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agendabymooner · 10 months

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ditty and estie greet the world || eo31 scenario

dad!esteban ocon x mom!ofc (british royal!ofc) ft. ocon!baby

POTENTIAL EXTENSION TO THE ROYAL RESEMBLANCE (SMAU)

Summary: Diana ‘Ditty’ Ocon made her presence known to the formula one world as a two year old during the FIA prize giving ceremony. Her sweetness, however, was what encouraged her parents Albertine and Esteban to show the world her capabilities as a shy toddler.

Content warning: dad!Esteban content 😚, fluff, based on an idea I brought up to a moot, shitty French translation, Lissie Mackintosh segment, shy toddler being cheered on, OFC and baby resembles Princess Diana

Note: Having an Oscar Piastri brain rot atm but I need to get wholesome dad!F1 driver out of my system. I’m currently restraining my brain from writing more smut rn.

My friend would’ve gotten twenty dollars from me if Ferrari won this race but noooo they didn’t soooo. Enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

“Tu es très jolie, Ditty ! Maman t'a-t-elle habillée?” You look very pretty, Ditty! Did Mummy dress you up?

“Mummy m'habille!” Mummy dress me! The little girl who sat on the Alpine driver’s lap grinned toothily at her father, babbling at her parents as she continued to speak, “Papa, rentre bientôt chez toi?” Go home soon?

“Darling,” Albie laughed heartily, “Nous venons de quitter l'hôtel!” We just left the hotel.

“But go home soon?” Diana Marie-François Elisabeth Ocon-Khelfane, or Ditty to most, was a delightful little girl. Her great uncle Charles Spencer recalled his eldest sister’s childhood photos and how much resemblance did Ditty have to Princess Diana. Everyone in Esteban and Albertine’s family knew that, much like Albie, Ditty was a carbon copy of Diana Spencer.

Though if you were to ask anyone, Ditty was more like Diana than Albie was. Ditty was more reserved and shy— she had gotten her personality from Esteban, who often took a while to get used to new people before warming up to them. It was no wonder why Estie and Ditty made the bestest of friends— they liked to attach themselves to each other AND to Albie.

“We’re not going home soon, pretty,” Albie told Ditty gently, fixing her daughter’s bow as the girl continued to look up with the brightest blue eyes to have ever existed. Her eyes, no matter how bright, were shaped like her father’s— so no one could really oppose and say that she wasn’t her father’s daughter. “Papa’s going to get his award soon, no? We’ll be there for Papa, Ditty.”

“A- ‘wawd?” Ditty’s brows furrowed a little as she looked up at Estie with a puzzled look. “What is ‘ward?”

“C'est quand vous avez fait quelque chose de vraiment, vraiment bien et que vous en obtenez quelque chose de bon,” It’s when you do something really really good that you get something good out of it. Esteban explained to Ditty with a grin.

“Like you eating your veggies,” Estie continued. “What does Mummy give you?”

“Pain au choc’lat?”

“Oui, mon bebe,” Estie nodded. “Except Papa’s getting something else. Not pain au chocolat!”

Apparently, it was going to be a struggle— getting Ditty to socialize with everyone around them. It took Albie a while to unattach the toddler in her arms.

Only for the girl to cling to Esteban as she hid her face away from the press and other people. She kept her hands wrapped around Estie’s neck as her blonde hair appeared in the pictures, journalists and photographers asking Estie and Albie to pose for the cameras. They didn’t relent, allowing Ditty to hide her little cherub face away for a brief moment as the couple waved and smiled.

Albie, realizing that she had the little mouse plush on her hand (one that Ditty called ‘Cheese’), put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder gently and caught the toddler’s attention. “Want your friend Cheese, Dit?”

Ditty lifted her face off her dad’s shoulder for a brief moment and nodded, “Mewci, Mummy,” before hiding away again.

Estie and Albie exchanged looks and chuckled, amused at their daughter’s demeanour.

“Ditty, bebe,” Estie told the girl, “Cheese wants to say hi to everyone. You want to wave too?”

“Oh, I want to say hi, indeed, Papa!” Albie mimicked a different voice, as if she was pretending to be Cheese. “Pouvons-nous dire bonjour ensemble, Ditty?” Can we please say hi together, Ditty?

“See? He wants to wave— show him, like this—“ Estie smiled at the cameras and waved. Albie followed along, cameras flashing as they smiled.

Slowly but surely, Ditty’s hand began to wave. She hadn’t realized that Cheese was on her hand, but she was doing what her Mummy and Papa were doing. That was enough for her.

And when they reached the F1 host for the red carpet, Ditty went back to hiding. This time, she clutched Cheese in her hand as Esteban got interviewed by Lissie Mackintosh.

“This is actually amazing— seeing you in P3 in the championship’s. I’m quite happy to see you become successful this season,” Lissie complimented Esteban. “Are you looking forward to the next one? Do you know what your next steps are?”

“I— I’m actually really excited for the next season,” Esteban grinned, not even aware that he’s carrying her daughter in his arms as he continued to answer. “With how things went with the car and successful communication between my team and I, I thought that it gave me more confidence to move on with the next season. And even if there will be a struggle, I know that we’ll be able to sort it out.”

“I like that,” Lissie nodded before she noticed the girl hiding away in Esteban’s arms. The host continued to ask regardless, “But for now you’re just here to celebrate your successes and you’ll be getting your prize for the P3. And I can tell that you’re here with your family too! How amazing is that!”

“—Mrs. Albertine Ocon, it’s very nice to see you,” Lissie continued as the royal princess smiled and greeted back. “It’s been quite a handful this season, huh? I’m very glad to see you back in the Formula One celebrations and events— we’ve missed your presence in the paddock.”

“Ah yes,” the British princess chuckled, “just because I was gone for a while it didn’t mean I wasn’t doing anything.”

“We all know that,” Lissie rolled her eyes playfully. “You probably had been working harder than your husband in here!”

“Hey!” Esteban laughed alongside the two women before he nodded in agreement, “Well, I can’t really deny that! This little darling right here was a hard work made by Albie and me but… Albie’s done more to help her grow, you know?”

Speaking of the devil…

Ditty Ocon finally grew tired of hiding away as she lifted her head and looked in front of her, cowering under the watchful eyes and camera pointed at her and her family before she hid again.

Esteban chuckled and reassured, “No, no, it’s okay, bebe! Just wave! Like we did!”

Ditty, feeling a bit hesitant, waved lightly and continued to clutch Cheese the mouse in her hand.

“You look absolutely beautiful!” Lissie complimented the girl with a grin, trying to be as chill to allow the girl to grow comfortable with her. “Can you tell us what your name is?”

Ditty looked at her parents as she hid her face from everyone, earning soft chuckles and a series of ‘awww’ from her surroundings.

Everyone already knew that she was Princess Diana in the making with the shyness that she showed everyone.

But Esteban and Albertine Ocon weren’t about to let her meekness get in the way of her opportunity to be friendly to others.

Esteban started, “It’s okay if you want to speak French, mon ange.”

He looked back at Lissie, “She prefers talking to people in French first before English.”

“Ah,” Lissie nodded.

“It’s okay, darling,” Albie cooed quietly, tucking the girl’s hair behind her ears as the princess continued, “they're nice people. We talk to them.”

“Can you say… ‘je’…” Esteban instructed his daughter.

Ditty, with all her capabilities at the moment, had mumbled to the microphone, “Je…”

“Suis…”

“Su’…”

“…Ditty.”

“…D—tty,” the girl mumbled with lack of confidence.

“Je suis Ditty!” Esteban repeated with a grin, his smile infecting the girl as she enthusiastically repeated this time with, “Je suis Di-tty!” I am Ditty!

Rounds of applause were heard and given as they applauded the girl’s words. Estie and Albie both grinned as they praised Ditty.

“Good job, my girl!” Albie exclaimed with a wide, supportive smile.

“Très bon, bébé!” Very good, baby! Estie hyped up Ditty as he clapped his hands.

Ditty looked around her and grinned, her little hands now clapping as she clapped for herself.

Yeah… she could get used to this. Maybe her meekness will grow and she’ll become a confident girl like her mother and grandmother were.

All she needed was to be provided with endless support. This was what Esteban and Albertine Ocon were here for.

#formula one dad #formula one fluff #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #f1 fic #formula one imagine #esteban ocon imagine #esteban ocon #esteban ocon fanfiction #esteban ocon fluff #esteban ocon fic #esteban ocon x reader #formula one au #f1 fanfic #formula one smau #formula one #formula 1

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paganimagevault · 1 year

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Ai Khanoum 3rd C. BCE - 2nd C. CE. More images on my blog, link at bottom.

"These wise sayings of men of old, The words of famous men, are consecrated At holy Delphi, where Klearchos copied them from carefully To set them up, shining from afar, in the sanctuary of Kineas.

As a child, be well behaved; As a young man, self-controlled; In middle age, be just; As an elder, be of good counsel; And when you come to the end, be without grief.

—trans. of Ai Khanoum stele by Shane Wallace and Rachel Mairs.

Ai-Khanoum (/aɪ ˈhɑːnjuːm/, meaning Lady Moon; Uzbek Latin: Oyxonim) is the archaeological site of a Hellenistic city in Takhar Province, Afghanistan. The city, whose original name is unknown, was likely founded by an early ruler of the Seleucid Empire and served as a military and economic centre for the rulers of the Greco-Bactrian Kingdom until its destruction c. 145 BC. Rediscovered in 1961, the ruins of the city were excavated by a French team of archaeologists until the outbreak of conflict in Afghanistan in the late 1970s.

