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wildwoodgoddess · 3 years ago

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Educating Miss Holmes: How a female Sherlock could have gotten an education in the 1870's

(This is an ongoing series about the historical case for how canon Sherlock Holmes and John Watson could have been women. It is leading up to the launch of my new web novel series on Patreon, Ladies of Baker Street—a sapphic/wlw, Victorian women adaptation of Sherlock Holmes.

As usual, I’m using the hashtag #A Study In Victorian Women for this series, if you want to follow along. If this interests you, please follow me as well as comment on/like/share this post. Thanks!)

(Image credit: Cambridge Girton College Stanley, by Mary Evans, 1913)

After the harrowing experiences Dr. Watson and her peers experienced while trying to gain their medical degrees, the educational path for a Miss Holmes would seem at first to be much simpler.

And it’s true, to a point. But our goal here is not just to make sure Holmes is educated, but that she lines up as closely as possible to canon Holmes. Can that be done?

First, we need to know what we are up against. What is canon Sherlock Holmes’ education?

We only get a few hints here and there. It’s not like Dr. Watson’s proclamation in the first sentence of A Study in Scarlet of when and where and what kind of degree he got.

What we do know from the stories is that Holmes is of a slightly higher social class than Watson and may have descended from landed gentry. So his early schooling would probably have been from private tutors at home, and he may have attended a college such as Eton to prepare him for university. (Reminder to my non-British readers that such colleges were equivalent to middle schools and high schools in America, or any education system for 11-18 year olds.)

Other people suggest that Holmes may have avoided going to any of the elite boys’ colleges. He claims that he was “never a very sociable fellow” and preferred hanging out in his room doing his own thing rather than spending time with other students. He also did not participate in a lot of the sports that were popular with other school boys. His only sports were boxing and fencing.

But we really don’t know. What we do know is that he spent about two years at university. We don’t know which university, but it’s reasonable to assume it was probably one of the elite schools for upper-class men, such as Cambridge or Oxford. He was friends with Victor Trevor, whose father owned a wealthy estate, and the references he makes to his courses would indicate he had not chosen any particular course of study and was simply picking from things that interested him.

Finally, though we don’t know for certain what years he attended university, most people who spend time thinking about these things believe it was around 1874-1876, based on the events in The Gloria Scott.

We don’t know why he left school after two years or if he sat exams for any degree. He never mentions it. But we do find him in a laboratory at St. Barts doing chemical experiments when Dr. Watson first meets him, and Stamford is clear that he is not a medical student.

With that vague a background, we have a ton of options for educating Miss Holmes. What follows is just the path I chose for my version of her.

If we assume that Holmes was born in 1854, then as the daughter of an upper-class family of that time, she would probably have been educated at home with governesses and private teachers until the age of 11.

Given who Holmes is as an adult, it’s almost certain that she would have been a precocious child who would easily have outstripped the knowledge of all but the most well-educated of governesses. To allow for her to become the Holmes of legend, we have to assume that her family was very progressive and supportive of educating women. This isn’t at all out of the realm of possibility, as there was a large movement among most social classes at the time to improve education for girls and women.

So it’s entirely possible that our Miss Holmes could have received private tutoring that allowed her to flourish intellectually and explore whatever areas most interested her through childhood.

She could easily then have gone to either a finishing school or a ladies college of some kind through age 18, similar to our scenario for Dr. Watson. These schools were often run by progressive feminists who would have let her prepare for a university entrance exam, but she may have still felt very pressured to also learn domestic arts and prepare to be a “godly wife and mother.” It would really have depended on the college.

Alternately, she could have continued studying privately. The rules about school attendance were much different than they are now, and as long as she could prove she had the required knowledge (either by gaining certain certificates or passing an entrance exam, she didn’t need to go to any particular school as a teenager.

She just needed to find a university that allowed female students.

In order to stay as close to canon, or the quasi-canon of Holmesian scholars, I really wanted my Miss Holmes to go to Cambridge or Oxford.

But this would be out of the question. Oxford did not admit women for degrees until 1920, and even then, they had a quota that only 25% of the student body could be women. This continued until 1957!

Cambridge was even worse. They didn’t allow women graduates until 1947!

But hold on…it’s not quite as impossible as it first appears.

