "that you relax and join me. i can't eat all this by myself, and i don't want food to go to waste. you can tell me about the spirits you've been cleansing near the forest."

[thatrando13]

I am glad you imagine me alongside you, too. For I am the same. Beside me you walk through the woods, by the river, along the pavement. I often try to imagine your reaction to things, the sky above, the nature below, or even a joke lifted by the air, either my own or another's. I imagine yet I am not sure, for you are far too unique for me to perfectly imagine such a thing.

I doubt I can show you as such wonderful things as wild grapes that rest on the vines, but I will try. I'd show you all the places I go, even though they can not compare to such a wonderful thing.

For ever question you ask, I will try my best to answer.

I do not fear death, not really. It is a process we all must go through one day, the last verse of our song, the last of it all. Rather I fear what comes after, an unknown thing we can not see, for Death let's us tell no tales once we wave that final goodbye.

What about you? Does death make you shiver in fear or perhaps do you feel at peace with such a thing?

I am not sure who I want to be, I know at least that I do not want to be what others want me to be. I am still trying to find who I wish to be, but that is okay. The road is long but I have enough time to travel.

As for those around me, a value I would wish to see in them is if anything, open mindness. For without an open mind we can not allow ourselves to see the blights that plauge others, we can not see ways to help.

I think life as a raindrop would be a quick one. And a strange one at that. The beginning of our life would be a fall, fast from the sky, down, down. Maybe we would catch upon something, a window, a leaf and live moments longer before eventually, down we fall again. To join the brethren. Those in the puddles below, or the rivers, or the oceans, gone yet not. Living with a thousand thoughts.

Freedom is something I wish for but I understand the need for safety, it keeps us alive. And when we're alive, we can seek that freedom.

We can talk about anything you like, songs and their meanings. The way the wind floats through the trees, the slow crawl of the sun across the sky. Anything at all, so long as I am with you.

For to me, you are greater than it all, the sun, the moon, the sky and the stars. They don't compare to you, such a wonderful person.

I have never made a basket out of brambles, unfortunately, I wish to one day. And if it is with you? The day shall be even better!

Chance seems the most viable option of our meeting but I do not mind how we met. Just that it was you I met that fateful day.

Thank you, you're mighty cool too! :]

We can be silly together, run through the grass, climb the trees and dangle from the branches, laugh and splash through a river. Anything.

You have said such a thing before, I remember it because I agreed with your words. It is a strange but pleasant experience to know someone without the mask, just see them laying their heart bare.

I like to think I speak the same way in real life as the way I speak to you. I hope. If anything, I am more awkward in real life, haha. What about you? Do you speak the same?

You are indeed home to me. A haven where I can rest, drape a blanket over myself and trust that nothing can hurt me because you are here with me. Every book I read, I'd try my best to relay to you, because I'd love to share the knowledge with you.

I unfortunately haven't tried honeycomb, honey however is a wonderful sweet treat.

With every battle I face with you at my side, I will be there for you. I'll steer your chariot to ride to the walls of Troy, charge the armies as though you were Achilles, clad in blazing bronze as bright as the sun. Every wound you recieve I will heal, press a damp cloth to clean, bandage it and press a kiss to your forehead and promise you that you will be fine.

I shall watch over you, like Athena watched over Odysseus but I will not abandon you. I shall help you keep your mind sharp, to watch for foes and bring them down with your mighty strength.

This war I may face is an uphill battle but I fight with a smile. For this battle is one of many yes, but it shall help me grow, show me I am strong enough to win. To fight to one day be alongside you.

How do you fare in your battles, friend? You are strong, remember that, you shall win the day, I know it.

I am glad to be a comfort to you, and I shall be one for as long as you want me to be. Here for you, always. One day we shall hear each other, know each other's faces. One day.

I know my voice is rapid when I'm speaking of something I am passionate about, excitement rising in my tone. I am also one to talk with my hands, making little gestures or simply just shaking them. It can be quite funny, in my opinion.

And you? Does your voice rise and fall with the topic? Does a smile sneak upon your face at a joke, a topic you love?

A lioness suits you, you are certainly as striking and strong. But so do the flowers, bright and colourful, survivors.

I believe they can be the same, a lion and a butterfly. They both strive to live, to soar and to run. Resilience certainly fits them both, and you as well. As the lion hunts below on the ground, the butterfly floats on by, settling on a flower, giving life to new seedlings with the pollen it brings. While the lion brings new cubs into the world and takes one life for another.

Both are vital for our world's survival.

To answer your questions:

I spell it as grey

Often I don't remember my dreams, but when I do they are sometimes strange

Yes, I do. I wish to protect those close to me, shield them from whatever wishes to harm them. You are a part of this circle of people, how could you not be?

I do sing by myself, either songs that are in my head or I've listened to recently

I would, through the trees, through a field. Especially if I were with you

What would you your answers be to such questions?

Thank you for being in my life.

I hope you never leave it.

-> Atlas

Did I write you into existence?

Was it a destined happenstance?

Falling faster than a blinded fury plagued by a red-hot rage, I crumbled upon asphalt as gladiolus' bloomed from the wreckage

My heart has not stilled and my feet carry me across lands and waters of time, of memories, to uncover that warmth you had awoken within me

With only a glance, I was enthralled with your figure, your firm demeanor and guiding hands

And you have taught me what's it is like to endure a fear of death, of darkened alleyways and forsaken endings, for I now know what it is truly like to live

I peer from the gardens and admire your beauty, a tantalizing capture of a prophetic essence

And I wish to take you to the underbelly of my mind, ridden by hollow caves of withering knowledge and dim candlelight

Steal you away from your perch, as though you were Persephone, and I, a lonesome ruler of my own demise desperate for your simple, golden-etched touch

Could you silence the roaring tides that perturb my thoughts? Could you sprout flowers from my blood, dress me in silk and make me immortal?

Can you rid me of the shadows that haunt me behind closed eyes, bring forth pastels and bountiful harvests and kiss a smile upon my chapped lips?

Maybe it was a fated encounter, designed by godly hands and set forth by winged angels

Or, simply a coincidence that I met your gaze through crowded places, tumultuous happenings, and war-torn terrain

Whether it was crafted by a divine being or a serendipity, I crave the life that is in full-bloom, as I have plucked the iniquitous weeds and fed the buds within our flower-bed

I wish for the fresh baked bread, hot meals and scents of domesticity as I plead to come home to a house full of you: your words, your clothes, your aura of solace

For, does it matter if I wrote you into existence, or paired by a celestial being, or purloined you from a Greek myth?

You've shown me a love that makes it so hard to cry without a smile, or laugh without tears, or perceive all that the Earth has to offer

I express my gratitude to the grass between my toes, the skies that paint my world blue, the oceans that soothes my ears

You have breathed a new life into my being, resurrected a decrepit bystander into something with a purpose far beyond what I could have expected

Every morning, I now smile as I open our front door, excitedly awaiting what a fresh day has to offer

-lauren a.p

[jennycalendar]

ok you know what i think it’s actually really vital that i talk a little bit about tea time. buckle up kiddos.

first off, a brief and relatively spoiler-free summary: the premise of the issue is very simple. the kiddos (aged up, if willow’s mention of being engaged is any indication) are hanging out in the library to help giles with research, swapping stories about what it would be like were giles a vampire. each of them, save giles, gets a chance to tell a detailed story -- xander tells two! -- and each story plays out in a way that says a lot about the scooby that’s telling it AND the way they view giles.

obviously this is a VERY character-driven issue, and it’s a really really interesting look at giles and how he is perceived as well! shit like that is my bread and butter, so this has honestly become one of my favorite things that boom has put out -- possibly my ACTUAL top favorite issue if we’re being real here. 

below the cut is a spoilery dissection of every story told -- a literal summary of Every Single Thing that happens in this issue, as well as what it has to say about the scoobies and their perception of giles, so definitely keep that in mind.

as can be seen in the preview, xander’s first story is about giles rising from the grave as an ineffectual british caricature, who is easily defeated by smoldering, sexy xander harris (and xander in turn walks off with buffy and willow draped all over him, cooing about how amazing he is). it’s more of an intro to the premise than anything, but it still sets the tone pretty clearly wrt how xander handles this situation: there’s some laughter and levity, and he’s center stage. obviously a lot can be said about xander’s self-esteem issues and how he overcompensates by casting himself as the main protagonist both in canon and here. however, i wanna save my more in-depth xander analysis for his second, longer, story, so i’ll stop myself there.

willow immediately responds with skepticism: she’s of the mind that giles would be an incredibly serious big-bad level threat. the tale she spins involves giles as a dangerous vampire cleric with access to a cryptic altar, killing xander almost immediately and slaughtering buffy as a sacrifice to create eternal night. her view of giles is more clinical than anything -- and, i would argue, the most perceptive and realistic from a threat standpoint. the guy knows a fuckton of magic and he is incredibly well-read and powerful. he’d have some kind of terrifying master plan. where xander goes for comedy, willow goes straight for logistics, already looking at the battle like it’s a battle rather than laughs aplenty. 

xander and buffy have a bone to pick with willow’s story (xander is indignant that he’s immediately and brutally killed, buffy is of the mind that she would easily defeat giles in hand-to-hand combat even if he IS a vampire), so (after one more teasing story where buffy lives and xander dies) willow gracefully alters her narrative to reflect her friends’ objections: after a dramatic tussle, xander helps willow and buffy unceremoniously stakes giles in the heart. still pretty straightforward and plausible. willow sees vamp giles primarily as a threat -- one not easily neutralized. one who could easily wipe them out.

buffy, about to tell her story, is interrupted by xander, who “had an even better idea!” the web he weaves is this time purported as realistic and entertaining: while partying at the bronze, buffy and co. are interrupted by a bunch of balding, greying vampires in curlers and bathrobes, led, of course, by giles -- who is wearing a hair bonnet and disapprovingly informing the bouncers how late it is at eight PM. a knockdown brawl breaks out at the bronze -- old people feeding on and decimating the young -- and culminates in giles and the geezers taking over the band to sing “some terrible song” that’s “probably something really old and bad!” the rest of the story descends into b-movie chaos, with buffy throwing a broken guitar neck up at the stage lights to send the whole thing crashing down onto vampire giles and his vampire old person band. it’s categorically absurd.

the thing that really sticks with me about this story is how dumb it is. xander’s take on giles is not even slightly serious and wholly underestimates him. fandom at large talks a lot about how giles dropped the ball with xander, but i think tea time explores an easily overlooked factor: xander constantly, consistently underestimates giles. in canon, xander’s view of giles is not often challenged: to him, giles is a bumbling, british librarian who regularly gets his ass handed to him by vamps and demons and the like. certainly part of his story’s intent is about laughingly entertaining his gal pals, but there’s a very real and consistent thread involving giles being hilariously nonthreatening. 

giles, taking umbrage at this particular tale, calls out both xander and willow: xander’s story, in giles’s opinion, emasculates vamp giles and turns him into a ridiculous caricature -- and willow’s story, though much more flattering, lacks the kind of imagination that vamp giles would clearly have. he then offers a suggestion of his own. it’s worth mentioning here that both xander’s and willow’s stories get gorgeous multiple-page spreads depicting the vampy action, but giles’s is a simple and chilling little thing: this is his vampire story. this meeting, called to ostensibly “research” a vampire altar, is really an excuse to get the scoobies to do his dirty work and find the thing for him. they’re tired and silly because the tea and donuts he’s given them are drugged, and their library location is to keep them out of daylight. he laughs it off when he sees they’re bothered, and the meeting is then adjourned when willow finally finds what they’re all looking for. 