The city was probably founded between 300 and 285 BC by an official acting on the orders of Seleucus I Nicator or his son Antiochus I Soter, the first two rulers of the Seleucid dynasty. There is a possibility that the site was known to the earlier Achaemenid Empire, who established a small fort nearby. Ai-Khanoum was originally thought to have been a foundation of Alexander the Great, perhaps as Alexandria Oxiana, but this theory is now considered unlikely. Located at the confluence of the Amu Darya (a.k.a. Oxus) and Kokcha rivers, surrounded by well-irrigated farmland, the city itself was divided between a lower town and a 60-metre-high (200 ft) acropolis. Although not situated on a major trade route, Ai-Khanoum controlled access to both mining in the Hindu Kush and strategically important choke points. Extensive fortifications, which were continually maintained and improved, surrounded the city.

Many of the present ruins date from the time of Eucratides I, who substantially redeveloped the city and who may have renamed it Eucratideia, after himself. Soon after his death c. 145 BC, the Greco-Bactrian kingdom collapsed—Ai-Khanoum was captured by Saka invaders and was generally abandoned, although parts of the city were sporadically occupied until the 2nd century AD. Hellenistic culture in the region would persist longer only in the Indo-Greek kingdoms.

It is likely that Ai-Khanoum was already under attack by nomadic tribes when Eucratides was assassinated in around 144 BC. This invasion was probably carried out by Saka tribes driven south by the Yuezhi peoples, who in turn formed a second wave of invaders, in around 130 BC. The treasury complex shows signs of having been plundered in two assaults, fifteen years apart.

Although the first assault led to the end of Hellenistic rule in the city, Ai-Khanoum continued to be inhabited; it remains unknown whether this reoccupation was effected by Greco-Bactrian survivors or nomadic invaders. During this time, public buildings such as the palace and sanctuary were repurposed as residential dwellings and the city maintained some semblance of normality: some sort of authority, possibly cultish in origin, encouraged the inhabitants to reuse the raw building materials now freely available in the city for their own ends, whether for construction or trade. A silver ingot engraved with runic letters and buried in a treasury room provides support for the theory that the Saka occupied the city, with tombs containing typical nomadic grave goods also being dug into the acropolis and the gymnasium. The reoccupation of the city was soon terminated by a huge fire. It is unknown when the final occupants of Ai-Khanoum abandoned the city. The final signs of any habitation date from the 2nd century AD; by this time, more than 2.5 metres (8.2 ft) of earth had accumulated in the palace.

While on a hunting trip in 1961, the King of Afghanistan, Mohammed Zahir Shah, rediscovered the city. An archaeological delegation, led by Paul Bernard, unearthed the remains of a huge palace in the lower town, along with a large gymnasium, a theatre capable of holding 6,000 spectators, an arsenal, and two sanctuaries. Several inscriptions were found, along with coins, artefacts, and ceramics. The onset of the Soviet-Afghan War in the late 1970s halted scholarly progress and during the following conflicts in Afghanistan, the site was extensively looted."

-taken from Wikipedia

...

"The silver ingot engraved with runic characters found during the excavations of the Treasury could suggest they were Sakā/Sai. This inscription comprises 21 characters of a script and a language that are unknown and both attributed to nomadic people of Sakā origin, by comparison with a dozen similar inscriptions coming from an area extending from Ghazni in Afghanistan to Almaty in Kazakhstan, and dated between the 5th century BC and the 8th century AD."

-taken from Ai Khanoum after 145 BC: The Post-Palatial Occupation by Laurianne Martinez-Sève, University of Lille, 2018

#ancient history #antiquities #art #paganism #statue #museums #sculpture #history #greek art #greek gods #ancient greek #greek myth #scythian #pagan #ancient art #afghanistan

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archangeldyke-all · 8 months

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I thought of this and just need somewhere to keep it you can share if you want:

Sevika with a nail tech gf

Sevika letting her paint her nails on her human hand from time to time

Sevika eventually letting her do acrylics on her (nothing too long or two flashy)

Sevika only fighting with her mech hand whenever her nails are done

Sevika being more expressive with her hands when she does get a bit of a fancier set

Sevika getting her nails to match yours whenever you do them

Sevika getting your initial on her nail once and asking for it every time after that

Sevika beaming to let any and everyone know that her girlfriend did her nails, and yes, that's her inital on there

Yeah, I wanna do her nails for her omfg

THIS SI SSOO..... IM SOBBING.

men and minors dni

at first, she doesn't let you anywhere near her hands. she's horrified of all the little drills and scissors, and she's never been the type of person to do anything to her fingers.

but... you look so sad practicing on your little plastic fingers, so she gives in pretty fast.

it starts with just a clear top coat on top of her natural nails, that have been all cleaned up and trimmed.

and... she absolutely loves it. she can't stop looking down at her shiny, healthy looking nails all week.

so... when you ask the next week if you can add some color, she says yes.

she starts with blacks and dark purples and reds. the colors in her pallets.

but as time goes on, and you gain more and more products, she starts letting her restrictions go, lets you paint her nails whatever color you want.

sparkles in the summer, pride nails in june, french tips in winter, sometimes even fancy nail designs when you're feeling fancy.

she doesn't love all your outcomes, but she loves you so much. and she loves the hour or two the two of you set aside every weekend, her hand in yours, as you gently clip and buff and oil her fingers. she loves the sweet concentrated look you get, the pride in you eyes when you're all done, and more than everything-- she loves the kisses you press to her fingers when they're dry.

when you start learning how to do acrylics, she refuses to let you near her human hand with them. she needs her hand to fight and write and work, and she can't do anything with the extensions on.

but her mech hand? she'll let you do whatever you want to it.

can you imagine her with 2 inch acrylics hanging off her gold fingers? painted gold and copper to match her arm?

they'd make her feel sooooo fucking hot. especially when she's fighting people and she can claw the fuck outta them with her new fingernails.

she'd insist that you match her short human nails to whatever design you do on her acrylics.

half the time, she can be found gently gazing down at her fingernails, a small smile on her face.

she becomes so high maintenance about them. the second she gets a chip or looses an acrylic, she's coming home to you with a big pout, begging you to fix them up, or better yet, give her a fresh new set.

she'll start coming home with crazy ideas about her nails she wants you to try. "do you think you could encapsulate some glitter so it can move around freely inside the nail?" or "you should drill a hole through the tip so we can add some charms dangling off." she's adorable.

she starts making you do her toes too. she keeps those more simple, just black or white or a basic color matching the base of whatever design you'd done on her fingers.

she talks with her hands now, all the fucking time. she was never that expressive when she spoke, but now she emphasizes everything with a wave of her pretty nails. people can tell when she's pissed because she starts drumming her acrylics on the nearest flat surface-- many goons have pissed themselves at the sound of the acrylics slowly tapping a table as they try to explain their latest mistake to her.

and every single time someone compliments her nails, sevika grins and starts gushing about her incredibly talented girlfriend, pulling your card out of her back pocket and forcing it on the poor person who was just trying to give her a compliment.

also the initial thing?? yeah, she never considers a manicure complete until she's got your initial or signature carefully painted on her pinkies.

i am so in love with her

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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mothiir · 1 month

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sorry to be that rehash that droid de suggondeez plotline (I REFUSE TO CORRECTLY SPELL FRENCH) with big e stealing a wife but could we pretttty ppLEAAAASE get some more mothiir? i am obsessed with the eldritch inhuman but human behaviour you write him with. it makes me want to chew on him while simultaneously wanting to beat him with a brick out of hatred. i have so many ideas. but ill take anything you offer up fr ill live off the scraps like a feral dog, its just that the the whole david and goliath vibe is TASTYYYY. please dignify my complete insanity for just an intsy winsy second because all i can imagine is how utterly FUCKED the stolenwife!reader's pov is. you try fight back a little too much? oh haha, ur so cute, but keep biting or scratching him and he'll sicc one of the custodes (or a few) to really try you out. let you be so overstimulated youre begging for something in you, and oh boy big e'll sooo do that dont worry. or maybe humble you by keeping you basically half bare like yeah not so cocky now LMFAO IM SO SORRY I NEVER GIVE PROMPTS SO BRAZENLY LIKE THIS BC IM A COWARD FULL OF SHAMEEE UR SO MUCH BRAVER THAN MEEE (thank you sm if you do or dont run with anything i spat out just then)

first of all, never apologise for requesting stuff and also i totally respect your disrespect of the French language. as an englishwoman i am contractually obligated to hate those frog-eating bastards (disclaimer: this is satire pls don’t cancel me). secondly i absolutely love your description of my interpretation of big e because it is also exactly how i feel about him. beat him with brick, pat hair, back to brick. I know i have moved away from that content but I still wave my emperor fucker flag and am always taking requests for him

i promise there will be actual coherent fic soon, but for now here is a bullet pointed list of the sort of things that guilliwife experiences (if there is one in particular you want a full fix of let me know):

the Emperor steals you, and does not think to tell Guilliman — why would he? He fucks you, enjoys it tremendously, then has to go and do some important Master of Mankind warp fuckery that means you spend about a fortnight in some random rooms with no one to talk to but the Custodes. And they barely talk! You never work out if they are bodyguards or prison guards, since you can’t imagine that you are important enough to warrant guarding, but you also don’t think that there is much effort needed to stop you escaping. Where would you even go?