Oxford formed a women’s college in 1878. Women could take classes and attend lectures. But they weren’t allowed to graduate. Such an arrangement, while immensely unfair, could easily explain why a Miss Holmes would have attended university for only two years without graduating. But the timing is a little off. We want Holmes in university around 1874—four years too early for Oxford.

So what about Cambridge? Ah! Well, that is a different matter entirely!

Even though women would not be granted Cambridge degrees until 1947, it was actually the first university in Britain to establish a residential college for women in 1869. Established by Emily Davies, the goal was to offer women an education equivalent to what Cambridge offered men and to prepare women to take the same Tripos examinations as men students.

Girton College started out in a large house in Hitchin, about 30 miles from Cambridge with only five students. It quickly outgrew this location and moved to Girton in 1873—closer to Cambridge to let lecturers teach there more easily, but far enough away that it would be difficult for male students to “fraternize” with the women.

Getting those lectures was still difficult, though. But in spite of the challenges, three women unofficially sat and passed the Tripos exams in 1872. In 1880, Charlotte Scott obtained permission to officially sit the Mathematical Tripos. She scored high enough to be the “eighth wrangler”—which means she did better than all but 7 of the male students.

However, because she was a woman, Cambridge refused to acknowledge her achievement. She was not allowed to attend the awards ceremony, but when the man who was announcing the awards said “eighth” all the students (presumably men) started shouting her name to honor her. Back at Girton, the women students and faculty literally crowned her with laurels and celebrated her with songs and an ode written by a staff member.

The following year, in 1881, Cambridge allowed Girton students to officially take any of the Tripos exams, but their scores were ranked separately from the men. God forbid the men should be subjected to the cruelty of being outdone by a woman.

It would have been totally possible for Miss Holmes to have attended Girton. But she may have been frustrated by limited lecture offerings and stifled by the rules meant to ensure that the ladies maintained decorum and didn’t cause any scandals.

These feelings of being hemmed in, of not having the intellectual freedom and access to knowledge that her mind needed could easily have made her decide after two years that a university education was not necessary.

With the right family connections (which her brother Mycroft would have had), Holmes could have continued her studies in Europe or chosen to gain a degree from the University of London after they opened their degrees to women in 1878.

But by then, she had been set on a different path. I think Holmes was too independent to care very much about a degree. It was the knowledge, the understanding, she craved, not the recognition. And knowledge was something she could gain from books and journals and her own experimentation.

Perhaps she or her family gained connections with the Royal Free Hospital that allowed her to use their labs for her experiments, making the way clear for a certain meeting of destiny on January 29, 1881.

If you would like to find out more about what Holmes’s university experience might have been like, her friendship with Victoria Trevor (it’s…ahem, just gals being pals, y’all), and what she may have done after she left Girton, you may enjoy The Glorious Scot, which is my adaptation of her very first case. It’s available to my newsletter subscribers.

Next time: What exactly was the “New Woman” and how would female Holmes and Watson fit in to that movement?

#a study in victorian women #femlock #female Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes #ACD canon #acd holmes #victorian women #victorian women education #victorian history #women's history

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

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The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 8

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 8 - This Venerable One Gets Punished

Mo Ran lay in bed like a dead fish for three days. Just as his wounds started to heal, he was summoned to Red Lotus Pavilion to do manual labour.

This was also part of his punishment. During the punishment period, Mo Ran couldn't go down the mountain, but he also couldn't just laze around. So he had to help out the sect and do some drudgery.

Generally speaking, these errands were things like: helping the cafeteria lady at Mengpo Hall wash the dishes, scrubbing the three hundred and sixty-five stone lions on the pillars of the Naihe Bridge, transcribing extremely boring archive files, and so on.

But what kind of place was Red Lotus Pavilion? It was the residence of that bastard Chu Wanning, known as the cursed place called Red Lotus Hell.

Few people in Life-Death Peak had been there, and everyone who had been there left with either their legs or their arms broken.

Therefore, in addition to Red Lotus Hell, Chu Wanning's bedroom had a more grounded nickname: Broken Leg Pavilion.

There was an inside joke circulating around the sect: "The Pavilion hides a beauty, and the beauty holds Tianwen. Enter the gate of broken legs, know the suffering of getting your legs broken. If you want your meridians broken, go to the Elder Yuheng."

There was once a female disciple who wasn't afraid of death. She was bold enough to lust after Elder Yuheng's beauty. Taking advantage of the dark night and high winds, she sneaked to the Southern Peak and climbed onto the eaves, intending to watch the Elder bathe and strip his clothes.