buffy’s left her phone in the library, so she doubles back, and accidentally wakes up a dozing giles. just as she’s about to leave, he inquires, casually, “...you never did tell your version of the story.”

and good god here is where it gets interesting.

see, buffy’s take is simple: she’s fighting giles in a cemetery, she’s given the chance to kill him, and she is entirely unable to do it. they share a tearful embrace as she sobs about the unfairness of it all -- “you’re giles! and you’ll always be! ...how will i do this without you? without your guidance?” and as the sun is rising, giles turns her into a vampire, with no resistance whatsoever from buffy. the next handful of pages depict bloody, indulgent violence on the parts of giles and buffy, the two of them cuddled up together as they watch the world burn. 

buffy’s tale is the most emotive, the most loving, which makes me so damn soft! i love this girl so much! she is unable to even joke about giles as a foe to be taken down -- he is her watcher. he is her friend. she loves him endlessly and that does not change when he’s a vampire. vamp giles as she portrays him is gentle and understanding, holding her as she cries, because he knows that they’re connected. it’s easily my favorite part of this whole issue.

notably, there is a definite buffy/giles bend that the comic itself tries to contradict. the art is sensual in nature -- vamp buffy all dolled up in a way somewhat evocative of drusilla, giles tenderly caressing her face as he waits for her to wake up. “watcher and slayer connected forever” being the quote chosen to describe the situation. i think it’s kind of what naturally happens in a vamp giles sitch, especially if he turns buffy -- the childe/sire bond is incredibly sexual in nature, especially in canon, and a lot of frustrating human sentiment gets translated into something sexual as well. sex is a big BIG part of the relationships between vampires we see in canon; it would make a lot of sense for that to hold true for buffy and giles.

the comic is reticent about Going There, which i can understand -- though buffy is decisively aged up in this issue (willow mentions being engaged to a woman, later revealed to be tara), the buffy/giles bond is always seen through a father/daughter lens in canon. i do think it’s also important to always recognize how desperately giles wishes to escape the label of father in reference to buffy, pretty much entirely because there is no way to parent a child soldier who you’re also training, but that’s a whole other kettle of fish. point is, buffy very pointedly refers to vamp giles as her father not once, but twice -- once as a human, once as a vampire herself. it’s a very clear attempt, imo, to un-sexualize the vampy experience. the reason it doesn’t totally work, at least for me, is the fact that -- like i said -- the childe/sire bond is VERY sexual (spike and dru, angel and darla, angel and dru) and it seems just totally implausible that vamp buffy/vamp giles (two people who, as human were both VERY repressed) would chastely remain within the socially acceptable version of their relationship.

i can definitely understand why they did their best to blur that line, though. the idea of buffy and giles being romantically involved as vampires is 1) Kind Of A Lot and 2) not exactly the target demographic that i think this comic is going for. but the subtext is there, to the point where the issue itself has to actively obfuscate it, which i think is .... so interesting? especially as a counterpoint to the way i often see buffy/giles in fandom, wherein the father/daughter subtext in canon is at times actively obfuscated in fic in an attempt to push a preferred reading. 

the ending i particularly enjoyed: after buffy leaves, it is lightly and ambiguously implied that giles might really be a vampire. works GREAT as a standalone, imo, and the end is like the cherry on top. it’s a really REALLY interesting issue and i highly recommend it for any giles fan. 

[sarenhale]

Just watched the Endwalker trailer.... I am super excited but also heavily thinking about the expansion, and what it will mean for Zenos as a character.

Long ass thoughts under the cut.

He’s posed as the final boss here, the big bad guy, but it made me think a lot when the game and some characters explicitly say: “Maybe Zenos isn’t even our final obstacle, the final days will be’. Which also leads me to think that Zenos is just... well, vibing and thriving in the destruction, but that he could not be the reason the final days are happening and everything is going to shit.

He sure as hell is enabling things to happen, but I don’t know if I believe that he’s the instigator and the one behind the idea. I think he’s more of the opportunist taking advantage of chaos and delirium to act his plan of the final hunt, but I think it has been made clear enough that he doesn’t exactly care about Eorzea ending or wars happening to create an intricate plan such as the one put in motion by Fandaniel, he just wants to relive the hunt with his first friend and enemy once again. (Which don’t get me started, it’s so fucking sad man, don’t make me think about it or I’ll tear up...)

This led me to think ... where will this character go? What will happen? I am VERY torn about this, mostly because SE has done an incredible job at keeping everyone guessing and surprising people everytime with the story. 

Could Zenos end up being an ally? Could he be spared? Can he come to reason? I see people even mentioning that he could be a Scion... I honestly really don’t see that happening, the man is batshit insane and as much as I love him, he doesn’t give a shit about Eorzea or helping the world, and I’m sure 99% of the Scions despise him or just want to see him dead. He won’t be a Scion, that would be really out of character for everyone. (For him to be one, for everyone to accept him as such)

But I do wonder if he will end up being spared, or changing his mind. Maybe being a ‘neutral’ force? Maybe even temporarily allying with the WoL (and only with the Wol, he doesn’t care about the others) to prevent him from dying, because he doesn’t actually want his rival and friend to die. A ‘villain turned ally out of necessity’ situation with him would be cool, and would make sense if he wanted to protect the Wol temporarily from another foe, even for just ‘being the one that has to kill / defeat them’. He’s very possessive over the Wol, I feel like.

I just hope we won’t have to kill him... he’s one of my favourite characters now, so I would honestly be DEVASTATED to see him go, even if I perfectly know he would deserve it and everyone would probably be happy if he did. But I just can’t help thinking about how much I love this character, his story, what he implies, what he represents, all the things he carries with him... I feel like Endwalker will surely give us a lot of content for him, which I am excited and happy about, but I just wish we could not kill him so we get to see more.

This is where I get conflicted because my realist side tells me we already got a fake death, even if we DID kill him, and fight him with the intent to kill. He managed to escape death though, and came back. I just think it would be a bit unrealistic to have him escape death once again, and even more unrealistic having him being an ally. One could argue we already have examples of Garlean villains turned allies, with Nero, Cid and Gaius, but like... they weren’t like this.

What I love about Zenos is also what makes him unreedemable.

Zenos is mad. Zenos doesn’t give a shit about anyone, about life, death, people, slaughtering innocents, about Eorzea, hell, he doesn’t even give a crap about the world ENDING if it means he can have a final dance with his beast. And I LOVE all these unique parts about him, but I also realize those parts are what make imagining him surviving so hard, considering the circumstances. 

Cid, Nero and Gaius weren’t mad with power. Sure, they all did bad things, but you don’t see them talking about how they just wanted to fight one person to feel an emotion and destroyed countries and people for that reason. The others had reasons behind their actions (as bad as those reasons could be, their actions were still guided by logic), Zenos doesn’t. Zenos is a feral animal and follows his istincts, that’s why I find it so hard to imagine him as someone who is not a villain. I would LOVE for him to be saved, to have someone give him a chance, my humane (and emphatic ass) wants someone to take a chance on him also because I feel so close to his struggle, but my realistic side says ‘Yeah, it’s not gonna happen’. 

As much as I love this character and would like him not to die, I also realize he did horrible things and slaughtered innocents without even thinking about it. I went back to check on dialogues of people talking about facing him in the war, and man it’s bad. People basically describe how he wouldn’t even find enjoyement in killing people or winning wars, but how we was just ‘looking for a feeling’ even on the battlefield, while destroying people’s hopes and dreams in Doma and all Yangxia. It’s bad. It’s REAL bad. Sometimes I forget how... bad this character is.

“...I do not think there was any joy in it. Nor justice, nor morality, nor meaning. To him, the weight of one life is no different from that of a thousand.  A challenge had been issued and was accepted. But on finding us no challenge at all, his objective changed. There were tales of imperial soldiers being flayed for slaughtering families. For breaking brave men’s spirits. Only later did I come to understand why. He did not desire obedience. He desired hate… and men consumed by it.  A new battle. A new enemy. A new challenge. The hunt, I am told he called it. A hunt without end. And when all our best lay dead and broken, he left. He left, muttering that we had “bored” him. But our weapons, at least, held his interest. For he took a fallen samurai’s sword, having grown… fond of it. Since that day, he has ever wielded Far Eastern blades. He is said to be fascinated by ones with storied histories, and so soldiers who seek to to curry his favor often present those of defeated enemies as gifts.

Lyse: It’s like all a game to him. People are suffering -- dying -- and he’s collecting swords? “

But man. I don’t know what Endwalker has in store for me, for Zenos, but I sure hope maybe something can happen where he doesn’t die. I don’t know how the fuck that would happen, maybe we would need to see more of him and understand his story/his side better, and see if he actually does want to work with the WoL side by side instead of just fighting him. Maybe that can happen, he does care about the WoL after all, and he knows enjoyement and thrill will come out of being with them. I just don’t know how that could realistically *WORK*... But I sure does hope there’s some kind of compromise, where he maybe just can reflect on his actions and do something about them.

This is my stupid ‘I see too much of myself in Zenos to talk rationally’ self talking, but I am so sad at seeing a character that has struggles and grew up feeling nothing but apathy, being loved by no one, end up like a villain again. Having to just be put down like a feral animal. Again. 

I guess my stupid ass would just like him to be happy, found peace maybe, HELL, I don’t know if he deserves it, but some parts of me tells me he does. I just get so sad when I am reminded at how much his father, family, nation, no one gave a shit about him. That’s too much human and close to home for me to disregard everything entirely and just call him a villain. 

I also am conflicted because I wonder if what I want for him isn’t also out of character, and something that would ruin his character and story. I love Zenos because he’s unapologetically himself, does what he wants, and obeys no one’s agenda, but his wants and instincts. I don’t want his personality and story arc to be ruined by salvation or him randomly becoming an ally and everyone pretending he didn’t do anything wrong, that would make me hate him and SE so much. I would much prefer him dead than him ruined as a character. I do wonder if me wanting him to be spared death and him being unapologetically himself are two things that can’t co-exist- it FEELS like that, honestly. I have faith in SE that they will write him and the story well, and make me enjoy what happens, so at the moment I’m not particularly worried about him being ruined as a character. But I just got to the point where I am so attached that I am of course scared of losing my favourite character. I guess we will have to see, honestly only the game and what will happen in the story can tell me if I am right in having hope for him or if I am not. There’s a lot of possibility in the story, a lot of surprises in SE’s writing everything everytime, and i how they make things WORK, so there’s hope in THAT.

And maybe I want to see a different solution for him that isn’t death. Call it retribution, maybe I am projecting TOO MUCH in this character, but yeah, just being honest and baring my emotions to the world here. I guess we will have to see what happens. 

[geraskierficrecs]

The first time Geralt made a deal with the fae, he was young and stupid enough to think it wouldn’t change his life.

To be fair, he’d been dying at the time.

He was bleeding enough to turn the muddy water around him dark as pitch. The drowner he’d been sent after was motionless next to him and he spared a thought for the irony of dying like this after surviving so many impossible things, but it was weak humor.

He was barely thirty and considering if it would be better to bleed out or suffocate.

When he’d felt the ground shift beneath his feet, he’d only had a matter of moments before his legs were fully trapped in the soft silt and sand. Each time he struggled he could feel himself sinking deeper into the muck. A tree limb remained tantalizingly out of reach and no amount of casting award would bring it closer.

After an hour, he’d finally had to admit it was hopeless. He was trapped.