It would be so much easier if he was always a selfish monster in bed — but he isn’t. Worse: he eats pussy exactly how you think a man with millennia of practice would. He likes bringing you to the very edge of orgasm and just stopping, pillowing his cheek on your stomach and watching as you whine and cry, partly with guilt and partly with sheer frustration. You end up begging him to fuck you, stumbling out every title you can think of — lord, emperor, sire, master — but his patience is limitless, and he can keep going for hours, until you’re completely insensible, promising every depraved thing if he will just stop teasing and put it in you

You belong to him. No one else is allowed to touch you — apart from valdor, one of his oldest friends and dearest allies. And captain Kytan. And a few other custodes. Sometimes at the same time. They’re extensions of his most absolutely not divine will — they can partake in the same luxuries he allows himself, otherwise what kind of a leader would he be? He likes seeing his best soldiers happy, especially when it’s because valdor is balls deep in your arse, while he enjoys the sweet warm stretch of your throat. You jostle and whimper between them, so full that you can barely breathe, and afterwards the emperor watches as valdor thumbs open your cheeks, just to watch your holes struggle to close up around the shape of his cock. Still, valdor can’t linger too long - there is already a line

He will cum inside you so much you swear your stomach bulges a little from it all. You have nightmares about popping like a balloon

eventually word reaches the Emperor that Guilliman is looking to speak to him as a matter of urgency — he is currently buried deep in your throat, enjoying the cute little gluck-gluck-gluck noises your gag reflex makes as you try to fit him all the way into your tight gullet. He does not ask you to stop this before answering the vox from a distraught Roboute, who is blathering about his fiancée going missing? The Emperor chuckles a little to himself, patting your hair — ah, having a woman to be wed and a woman in his bed, Roboute is far more like his father than first thought — wait. Ah. Singular woman. Singular. Shit.

#emperor/reader #headcanons #my writing #ask me

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brunettedelulu · 1 month

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The French New Wave: A Cinematic Revolution.

Introduction

The French New Wave, or Nouvelle Vague, is a cinematic movement that revolutionized French cinema and, by extension, global cinema. Emerging in the late 1950s, it marked a decisive break from the conventions of traditional filmmaking. This movement not only redefined the rules of directing but also spotlighted new talents who would go on to influence generations of filmmakers.

Origins of the French New Wave

The movement was born out of criticism, particularly through journals like Cahiers du cinéma, where young cinephiles such as François Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, and Éric Rohmer began expressing their dissatisfaction with the rigidity of French cinema at the time. These critics soon transitioned behind the camera to materialize their innovative ideas.

Characteristics of the French New Wave

- Narrative Freedom : Films of the New Wave are characterized by non-linear storytelling and a liberated approach to narrative structure. Plot often takes a back seat, with emphasis placed on emotion and the moment.

- On-location Filming : Unlike traditional cinema, which predominantly relied on studio settings, New Wave directors favored natural locations, lending their films a more realistic and immediate feel.

- Innovative Camera Techniques : The directors experimented with groundbreaking camera techniques such as handheld shots, long takes, and rapid editing. This dynamic approach contributed to a unique aesthetic that often blurred the lines between fiction and documentary.

- Non-professional Actors and Improvised Dialogues : To enhance realism, many New Wave filmmakers cast non-professional actors and encouraged improvisation, resulting in more natural and spontaneous dialogue.

Pioneering Figures

- Jean-Luc Godard : With films like Breathless (À bout de souffle, 1960), Godard introduced a bold and provocative style, challenging conventional editing and narrative techniques.

- François Truffaut : In The 400 Blows (Les 400 Coups, 1959), Truffaut explored autobiographical themes with a new sensibility, deeply resonating with audiences.

- Agnès Varda : Although sometimes considered on the periphery of the movement, Varda contributed significantly with works like Cléo from 5 to 7 (Cléo de 5 à 7, 1962), enriching the New Wave with a feminine and introspective perspective.

Three Must-See Films of the French New Wave

1. Breathless (1960) - Jean-Luc Godard

One of the cornerstones of the French New Wave, Breathless tells the story of Michel Poiccard, a petty criminal on the run, and his love for a young American, Patricia. The film is renowned for its innovative editing style, with abrupt cuts and a frenetic pace. Godard disrupted traditional cinematic conventions, delivering a daring work that perfectly embodies the rebellious spirit of the movement.

2. The 400 Blows (1959) - François Truffaut

Truffaut’s debut feature is an autobiographical masterpiece that follows the misadventures of Antoine Doinel, a young boy rebelling against authority. The 400 Blows is a poignant film that explores childhood, the misunderstanding of adults, and the quest for freedom. The film is distinguished by its realism and sensitivity, hallmarks of the New Wave.

3. Cléo from 5 to 7 (1962) - Agnès Varda

Often referred to as the "grandmother" of the New Wave, Agnès Varda offers an introspective and feminist perspective with Cléo from 5 to 7. The film follows Cléo, a singer awaiting potentially grave medical test results. Over the course of two hours, we watch her traverse Paris, encountering various characters. The film is remarkable for its exploration of time, mortality, and identity, while also capturing the essence of Parisian life.

The Impact of the French New Wave

The French New Wave profoundly influenced global cinema, paving the way for a new generation of directors willing to break conventions, both in Europe and in the United States. Filmmakers like Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, and Wong Kar-wai have frequently cited the New Wave as a major source of inspiration.

Conclusion

The French New Wave remains a pivotal movement in the history of cinema. By breaking with tradition and innovating both in form and content, these directors redefined what cinema could be. Even today, their influence is felt, proving that the New Wave has left an indelible mark on the art of filmmaking.

(yes it is)

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mysticstronomy · 11 months

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WHAT IS INSIDE THE MOON??

Blog#340

Saturday, October 14th, 2023

Welcome back,

Well, the verdict is in. The Moon is not made of green cheese after all.

A thorough investigation published back in May has found that the inner core of the Moon is, in fact, a solid ball with a density similar to that of iron. This, researchers hope, will help settle a long debate about whether the Moon's inner heart is solid or molten, and lead to a more accurate understanding of the Moon's history – and, by extension, that of the Solar System.

"Our results," wrote a team led by astronomer Arthur Briaud of the French National Centre for Scientific Research in France, "question the evolution of the Moon magnetic field thanks to its demonstration of the existence of the inner core and support a global mantle overturn scenario that brings substantial insights on the timeline of the lunar bombardment in the first billion years of the Solar System."

Probing the interior composition of objects in the Solar System is most effectively accomplished through seismic data. The way acoustic waves generated by quakes move through and reflect from material inside a planet or moon can help scientists create a detailed map of the object's interior.

We happen to have lunar seismic data collected by the Apollo mission, but its resolution is too low to accurately determine the inner core's state. We know there is a fluid outer core, but what it encompasses remains under debate. Models of a solid inner core and an entirely fluid core work equally well with the Apollo data.

To figure it out once and for all, Briaud and his colleagues collected data from space missions and lunar laser ranging experiments to compile a profile of various lunar characteristics. These include the degree of its deformation by its gravitational interaction with Earth, the variation in its distance from Earth, and its density.

Next, they conducted modeling with various core types to find which matched most closely with the observational data.

They made several interesting findings. Firstly, the models that most closely resembled what we know about the Moon describe active overturn deep inside the lunar mantle. This means that denser material inside the Moon falls towards the center, and less dense material rises upwards. This activity has long been proposed as a way of explaining the presence of certain elements in volcanic regions of the Moon. The team's research adds another point in the "for" tally of evidence.

And they found that the lunar core is very similar to that of Earth – with an outer fluid layer and a solid inner core. According to their modeling, the outer core has a radius of about 362 kilometers (225 miles), and the inner core has a radius of about 258 kilometers (160 miles). That's about 15 percent of the entire radius of the Moon.

The inner core, the team found, also has a density of about 7,822 kilograms per cubic meter. That's very close to the density of iron.

Curiously, in 2011 a team led by NASA Marshall planetary scientist Renee Weber found a similar result using what were then state-of-the-art seismological techniques on Apollo data to study the lunar core. They found evidence of a solid inner core with a radius of about 240 kilometers, and a density about 8,000 kilograms per cubic meter.

Their results, Briaud and his team say, is confirmation of those earlier findings, and constitute a pretty strong case for an Earth-like lunar core.

And this has some interesting implications for the Moon's evolution.

We know not long after it formed, the Moon had a powerful magnetic field, which started to decline about 3.2 billion years ago. Such a magnetic field is generated by motion and convection in the core, so what the lunar core is made of is deeply relevant to how and why the magnetic field disappeared.

Given humanity's hope to return to the Moon in relatively short order, perhaps we won't have long to wait for seismic verification of these findings.

Originally published on www.sciencealert.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, October 18th, 2023)

"IS THE MOON RUSTING??"

#astronomy #outer space #alternate universe #astrophysics #universe #spacecraft #white universe #space #parallel universe #astrophotography

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sunnysssol · 1 year

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[New York, 1746 – First meeting ]

In 1744, King George's War was fought between the British, the British-American forces in the colonies and the Iroquois Confederacy against the French and the Wabanaki Confederacy of New France. Part of the Austrian War of Succession, it was fought mainly in New York and the Massachusetts bay. The battle meant tremendous losses for the colonies, with an estimated loss of 8% of the male population in Massachusetts. The Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle ended the war in 1748, returning colonial borders back to how they were before the war. Three years later however, the town of Louisbourg was returned to France in exchange for the city of Madras (renamed to Chennai in 1996) in India. This city was captured by the French in September 1746 from the British, thus the "exchange". This angered New Englanders, who provided funding and personnel. The British paid Massachusetts £180,000 (roughly £32,281,486.29 in 2022), which the province then used to retire their currency.

[ Disclaimer : I am not, nor do I claim to be any expert on anything. I am constantly learning, so this post and others like it are subject to retcons and the like. Appropriate warnings will be given as I go. Also, please note that this, whilst based on history, is still a work of fiction. I do not condone nor support generally morally reprehensible things directly mentioned or alluded to on these. ]

1746 was more or less the midpoint of this war (with France launching a major expedition to recapture Louisbourg, the previous figures for Massachusetts losses being from 1745-46, etc.) and so the idea was for Susannah to act as the crown's (and by extension, Arthur's) eyes and ears to the colonies in direct response to the growing unrest. Alfred up until this point had been a loyal and steadfast son and subject, despite his eternal curiosity leading him to consume more and more literature that directly put old beliefs into question. Though he was not initially aware of Susannah's double allegiances, Alfred was aware of the formal, employer-employee arrangement between himself and Susannah. Despite that, his warm personality and similar wavelength of interests allowed him to easily breach the gap between 'acquaintance' and 'friend'. His father was often entire oceans away and this is the first time he met someone whom he could get attached to without fearing their mortality (see: humans Alfred had befriended throughout the years) or any perceived double national interests. The exchange of Louisbourg for Madras had been one of the many events that would plant the idea that his father was not entirely devoted to him in Alfred's mind. His conflicting feelings about the exchange and his place in the empire allowed him to open himself up to befriending Susannah, perhaps thinking that if he behaved well and treated who was essentially a bureaucratic extension of his Lord Father's presence well, perhaps he could earn his favor again.