As you can imagine, the female warrior was beaten within an inch of death by Tianwen, crying for her father and calling her mother, and lay in bed for no less than a hundred days.

And Chu Wanning also declared that, if anyone else dared to commit another crime, he would carve out the eyes of the perpetrator himself.

Do you see? What complete nonsense! What puzzling behaviour! What a heinous man!

Within the sect, there used to be innocent silly girls who thought that, because they were women, Elder Yuheng would pity them and show compassion. They were always laughing and joking in front of him, trying to attract his attention. But ever since the elder whipped that one female hooligan, no one dared to hit on him anymore.

To Elder Yuheng, whether it was men or women, he didn't have the disposition of a gentleman. Other than a good-looking face, there was nothing redeeming about him - this was how Chu Wanning was viewed by the disciples of this sect.

The junior brother who had delivered the summons looked at Mo Ran with sympathy. He tried to stay quiet, but in the end, couldn't hold it back: "Brother Mo. . ."

"Hmm?"

". . . Elder Yuheng has such a bad temper. No one who went to the Red Lotus Water Pavilion came out able to stand. Maybe you could see if you could say your wounds haven't healed and beg Yuheng Elder to let you wash dishes instead?"

Mo Ran was very grateful for this junior brother's bodhisattva heart, but he didn't agree.

Beg Chu Wanning?

Forget it. He doesn't need to get beaten by Tianwen a second time.

So he strenuously put on his clothes, dragged his feet, and walked reluctantly to Life-Death Peak's southern peak.

Red Lotus Pavilion, Red Lotus Hell. There wasn't a single person in sight for a hundred li around Chu Wanning's residence.

No one wanted to go close to his residence. Chu Wanning's bad taste and uncertain personality made everyone in the sect stay far away from him.

Mo Ran was a bit nervous. He didn't know what Chu Wanning would make him do as punishment. His thoughts ran wild the whole trip to the southern peak. After passing through the dense bamboo groves, large swathes of beautiful red lotus came into view.

It was early morning, the sun rising from the east, reflecting a splendid shine on the horizon. The red lotus stalks in the pond stretched towards the flaming clouds in the sky, complementing each other; magnificent. At the edge of the pond, a curved zig-zag bridge led to the pavilion standing in serene silence. Behind it was a curtain of waterfalls streaming down the mountain, the fine crystal water droplets raining against the rocks at the bottom. The watery mist created by it evaporated into the air, light gleaming through the fog, creating a sense of enchanting tranquillity.

This is what Mo Ran thought about this:

Gross.

Wherever Chu Wanning lived, no matter how beautiful it was, would always be gross to him!

Just look at it, so arrogantly extravagant, a true waste of extravagance, in fact. The disciples’ dorms are all closely connected to each other and they don't take up much surface area. And then there's the mighty Elder Yuheng, who occupies a whole mountain by himself. He even dug three large ponds and filled them with lotus flowers. Although, these lotus flowers are special varieties and can be refined into immortal medicine, but—

This is getting off track, the place was not pleasing to the eye. He wished he could burn down Broken Leg Pavilion with his torch!

All he could ever do was silently criticize this place. Given that he was only sixteen* this year, he was no match for Chu Wanning. Mo Ran showed up outside Chu Wanning's residence regardless. He stood at the door, squinted his eyes, and put on a sickeningly sweet demure, pretending to be the ideal disciple.

*(T/N The original text flips between all these ages. Mo Ran is just guessing how old he is so that's why it keeps going to 14/15/16)

"Disciple Mo Ran here to greet his master."

"Yes, come in."

The room was chaotic and disorganized. The cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning was dressed in a white robe. The lapels were folded high and tightly, giving off an air of purity and abstinence. Today, he had his hair in a high ponytail, covered with a black metal hair ring. He sat on the ground fiddling with a bunch of mechanical parts, biting a pen he had in his mouth.

Casually glancing at Mo Ran, with the pen still in his mouth, he said vaguely: "Come here."

Mo Ran approached him.

It was no easy feat. Considering there were no benches or tables in this room, artwork and metal broken wood were scattered everywhere.

Mo Ran's brows twitched. He had never entered Chu Wanning's room in his previous life, and he had no idea that this well-dressed beautiful man lived in such a mess. . . He was at a loss for words.