Geralt made a low sound in his throat. Vesemir had warned them that the Path rarely ended kindly for Witchers. They were never meant to retire in some keep like other warriors. Even Vesemir was the last of a handful of Witchers old enough to train others. He wondered if the old man would grieve him when he didn’t return to Kaer Morhen that winter.

His lips twisted in a smile without humor. He’d been so foolish to think he’d be able to be the hero of the tales he’d loved as a child. He would die here alone, rotting beside the same monster the world thought he’d become.

A branch snapped nearby and Gerat felt a thrill of hope at the sound.

“Hello?” He called, “Is anyone there?”

A voice came from his right, impossibly close for a Witchers senses to miss. Geralt jerked in surprise, cursing his bad luck to replace a drowner with an even deadlier foe—a fae.

Because what else could the impossibly beautiful man lounging across a tree branch be?

Dark brown hair the color of the bark of the old oak trees that guarded the heart of the forest curled around a face that remained eternally young. The light of the woods seemed to shine brighter around him as though it was eager to touch more of him. The fae smiled at him, preening under Geralt’s gaze and winking an impossibly blue eye at him.

“Well, well...what an unexpected surprise.”

Geralt ignored the hot flash that bloomed at the first sound of his voice and forced himself to focus on getting out of here. The only way he was getting out here was with the fae’s help. Of course, gaining the help of a fae was something Vesemir had been adamant on avoiding at all costs.

Still, it couldn’t be worse than dying here, right?

“You’re a fae,” he said slowly, trying to decide how to handle this.

The creature grinned, proud as any parent. “Got it in one,” he said, “Well done. Now, my turn...what is a Witcher doing in this part of the forest?”

Geralt gestured to the drowner carcass half submerged in the bog. “Had a contract for a drowner.”

“How exciting! It was beginning to stink up the place.” Blue eyes traced over Geralt with obvious humor. “You have an interesting strategy, Witcher.”

Geralt decided he had no talent for subtleties so he only grunted. “I’m stuck.”

“I can see that.”

Now he knew the fucker was laughing at him.

They stared at one another for a beat.

This time the creature’s smile was more predatory. “May I have your name?”

At least Geralt had been warned of that particular trick. “No, but you may call me Geralt.”

He laughed, light and airy. When he looked back at Geralt, he was almost proud. “Aren’t you a clever one? The last human I spoke to was not nearly so interesting.”

“I’m not human.”

“Close enough as far as my kind is concerned, I’m afraid,” the fae said with a dismissive wave, “Human or not, it appears you’ve found yourself in quite a predicament.”

As if in answer, Geralt felt himself sink further into the mud until it was as high as the base of his neck. He fought through the helpless panic at the sensation and tried to keep his face blank.

“What would it take for you to help me?”

All he could remember from his lessons with Vesemir about the fae was their love of polite manners and a good bargain. The problem was always the cost. They were notorious for driving bargains that were not as simple as they seemed and often did more harm in the long run.

Still, anything had to be better than dying here.

Now the thin veneer of humanity had nearly vanished from the creature’s features and its eyes bled nearly black with eager intent.

“There is little I need that I cannot gather myself.”

“So what do you want?”

He tilted his head like a cat sensing prey. “A favor.”

Geralt frowned. “A favor?”

“To be collected by me at a time of my choosing,” he continued breezily.

The Witcher winced when he sank another four inches and had to tilt his head up to keep from breathing in the mud. The fae only watched.

“What kind of favor?” He asked stubbornly.

“It’s nothing so terrifying Geralt-“ The Witcher stubbornly did not think of the way the fae shaped his name like he relished the taste. “-At some point in the future, I will call upon you to aid me in a way that is equal to what I’ve done for you today. Simple.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll die.” The words were flat. No chance of misunderstanding.

Geralt’s mind whirled even as his body continued to sink. He thought of every warning he’d been taught about the fae. He knew the tales of their cunning and wiles, their vicious games, and cruel methods of finding entertainment.

And yet it was Vesemir’s final command that lingered most in his mind:

Stay alive.

So he managed to force out the words just as he sank below the surface,

“I accept your bargain.”

—————————————

When Geralt opened his eyes again, he was nestled in a comfortable bed at the closest inn.

His wound had been wrapped with clean linens and he felt pleasantly rested. His armor—cleaned and dried—was hanging over a chair and a bowl of soup and glass of ale sat atop the dresser, still warm.

Slowly he sat up, frowning when he felt a sharp tug on his wrist, as though the skin was new and pinched. When he held his forearm up, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

Because there, between a smattering of freckles, was a simple dark line that stank of fae magic.

[tigerkirby215]

5e Irelia, the Blade Dancer build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Jessica “OwleyCat” Oyhenart. Made for Riot Games.)

FINE I’LL MAKE IRELIA GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!

Irelia is my least favorite champion in League. She’s not my most banned (Shaco) nor is she the champion I complain the most about, but she is absolutely the champion that I look at and constantly think “this character actively ruins the game for me.” I’ll admit that Irelia’s role in the Sentinels of Light story was pretty interesting but you’re still not going to make me like Irelia, Riot!

I’m not going to bore everyone with a long-winded rant about my hatred for this character and how what I thought was going to be a nerf actually made her S tier (joy to the fucking world I now actually have to ban her) but I will say this: there are no champions who I won’t make a genuine build for if I take the time to make a proper blog post about them... Except Talon, but that’s because Talon has one of the most boring kits in the entirety of League of Legends.

GOALS

Step. Two. Whirl. Lift! - What? Do you think that a champion with literally unlimited dashes is unfair?

Perfection of form - We’ll also need to weave our blades around us like a dress, slicing at foes and protecting yourself in one fluent motion.

Remember the Placidium! - When in doubt just use more blades.

RACE

Irelia’s a human... but making humans all the time is boring. Irelia has an innate magic and I’d consider being in-tune with Ionia’s spirit a connection to the Fey. So I decided to make her an elf for the sake of this build, more particularly an Aereni High Elf from Eberron for the innate Expertise.

A regular High Elf works too if your DM doesn’t allow Eberron races; the only thing that really changes with the Aereni High Elf is that you get Expertise in a skill. Valenar elves are also cool for the Double Scimitar.

You can also make Irelia a human but there aren’t many feats I want for her except maybe Mobile, but I felt like being an elf was more fun to grab other feats.

As an elf you have +2 to your Dexterity score, Keen Senses for proficiency in the Perception skill (gotta watch those wards!), and the Fey Ancestry of Ionia grants you advantage against charms and immunity to being put to sleep magically. Instead of sleeping you can spend time in a Trance meditating to regain strength. You only need 4 hours in a trance to rest, and are fully aware of your surroundings while doing so.

As an Aereni Elf you get Expertise in one skill of your choice: we’ll be taking Performance because... well you are a dancer. As a High Elf you learn one Cantrip from the Wizard list, and we’ll actually be taking Prestidigitation to aid in our performances. Oh and you’d normally be increasing your Intelligence by 1 but we’ll instead be increasing your Wisdom because... well it fits Irelia more. (No big loss if you increase Intelligence instead though.) And you can learn one language of your choice: pick whatever you think would inspire fear into the heart of Noxians!

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - A dancer is meant to be beautiful first and foremost.

14; DEXTERITY - Of course dancing takes nimbleness. "When no one's around, I dance for myself."

13; WISDOM - This is where the +1 from our race is going! Keep in-tune with the natural world and Ionia’s spirit.

12; CONSTITUTION - You are still a top laner with just... way too much sustain. (Feel free to swap this with Wisdom for more HP but less roleplay.)

10; INTELLIGENCE - Nature is an intelligence skill and military tactics are good to learn, but we simply need everything else more.

8; STRENGTH - You swing your blades with the rhythm of the natural order. Which is to say Riot doesn’t like buff ladies.

BACKGROUND

A dancer is a type of Entertainer. You get proficiency in Acrobatics but since you already have expertise in Performance feel free to grab Nature to become more in-tune with the world around you. You also get proficiency with a Disguise Kit and an instrument of your choice: pick whatever you think suits you and make your own Ionian war hero!

You feature By Popular Demand makes you known as both a dancer and a war leader! You can perform in exchange for a place to rest for you and your allies, and people will remember your dance and treat you with respect.

(Artwork by Bo “chenbowow” Chen. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ROGUE 1

What? Did you expect this to just be 20 levels of Swords Bard? Honestly Rogue serves as a better recreation of Irelia’s abilities, at least at early levels. That and I want proficiency in 4 skills, so take Insight, Persuasion, Intimidation, and Slight of Hand proficiency to lead and dance with grace. You also get Expertise in two of those skills: Acrobatics is a must but since we’ve already got proficiency in Performance you may as well grab Persuasion for good relations with Ionia’s people.

You also get Thieves’ Cant to speak in the way only other performers can understand, “performers” in this case being other Rogues. But of course the main skill you get is Sneak Attack, giving you an extra d6 of damage if you have advantage on your attack or an ally is near the enemy you’re attacking.

LEVEL 2 - ROGUE 2

I always love when I get to recreate League of Legends dashes by just... letting you use the Dash action a lot. Second level Rogues can make Cunning Actions to Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a Bonus Action. Keep it simple stupid and weave around your foes on the battlefield.

LEVEL 3 - ROGUE 3

Third level Rogues get to choose their Roguish Archetype, and to dance around the battlefield while slicing down foes the Swashbuckler is a great choice to keep your rhythm in check. Your Fancy Footwork will allow you to attack a foe before slipping away without provoking Opportunity Attacks while your Rakish Audacity will allow you to add your Charisma to your Initiative to always be the first on the front line.

Rakish Audacity also lets you Sneak Attack a foe who is alone on the battlefield as long as you don’t have disadvantage and they don’t have an ally within 5 feet, letting you hit them for an extra 2d6 with your blades.

Now may as well be a time to ask: Dual Wielding or single weapon? Since you’re not going to be getting a shield I’d say carrying two blades is worth it for the potential to deal more damage when needed. You can also use your Dual Wielding attack to activate Fancy Footwork more often to evade more enemies. Just be mindful of when Dashing or Dodging would be more useful.

LEVEL 4 - ROGUE 4

4th level Rogues get an Ability Score Improvement and Dexterity controls most of what we do right now, so a +2 to DEX would be beneficial.

LEVEL 5 - ROGUE 5

Normally I wouldn’t go out of my way to grab level 5 in Rogue just for the sake of Uncanny Dodge, but here’s the thing: it’s literally Irelia’s Defiant Dance! Take less damage from an attack you saw coming before striking back with your 3d6 Sneak Attack.

(Artwork by Michelle Hoefener. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - BARD 1

Now it’s time for those 20 15 levels in Swords Bard! Multiclassing into Bard gives you proficiency with one musical instrument (pick your fancy) and one skill of your choice: I opted for Arcana because... well you’re fighting with magical floating blades. (Or at least you will be in due time.)

As a Bard you can inspire your allies as a Bonus Action thanks to Bardic Inspiration, letting them add a d6 to their Attack Rolls, Ability Checks, or Saving Throws. You have a maximum number of Inspiration die equal to your Charisma modifier, which come back after a Long Rest... for now.

But of course as a Bard you get Spellcasting! You learn two cantrips from the Bard list such as Message to communicate on the frontline, and Vicious Mockery which is sure what I fucking feel playing against an Irelia one-trick smurf account. You can also learn four leveled spells like Faerie Fire to mark your foes, Command to strike fear in the hearts of foes, Heroism to strike vigor in the hearts of allies, and Healing Word; because healing is always good to have.

LEVEL 7 - BARD 2

Second level Bards have dabbled in a little bit of everything: healing, damage, healing, mobility, healing, crowd control, oh and I think Irelia does need some more healing. Regardless Jack of All Trades will let you add half your proficiency bonus to any skill checks you aren’t already proficient in. (This also includes Initiative which is important to mention!)