Susannah on the other hand, was caught off guard by his lack of formality and had even found him to be somewhat "uncultured" in the beginning. The mainland British had mixed feelings about the colonists, but many of them held prejudices and saw them as "uncouth". As Suzie's household had mainly been attendants and tutors brought in from Britain, she shared their beliefs throughout her childhood. But slowly, as Suzie began to spend more time with Alfred, she warmed up to him, happy for the chance to finally be taken seriously instead of waved off for her more intellectual pursuits. Susannah was born in the colonies. But due to her ancestor, Sir Wilfred Knightley, whose affection and counsel she received growing up, her family has and continues to hold deep ties to the crown. Her beliefs and viewpoints were shaped simultaneously by her birthplace and her family's values. Though they were seen as upstarts in Britain, the Knightleys were an esteemed family in the colonies. She interacted with a lot of people from the mainland, a lot of important family friends and other acquaintances, but she'd also spent a lot of time talking to and mingling with colonists, both ranking ones and average, everyday people. To reflect the attitudes of many colonists, Susannah identified as a loyalist up until the middle of the Revolution.

[ commissions open | do not repost ] ocs by sunnysssol

#hetalia #aph america x oc #aph america #aph england #hetalia oc #hws assistantverse #oc: susannah knightley #oc: wilfred knightley #re: amesuzie [ canon timeline ]#[ 18th century ]#cc: alfred f jones #cc: arthur kirkland

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robsheridan · 1 year

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No film defined the late-70s “McSplatter” wave of grindhouse horror like DRIVE-THRU OF DEATH (1977). Writer/director Ron Sharleton's (Cannibal Quarterback, Garfield: First Blood, CoacHELLa) unapologetically manic debut gore-fest wrote the blueprint for the fast-food sub-genre that would be followed by many more films such as Wiener of Blood (1978), Ice Scream Truck (1978), and Sharleton’s own pizza-themed follow-up Slice of Hell (1979).

Drive-Thru of Death opens with old-fashioned circus clowns in a shadowy ritual with a cult of evil cows (the film does not explain why the cows can speak, nor are they seen again after the opening scene). The groups are angry at the giant fast food chain “McDungles” (an obvious reference to McDonald’s leading to extensive litigation) for their aggressive factory-farming and their clown-themed branding that “cheapens the sacred art of clowning.” The cow priest puts an ancient black magic curse on the blood of all cattle in the region destined for McDungles beef plants.

As the cursed beef makes its way into McDungles’ restaurants, burger patties begin coming alive as ferocious man-eating beef demons. Meanwhile, the curse has a special effect on the restaurant’s birthday clowns, who become gradually more psychotic as they mutate into grotesque homicidal monstrosities whose flesh drips like melted cheese. The clowns kill the staff and turn McDungles into madhouses of relentless zany violence. The clown working the drive-through window asks unsuspecting patrons the film’s much-quoted catchphrase, “would you like TO DIE with that??”

The infamous third-act birthday party scene is an off-the-rails escalation of horror where the demon clowns infect children with the curse, which their turns their flesh into french fries before possessing them to become demonic murderous clown children.

Eventually, townspeople are able to kill the beef demons and the clowns by burning them alive with deep-frier grease. But the damage is done, and the McDungles chain has to shut down permanently.

The film’s final shot of a child who survived the birthday party massacre warns ominously, “the children were never the same.”

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NOTE: This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

#rob sheridan #nightmAIres #ai horror #alternate history #ai art #70s horror #ron sharleton #drive-thru of death #mcsplatter #synthography #synthography horror #horror #horror art #horror stories #writing #fake movies

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communist-manifesto-daily · 5 months

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The Communist Manifesto - Part 14

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III. Socialist and Communist Literature

1. Reactionary Socialism

A. Feudal Socialism

Owing to their historical position, it became the vocation of the aristocracies of France and England to write pamphlets against modern bourgeois society. In the French Revolution of July 1830, and in the English reform agitation‡, these aristocracies again succumbed to the hateful upstart. Thenceforth, a serious political struggle was altogether out of the question. A literary battle alone remained possible. But even in the domain of literature the old cries of the restoration period had become impossible.*

‡ A reference to the movement for an electoral reform which, under the pressure of the working class, was passed by the British House of Commons in 1831 and finally endorsed by the House of Lords in June, 1832. The reform was directed against monopoly rule of the landed and finance aristocracy and opened the way to Parliament for the representatives of the industrial bourgeoisie. Neither workers nor the petty-bourgeois were allowed electoral rights, despite assurances they would.

* Not the English Restoration (1660-1689), but the French Restoration (1814-1830). [Note by Engels to the English edition of 1888.]

In order to arouse sympathy, the aristocracy was obliged to lose sight, apparently, of its own interests, and to formulate their indictment against the bourgeoisie in the interest of the exploited working class alone. Thus, the aristocracy took their revenge by singing lampoons on their new masters and whispering in his ears sinister prophesies of coming catastrophe.

In this way arose feudal Socialism: half lamentation, half lampoon; half an echo of the past, half menace of the future; at times, by its bitter, witty and incisive criticism, striking the bourgeoisie to the very heart’s core; but always ludicrous in its effect, through total incapacity to comprehend the march of modern history.

The aristocracy, in order to rally the people to them, waved the proletarian alms-bag in front for a banner. But the people, so often as it joined them, saw on their hindquarters the old feudal coats of arms, and deserted with loud and irreverent laughter.

One section of the French Legitimists and “Young England” exhibited this spectacle.

In pointing out that their mode of exploitation was different to that of the bourgeoisie, the feudalists forget that they exploited under circumstances and conditions that were quite different and that are now antiquated. In showing that, under their rule, the modern proletariat never existed, they forget that the modern bourgeoisie is the necessary offspring of their own form of society.

For the rest, so little do they conceal the reactionary character of their criticism that their chief accusation against the bourgeois amounts to this, that under the bourgeois régime a class is being developed which is destined to cut up root and branch the old order of society.

What they upbraid the bourgeoisie with is not so much that it creates a proletariat as that it creates a revolutionary proletariat.

In political practice, therefore, they join in all coercive measures against the working class; and in ordinary life, despite their high-falutin phrases, they stoop to pick up the golden apples dropped from the tree of industry, and to barter truth, love, and honour, for traffic in wool, beetroot-sugar, and potato spirits.†

† This applies chiefly to Germany, where the landed aristocracy and squirearchy have large portions of their estates cultivated for their own account by stewards, and are, moreover, extensive beetroot-sugar manufacturers and distillers of potato spirits. The wealthier British aristocracy are, as yet, rather above that; but they, too, know how to make up for declining rents by lending their names to floaters or more or less shady joint-stock companies. [Note by Engels to the English edition of 1888.]

As the parson has ever gone hand in hand with the landlord, so has Clerical Socialism with Feudal Socialism.

Nothing is easier than to give Christian asceticism a Socialist tinge. Has not Christianity declaimed against private property, against marriage, against the State? Has it not preached in the place of these, charity and poverty, celibacy and mortification of the flesh, monastic life and Mother Church? Christian Socialism is but the holy water with which the priest consecrates the heart-burnings of the aristocrat.

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#the communist manifesto #communist manifesto daily

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redsamuraiii · 9 months

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For those who read widely and take an interest in Asia — likely readers of this article — chances are they will have picked up a book put out by Tuttle Publishing at one time or another.

History of Tuttle Publishing

While the Tuttle family business can be traced back to 1832, making it one of the oldest American publishers still in operation, according to the company, the Japan presence was established in 1948 when Charles Tuttle, noticed a gap in the market.

Initially arriving in Japan to work in the newspaper industry as part of the American Occupation, Tuttle later began importing American books for U.S. troops stationed in the country, and ferrying Japanese books back to the United States for interested readers.

He later opened what was reportedly Tokyo's first English-language bookstore, before publishing thousands of Asia-focused books himself. Before his death, Tuttle was awarded the Order of the Sacred Treasure by Emperor Showa for his work.

Tuttle Publishing and Japan

Tuttle’s longtime presence in the market means it has an extensive back catalog that is now in high demand, fueled by the current boom in interest in Japanese culture. As interest in Japanese authors has grown, so has demand for Tuttle's early print editions.

“Because they’re hard to get hold of ... they can go for silly prices sometimes, because people collect them or tourists want Japanese literature,” he said. Tourists in particular go straight for them, as they’re hungry for Japanese stories to take home as souvenirs.

Prints vs Digital and AI

Despite people long decrying the death of print or the end of books, the publishing industry is growing stronger. During the pandemic in 2020, Tuttle saw a surge in book sales, and while this has subsided somewhat, “book sales are now higher than before the pandemic.”

Personally, although reading digitally on tablets is much more convenient and save space on bookshelf, the feeling of holding something physical, the smell of books and the sense of detachment from the world in going offline is something that readers love.

Below are 10 books that I have read from Tuttle Publishing that I would recommend those who are interested in Japanese culture.

A Brief History of Japan

The perfect book to understand Japan's history as it sums up everything concisely, not too brief and not too detailed.

A History of Japan in Manga

If you're not into reading books full of texts and more of a visual reader, then this one is for you as it's explained with manga.

The Heikei Story

The defining moment in history where the warrior class Samurai began to rise to its prominence to overthrow the Imperials.