"Master, what is this?"

"Night Wanderer."

"What?"

Chu Wanning was a little impatient, probably because it was inconvenient to speak with a pen in his mouth: "Night Wanderer."

Mo Ran silently glanced at the mess of parts on the ground.

His master was hailed as Shizun Chu, and it wasn't just out of vanity. Speaking honestly, Chu Wanning was a very powerful man. Whether it is his three god-grade weapons, his cultivation techniques, or his machine-building skills, he was clearly worthy of being defined by four words: "the peak of excellence". This was also the reason why he had such a bad temper and was so difficult to serve, but the major cultivation sects still tried to fight over him for those skill.

Regarding the "Night Wanderer", the reborn Mo Ran was well aware of it.

It was a kind of machine made by Chu Wanning, cheap to make but had strong combat power. It can guard the ordinary people in the lower cultivation world from ghosts and demons at night.

In his previous life, the well-made Night Wanderer had almost become a must-have machine for every household. The price of one was equivalent to a broom, and the effect was much easier to handle than the Grinning Door God.

After Chu Wanning died, those Night Wanderers still guarded the poor families who couldn't afford a high-level cultivator. This compassionate heart, coupled with Chu Wanning's affection for his disciples. . . hehe, it really makes Mo Ran despise him.

Mo Ran sat down and looked at the "Night Wanderer" which was just a bunch of parts at this time, and the past flashed through his mind. He couldn't help picking up one of the Night Wanderer's limbs and grasped it in his hand for a closer look.

Chu Wanning clipped a few components, finally freeing his hands. He took the pen out of his mouth and glared at Mo Ran: "That one was just finished with tung oil, don't touch it."

"Oh. . ." Mo Ran put down the machine. He put his fake smile back on still looking cute and completely harmless. He asked with a smile, "Shizun summoned me here, are you planning to let me help?"

Chu Wanning hummed: "Mm."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Clean up the house."

Mo Ran's smile froze. He looked around at the room that looked like it had been hit by an earthquake: ". . ."

Chu Wanning was a genius in immortal cultivation and an idiot in life.

After picking up the fifth broken teacup that had never been swept up, Mo Ran finally couldn't stand it: "Shizun, when was the last time you cleaned your house? My god, it's so messy!"

Chu Wanning was looking at his drawings, and didn't look up when Mo Ran spoke to him: "Almost a year."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

"Where do you usually sleep?"

"What?" There must be something wrong with the drawing. Chu Wanning was upset and looked even more impatient than usual. He rubbed his head and replied in a huff, "Of course it's the bed."

Mo Ran glanced at the bed. It was piled with all kinds of machines that had been mostly completed, as well as a bunch of tools such as saws, axes, files, and so on.

Seriously, how did this man sleep without cutting his own head off?

After working for most of the day, the sawdust on the floor had filled three dustpans, and the white towel that had wiped down the bookcase was ten times more black. By noon, he had only cleaned about half.

Fuck Chu Wanning, this person is really more poisonous than a leeching woman.

Cleaning a room didn't seem like much of a punishment, it didn't really seem like hard work, but who knew that it was such a ghastly place that hadn't been touched in a year? Not to mention that he was covered with wound. Even if he was healthy now, he could shorten his lifespan by half going through all of this!

"Shizun. . ."

"Hm?"

"Your pile of clothes. . ." They'd been stacked there for about three months.

Chu Wanning finally got one of Night Wanderer's arms attached. He rubbed his sore shoulder, looked up at the robes on the suitcase, and said coldly: "I wash them myself."

Mo Ran was relieved. Thank goodness. But he was still a little curious: "Really? Shizun can wash clothes?"

Chu Wanning glanced at him, and after a while, coldly said: "What's so hard about it? Throw them in water, soak them, take them out, and dry them."

". . ." After hearing this, he really didn't know any girl who would keep lusting after Chu Wanning. Mo Ran truly thought that it would break the hearts of dozen of women to find out how disgusting this man really was.

"It's getting late. You can accompany me to the dining hall and finish the rest when you get back."

There were people coming and going from Meng Po Hall, and the Life-Death Peak disciples were eating together. Chu Wanning grabbed a lacquered wooden tray, took a few dishes and sat in the corner silently.

From where he was, no one sat within twenty feet of him.