If you use Tasha’s rules you can also grab Magical Inspiration to make your allies’ spells either heal more or do more damage thanks to your Inspiration. Oh and speaking of spells you can also grab Longstrider for more speed on the battlefield.

Oh and you get Song of Rest, the ability I always mock for scaling poorly. But it will help your allies recover after a hard battle!

LEVEL 8 - BARD 3

Irelia has many magical blades because she went to the College of Swords. Along with Bonus Proficiencies with Medium Armor and Scimitars (neither of which Rogues have for some reason) you can pick up a Fighting Style: I personally opted for Two-Weapon Fighting to get more attacks in but Dueling is also a perfectly fine.

Of course the main appeal of being a Blade Dancer is your Blade Flourish: When you attack on your turn you move 10 feet faster until the end of the turn, and if you hit you can use a Bardic Inspiration on a Blade Flourish:

Defensive Flourish lets you roll your Bardic Inspiration to add to your damage and AC.

Slashing Flourish lets you roll your Bardic Inspiration to add to your damage, and do that extra damage to any other creature of your choice (that you can see) within 5 feet of you.

Mobile Flourish lets you roll your Bardic Inspiration to add to (guess what) the damage. You can also push the target up to 5 feet away from you, plus a number of feet equal to the number you roll on that die. Immediately afterwards you can use your reaction to move up to your walking speed to an unoccupied space within 5 feet of the target. It’s not quite a Dash, but it’s certainly a Bladesurge!

You can only use one Blade Flourish per turn though. Additionally you get Expertise in two skills like Insight and Nature, to know the spirit of both people and the world around you. And finally you can learn a second level spell like Hold Person for a stun before you do your full combo.

LEVEL 9 - BARD 4

4th level Bards can grab something a little better than Flash; the Fey Teleportation feat! Along with a +1 to your Charisma you learn Sylvan, but most importantly you can cast Misty Step once per Short or Long Rest to get out of a dangerous situation! It unfortunately doesn’t add the spell to your spell list (like Fey Touched from Tasha’s Cauldron) but being able to regain your mobility spell after a Short Rest is extremely useful!

Speaking of spells you learn one more Bard spell, and one more cantrip! For your cantrip take Mage Hand to grab blades from afar, and for your leveled spell take Calm Emotions. It perhaps isn’t the most practical and there are certainly better options, but it’s fitting.

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 10 - BARD 5

5th level Bards get a Font of Inspiration, letting their Bardic Inspiration charges come back after a Short Rest. That’s nice because your Bardic Inspiration (and Blade Flourish die) also increases to a d8.

You can also grab a third level spell like Hypnotic Pattern, to stun an entire army with your blades.

LEVEL 11 - BARD 6

6th level Bards can finally turn their Vampiric Scepter into Blade of the Ruined King, giving them some Attack Speed for an Extra Attack. You can still only use one Blade Flourish per turn, but at least now you can attack twice with your action or up to three times if you make a Two-Weapon Fighting attack.

You can also grab another spell but there’s not much I want from third level, so instead I’ll talk about Countercharm, which is dumb and bad. You spend an action to give yourself and nearby allies advantage against Charms and Fears. Or you could fight through the fear and slay your foes... or cast Heroism or Calm Emotions.

LEVEL 12 - BARD 7

7th level Bards can learn 4th level spells like Dimension Door to teleport into lane or back to base, and Freedom of Movement for some Tenacity.

LEVEL 13 - BARD 8

8th level Bards get another Ability Score Improvement. We’ve been investing more in Bard so more Charisma would be nice for more Blade Flourishes and better spellcasting.

You can also learn another spell but again: don’t really want anything, so we’re going to wait for...

(Artwork by Jana Schirmer. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 14 - BARD 9

9th level Bards get to pretend that Song of Rest is a useful ability that scales well, especially when multiclassing. I mean, at least it’s a d8 now!

You also get 5th level spells like Animate Objects. Hey: it only took us 14 levels to get your blades! You can also grab Rary's Telepathic Bond (ty Tasha’s) to keep to team chat with everyone.

LEVEL 15 - BARD 10

10th level Bards get Expertise in two more skills: take Arcana to further your connection to Ionia, and Slight of Hand for the specific hand movements to manipulate your blades. You also see your Bardic Inspiration increase to a d10, which also means your Blade Flourishes deal a d10 of damage!

Additionally you get Magical Secrets from any class so you can use your unique brand of blade magic. And by far the most blade-like spell you can grab (at this level) is Steel Wind Strike, to dash through multiple foes for a big burst of damage!

Additionally we will be grabbing Blade of the Ruined King (finally) with Spirit Shroud; yes it’s a bit of a low-level spell but it serves as a great damage boost to your melee attacks and also keeps enemies close for you to fight them. And finally you get one more cantrip: Mending will help you keep your outfit in check.

Also if you want you can replace Message with Prestidigitation now that you have Rary’s Telepathic Bond.

LEVEL 16 - BARD 11

11th level Bards get 6th level spells: you can lean into your lessons as a dancer and take Otto's Irresistible Dance to force your foes to keep up with the rhythm or die trying. "Okay, I'm warmed up."

LEVEL 17 - BARD 12

12th level Bards don’t get extra spells, but they do get another Ability Score Improvement: more Charisma means more Bardic Inspiration die (for more Blade Flourishes), better spells, and more initiative so capping that out would give you more bang for your buck overall.

(Artwork by Art of Maki. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 18 - BARD 13

Hey remember when I said Song of Rest is a useful ability? Well it’s a d10 now!

At least you can learn Forcecage to take Noxians as prisoners of war to be properly judged... As long as they don’t have a filth bucket in their cell.

LEVEL 19 - BARD 14

14th level Swords Bards as masters of their blades, and can perform a Master’s Flourish using a d6 instead of one of their Bardic Inspiration.

You also get two more Magical Secrets, and hey we can finally grab your ult! Take Blade Barrier to cut the armies off with your Vanguard’s Edge. Alternatively if you need to go back to base take Word of Recall to recall back to your fountain. Which is to say: I had no other good spells to give you.

LEVEL 20 - BARD 15

15th level Bards see their Bardic Inspiration die (and their Blade Flourish die) increase to its maximum size of a d12! And you can cap off the build with an 8th level spell, but in all honesty there isn’t many spells I want from 8th level. So use that slot to upcast and take Hold Monster instead to finally be able to stun Wukong.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Grace bends where strength breaks - You have a variety of ways to deal consistent damage between competency with swords, Blade Flourishes, and powerful spells.

I move to unsung melodies and unbeaten rhythms - +12 to initiative and the ability to move between enemies you attack freely means you’re guaranteed to be on the battlefield fast and able to put yourself in a position to fight with your allies.

Never stop learning; there's always a form you don't know - It was not my intention but turns out Bards and Rogues get a lot of skill proficiencies. +17 in Performance and Persuasion, +16 in Acrobatics and Slight of Hand, +14 in Insight, and +12 in Arcana and Nature. Not to mention Jack of All Trades helping you with all the skills you don’t have proficiency in.

CONS

Each form has a name known only to the wind - So your Dexterity isn’t maxed out, which means you’re a little lacking in both AC and hit chance. Honestly level 5 of Rogue isn’t that good, even if Uncanny Dodge works well as Defiant Dance. 4 / 16 would’ve been better for another ASI.

Stay ready, and there is no need to get ready - Most of your fun spells are accessed at a very high level, with your lower leveled spells dedicated more to utility. You’re a sword fighter first and foremost but seeing as your Charisma is maxed it would be good to use your high Charisma.

We are sharpest where we break! - Low DEX and no Shield (no Shield spell and two-weapon Fighting) means that your AC isn’t the most impressive. That along with 120 health means that a few bad hits can put you in the danger zone. Sure Uncanny Dodge gives you a reliable way to soak up damage but a good surprise hit will quickly put an end to you.

But you don’t need to worry about weaknesses when you’re probably smurfing anyways. Dash, dance, and decapitate foes in a graceful death of a thousand cuts. Keep your style and inspire the commonfolk to take up arms to protect their homeland. Just don’t get too out of line, or Riot might nerf your movement speed by 5.

(Artwork by Bo “chenbowow” Chen. Made for Riot Games.)

[spacegirlinorbit]

Help Me Understand

Part 2

Obi wan x reader

Angst, fluff

Takes place during ROTS. Y/n there to be by Obi wan side as he discovers the truth behind the abrupt turn of events in the war, Anakin becoming darth vadar, and eventually how he will come to fight him.

Angst prompts :“I don’t want space. I want you. ...I need you, please stay with me.” “You don’t have to face him alone, you’re not alone.” 

SIDENOTE: ‘//’ when its one parenthesis's they are talking through the force and when its double ‘’ like normal its being said aloud 

Help me understand part 1

“Well it looks like you took all the fun.” I say more to Obi than Yoda.

“Master y/n.” Yoda responds and I give him a bow. “Master Yoda.”

“Y/n.” Obi wan looks at me with wide eyes and rushes over to pull into a tight hug. I return his hug gratefully. Anyone could see it and anyone could feel it. We have an unformidable bond. That’s all that mattered. We are safe and we have each other.

We part and I give him a somber smile, “I heard Anakin was here.”

Obi wan sighs and looks to Master Yoda whose head goes down casted. We make our way into the temple. I can feel intensely the echoes of screams and blasters and lightsabers going off all around. A massacre.

The masters talk amongst themselves as I bend down and reach out to the force and see the events play out. It’s like a rock in the pit of my stomach. I fear I already know. As I see him come into view cloaked and feeling possessed. This is no Anakin. He has a new awakening inside giving his entity a new identity. Darth Vadar.

“Who could have done this?” Obi questions. I look to Master Yoda and then back to Obi keeping it impassive. Doesn’t he feel it? Doesn’t he know? Is he trying to be ignorantly blind? No. Not Obi wan Kenobi. He knows deep down. He’s just not ready to face it.

Me and Obi work on reversing the code but as Master Yoda claims ‘a long time it will take’ to recalibrate the clones.

‘Cody was with you wasn't he?” I ask quietly not sure if I should bring it up.

“Yes.”

“I made contact with Ashoka. She’s managed to help Rex through the force. I fear for what might become of her if she sees Anakin.”

“Do you think...do you really think he is our enemy?”

“No.” I can’t hesitate. I do my best not to lie either. I need to have hope. You can win wars built on hope.

“How did it come to this? I don’t understand.”

“I can only think of one person. Palpatine.”

“I must know the truth.” He walks out of the room and I quickly follow.

“Master. There is something I must know.” He says and walks over to the channel recording tables.

Yoda warns him, but knowing Obi this is the only way he can bring himself to do it. The recording plays out. It confirms everything and breaks everything as well. Obi is conflicted once again and in pain that is hard to keep under control on the inside as I reach out to blanket him.

Master Yoda says the words no one wants to hear now. “Destroy the sith we must.”

Obi wan claims he can kill the emperor but not Anakin and I can’t help as my heart yearns at the sentiment. Anakin has turned to the dark side. He is sith. He is Darth vader. He is no longer Anakin and it pains me to even think about it. It pains me to see Obi-wan in turmoil about it.

“I don’t know where to look. Do you know?” He turns to me now. I sadly put my head down and shake my head no.