Hiroshige's Japan

Join a French artist as he explores the old Tokaido Road that once connected Edo (Tokyo) and Kyoto as he shares his illustrations.

Japan Journeys

A collection of woodblock printing art which journals the travelers experience in Edo Period moving from one prefecture to the other.

My Travels in Japan

A cute travel diary which accounts her travel experience in modern Japan which consists of illustrations of places she visited.

Japan in 100 Words

Everything you need to know about Japan, from its culture, tradition, philosophy, food and pop culture, categorised into 100 sections.

Samurai Castles

History and design of the architecture of the iconic castles, which shows the uniqueness of each castle with photos and drawings.

Manga Yokai Stories

The short stories of Yokai and how they came to be, which are meant to demonstrate the humanity and tragedy of life.

Lady Murasaki's Tale of Genji

A story written by a Heian woman who envisions her version of an ideal man and depicts the life in the Imperial court of her time.

#tuttle publishing #japanese books #japan #book recommendations #japanese culture #japanese history #japan times #manga #japan travel #japanese art

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adarkrainbow · 10 months

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BD reviews: The good, the okay and the bad

Today's review - L'origine des contes, by Philippe Bonifay

France has a deep and intimate history with fairytales. My blog mostly focuses on literature, and I already did a few jumps in the domain of cinema - but this French presence of fairytales also expands into the most French of all media... THE BD! La BD! Aka, "bande-dessinée". Yes, it is technically just the French translation of the English term "comic book" - but I do like to keep the original appelation BD because the European BD (especially the Franco-Belgian BD) and the American comic books, while similar by many ways, are also very different by many other aspects - different sale techniques, different formats, different materials, very different histories and rules...

So, I wanted to do a quick dive into a handful of fairytale-related BD (not all because there's a HUGE amount of fairytales BD). I'll cover here four in a row, more or less extensively, and I want to begin with a series I deem to be a bad one. "A l'origine des contes". "At the origin of fairytales". A series written by Philippe Bonifay and released in three volumes in 2013 - each volume with a different artist and focusing on a different fairytale (Pinocchio by Thibaud de Rochebrune ; Snow White by Fabrice Meddour ; and Bluebeard by Stephane Duval)

I have only read two of the volumes - not the Pinocchio one. Everybody keeps saying the Pinocchio tome ("tome" sounds in English like "tome of eldritch lore" or a "grimoire" but in French what English folks call "comic book volume", we call "un tome de bande-dessinée" so I'll use tome for simplification) is the best in terms of art and story, but the other two ones left me such a sour taste I don't know if I will even take a look at it or not.

This series offers and proposes a very simple concept. "What if there was an actual, historical, realistic origin to the fairytales we know today? What if there was a REAL, and darker, story behind these childhood classics?". Each volume has as a narrative frame a fictional version of the ones who wrote the fairytales (Perrault for Bluebeard, the Grimm brothers for Snow White etc...), and proceeds to present us a dark, harsh story between the tragedy and the horror tale, set in a defined country at a defined time period, and that supposedly "inspired" the fairytales. Of course, this is all fictional pretense, as the author clearly wasn't interested in getting the actual folkloric or historical roots of the fairytales, and merely wanted to invent a darker, realistic alternative to the classics and present them through his BD.

In itself, it isn't a bad thing - as in, the series clearly does not pretend to be actual historical document, it is very clearly all fictional, and we had a lot of "realistic and darker, time-period" retelling of fairytales. In concept it basically evoked to me Maguire's "Mirror, Mirror" (I have not read Maguire's book, but based on everything I heard about it, the rough concept seemed to be the same). "A l'origine des contes" keeps popping up when you go searching for "adult BD about fairytales" - and the cover and general presentation already prepares you for a violent, mature and dark story. Just the cover of the Snow-White one depicts an axe-wielding woman with bloody snow surrounding her, and her breasts half-out of her corset. This establishes the "adult" trend. But what I was NOT expecting was for this to be one of those "bad" adult series.

There was a wave of "edgy" adult BDs at the turn of the century, whose entire topic was to present some sort of serious, dark story, preferably of historical inspiration, while adding in it a lot of shocking gore and a lot of nude women and a lot of sex scenes, at the detriment of the actual historic elements. A perfect example of this would be Jodorowsky's "Borgia" BD, a 2000s series centered around the life of the Borgia family - or rather based on their dark legend as a clan of corrupted, murderous, incestuous, proto-mafioso who poisoned everybody, defiled religion and took control of Rome... And it decided to amplify the dark legend even more. Deaths and mutilations and incestuous sex and gratuitous sexual perversity and plague and religious fanaticism all thrown together with as a pseudo-plot the historical political and religious manipulations of Rodrigo Borgia, and the dysfunctions of his broken family. Compared to this, "Game of Thrones" looks tame.

However, despite "Borgia" being basically a "historical snuff movie", it had something that "A l'origine des contes" does not have. It is FUN. As in, weird, perverse, classic slasher-fun. It does everything in such extremes and with such outlandish extent and it amplifies everything so much it becomes almost a gory parody and you just laugh at it all - and while it is clearly all hyper-fictional, it does take inspiration from the actual rumors, legends and claims surrounding the Borgias, it is merely a twisted mirror of their ACTUAL dark myth. But "A l'origine des contes"? Despite being much tamer in terms of sex and gore than "Borgia", and thus being more palatable, it lacks any kind of fun or interest - precisely because it keeps itself "contained" and "grounded", the bad elements pop out more (like the gratuity of nudity, or the lack of need for X violent scene to happen), and by literaly removing all the magic of the fairytales but replacing it with nothing, it produces a dreary and frankly boring thing... But worse crime of all: there's almost no real basis or interesting link or true twisting mirror of the original fairytales!

To give you an example of what I mean by that, I'll talk of the first volume I read: Bluebeard.

The so-called "real" story of Bluebeard is that there were in the Middle-Ages (well it's supposed to be the Middle-Ages but a recurring theme in this series is that clearly no historical research was made and the artist and author just threw whatever they wanted in there) beautiful twins - but one, after surviving the plague, became ugly. They grew up wanting to become great artists - but the ugly and deformed brother ended up drowning in his bitterness at being the "ugly, hidden one" while his lovely brother got all the praise and love. And the deformed twin growing madder and madder, he starts becoming murderous... You start thinking "Oh, I see, so this is what was hidden in that forbidden room, the murderous twin! And the one who killed wives wasn't Bluebeard by his evil double!". The latter is true: here, all of Bluebeard's wives were killed by his envious and mad twin. The first sentence howeve turns out massively wrong because of the final wife, of the blood-stained key, of Bluebeard's house/castle, we have no trace! In fact, the only two elements Bonifay kept from the original story were "A) A guy name Bluebeard B) has lots of wives that end up killed". And that's literaly it - nothing else from the original fairytale is taken, and in fact, if it wasn't for the iconic name of Bluebeard, you wouldn't even KNOW this was supposed to be a Bluebeard adaptation.

Many people pointed out that Bonifay clearly had here an inspiration and influence from Gothic tales or the fantastique genre - he pushed the original story of Perrault towards the grounds of "Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde", and "The Portrait of Dorian Gray"... But he pushed so far it basically ends up being its own story with barely any relationship to the original one. In fact, it feels VERY strongly as if Bonifay had an idea for a different BD, couldn't get published, and recycled it for his Fairytale series. This is just about a guy trying to escape his murderous shadow-twin, who keeps killing all of his wives, no matter how far he goes - because, and I rolled my eyes there and skipped the whole arc because come on ; because he even goes to THE DEEPEST PARTS OF AFRICA and marries there a girl from some random tribe, and I just skipped it all ahead... Oh yes the whole "artist" plot is also involved here, because the murdered wives are used by the mad twin brother for some sort of grandiose sculpture the brothers had planned since teenagehood. And if you want to know the reason why Bluebeard is called Bluebeard, it could have been interesting but it is delivered in such a silly way: the good-looking twin got a knife-wound on his chin that made it so that he had a hairless spot in his beard, and to cover it up he wore a beard-jewel with a sapphire on it, hence the "Bluebeard" nickname.

Overall my main grief was that, despite supposedly telling the "true story of Bluebeard", it offered us... something completely different, an entirely different and un-fairytale like story that seems to have been hastily stitched into the Bluebeard mythos. But I still decided to go on and check another tome of the series...

The Snow-White one. And... again, a disappointment and that's where I decided I wouldn't finish the trilogy.

It is too bad because there, at least the story clearly was a reflecton of "Snow-White", and there were some cool ideas in here. For example - a link formed between the dwarves and the "evil stepmother"! (She isn't queen here, Snow's father being... a count or marquis, or something, i can't recall well). I haven't seen a lot Snow White adaptations that decide to give something personal tying the dwarfs to the evil stepmother. Here, the evil stepmother used to be a scheming, ambitious circus-girl that ended up marrying Snow White's father pretending to be someone else (at least I think...), and ultimately, to get rid of her shameful past, set fire to the barn where her whole circus family was sleeping a few days before her wedding. And the dwarfs, as it turns out, were circus dwarfs who were part of the same team as the evil stepmother, and survived the fire, and still hold a grudge against her for killing their family. That's a neat and cool idea!

Similarly, the ending of the tale was also very interesting - to show how the tale is a "realistic" one that the Grimms "reinvented" into a magical one, in the historical story Snow White ends up actually dying, killed by her evil stepmother, and she only "survives in her glass coffin" because the dwarfs that had sheltered her grieve her and carry on her memory until their own death... That's a very cool and beautiful idea to oppose the sad reality of the death of a beloved young girl with the fairytale logic of "dead princesses come back to life thanks to their prince charming".