No one dared to sit too close to Elder Yuheng, for fear that he would get upset, and they would get a lashing from Tianwen. Chu Wanning himself actually knew about this, but he didn't mind. A cold beauty sat there, gently eating the food in the bowl.

But today wasn't like usual.

Mo Ran was brought by him, so naturally he had to follow him.

Others are afraid of him. So was Mo Ran, but he had already died once, so Chu Wanning was nothing in comparison.

Especially after the fear of first seeing him had subsided, the hatred of Chu Wanning from his previous life slowly emerged. So what if Chu Wanning was powerful? In his last life, he still died by his hands.

Mo Ran sat down in front of him, calmly chewing the sweet and sour pork ribs in the bowl. He crunched on the bones then spit them out into a pile.

Chu Wanning suddenly slammed down his chopsticks.

Mo Ran stopped for a moment.

". . . Can you stop eating with your mouth open?"

"I chew the bones, how am I supposed to do that with my mouth closed?"

"Then don't eat the bones."

"But I like to eat the bones."

"Eat around them."

The two quarreling voices grew louder and louder, and some disciples were already peeping at them.

Mo Ran fought the urge to throw the rice bowl over Chu Wanning's head. He pursed his lips, and after a while, he narrowed his eyes, and a sweet smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

"Shizun, don't shout so loudly. Others might hear, won't they laugh at us?"

Chu Wanning has always been thin-skinned, and his voice really softened. He whispered: "Get out."

Mo Ran burst out laughing.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

"Hey, Shizun, don't stare at me. Come on, let's eat. I'll try to be quiet."

Mo Ran had laughed enough and started playing nice again, the sound of his chewing much softer.

Chu Wanning gradually went back to gently eating. Seeing that Mo Ran was bring obedient, his face slightly relaxed, no longer looking so bitter and upset. He lowered his head, eating his green beans and tofu with grace.

After a long pause, Mo Ran started to do it again.

He didn't know what was wrong with him. In summary, seeing Chu Wanning in this life, he wanted to make a fool of himself and do whatever he could to make him angry.

So Chu Waning found that although Mo Ran did not chew loudly this time, he began to grab the ribs with his hands and eat them, sloppily eating with greasy hands and sauce-covered fingers.

Chu Wanning's blue forehead vein popped. Endure it.

He lowered his eyelashes. He didn't look at Mo Ran, and focused on his own meal.

Mo Ran didn't know if he had gotten too carefree or forgetful while eating, but he accidentally threw one of the gnawed bones into Chu Wanning's rice bowl.

Chu Wanning stared at the messy and hideous rib bone, and the surrounding air so condensed and frozen it was visible to the naked eye.

"Mo Ran. . . !!!"

"Shizun. . ." Mo Ran was quite frightened. He wasn't sure whether what he said sounded true or fake. "That. . . Uh, I didn't mean it."

Probably fake.

". . ."

"Don't be angry, I'll take it out for you."

He really stretched out his chopsticks, stuck them into Chu Wanning's bowl, and quickly picked out the bone.

Chu Wanning's face was pale, like he was about to vomit.

Mo Ran batted his eyelashes, and there was a pitiful grievance on his delicate face: "Shizun, do you dislike me?"

". . ."

"Shizun, I'm sorry."

It was just that.

Chu Wanning thought to himself: Why do you need to be restrained with the junior disciples?

He gave up the urge to summon Tianwen to hit Mo Ran. His appetite was gone, and he got up and said: "I'm full."

"What? Is that all you're going to eat? Shizun, you've barely touched your food."

Chu Wanning brushed him off: "I'm not hungry."

Mo Ran's heart felt like it was as joyful as a flower, and he still sweetly said: "Then I won't eat it anymore. We can go back to Red Lotus Hell - ehem, go back to Red Lotus Pavilion."

Chu Wanning narrowed his eyes: "We?" There was a mockery in his eyes, and then said, "Who is the other person you're talking about? Disciples and their Shizun have respectable relationships and you will address me in the proper manner."

Mo Ran carefully kept his expression, his eyes curled up with a smile, well-behaved, sensible and cute.

However, in his heart he was thinking: Respectful relationship? Proper manner?

Hehe, if Chu Wanning could know what happened in his previous life, he would know - in the end, Mo Weiyu was the only one deserving of respect in the world.