“I didn’t hear that part of the conversation. You will have to go to Padme. She will probably have an easier time telling you.” I say trying to hide my discomfort. I wasn’t jealous of Padme but I didn’t understand how Obi wan was more compelling to be more open with her than with me. Someone who has been by his side more often than not. We did our first mission together. One of many. We have a force connection only we share more powerful than most. I was there when Quin Gon died and he was crying in his room all night. Then he took on the responsibility of Anakin Skywalker.

“You’re right as ever.” He says and gives me a small smile and a squeeze on my shoulder.

“I’ll continue to figure out the code. You go speak with Padme.” I say trying not to grind my teeth with every word that comes out of my mouth. The last thing I want is to be alone. Not when he has finally come home.

“I’ll fetch you when I’m done.” He replies before he leaves with one last stare that could say a million things.

It feels like an eternity since he left but I reach out slightly on the parameters of his force line. Padme is in shock and disbelief. She doesn’t end up telling him where despite how much he pushes in her head but he does sense the child she carries is Anakin’s. Thank the stars I don’t have to keep that a secret anymore. Padme didn’t tell me, but it was easy prying into Anakin’s mind when he asked me to watch over her. That and how she was eating more and the belly was starting to show.

I sense his presence coming closer to me and I meet him out on a small landing dock where no one would detect us.

“You’re just going to have to sit sideways in my lap.” He explains with a bit of cough and the tips of his ears tinge pink. He’s embarrassed. My heart is pounding but I do it anyway.

We go to the senate building and disguise ourselves to a hanger where Padme's ship is being ready for take off. Obi grabs my hand and we sneak onto the ship undetected by Padme and C3PO. Obi wan informed on the way here that she didn’t tell him where Anakin is but has been sensing she is going after him. We hide in a compartment together on the ship. I settle for sitting down and hugging my legs to my chest. Obi takes a Jedi kneeling stance across from me.

‘Did you know about the baby?’ He projects into my mind.

‘Yes. I knew.’ I begrudgingly say.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ He questions.

‘It wasn’t my place to tell. I read Anakin’s mind and found out my suspicions were true.’

‘Ah.’

‘Why did you say that when the war broke out?’ I ask timidly. I wish there was a wall between us. I don’t dare look at him when I ask this question.

‘What do you mean?’ I can feel him start to close off.

‘You called me, “my love”. What did you mean?’

‘...’ he is silent at first but then sighs and rubs his hand down his face. ‘I suppose I can’t hide it any longer. I don’t need to. I meant I love you. Because I do. I have loved you for a long time now. I just knew we couldn’t give in. We were always passing each other too. The missions together became less and communicating became more silent. It wasn’t the Jedi way. Now there is no Jedi.’

‘Oh Obi there is Jedi. There’s you, me, Yoda, and hopefully we can save Anakin.’

‘Yes.’ I can feel the hesitation. He’s on edge but blurts it out bluntly through the force. ‘Do you love me?’

I try not to smile big seeing as my heart will burst but all I feel right now for Obi Wan is love. We are about to enter a battlefield with a friend turned foe and yet none of that matters as much as I feel for Obi Wan Kenobi.

‘Yes.’ I say this time meaning it with my entire heart. Probably the first real truthful yes I’ve said all day. I can feel the love he has kept hidden, flow through me and it’s bliss and would leave me in daze if I didn’t know what we were about to do.

Landing in disguise was probably the hardest and easiest part. Padme didn’t know we were there and anakin’s energy was too high off the charts to focus on multiple things at once. His sole focus was Padme that much we could feel. We waited until she made it off the ship and then as we snuck out of our little compartment I looked to see 3CPO spot us and I gave him a signal of silence and for once he didn't make a sound. I hear Anakin’s voice and look back at obi wan at the entrance exposing his presence.

Everything after that happened so quickly. Padme being choked and falling unconscious. Anakin and Obi Wan start to negotiate but no real negotiation takes place. Obi wan in his mind tells me stay on board, Padme is still breathing, and Anakin could hurt me if i expose myself now. I stay back until I hear them start to duel and leave the scene. I run out to Padme whose unconscious but through the force I can feel she's under a lot of stress she can’t handle and I fear the baby-no babies it seems: twins, will be coming sooner than expected. I get 3CPO’s help to load Padme back into the ship and let her rest. I want to call out to Obi wan but I fear it would distract him.

I reach out to have my force barely touch Obi wan’s as I feel a sudden anguish overwhelm me in my meditation in the force. Obi wan felt nothing but pain as he had to leave his brother, someone who was the closest thing he had to family being left to die. He wasn't looking to make Anakin suffer but as we all know that wasn’t Anakin anymore but Darth Vadar. I send 3CPO to inform Obi wan as he makes his way back to the ship. I can feel he is miserable and tired. 3CPO sets the coordinates as I make the call for a medic droid to be ready once we arrive. Obi Wan pays Padme a visit to Padme. I hear her ask about Anakin as she did when I helped her lay down for rest. She will never be the same again, but at least she has her children.

Obi wan makes his way to the front of the ship, silent. I can feel the indifference of pain within him. I think to myself he must need space right now and make my way back towards Padme. If only I could help relieve some of the pain he’s feeling.

“Come back…” I hear softly called out. I’m almost at Padme’s door when I faintly hear the voice. I turn around and see Obi wan looking at the ground and running his hand down his face as he does when in hard times.

“Did you say something?” I ask, wondering if I heard wrong.

“I don’t want space.”

“Oh.” Was he mind reading me earlier?

“I don’t want space. I want you. ...I need you, please stay with me.”

I feel my heartbreak a little at the crack of his voice. He is doing his best to stay strong, but he just did the impossible and shouldered the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. No one will understand, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try or help him one way or another.

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thAT WAS THERAPY FOR ME LMAO i hope u enjoyed reading this late night and perhaps forgotten story i wrote. 

[philliamwrites]

compromissum

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Xiao/Aether

Tags: #blood, #angst, #hurt and comfort

Words: 2.5k

Summary: [lat. compromissum: “mutual promise”] In which Xiao has made his very own contract with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

Commissioner: CrystalNines

Notes: I swear, one day I'll learn how to write happy endings.

compromissum

     All is quiet. The shack hiding in the shadow of a cliff is abandoned and left to rot, its wood mouldy and old. No one has been here for a quite a long while and no one desires to visit this forsaken place tugged away in a corner of Qingxu Pool. Then, a figure breaks through the roof, destroying half of its construction.

    All air is knocked out of Xiao’s lungs as he slams onto the ground, but there is no time to catch his breath. He rolls to the side not a moment too late before a Geovishap drops through the opening in the roof and smashes into the ground right where he was laying seconds ago. It snarls, showing a row of razor sharp, enormous teeth the size of Xiao’s lower arm. The corner of Xiao’s mouth twitches as if to reply by bearing his own teeth.

    Blood, warm and wet, runs down his arm, making his grip around his polearm slippery and he shakes his head to clear the dizziness from the Geovishap’s blow earlier. There’s shouting from somewhere above his head, voices echoing over the valley with fear and worry palpable Xiao tries to ignore. He doesn’t need anyone to look after him. So many years have passed where he was out on the hunt by himself without anyone watching his back.

    But there’s one voice he’s learnt to pick out from a crowd, one that no matter when and where lures Xiao in even at a time like this when he’s facing a thirty-thousand-pound monster that can easily break his spine.

    The Geovishap charges. Xiao uses the end of his polearm to gain additional height and jump over it, its amber horn almost grazing the tip of his foot. Before the monster can turn, Xiao lunges forward, his polearm raised to strike and unbalance it, so he’d get access to the soft skin of its belly. But the Geovishap is surprisingly fast for something this big and sturdy, and it whirls around, smashing a giant fist, hard as rock, into Xiao’s side and he cries out, feeling his ribs break. Pain like someone split his side open bare-handed sears through him as he’s thrown against a wall and crumbles to the ground. Black dots dance across his blurred vision and the taste of iron fills his mouth. He spits out blood, his arms trembling from the effort to get back up.

    A shooting star crashes into the Geovishap—no, not a star. Aether. He plunges through the broken roof, fire blazing in his golden eyes as he brings his sword down on the reptilian creature in a single, deadly strike. The Geovishap roars a last time, then falls into himself and remains lifeless n the dirty shack’s ground.

    In his long life, Xiao has gotten used to seeing creatures lose their lives, often by his own hand, but it never ceased to make him wonder how something this big and wild a second ago becomes an empty shell, void of life—how easy and fast, seamless, the transition from alive to dead is. How nothing in this world cares about technicalities like good or evil for all is equal in death.

    In front of him is Aether, beautiful Aether with his sword still raised, its tip glinting in the setting sun like freshly tempered iron in heavenly fire. The sight reminds Xiao of this creature he’s read about a long time ago: Angels, they are called, that descend upon the mortal ground to bring justice in the name of something holier than them. Looking at Aether now, Xiao doesn’t struggle to imagine such a creature—the warm, red horizon illuminates his golden hair. A halo.

    Someone places a small hand tentatively on Xiao’s wounded shoulder and he recoils, finally tearing his gaze away from too beautiful Aether.

    “This looks bad,” Barbara says. For someone looking this frail, her grip is firm, and she doesn’t allow Xiao to wiggle out. “Let me take a closer look.”

    Xiao hisses, “No need.” It takes effort to get back on his feet, his muscles scream in protest but everything in him refuses to appear weak. “We still have one bounty left.”

    “Forget the bounty,” Aether cuts in, sharper than his sword’s edge. He closes the distance in a few strides and ignoring Xiao’s protests, Aether slides one arm around his waist and ducks under Xiao’s arm to steady him. “We’re going back to camp,” he declares and looks around, at Barbara and at Amber whose eyes are big and round with worry. No one objects.

    Except Xiao.

    “I’m fine.”

    “I don’t know what ‘fine’ meant for you back in your time but nowadays it doesn’t mean what you are right now.”

    “I am well aware of its meaning—” Xiao hisses when Aether leans a little too much into his hurt side.

    “Yeah,” Aether deadpans. “This sure looks fine.”

    Xiao can’t remember a time Aether has ever talked to him like that: Cold, dismissive, sneering almost. Not soft, kind Aether who starts to cry whenever one of Amber’s stray arrows accidentally hits a squirrel and they spend the afternoon burying it under a pine tree. This Aether doesn’t spare him another glance. He helps Xiao all the way to their campsite hidden inside a little cavern with a grim expression, his mouth pressed together into a thin line.

    When they finally reach their camp, Xiao disentangles from Aether and retreats to a corner further inside the cavern where a boar’s hide is laid out on the ground as a makeshift bed. It was easier to ignore his wounds with adrenaline pumping through his body but as it always does, the pain catches up to him in the end and leaves him paralysed with agony. When he lays down, slowly and carefully, gritting his teeth against any pained noise, he hears hushed whispers, his company’s mumbled conversation about him and what they’re going to do with him. Xiao doesn’t care. But this scene is familiar, and when he closes his eyes, his mind transports him to the past, to a time when the ground grew ill from soaking up too much blood and he’d lied on hard, unyielding stone that leaked grime and misery, falling into a dreamless slumber to four familiar voices.

    Xiao startles out of sleep, jolts right into awareness and almost smacks Aether across the face who dodges just in time as Xiao’s fist whirls past his jaw. They stare each other down for a long moment like two cats assessing each other to decide if they could trust each other. Eventually, Aether crouches down next to Xiao. He holds a little bamboo box in his hand and Xiao can smell the distinctive bitter note of the du huang mixture Granny Ruoxin gave them as thanks for driving off Hilichurls camping in the bamboo forest at the foot of the mountain that gently cradles Qingce Village.