But unfortunately this comic still has so many flaws it becomes a dreary, bleak and even boring read. The tale is muddled, there's again gratuitous nudity (such as the evil stepmother getting undressed to "pay" the hunter she hired to kill Snow White) so blatantly un-needed (especially since the whole point of the stepmother's character was that she was tired of being used like a prostitute by the circus she came from), the framing device of the brothers Grimm commenting the tale they are reading is POSITIVELY USELESS (as in, they basically just do "Oh!" or "Ah!" or repeat what we just saw as readers - this felt like so much waste of ink and paper and space)... Oh yes, and there's also the problem of the defective print!

This isn't something exclusive to the copy I read - other reviewers online pointed it out. This tome got a big misprint issue resulting in the text of several speech bubbles being displaced onto other speech bubbles, or the dialogue of one page being interverted with the one of another page, making the story even more confusing and incomprehensible...

In conclusion: I do not recommend these comics, except if you are a fan of the artists who made each issue. But in terms of fairytale adaptations, or even of "dark fairytales", they're just... bad, and unrelated, and very poor. And I am sad THESE got promoted whenever there's talk of "adult fairytale BD".

#review #fairytale comics #bande dessinée #fairytale bd #comic books #dark fairytale #fairytale horror #bluebeard #snow white #french adaptations

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magmahearts · 3 months

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TIMING: late april / early may. PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @magmahearts LOCATION: the woods. SUMMARY: cass comes across a wolf-like beast in the woods and calls in kaden for backup. CONTENT: none!

When you spent as much time as Cass did acting as Wicked’s Rest’s resident superhero, you got used to seeing a lot of strange things. Animals that weren’t the kind human textbooks listed in their index, people who did things that made little sense, beings that seemed to be both of those things at once… Cass liked to think she’d pretty much seen it all. But that didn’t necessarily mean she recognized things when she saw them. She was pretty much learning all this on the fly. No one had ever really taught her anything beyond a few quiet lessons here and there. She’d never had, like, extensive supernatural survival training.

So… she wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking at here. It looked lupine, but it didn’t look quite like Alex had when she’d taken down Rhett to save Cass, or the werewolf she’d led into her caves to keep it from hurting anyone. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything, did it? Fae were fairly diverse without their glamours; were werewolves’ shifted forms the same? She hadn’t seen enough of them to know for sure.

Luckily, she knew someone who had.

She made sure to follow the maybe-werewolf at a safe distance as she called Kaden, rattling off her location and asking him to hurry. If this was a shifted werewolf, they might need help. And if it wasn’t… It might be trouble.

—

Kaden knew that a call from Cass only meant one of two things: a prank, or something serious was going on. Thankfully he only assumed the latter because when he picked up, the fae was saying something about a potential werewolf that she saw shift and run off into the woods. All he could do was hope that she stayed far enough away from the beast until he got there. He wasn’t sure what she meant when she said it looked “different,” but he wasn’t going to waste too much time asking questions on the phone – there would be time for that when he got there.

It didn’t take too long to track her down and lucky for him, she wasn’t too hard to spot. He made sure to bring weapons for him and some gear for her too, just in case. He had no clue if she knew how to use any of it but he figured a knife couldn’t be that hard to get a grip on and it was better than nothing. “Hey,” Kaden said as he gave the kid a small wave. “So am I the sidekick again today or what?”

He wasn’t sure what they were up against or if he should be quiet now or if they had some space. “How far did it get?” He paused and realized maybe he shouldn’t get right down to business. “And, uh, how are you?” It had been a little bit since Alex had been away and he’d seen less of Cass around the cabin because of it. Not to mention, he spent less time there himself as of late. “Been a little bit since you bullied me into watching some superhero thing or another.”

—

There was never any question about whether or not Kaden would come, just as there hadn’t been when Alex called him all those months ago after their altercation with Rhett. Kaden, Cass thought, was a steady force. He was a foundation you could build upon. He was like a rock, in that way — firm and definite. She knew she could count on Kaden, even if she was no longer certain she could count on the person who’d brought them together in the first place. Alex was gone, but Kaden was here. Cass still thought that mattered.

She grinned, returning his wave as he got close. “You’re always the sidekick,” she replied cheerily. “Like — Oh, actually, is it offensive to say ‘like Frenchie in Moon Knight’ ? Because Frenchie’s a cool guy. I’m not just saying it because you’re French. Even though you are French, and he’s French, so it kind of works double.”

But there were more serious things to worry about than Moon Knight’s French sidekick, and Cass knew it. Her expression turned a little more serious at his question, and she nodded her head firmly. “I’m not sure. I was trying to hang back. I thought that was probably what you’d tell me to do.” Her expression turned a little lighter at his question, something soft seeping into it. She’d been bad, for a while. After Alex left, she’d felt just as defective as she had when she’d been cast out of her aos si, like she’d done something wrong and bad and worth leaving over. But now, lately… “I’ve been good.” There was a warmth back in her cave that hadn’t been present before. This, Cass thought, must have been what people meant when they spoke about a father’s love. “How are you? Have you been okay in the cabin?” He was alone there now, wasn’t he? It must have been strange. It must have been sad.

—

“Right, should have known.” Kaden sighed, though he wasn’t sure how genuine his exhaustion really was. He wasn’t about to let on to the kid, but he found her babbling about superheroes endearing. She could never know, though. Couldn’t encourage it. Then he might have to actually try to understand any of it and that sounded harder than taking down any werewolf. “I don’t think it’s offensive. Unless he’s Canadian.”

While they talked, Kaden crouched down to check the area that Cass pointed to. His eyes swept for any paw prints, claw marks, broken branches, anything that might clue him in to what exactly they were headed towards. There was a clear trail of damaged foliage headed in the direction Cass had pointed out. If he had to guess, that’s where they should start looking. “Good job,” he said, trying to hold back his smile. He was more than relieved to learn that she hadn’t thrown herself directly into danger without him or anyone else’s help. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had, especially a few months ago, before the run in with— Right, he didn’t like to think about that, the sight of her rocky skin covered in blood. Surely she didn’t need the reminder about it, either.

“Good? That’s good,” he repeated as he followed the trail of scuffs and scratches in the dirt deeper into the woods. He was afraid that might not have been her answer given everything. “I’ve been alright. Can’t say I’m at the cabin that much anymore, though.” He tried to smile again but it was half-hearted. Sure, he might have been over at the farmhouse just as much had Andy and Alex not left the cabin empty, but it was hard to say. He definitely took strides to avoid being there by himself when he could help it. It was fine if Monty was there, it made the reality of the place easier to ignore. Otherwise, the echo of his own footsteps was just a reminder that his family had gone. Not that he didn’t support them, either of them, but it was hard to feel like the thing he’d been searching for for so long, real family, was a little farther away again. “It’s not the same when it’s quiet.” He huffed out a laugh at the irony — not so long ago, he would have longed for more quiet moments in the cabin. Guess the grass was always greener.

Except for the grass to the left of them. That grass was chopped up by claws that had dug into the ground, kicking up the dirt and weeds. He could feel the familiar pin pricks down his spine starting to tingle. They were definitely headed in the right direction. “We’re getting closer,” he warned her. “You’re ready to drop your glamor, right?” He figured it would keep her a little safer if she was in her form covered in rocks and magma. It would be harder to bit through, at least. Unless… His brows furrowed. “That would make it safer, yeah? Or are you still rock with it up?” It wasn’t exactly something they’d covered in hunter training. He wasn’t a warden so his knowledge of fae was already limited, not to mention, they weren’t exactly learning how to keep fae safe.

—

Kaden didn’t seem offended to learn that he was a perpetual sidekick, nor did he seem upset at being compared to Frenchie. Cass flashed him a grin. “No, he’s French-French. I think he was in the French secret service or something. Is it offensive to be Canadian?” Wasn’t Leila French-Canadian? Cass wondered if she should be offended on Leila’s behalf here, but she doubted Kaden was trying to insult anybody. He wasn’t mean, he was just… French.

This was evidenced by what he said next. He said good job, and it felt like a fire had been lit inside her chest. Pride burned through her, the flames dancing and sparking and setting her whole body alight. It was a small miracle that she managed to keep her glamour up in her excitement, though her eyes did glow just a little with the joy of it. She tried not to let it show too much for fear of coming on too strong, of making Kaden uncomfortable and risking him taking back the praise. She shot for something a little more nonchalant as she nodded. “Yeah, if you’re not careful, I’ll totally take your job,” she teased with a grin that was a little too wide to really sell her ‘totally don’t care’ attitude.

The joy in her chest burned a little hotter when he seemed to care about her answer, when he said it was good that she was good. Cass had spent so much of her life so desperate for people to care about her that, when someone revealed that they did, it felt like a life-changing level of victory. It surged through her so intensely that it was just short of an eruption. “Oh, really? Where are you staying now, mostly? Do you still keep cheese in the cabin?” She liked his cheese. She could probably go take some if he wasn’t there all the time. “Yeah.” Her smile faded just a little at the thought of the empty cabin. Wasn’t it funny how something that had once held the whole world within its walls could fall empty after a while? “I get that.” Even her cave felt emptier than it used to without Alex around to fill the space, though that was changing now that someone else was around to fill it. She couldn’t tell Kaden about her new visitor, but… she could let him know she was okay. She thought he’d like knowing that.

She trailed along behind him as he moved, reflecting none of his careful trek in her own steps. Cass would walk and chatter and carry on until he told her not to, because she wasn’t really good at this kind of thing. She was a superhero who burst in with a quip to save the day, not the kind who snuck around and did things in secret. She was way more Spider-Man than Black Widow. “I’m still rocky,” she told him with a hum. “The glamour’s just, like… a mask.” She didn’t used to think of it that way, but that was how her father described it and so that was how it was. The glamour wasn’t her. “Do you know what we’re looking for? Is it a werewolf? Was I right?”

—

“Only if you’re French,” Kaden answered with a small smile. “I’m sure the Canadians don’t care one way or another. But that’s because they’re not French.” No matter how much they wanted to be or seemingly tried to be.