No matter how noble and arrogant Chu Waning was, he was still a piece of mud under his boot. Didn't he depend on Mo Ran's good will to survive?

Stepping quickly to keep up with his shizun's pace, Mo Ran still had a bright smile on his face.

If Shi Mei was the white moonlight in his heart, Chu Wanning was the broken fishbone stuck in his throat. He needed crush this thorn or swallow it, and it will corrode away in his stomach.

In short, during this new life, he could spare whoever he wanted.

But he would never spare Chu Wanning.

However, Chu Wanning didn't seem to want to spare him so easily.

Mo Ran stood in front of the library in Red Lotus Hell, looking at fifty rows of ten-story bookshelves, thinking that he must have heard wrong.

"Shizun, what did you say. . .?"

Chu Wanning replied lightly: "Dust all the books in here."

". . ."

"After dusting, catalogue them."

"..."

"I will check back tomorrow morning."

"!!!"

What!!! Was he supposed to stay overnight in Red Lotus Hell??

But he had planned to meet with Shi Mei, and even asked Shimei to change his medicine at night!!!

He opened his mouth to plead his case, but Chu Wanning didn't bother paying attention to him. With a wave of his wide sleeves, and turned to exit the library, and, incidentally, closed the door of the library in a haughty manner.

Mo Ran, who's date had been ruined, sat in his boiling hatred of Chu Wanning - he wanted to burn all Chu Wanning's books!!

No!

After thinking it over, he thought of something even worse. . .

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei #mo ran #chu wanning #2ha novel #2ha #2ha translation #ranwan

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nothisis-ridiculous · 3 years ago

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Take Me Home Now: Chapter Five

Chapter Five: All My Memories Gather 'Round Her

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

He ruffled her hair.

Again.

It was a mistake letting her hair grow back out, now clocking back in at impressive two inches Jane was growing used to the platinum blonde locks. Sure, there were some off-handed comments, but a stern attitude dissuaded most of the direct jokes. Well, for most, it did. Roy was always an exception when it came to her.

Annoying geezer.

But was it a sense of direction or trust that guided her to follow through his every command? It was true Jane had been wary at first- she had seen first hand what the power of being made a defacto leader could do to someone. Abuse, rape, and murder. Here, at least for the time being, Roy kept his head. Even begrudged the position. Not that he shared it pubically, only mentioning it in passing to her, but she understood the burden all the same. Jane had lived it: rejected it. It was a strange sense of comfort to follow, better that the man leading was becoming a dear...

She couldn't; she had to reject that notion.

"I know you're there."

The whir of the door a dead giveaway when it came to being followed. Jane's hypervigilance had only increased with her time spent outside active combat. Sure, she still found herself battling at least on a biweekly routine, but it was nothing compared to her time on the Normandy. That person spent more time in cover than under covers.

The mousy-haired girl stared up at her, brown eyes hard and unyielding. Hell, this kid was scary.

"Do you need something, Evelyn?"

The girl harrumphed, "what are you doing?"

Leave it to the lady carrying a dying plant around to be the most suspicious thing going on in the compound, "Spectre business."

Evelyn's, not Eva's, glare worsened. Her cheeks and nostrils flaring.

"What are you doing?" Jane replied in the same smarmy tone.

"My job," she returned matter-of-factly, "even if I don't like it, and even if Papa says you are sick."

"What, are you like, three? You don't have a job."

"Seven. And yes I do! Pater gave me one," the kid smirked, sticking out her tongue.

"And what's that? Being precocious?"

"Pre- what?" Evelyn stammered.

"Being a shit," the swear already escaped before it could be altered. Thus, reinstating the belief that children did not belong around her in any capacity.

Her furrowed brow gave way to a secretive smile, "Pater said someone needed to watch you. Seems stupid, but Papa said we all have to do things we don't want to right now."

Of course, Roy would.

"You're weird," the girl stated plainly, "your face is kinda glowy, and you spend a lot of time with those aliens."

Back on Earth, it wasn't hard to forget that First Contact was a meer thirty years ago. Not that it was blame for their attitudes, but most of the humans had a hard time trusting the aliens. It was only made worse when the squadron of Turians joined them, piling them on top of the loud and aggressive Krogan; most of the natives were uncomfortable. Already the Turians and Krogan had old beefs to settle, and the dash of human fear for the Turian species quickly started a lopsided triangle. At least the Krogan adage of 'seek the enemy of your enemy, and you will find a friend' came to the humans and krogan developing a tenuous alliance.