    “Your wound. Show me,” Aether says quietly, even though there is no need to whisper. Looking over his shoulder, Xiao doesn’t see Barbara or Amber. They’ve left camp, probably to collect some berries or fetch water from the nearby river, which means he and Aether are alone and that’s something he’s tried to avoid lately. But that isn’t right either because it feels like the absence of a magnetic centre, and without it nothing makes sense at all.

    Xiao tries to sit up, but his limbs are still sore, and he feels like someone wrung him completely dry. The pain in his shoulder is a dull throb and he feels a rib poke somewhere it shouldn’t. His breathing is shallow, but he is breathing after everything and that is enough.

    “I can take care of it myself,” he says, his voice lowered as well as if they were talking about a small animal that might flee any second. He holds his hand out to Aether who stares at it as if Xiao has grown an additional sixth finger.

    “You’ve been with us for months now,” Aether says. “Why can’t you trust us? Why can’t you trust me?”

    Xiao’s hand drops back in his lap. In his whole life the amount of people he’s trusted can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Two had slaughtered each other, one had grown mad from the burden she couldn’t carry, one had abandoned him and the last had died by the hands of those who walked on the soil he prepared for them. Trust is a fragile thing, kept locked and hidden away and not even too beautiful Aether with his eyes and hair of golden sunshine and mind of gilded kindness could bring him to trust again.

    His silence appears to be answer enough. Aether’s eyes drop to the ground, disappearing behind a thick curtain of bright lashes like the sun setting behind the distant horizon to unimaginable places. Something inside Xiao uncoils at that sight. But then Aether does what he always does, something he’s unnervingly good at: He doubles back to strike when one least expects it. His eyes rise to meet Xiao’s and with a conviction that leaves no place for doubt or objection he says, “I don’t mind waiting however long it takes. You said to speak your name and you will appear to vanquish my demons and foes. But know that when you speak my name, I will come and carry your burden.”

    “Why?” Xiao demands.

    “Why not?” Aether asks with an intensity that Xiao isn’t equipped to handle.

    He huffs a little breath of annoyance. “I am not your problem.”

    “You’re not a problem,” Aether almost snaps at him, mirroring his annoyance like a shot deflected and cast back. Something in Xiao stutters like a flame struggling against the wind that tries to extinguish it. He remembers words Rex Lapis had told him many, many years ago after he’d saved him from the hands of an evil god that had marked him with ink that would never let him forget who he once belonged to: Even after all that darkness he should never stop looking for the light in everything and everyone.

    “Because people will come, and they will teach you about love and forgiveness. But you have to let them in, Xiao. First you have to accept this slight moment of vulnerability, and then you will be rewarded with goodness. Never lock away your heart, Xiao. It pains me to think you might be all alone forever.”

    Xiao closes his eyes, conjuring Rex Lapis’ face in his mind. What he would give if only he could see him one last time.

    Aether stirs, ready to return to his side of the camp but Xiao catches his wrist. At some point during the evening, Aether has taken off his gloves and now Xiao can see a line where they would end. The skin below is slightly paler, and his fingers are long and slender, beautiful. Hands made to be captured in coal paintings, so history won’t forget them. One part of him wants to put them to his lips and worship every single digit to engrave Aether’s taste onto his tongue, the other imagines cutting them off one by one and wearing a bloody necklace of Aether’s fingers, his own good luck charm for eternity.

    Without a word, he turns around and offers Aether his wounded shoulder. Behind him, Aether is very still first. Xiao can only imagine what horrid wound Aether’s eyes lay upon: The skin parted by jagged claws, left unattended while the blood has dried on his skin. Yaksha heal faster than mortals, but they are not invulnerable or immortal. Any other person, this blow would have killed for sure.

    Then Xiao feels a cool mixture carefully applied to his wound by warm, warm hands which doesn’t surprise him. Everything about Aether is warm.

    They sit in comfortable silence, the soft crackling of the fire in the background the only sound that fills the dimly lit cavern. Shadows dance on the wall and Xiao observes them for a moment, recognising this daemon and that impure ghost from his past until they all merge into an undistinguishable shape and he closes his eyes to block them out and simply feel Aether’s careful motions, the balm slowly warming upon his skin, the pain fading until, like everything else, it becomes a memory.

    When Aether is done, his hand lingers on Xiao’s back, his fingertips slightly grazing another scar that dips just below his ribcage. Xiao’s body tells his history in scars and he can still recount which daemon left which. Mortals tell you time heals it all and soon you forget, but Xiao doesn’t, he remembers everything. Xiao remembers everything.

    He turns slowly, and finds Aether still kneeling in front of him. Trying to meet his eyes, they are so close Xiao could count every eyelash framing Aether’s round, kind eyes. He takes Aether’s hand, a small hand, studies it and intertwines their fingers as if he already misses Aether’s small hand in his palm.“

    You know I would give my life for you,” Xiao says, for his contract to protect Liyue has been terminated with Rex Lapis’ death, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t set his own rules, live by his own contract.

    Something in Aether’s expression changes; an almost forlorn look but whatever he tries to find in Xiao’s face, Xiao can’t give it.

    “Xiao, we can still—” he starts, but Xiao silences him by lifting his other hand and grazing Aether’s cheek with his fingertips.

    “We already talked about this,” he says in a voice as if he’s trying to explain something to a child. “I serve, but I do not love. I cannot love for my first master has taken that ability and it was lost with his death.”

    His feelings for Aether could be love in a different world, a different time. But right here, right now, they are what is left of it; a shadow, only a memory. Desire maybe, worship, yes. But love wouldn’t leave this bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thinks of Aether. It wouldn’t.

    Aether looks gutted. His mouth twists, as if he’s trying to hold in tears; Xiao knows the feeling and he hates seeing it on Aether’s face, hates being the reason why Aether looks heartbroken, why he is heartbroken. In a different world, Xiao could be kinder to Aether and give him what he deserves. But in this, with marks upon him that will never disappear and the taste of dreams still fresh on his tongue as if he has never stopped devouring them, he is not what Aether needs.

    But he will make up for that. He will serve Aether until his dying breath and either fall in battle for him or remain by his side even as old age claims Aether, should he age like mortals do. It would be an honour to die for Aether and until that day comes, Xiao will stay by his side and only after that, he will allow himself to rest and let the kind, soft tunes of a flute carry his soul to the next world, hoping even one as tainted as his is allowed peace and respite. That is the compromise he has constructed, the contract he has agreed upon with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

[stonecoldsilly]

Thirty Days of Transience

Read on Ao3

The echoes of the song fade away from the valley, and Geralt sighs.

‘Look, bard, as fun as this was, and really, it was a fucking riot, are you going to fuck off at all?’

The boy blinks up at him and grins.

‘Nope,’ he says, popping his lips obnoxiously.

Geralt didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, but a sinking feeling descends upon him anyway.

‘What do you mean, no?’

‘This was a very successful first outing. You make a fantastic muse, truly you do. Already I can almost hear the applause we shall receive on our triumphant return!’

First outing, thinks Geralt, and outright panics. Fuck that.

He spurs Roach into a canter, and leaves the boy behind in the dust, hooting and hollering after him.

Evening falls. His camp is set up some ways into the woods, and he has a fat little hare on the spit. Roach is snuffling away in her nosebag happily, and Geralt is just settling down to note down the details of the incident in his bestiary when his ears prick up. A heartbeat, human, about half a mile off, and dreadfully familiar…

‘You have got to be kidding me.’ He groans aloud, and Roach sympathises. ‘He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.’ She waves her tail in his direction meaningfully, and Geralt waits. He is not going to dismantle his entire camp and flee from one little human, he is not…

The boy stumbles through the bracken towards the light of the campfire eventually, making enough racket to alert predators for miles around, and squinting directly into the light, ruining his admittedly already limited night vision completely. Idiot.

‘Ah, hello, Geralt. Come here often?’ He grins, and sets his lute down carefully, before slumping on the nearest log with a sigh.

Geralt just stares at him. That turns out to be a mistake, because the bard takes it as an opportunity to start talking.

‘Not that I didn’t appreciate the view, the mighty Witcher and his steed riding into the sunset, but really, that was downright indecorous of you, heading off without even a farewell.’

Geralt can’t quite believe this little pipsqueak is trying to scold him about his manners. His heartrate is steady, he’s not sweating with fear, he just looks up at Geralt sternly.

Geralt snaps his head around to look at him, letting his pupils dilate fully. He bares his teeth, sharp canines glinting in the firelight, and growls, ‘What are you doing here, bard?’

The boy just looks at him, placid as anything. Not even a tinge of fear.

‘You saved my life.’ He says, solemnly. ‘I certainly didn’t do anything to persuade Filavandrel otherwise, you did.’

Geralt frowns at him, and the bard cracks a little smile.

‘And if the, er, forgive me, if the so-called ‘Meat-Purveyor of Certain Unnamed Market Towns’, if you will, can talk down the quite justly furious Filavandrel, then it makes me start to question certain common beliefs, as it were.’

He just stares, and the boy unpacks his new lute carefully, angling it up to the firelight and admiring the finish.

‘I am what they call me.’ Geralt manages, after several minutes.

‘And what things they call you.’ The boy says, glancing at him briefly. Their eyes only meet for a moment, but still Geralt feels pinned by it.

He goes on the defensive.

‘It makes no difference to me what they call me. I neither need nor want a barker.’

‘Allow me to try.’

‘No.’ He says flatly.

The boy sighs, and sets the lute down gingerly, before swivelling to face him and resting his elbows on his knees.

‘Look, Geralt, at this point what on earth have you possibly got to lose? If you would simply let me at least make the attempt…’

Geralt grits his teeth and glares at him.

‘You could die. You nearly died once today already, you said so yourself. And then I get whoever your people are, swearing vengeance on me, and making things worse. This life is not safe.’

‘I could die tomorrow, of an apoplexy, or at the end of some bandit’s sword. No life is safe.’

‘You would only get in the way.’ Geralt tries.

‘I promise. I only mean to be a help, truly, not a hindrance.’

‘You don’t even have any supplies. No pack, no bedroll, no food. I am not babysitting you.’

The boy winks at him, and shoves his arm down into his trousers quickly, before revealing a handful of rather battered looking bread rolls.

Geralt blinks at him.

‘Told you I had bread in my pants.’ He says, and winks. Geralt almost cracks then, and he can feel a smile trying to form before he schools his expression.

‘Come on, Geralt, let me try. I owe you my life, and I put no little stock in that. It’s the only one I shall have, and I’m rather pleased with it so far. Give me a chance, and I can make things easier for you. For your kind. Change the bastards’ minds, prove them all wrong. Come on.’

Geralt considers this carefully, and pokes at the hare a bit with his stick.

The bard waits, seemingly content to let Geralt respond at his own pace.

‘What’s in it for you?’ He asks, genuinely puzzled.

‘Inspiration. Protection. An education in the wilder side of living, as it were.’

Geralt snorts.

‘Think of it as a business transaction, if you prefer. An equal exchange. In return for graciously allowing me to witness your talents at work, I will provide companionship, assistance, and an improved reputation.’

Gods help him, but the boy is persuasive.

‘I don’t need companionship. I’ve managed this long just fine without assistance…’ He sighs. ‘But I’ll concede on the last point.’

The bard grins like a fox.

‘Give me a year.’

‘A year?’ Geralt splutters. ‘A week would be too long. You escaped the King of the Elves today bard, isn’t that enough inspiration to be getting on with?’

‘I do not intend to let Destiny slip through my fingers.’ He says, smiling faintly. ‘Who knows what foes you will face next? I would not miss a one. A year, if you please.’

‘A week.’