“That so?” He looked back at her, brow raised and trying to hold back the smile betraying his attempt at stoicism. So much about Cass reminded him of Alex – and not just because of how linked the two of them were in his mind for a while. She was energetic and stubborn and smart and a pain in the ass. And he’d absolutely put his life on the line for her. Maybe that wasn’t saying much, he had a tendency to throw himself into the line of fire more often than not, but this was different. In the way he’d drop everything if she asked. Hell, in the way he had dropped everything for her now. “Guess I’ll have to stay on my toes.” He wondered how much she knew that, if she knew that he would be there for her whether or not Alex was in the picture. He wondered if he should say that.

Then again, she had called him. And he came. And he’d always been better at showing than telling.

“You know,” he started, eyes still fixed on the trail in front of them, “could maybe set up some sort of internship with animal control. If you wanted.” He felt foolish as soon as the words left his lips. It was probably stupid and not something she cared about or wanted to do. Kaden quickly tried to shift the subject. “Right. Anyway, been staying at the farmhouse.” He realized that might not be as clear as he wanted it to be. “Uh, with Monty. At the farm. You know, his farm.” He was sure she was glad he clarified the completely obvious. Putain, it wasn’t even technically his farm anymore, he’d given it to Daisy to run, but everyone there knew that at the core, Monty was the beating heart of the farm, even though his own heart had stopped decades ago. “There’s still cheese. And food.” Too much food. “I keep cooking for five people. Haven’t gotten out of the habit.” That was definitely the reason, that he kept forgetting he didn’t have to feed Alex and Andy, too. It was not at all because he wanted to make sure he had provisions for people like Cass, Mack, and Ariadne. Just in case they needed it. Because that would be idiotic.

Kaden tried to swallow back the flush of embarrassment that lodged in his throat. “Oh. Guess that makes sense.” He really should have known that, that the glamour was just a mask. Hopefully that didn’t damper her confidence in him. He may not know the most about fae, but supernatural beasts? He was an expert. “Hard to say,” he said, trying to get a closer look at the tracks in the dirt, looking for any little detail that he may have missed. “It could be a werewolf. About the right size. Fast. Sharp claws. Movement doesn’t seem the most deliberate, a little less controlled. Definitely dangerous. But it’s not exactly a full moon. There’s a lot of other canine creatures so it’s hard to say for sure. What color was the fur, did you see?” He looked back at her, wondering if she remembered anything more. “Was it black? What about the ears were they–”

The sharp shattering of branches silenced the ranger, his gaze shot to the direction of the sound, and a blur of fur and teeth burst out from the bramble. Kaden’s arm jumped out in front of Cass, not just to stop her in her tracks, but in some attempt at a shield, like it would be enough to keep the danger at bay, like it could keep fangs from sinking into her. It was hard to say exactly what it was in the commotion beyond an angry fucking monster, but instincts kicked in all the same. His free hand wrapped around his pistol and he fired at the creature, hoping it would focus on him. “Run!” he shouted at the fae, hoping that maybe, for once, she’d listen.

—-

“And you think they want to be French?” She squinted, tilting her head to the side as she tried to understand. Was it an enviable thing, being French? She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard as much but, then, her experience probably wasn’t a normal one. Cass wasn’t even human; what could she really understand about being French?

She’d worried for a while after Alex left that she’d lose this, too. Kaden never seemed to mind her when she spent hours on end sprawled out on the couch in the cabin or hanging out in Alex’s room, but some small part of her mind always warned her that he only really put up with her for Alex’s sake. Kaden, Cass had thought, didn’t care anything about her on her own. But… Alex left, and he was still here. He still came when she called, still told her she’d done a good job even when all she’d done was not run headfirst into danger. It was exhilarating to know that Kaden cared about her, even with Alex out of the picture. “It’s okay,” she assured him with a grin. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Her heart seemed to stutter-step at his comment, and she turned to face him quickly. “Wait, really? I’m — I mean, I’m not very… good at jobs. I tried a couple. A flower shop, a record store, a museum, a casino… I just kept getting fired.” It still stung a little, even now. “I wouldn’t want to mess work up for you or anything.” Even if she did think it would be fun to work in animal control — and especially to work with Kaden. She’d have a blast annoying him all day. He moved on quickly, though, and she thought she should respect him and do the same. She let out a little oooooh as he mentioned he’d been living with Monty, grin widening even further. “Do you milk cows? Do you ride horses together? Oh my god. You’re like the little Roman soldier from Night at the Museum, and he’s the little cowboy!” Excitement built up in her chest at the realization, followed by the quiet pang that had now replaced the desire to text Alex with new Kaden-related revelations.

“Well, if you’re making too much food, anyway, I can come take some off your hands,” she said, hopping up to balance on a log as she walked beside him. Her arms shot out to help her balance, and she hummed. “I guess it’s different than what you’re used to, huh? With werewolves and stuff.” Shifters used to confuse her for the same reason. Trying to recall the color of the fur, Cass stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth in careful concentration. Was it black, or had it just been a dark gray? Had the ears looked like a wolf, or —

A noise off to the side grabbed her attention alongside Kaden’s, and she turned towards it quickly. She tensed as a shape jumped out at her, but… Kaden got in the middle. He jumped up to protect her, to keep her safe, and Cass’s breath caught in her throat. He told her to run, but there was no way she was leaving him. She dropped her glamour, figuring she’d be better off using that small amount of concentration she used to keep it up elsewhere and hoping to spook the creature in the process. “Hey!” She shouted, waving her arms. The magma in her veins glowed, and she hoped it would capture the thing’s attention. “Look at me! Ooga booga booga!”

—

Kaden shrugged off her hesitation. “I’m not good at jobs either. This is probably the only real one I’ve managed this long.” Before, work was something he just did in between hunting. Temporary jobs were better and bartering in favors were common. So this was all new to him. Didn’t hate it, though. “Helps having an advantage.” Especially considering he likely wouldn’t have the job at all if he weren’t a ranger and one of the few applicants that weren’t scared off by the position’s death rate. “Anyway, pretty sure you can’t mess it up. They know they can’t afford to fire me. Plus, if they did, Gary would have to leave his desk for once. I think the only way you could mess things up for me is if you set the police station on fire or something.” Then again… “Wouldn’t be the worst thing, honestly.” Maybe he shouldn’t encourage that.

“Yes, we take care of the animals and ride horses and– wait, the Roman soldier from where?” What the hell did a museum have to do with a farm? Kaden gave his head a small shake, accepting that this was one of the many moments where he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, couldn’t figure out what she was referencing, or how it matched up to the current conversation, but she was too excited to steer her off course. Or back on course. Whichever it was. Didn’t matter too much, he never wanted to snuff out the joy bubbling up from her anyway, even when he defaulted to his standard grumbling responses. And it was the same reason he decided not to elaborate on what had happened at the farm recently. “Take as much food as you want,” he said, biting back the grin trying to slide onto his face. “I’ll even take requests.”

Her menu orders would have to come later, though. Right now, the monster gashing its maw at them was more important. If Kaden didn’t know any better, he would have assumed this was a werewolf. He couldn’t say if that was preferable to the reality of the situation. A qutrub was dangerous in ways that werewolves weren’t, their mannerisms slightly different, enough to interrupt the ranger’s instinctive rhythm when facing off against a wolf. He’d have to stay on his toes, keep his guard up. Especially given how infectious a quturb bite was to anyone who wasn’t a ranger or slayer. And Kaden didn’t know if Cass was safe as a fae or if she was just as vulnerable. The best thing to do was to make sure they didn’t find out. The best thing for her to was to get out of–

A string of curse words erupted from him like a goddamn volcano. She wasn’t supposed to get the monster to chase her while she ran away, she was supposed to get to safety. The beast ran at her and Kaden took aim again with his pistol.

The shot landed and the bull– “Putain de merde.” It wasn’t a bullet. It was a goddamn tranq. And it may have hit, but it wasn’t going to slow the thing down for another few minutes. Those minutes were going to feel like a goddamn eternity – time that they didn’t have. The ranger managed to find more curse words as he shoved the pistol back in its holster, scrambling to grab the crossbow off his back. He’d half hoped that the creature would turn its attention to him after he attacked it, but the glow of the lava flowing in the cracks between the nymph’s skin was too enticing for the quturb to look away. Kaden ran behind her, placing her between himself and the monster. “Duck!” he shouted as he aimed the crossbow at the monster, hoping to hit before its claws came anywhere near Cass. If nothing else, he hoped it would give him enough time to put himself between the two of them, to get her out of harm’s way.

—

If Kaden’s attempts at employment were similar to her own, maybe Cass didn’t need to feel quite so ashamed by them. After all, weren’t there worse people to emulate? Kaden was a good man, even if he was a hunter. He wasn’t like Rhett, who had terrified and traumatized her, or even Parker, who had agreed not to hurt her only as long as she was on her best behavior. Kaden, she thought, didn’t need to make such promises. And wasn’t that what she wanted to be like? Someone who helped people, a hero in her own right? Kaden was strong and protective and good, and Cass wanted to be the same. So she smiled, she nodded her head. “That actually sounds really fun. Um, you know, if it’s… something you wanted, I’d totally be interested.” She could do good work as a superhero and as an animal control intern.

And she could annoy Kaden. That was a very important perk.

Of course Kaden didn’t know Night at the Museum. She hadn’t expected him to. It was a little funny that, of the two of them, Cass knew far more about human pop culture than the guy who was actually human. (Human plus, sure, but still human!) She rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head. “We have got to have another movie night soon, dude. Maybe at your farm. With your booooooyfriiiiiiend.” She dragged the word out in a singsong, still grinning as she said it. “And you can cook!” She’d have to… find a way to slip away at the end that wouldn’t make Kaden freak out, though. The last thing she needed was for him to follow her back to her cave and stumble upon Makaio. She was pretty sure both men would get the wrong idea, and it would end poorly for everyone involved.

But only if this didn’t end poorly first. Cass had no idea what the thing coming at them was. Was it a werewolf? It looked different than Alex had when she’d launched herself at Rhett, and different than the werewolf she’d led into the labyrinth of Wicked’s Rest’s cave system, too. Whatever it was, there was no way she was leaving it alone with Kaden. He was tough and he was strong and he was brave, but that didn’t mean he could take everything on by himself. That didn’t mean he should have to.

He probably wasn’t happy she stayed behind. Actually, no, scratch that — given the long string of what she could only assume was very French cursing, he definitely wasn’t happy she stayed behind. But Cass was a superhero, and superheroes didn’t run from trouble.

The maybe-a-werewolf charged at her, but Cass hadn’t planned any farther than ‘get its attention.’ She looked at Kaden over the top of the beast’s head, waiting for him to take aim with his gun. He did… but what it fired weren’t deadly bullets. Of course they weren’t. Because Kaden was good, and good men didn’t load their weapons with deadly projectiles long before they knew what they’d be aiming for.

For a moment, she was sure the beast was going to sink its teeth into her, but Kaden was there again. Kaden was always there — that was part of what she liked about him. She ducked without question when he asked, and his crossbow took aim. It was sure to be more effective than the tranqs from the gun, she thought. But if that didn’t work… “What is this thing? Is it — Is it a person? I can attack it with my magma, but I don’t want to hurt a person.”

—

She ducked and the arrow pierced the monster’s shoulder, sending it tumbling back with a roar of pain. Kaden would have to load another arrow in the meantime. Or consider melee. Both were risky. But at least he couldn’t be turned if the thing bit him. Cass, on the other hand… He wasn’t sure what a bite did to fae. All he knew was he didn’t want to fucking find out.

“Not a person,” he shouted back as he fumbled to reload the crossbow. “Quturb. Like a werewolf and a spawn combined. No humanity left, though.” He wanted to tell her to run, to just leave this all to him. She shouldn’t risk her life here, that wasn’t her job. It was his. This was his birthright, for whatever the fuck that was worth. It was his battle to fight and his job to protect people. That included Cass. It more than included Cass.

But it wasn’t like she was defenseless. She was covered in volcanic rock and split with veins of magma. She harbored the power of a volcano within her, something that no ranger could compete with on the best day. Even then, Kaden wanted to reach out and pull her behind him, throw himself between the monster that was stumbling to its feet and her.

Instead, he was going to have to trust her, trust that she knew her capabilities, that she wasn’t being reckless. “Do it,” he called out to her. He took a few steps back and finished loading his weapon, hoping to be ready to land any killing shot they needed if for whatever reason something went wrong. “Be careful!” he added. “Don’t let it bite you, don’t get too–” His words fell away as the beast sprung to life and launched itself at them once again.

—

Despite Kaden’s reassurance that the creature attacking them had no humanity left in it, Cass couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at its cries of pain. It was hard, still, not to think of Alex. It was hard not to remember that the only time she’d ever seen the werewolf in wolf form, it had been when she was saving Cass’s life. She wondered if Kaden thought of her, too, wondered if he struggled to see something inhuman instead of something that looked a little too much like someone he loved.

“What’s a spawn?” She could only understand half of the comparison. Most of Cass’s experiences with the supernatural were with either fae or the more sentient kinds of beasts and undead. She had friends who were zombies and vampires, had loved werewolves and sirens, but she tended to stay away from things like this unless she was saving someone. (She wondered if this qualified as saving someone. It would have hurt people if they hadn’t approached it, right? She didn’t like the idea of killing for killing’s sake.)

Closing her eyes for a moment, she nodded. Kaden was telling her that it was okay to hurt this thing, and if Kaden was saying it, Cass knew it had to be true. She trusted him as the authority on things like this. He wasn’t like Rhett, wasn’t like the hunter who had shot Alex or the ones that had targeted Metzli in the time she’d known them. Kaden was a good man, a trustworthy one. If he said it was okay to hurt this thing to stop it from hurting others, Cass knew it was the truth.

She twisted as the qutrub writhed in pain, gripping it tightly and letting the heat build beneath her rocky skin. The small eruption that occurred as magma seeped from between the cracks in the stone and onto the qutrub was quiet, but the creature’s cries weren’t. She couldn’t hold it for long before it was thrashing free of her grip and launching itself forward again.

Cass ducked behind Kaden instinctively, heart pounding. She wanted to make some quip that he’d groan at, wanted to say that she’d been bitten by werewolves before and wriggle her brows and pretend it didn’t hurt, but… she was afraid. As much as she hated to admit it, this thing scared her. And, without thinking, she trusted Kaden to take care of that.

—

With her help, Kaden had time to reload the crossbow and time to aim. He had the time to exhale, line up the shot, to focus, to lean into his training.

In the chaos of the action, he was able to make the space to slow down the seconds and milliseconds, to stretch them further and rely on a combination of muscle memory, decades of experience, and a touch of instinct.

The crossbow was raised. Trigger pulled. Arrow loosed. Head pierced. Blood splattered. Cries silenced. Body collapsed.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins didn’t allow Kaden to feel the wash of relief or sense of accomplishment from a hunt completed just yet. He stood his ground, hand reaching for a knife as his eyes remained laser focused on the twitching corpse on the forest floor. He had to be sure it was dead, that the danger had passed. He couldn’t relax until that moment.

He spun to face Cass, looking her over as if he could identify any injuries on her rocky skin. “Are you alright? Did it hurt you? Are you okay? Did it bite you?” The questions came one after the other in rapid fire — as if he asked every possible version, one of them would be the right one. His hands hovered over her shoulders, hesitating only because of the swirls of magma churning in the veins cracking her skin. Was it safe for him to touch? Would it burn? Hell, more importantly, was she okay with contact at all? Kaden didn’t know but it didn’t matter so long as she was alright.

From what he could tell, she was okay overall but he could hear her heart pounding like it was up against his eardrum. He wanted to provide comfort, but some part of him knew that she didn’t want to appear afraid, like she was still the brave hero. “You did great,” he assured her. And he meant it. She had come in clutch, gave him the time to line up the shot and make the killing blow.

—

It all happened so quickly. You wouldn’t think it would. Death was such a heavy thing, even when it was happening to some mindless creature; part of Cass felt like it should carry more weight than this, that it should take longer. But it happened so quickly, and she took another step away from the dead qutrub as if that meant anything.

Kaden turned to face her, and she tore her eyes away from the corpse with a small smile. He was worried; it made her feel a little warm, made it harder to feel bad for the dead qutrub. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but she didn’t feel like looking too deeply into it, so she only nodded. “I’m okay,” she assured him. “I’m not hurt, it didn’t bite me. Everything’s good.” Later, she thought, she’d recount this tale to Makaio in the cave, would see what he knew about creatures like this one. Maybe Cass could teach him something for a change; maybe that would make things feel a little less uneven.

Her smile only widened when Kaden told her she’d done great, preening a little under the praise. “You did the hard part,” she replied, feigning humility. She had done pretty well, hadn’t she? Kaden might have been eaten if not for her. She’d tell Makaio all about that, too. Having two people proud of her… It sounded exhilarating. “What, um… What now?”

—

Kaden’s lungs emptied when it was clear that she was alright. “Good, that’s good.” This is why he preferred hunting alone — it was too much stress having to worry about someone else’s well being on top of keeping himself alive. He probably got another gray hair or two after this encounter. Even then, he couldn’t help but match her smile. “Well not all of us can spew magma at things.” Alright, maybe it wasn’t the worst having someone else on a hunt to appreciate the hard work, especially when they were helpful.

The ranger took a step towards the corpse to get a better look at the state of it. No movement, no breathing, and he couldn’t sense it anymore. There was no doubt that it was dead. Still wasn’t something he wanted to risk leaving there with nothing but a crossbow bolt in its skull. “Now I set this corpse on fire and then we get you back home.” He turned to look at her, making sure that she was still okay. “Well, I guess it might be faster for you to burn the body. If, uh, if you’re okay with that.”

He couldn’t be sure how much she’d really experienced violence or death before, if she knew what burning flesh smelled like, if she was prepared to see muscle turn to ash. Part of him wanted to keep her from that. “On second thought, maybe I’ll come back and take care of it later.” There was no way she’d escaped all the horrors that this town served up on a silver platter, but she didn’t have to face this one. He could spare her this one. “I think, instead, we can swing by The Creamatorum on the way back. Wouldn’t want to waste time here just in case it closes before we get there. You know. If you want.”

—

Kaden smiled, and it was a rare sight. He was always a little grumpy, always a little sad. The smile made Cass feel like she’d accomplished something, like she’d won some great prize, and her own grin widened a little in response. Things had been rough for… most of her life, actually. But it felt like they were turning around now, like everything was coming up in her favor. She had friends like Kaden, she had a father who wanted to be a part of her life. What more could she possibly ask for? She bit back a laugh as Kaden commented that not everyone could do what she did, shaking her head. “Skill issue,” she replied flatly, then brightened it with a grin.

Kaden moved towards the corpse, and Cass followed curiously. It was still a little sad, seeing it there, but now that it was still it looked less and less like a werewolf. It was clear that this was a less sentient thing, even in death. She nudged it with her foot, tensing until it didn’t move. Glancing back to Kaden, she nodded. “I can burn it,” she agreed, a little hesitant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be responsible for that, even if she’d do it for Kaden.

But… then he was backtracking, and she couldn’t deny the rush of relief that came with it. It didn’t look as much like a werewolf as she’d first thought it might, but there was still something a little scary and a little sad about the idea of burning a corpse that had initially reminded her a little too much of someone she loved. The offered alternative of the Creamatorum put that excited grin back on her face, and she nodded quickly. “That actually sounds kind of perfect,” she said.

#chasseurdeloup #kaden: the not so lone ranger #wickedswriting

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