‘My, you are an accomplished haggler aren’t you. Far more practiced than I, of course. However, and you must concede the point here my dear Witcher, I must admit, even I cannot charm an entire Continent into submission in a week, although I do appreciate the flattery. A month, to ply my trade, and prove myself a worthy travel companion, and if you are not satisfied thirty days hence, then we shall part as strangers once more.’

Geralt leans forward himself then and wags his stick in the boy’s direction.

‘You cannot get in the way.’

He plasters a very convincingly serious expression on his face, but his eyes are dancing with barely repressed glee.

‘I swear it.’

‘You have to do as I say.’

‘Within reason. But I will concede to your expertise.’

‘If I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. If I say, bard, fetch me three strands of white Holly and two hedgehog quills, what do you do?’

‘Speaking honestly, I’d probably say ‘Geralt, what the fuck, how am I supposed to know what white holly is?’, but I appreciate the sentiment. Complete obedience, within reason, at your disposal.’

‘Hmm.’ Geralt says.

The boy’s leg betrays his eagerness, bouncing nervously even as he watches Geralt’s face with an innocent expression.

‘Fine. You have your month.’ He says, regretting it already.

‘Yes! You won’t regret this Geralt, really you won’t.’ He jumps to his feet and steps closer, smiling.

‘Shake on it.’ He says, commandingly, and Geralt just huffs, but reaches up anyway. ‘Gloves off Geralt, for goodness sake, let’s be civil.’

He peels off his leathers, outright baffled by this bright little human, bossing him about as if Geralt couldn’t snap him in half easily as breathing. The boy takes his bare hand in a surprisingly firm grip, and shakes it sincerely, as if he were any other man, as if his word meant anything to humans, as if he genuinely doesn’t believe the tales.

This whole day has been full of marvels.

The boy grins at him again, radiating only a fresh-apple scent that is surprisingly pleasant. It bodes well in a travel companion. For a half a second, he dares to be vaguely optimistic, until the bard opens his mouth again.

‘Now that the business talk is dealt with, care to share your hare?’

He snickers at his own joke, and Geralt sighs, but divvies it up into two portions anyway. The boy throws him a bread roll in exchange, and they eat in peace and quiet on opposite sides of the little fire until he clears his throat again.

‘About the er, sleeping arrangements. Not to be indelicate Geralt, but I, er, haven’t any.’

Geralt swallows around his suddenly rather dry mouthful of hare, and blinks rather owlishly at the boy, uncertain as to what he’s asking.

‘See, I know we only met this morning, but I’m rather fond of you already. And as business partners, I feel we have already managed to jump the hurdle of strangers getting to know one another, and gone headfirst into the hitherto unexplored territory of acquaintances.’

Geralt just sits, taken aback, and mouths business partners to himself. He ignores the ‘rather fond’ part for fear of his own sanity, never mind the bard’s.

‘Without beating around the bush, as it were, after one’s newfound acquaintance saves one’s life, it becomes very difficult to believe that one’s er, virtue is imperiled by said acquaintance.’

Geralt nearly chokes.

‘What.’ He wheezes.

‘Well I just thought, it’s a rather chilly evening, and perhaps, if it wouldn’t inconvenience you awfully, if you wouldn’t mind possibly adjusting your usual nightly routine to accommodate myself?’

‘What?’

The boy sighs, gesturing grandly.

‘Geralt, to put it plainly, I am cold. I have no bedroll in my possession. I should like, in short, to share your bedroll, under the proviso that no hanky-panky take place without prior permission from both parties.’

‘Hanky-panky?’ He repeats, helplessly. The boy is pretty, and well-formed, but Geralt honestly hadn’t even thought as far ahead as hanky, let alone panky.

‘I will require another handshake.’ The boy says, meeting his gaze firmly.

‘I can sleep on the ground.’ He says quickly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ The boy says primly. ‘The entire concept of my presence at your side is to be a help, not a hindrance. And you need to be in top shape, I’d have thought, with all those beasties to fight, eh?’

‘I can stand guard.’

‘I’m not having you loom over me all night, that hardly sounds conducive to a good night’s sleep.’

Geralt looks about the campsite wildly, searching for the last scraps of reason.

‘I..’

‘Come on Geralt, some of us have walked bloody miles today, shake on it, there’s a good chap, then we can settle in for the evening.’

He stares, bewildered, as the boy takes his hand again in his own warm little grasp and they shake once more.

Half an hour later, the fire is banked for the night, Roach has settled into sleep, and Geralt has a softly snoring musician wrapped around him firmly, legs entangled with his own.

Without a doubt, one of the strangest days of his life, even for a Witcher.

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EDIT: Chapter Two now up!

[jubilantwriter]

Of Blood and Static

Chapter 2: We're still stuck in the same rut as always.

(AO3)  (First)  (Previous)  (Next)

Word Count: 2356

////

The Lady is aware of the loops.  She knows how the song and dance goes by now - Mono frees Six, Mono and Six venture together through the Pale City, encountering foes new yet familiar at the same time, Mono frees the Thin Man, Six gets taken and becomes a monster, and Mono must save her by destroying her beloved music box.

And then they run to the exit, only for Mono to trip and lag behind.  The bridge crumbles before them.  Six stops and waits to catch him.  She catches him, holds on tight as he dangles over the darkness below.  And then she lets him go.

Each loop has her releasing him for a different feeling.  Anger.  Fear.  Apprehension.  Regret.  Apathy.  Sadness.  Odd how the same journey seems to result in different feelings near the end.  The song and dance continues, only she does so by herself.  More and more loops continue.  More and more fragments of memories persist.  The Lady finds herself gathering these fragments like collecting broken shards of different mirrors, each reflecting a different her.  A different loop.  A different emotion.  But now, with so many fragments collected, she finds herself piecing together mismatched shards to form a haphazardly cobbled mirror that reflects back a single her.

The one yearning for survival and life.   

With Mono?

Without Mono?

She looks down at her empty hand, flexing it in the open air.

She needs him still.  Needs him to continue these loops.  That's what the her in the mirror reminds her of.  A monster reflected back, so willing to use another if it means she can live forever.  With Mono?  Without Mono?

(What if they could live together in peace?  Is that too hopeful?  Perhaps.  Perhaps survival is all there is.)

Maybe she'll never find an answer for herself.  Instead, she turns from her mirror and faces the television in her quarters.  The last loop ended... differently than most.  There’s a sweetness to it, almost bittersweet.  A feeling that leaves her craving for more.  It had been... nice.  Is she allowed that?  To have nice things?

(Selfishly, she thinks yes, she does.  Because being selfish is the only comfort she can provide for herself.  Because that's all she ever is.  Selfish.)

She places her hand up against the screen, curious to see how this one will end.  It flickers on, screen twisting and turning until it focuses on the silhouette of a familiar man in a familiar hat.  He looks defeated from where he sits, and immediately she knows that she has her work cut out for her.

"Again?"  There is none of the greeting she expects.  Just a simple question that she must answer.  She looks down at her own hand.  Why did she let him go this time?  What emotion reared its ugly head this time around?  She thinks and thinks and thinks and... finds only the feeling of unwillingness.  Unwilling to let him go?  How long have they been doing this?  Maybe she too is getting tired of the cycles.  But they need the cycles to survive.

(...Right?)

"I had to," she simply says.  Because she doesn't have any other particular reason for letting him go.  It's a habit now.  A given.  An expectation.  She catches him and lets him go.  She remembers looking down at his young face, so full of trust and relief.  She just needed to pull him up.  But she didn't.  Why?  

"Of course you had to."  He slumps forward in his seat, leaving her to wonder what inflection he intended for.  "Again and again and again.  Nothing changes.  It always remains the same.  Why do we allow this to continue?"

"Because we must.  To survive."

"Survival?  Is this really survival?"  The television doesn't voice his laughter, but she can see how his shoulders shake.  "We're just living a mockery of life.  A terrible simulation where we make the same mistakes over and over again.  This isn't survival, this is..."  He waves his hand around in the air.  "This is hell."

For a moment, she doesn't answer him.  Survival is survival.  Isn't that why she chose to play along with his actions?  To ensure these loops continue?  So that they could live forever in this way?  She doesn’t want to die for good.

(She doesn’t want him to die for good.)

"It's only hell if we make it to be hell."

"Bold words coming from someone who has an entire ship at her command."  Even without his voice coming through the speakers, she can still hear the bitterness in his words.  Perhaps she should be more careful with her wording given his… circumstances.

"Don't be like that, my life isn't all laughter and happiness."  But she must admit, the Thin Man has a point.  Calling her life anything terrible would be hard to argue when the Thin Man is forced to resign himself to being locked away until the loop begins its new cycle, only allowed to reach through screens to do... whatever it is he's allowed to do.  He never elaborates on what it is that's supposed to make him monstrous, but she supposes she's never told him much about the Maw as well.  

Still, it bothers her to see him so put out.  He was always the more optimistic half of them, the one who was all smiles and laughter and knew how to find the brightest spot to bask in when they lived in a dreary, dark world.  The Lady, then and now, was never good at humor.  But she could try, if it means pulling him back to his feet.  She hums and the man, still slumping in his chair, gives a curious tilt of his head.  "But even if it's hell, at least you still have me."

His shoulders shake again, a mockery of the laughter that used to brighten her days when they were children.  "Sometimes I do.  It still feels strange to hold a civil conversation with you nowadays.  I wonder what changed to make you see me as a friend, and not some... unseemly reminder of your past."

Curious.  Now it's her turn to tilt her head.  "I always found you to be a bright spot in my past."

"So bright," the caption begins, "that you had to let me go?"

"Well, you were simply too blinding to look at."  She smiles behind her mask, watching him jerk his head up.  "I never did get to see you without your paper mask until that day, you know."

"What are you trying to say?  That you let me go because of my blinding good looks?"

"Well, you do make a very close second.  Between the two of us, dear friend, I'd say that I'm the one with the truly blinding good looks."  She presses her hand up against the glass screen, the warmth filling a piece of her up as she imagines a hand just as warm, with a gentleness to it that she'd forgotten she missed.  "Maybe if I could see your face again, I could make a better assessment of your looks."

"Oh, you wouldn't like what you see."  A pause.  "Or perhaps you will.  I heard you have a reputation for keeping ugly things around you."  

She ignores the implications shot at her person (though, it's not as if he's wrong) and instead focuses on the other.  "Are you calling yourself ugly?  After I said that I was blinded by your looks as a child?"

"Time changes a person, my Lady."  He straightens in his seat, as if to make a point.  "I'm not the same boy who used to hold your hand."

(And whose fault was that?)

"Perhaps not," she mumbles, fingers curling on the screen, "but I would wager a bet and say that you haven't aged poorly at all."

"Bold words coming from you."

"One of us has to be bold."  They always did try their best to be what the other lacked.  If only she could take his hand and reassure him that it would all be okay, just like when they were children.  "Besides, I always found you to be the better half of us."

"That's quite the admission.  I always thought that you were too proud and vain to ever say something like that."

"Maybe," she says with a slight hum, "but I think for today, I can put it aside just for now."

"And why's that?"

"Even I crave a little change every once in a while."  She taps at the screen, wondering if he can hear it from his side.  "And for once, I’d like to be a little more honest with myself."

"Oh, so this is honesty?  Not some sweet words to keep me on your side?"

"What if this honesty can be sweet?"

"I've never taken you to be a sweet person."  Still, she can see his shoulders shake a little.  A slight tremble that looks genuinely pleased.  A little happy.  When they were children, his laughs tended to make his entire body quake as he tried to keep it contained.  She wonders if he still tries to keep his laughter quiet even now.  How she wishes she could hear him.  

"I usually am not.  But I can make an exception every once in a while, where I see fit."

The Thin Man stays silent, and she wonders if she said something wrong.  It's so hard to see his face from within the screen.  With his hat casting shadows over his face, she can never tell what expression he holds at any given moment.  Though when she thinks about it, it's not so dissimilar to when they were children and he kept that paper bag over his face.

Still.  At least she had his voice to go off of.

"My Lady," the words begin, appearing slowly, letter by letter, as if he's carefully choosing his words, "can you promise me something?"

"Depends on what it is."  Despite her coy act, she knows that deep down, she'll agree to whatever the Thin Man says.  "What is it?"

"If you could, in the next loop, would you please try once more to... make an exception?"

"An exception?  To what?"

"An exception to be sweet.  More often."  Even without him speaking, she can see the hesitance in his words.  It tugs at something within her, an old feeling that makes her want to reach in and take his hand.  "I think things would be a little more... tolerable, if something nice were to happen."

"I... don't know."  It's her turn to hesitate when the implications of his plea sink in.  She could be sweet.  She could be nicer and treat him as kindly as he treated her.  But then... the loops.  They still continue.  He knows this.  She can treat him like he deserves and she'll still have to let him go.  The betrayal won't sting then.  It'll tear him apart, crushing him entirely as she lets him go.  Doesn't he realize that?  That she only treats him more sweetly now because she has nothing else to look forward to but her own death?  It'll hurt him more than it'll hurt her, and yet...

"Please."  He slumps forward again, head resting in his hands as he resumes his defeated pose.  "It'll just be for one loop."

"I can't... guarantee it, Thin Man."  She doesn't want to guarantee it.  "Won't it just hurt you more?"

"I'll remember."  He raises his head up, and she imagines the most pained smile on a face she's only seen in nightmares.  "I'll remember that I asked for this, when all is said and done."  

"I don't want to hurt you more than I already have."  Hasn't she already done enough to him?  Why would he want more pain?  

"I want to hope again, Six."  She flinches when he uses her name.  The name she abandoned so long ago when she became the Lady.  "I want to know if it's... possible.  For us to change.  To be different."

"Why?"

"Consider it a personal bet."  His shoulders shake again, but there's a tiredness to them that speaks volumes of the weight on his shoulders.  

(It's for their survival.  It's for their survival.  It's for their survival.  Even if it hurts.  Even if it's too much.  It's for their survival, so that no one but themselves can hurt each other.)  

"I..."

"Please, Six."  The hopelessness in his text makes her want to crumble.  "Just for one loop."

"...Okay."  There's no way she's going to remember this promise.  Not until it's after the fact.  Not until her younger self takes her place as the "new" Lady and she becomes whole again.  It’s always like finishing a puzzle - once the final piece slots in, she sees the bigger picture for what it is.  Until that final piece completes it, all she has are the corners and cobbled together sections that she managed to put together.  But maybe… that’ll be enough.  Maybe the sentiment will remain strong enough for an inkling of feeling to trickle through, enough so that her younger self can see the sections and corners and think, “Ah, maybe I should try this.”  The Lady lets her shoulders sag with the weight of the Thin Man’s hope.  "I'll... I'll try."

"Thank you."  He straightens, looking oddly stiff before the screen turns to static.  The Lady sighs, thinking that their little conversation has ended without a single goodbye.  Just as she's about to turn away from the television, a pair of hands press up against the screen.  She sucks a breath in, watching with wide eyes as two hands push out from the screen, arms hanging out limply.  Nothing else seems to push out, much to her dismay. 

Still.  Chances presented must be taken.  She gently takes his hands and sandwiches them between her own.  Her thumb rubs circles into the back of his hand as she softly hums a haunting tune.  They share their warmth together in the quiet of her quarters as she takes everything he offers her.

Eventually, the loop draws to a close with the broken whine of static and the shattering of glass.

[razieltwelve]

Leap (Final Rose)

“You do realise that you should probably have grabbed a parachute before jumping out of the transport.”

Yang smirked at Averia. “I figured I’d let you handle the landing.”

The pink-haired girl sighed. “Really?”

Yang did her best impression of Fang’s smirk. “Saviour bullshit, go!”

“...” Averia scowled. “I should let you hit the ground.”

“As if you would.” Yang grinned. “You like me too much.” She shifted in the air and extended her arms toward Averia. “So... help a girl out?”

Averia’s eye twitched. “You’re lucky that Ruby would be sad if you died.” She wrapped her arms around Yang. “I’ll handle the landing. I don’t feel like flying.”

“Aww...”

X     X     X

The team from Beacon Junior Academy was not having a fun day. A relatively easy weeding mission that should have involved fighting only the weakest of Grimm had rapidly gone to absolute hell. Now, they were holed up in a settlement with a horde of angry Grimm outside. They’d called in for reinforcements, but they’d been told that there weren’t any qualified hunter teams in their immediate vicinity. Instead, they’d be getting two students from the Senior Academy to help them out.

Just two? They knew the people at the Senior Academy were good, but there were a lot of Grimm out there.

And then two people just fell out of the sky.

One of them landed in incredibly cool fashion while carrying the other bridal style. Straightening, the pink-haired girl set the blonde on her feet.

“Heh.” The blonde smirked. “Nothing like hitting the ground at full speed and coming off with nothing more than a scratch.”

“Try not to make a habit of it unless I’m around,” the other girl replied. She glanced toward the Junior Academy students, green eyes taking their measure in an instant. “You must be the students. Report.”

There was something distinctly professor-like in her tone of the voice, and the leader of the students, Rouge snapped to attention. “Multiple Grimm outside the settlement walls, ma’am. We’re estimating at least a hundred with at least one A tier amongst them and multiple B tiers.”

“I see.” The pink-haired girl was wearing a suit, of all things, but she wore it so naturally that Rouge couldn’t help but admire the cut and style of the garment. “And your team?”

“We’re running on empty, ma’am.” It felt odd yet fitting to address the older student as ma’am. “But we can still fight.”

“I see.” The other girl nodded. “I want you and your team to take up defensive positions on the wall. Yang and I will go over the wall. Kill any that get past us.”

“You’re just going to go over the wall?” Rouge asked.

“Yes. We could fight a defensive battle, but going over the wall and killing them all is the simplest way to deal with the problem.”

“Relax, kiddo,” Yang added. “I know we’re students at the Senior Academy, but you’re looking at two of the best. Pinky over there is number one in our year.”

It was then that Rouge put the pieces together. Pink hair, number one ranking, and the ability to fall out of the sky and not die? That had to be Averia Yun-Farron. And Yang? That had to be Yang Xiao Long. Her teammates must have drawn the same conclusions because they were all staring in a combination of shock and admiration. The number one and number five from the Third Year of the Senior Academy were both here? Awesome.

“Right!” Rouge cried. “We’ll get any that you miss!”

X     X     X

If there was one thing that Yang enjoyed, it was punching Grimm. Of course, she also enjoyed kicking Grimm, stomping on Grimm, pulverising Grimm, and, well, anything that involved killing Grimm was pretty good in her book. 

A Beowolf leapt at her, and she ducked under its claws before caving its chest in with a punch. She allowed an older Beowolf to land a strike, so her Semblance could absorb the damage. With her increased strength, she turned the older Beowolf into a bloody smear before shattering the armoured plates of an Elder Beowolf with her gauntlets and then pulverising its torso with a right cross. A kick hurled another Beowolf back, its head ripped almost clean off, before a hammer fist crushed the skull of yet another opponent.

Showing off was one thing, but the best way to deal with this many Grimm was to just get things done the simple way. Small fry like these could only win by overwhelming her, so as long as she dealt with them quickly and efficiently, they weren’t really all that dangerous.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Averia doing her best impression of a killer robot. It was almost comical watching the other girl just decapitate anything that came within reach. One head was joined by another and another and another until they were just piling up on the ground.

“Someone’s feeling lazy,” Yang shouted as she jumped over a Grimm and then smashed its spine to pieces as it skidded past her.

“Efficient is the word you’re looking for.” Averia calmly decapitated another Grimm and then turned to kick the head at an oncoming opponent. As it staggered, she removed its head as well. “And you should be happy I’m not just killing them all myself.”

“How kind of you.” Yang was well aware that Averia could have simply killed all of the Grimm the instant they arrived, but this was a chance to get some practice in, as well as a good learning opportunity for the younger students observing them. Too many of the youngsters got into trouble by trying to be too flashy against the Grimm. Her dad had always told her to keep the flashy stuff confined to sparring. Against Grimm it was always best to keep it simple and efficient. The only safe Grimm was a dead Grimm.

Averia glanced ahead. The B tier Grimm had all been slain. The only real threat remaining was the A Tier alpha elder Beowolf. “Do you want to deal with that one?”

Yang took a moment to size the alpha up. It was at least twice as large as the elder Beowolves who had been twice as large as the normal ones. And it was A tier as well. Hmmm... “Sure. I’ll get it.”

As the alpha bellowed and charged, Yang rushed forward to meet it. They met in a storm of blows. It was fast, far faster than anything its size should be. It was smart too, using its superior reach to keep her at bay while only ever exposing the most heavily armoured parts of its body. Moreover, it had clearly been watching her fight since it was firing the occasional bony spike at her to keep her from closing the distance.

Yang, though, wasn't the same fighter she’d been when she first entered Beacon Senior Academy. She was in her third year now, only a year and a half away from graduating. She’d learned more than she ever thought possible, and her skills and power had grown in leaps and bounds. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of fighting a foe like this alone. Now? This thing was already dead. It just didn’t know it yet.

She waited for the alpha to shoot another spike before she slapped the projectile out of the air. The sudden shock was absorbed by her Semblance, and she waited for the spike to fall back toward her before punching it and firing her gauntlet at the same time.

The spike rocketed back toward the alpha, and the Grimm barely managed to dodge. Yang used that split-second to close the gap. She ducked under the Grimm’s claws and then heaved an uppercut into its belly. The blow wasn’t enough to do any real damage, but there was enough force in it to knock the Grimm off balance. That was all Yang needed.

She lunged forward and drove one fist into the Grimm’s right leg. Her Aura surged and her Semblance flexed. The blow shattered the Grimm’s leg, and it toppled onto its side. Yang spun away from the Grimm’s retaliatory strike and leapt up onto its chest. She slammed two punches into the armoured plates that covered its chest, and the sharp, angry retort of her gauntlets was accompanied by the crack of breaking bone. 

The Grimm bucked and tried to throw her off, but Yang jumped into the air. Her Aura swirled around her, a golden mantle of power, and she landed fist first on the Grimm’s exposed chest. The shockwave of the blow cratered the ground beneath the Grimm and shook the area. Enhanced by her Aura, the shotgun slugs from her gauntlets turned the Grimm’s back into one giant exit wound.

The monster groaned, and Yang darted off its chest and grabbed it by the jaw. Bigger Grimm like this could often keep fighting despite taking wounds that would have killed lesser Grimm several times over. She punched it square in the jaw, and half its skull evaporated from the attack. She hit it one more time just to be sure and then flipped clear of its collapsing body.

“Heh.” Yang smirked. “That has to be at least a nine out of ten, right?”

“Hardly.” Averia grinned. “You could have killed it at least three seconds faster if you’d severed its head instead of punching it in the jaw.”

“Spoilsport.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Just Yang and Averia doing what they do best. As third years, they do get the occasional solo or pair mission, which is what they were doing when the call came in. It’s also not unusual for a bit of mix and matching between teams to occur if a mission calls for it.

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