"Those aliens are nothing to be afraid of," Jane chided gently.

The kid neither gave up nor responded, instead following the woman through the hall and into the open atrium. The place had boomed in population, the mall teeming with signs of life that would have echoed its days before the war. Voices, distant music, and the general clatter of movement greeting them from outside the confines of the sealed hallways. Once Jane could walk through here without watching a step, now she dodged other people, weaving through the crowd with ease and speed intended to dislodge her charge.

Evelyn was spry, knocking into the lady as she unexpectedly stopped. She peeked around her, watching as the red Krogan started to cheer loudly. Another alien, smaller and with a grey carapace charged at his elder, the two rather than colliding ended the charge with a weird arm hold. For a moment, the two crests rested against each other, sharing a few soft and private words.

Even weirder was The Recruit, looking over the scene sadly, a hand held over her heart. Her jaw flexed, another sharp and illuminated line flaring vertically up her cheek—another note to add to the log.

"They look so mean," Evelyn complained, unsure why Jane would be watching this sadly. It was frightening, to her they were great brutes that usually ended up destroying something.

"They really aren't," Jane countered softly, a slight crack in her voice, "if one gives you an attitude, a head butt will set them straight."

She did like that this grown-up did not treat her like a child, unlike the rest.

Both of them tensed at the appearance of a green-shelled krogan; the arrival of the male ended the short embrace between the red and grey one. Then, as usual, the aliens returned to their fierce and violent natures, turning the greeting into a shoving contest.

"Don't fu-," the adult caught herself this time, "leave him alone. He's trouble."

Jane strode forwards, picking up her pace. It was no longer weaving through the crowd, as so much a straight charge across the atrium and to the access corridor that leads to the western parking lot- deciding they wanted to stay out of the way for practicality and ease. The Turians chose to take up the ramp as their headquarters. And this is where Jane headed for her errand.

Yeah, make me, make friendly with the Turians. Screw that they respect the chain of command more than a friendly face, all arguments Jane had tried in vain against the LT to get out of this assignment, watch me fuck this up over a plant. Jeez, why not let them grow their own garden? Fuck if I know what I am doing.

But he did have one counterargument that made complete sense and was entirely of her own fault. She was the known member of the humans in residence to have any formal diplomatic training. She was still kicking herself for that slip of knowledge.

"You should head back home," she murmured to her back, "boring adult stuff. You won't miss much."

The baggy military rags were not enough protection from the spring chill, but she would press on. Clipping up the three-story climb to reach the perched Turians. The 'outpost' could overlook the entire mall with well-placed postings, which the military-minded turians had already accomplished within hours of selecting this area as a base of operations. The forward guard used to seeing the Recruit hardly blinked, only balking in their subtle way at the package tucked into her arms.

"Recruit," the LT wasn't the only one called by their moniker, the pinkish hued Turian gave something equivalent to a grin eyes wandering down to the plant the human carried, "another issue?"

Jane pushed the plant on the turian, "pretty much. I don't know shit about these plants."

"I grew herbs in my kitchen, I'd guess too much sunlight?"

"Makes as much sense as anything else. We've learned they can't be next to potatoes, now they hate the sun," Jane glanced down at her arms, "and I forgot to wear gloves. That's disappointing- I had plans for those hands tonight."

Silva's mandible vibrated, "there are other ways to relieve tension."

So begun the dance. It always started clean, water running over her arms, a quick quip about the luxury of running water, and the application of ointment. The all too gentle rub of talons across the top of her knuckles, a lingering glance Jane couldn't quite bring herself to notice, and finally a cocky declaration of future victory.

The Commander enjoyed the relaxed regulations of the Turian military, not that Alliance would have ever forbidden forbidden a friendly sparring match it felt much better to let off some steam without fear of repercussion. One didn't have to play nice. Fringe pulling, blows below the belt, untamed aggression was all too welcome in the turian fighting cage. While today wasn't a dirty fight day, Jane was all too eager to move.

Silva made the first jab, and the Recruit absorbed it with a smile.

"The LT is going to have my head one of these days," the Turian went in for the next blow, this time the human dodged, "I'm even going soft on you."

"Come on, Shepard," Garrus mocked, weaving below her fist, "stop dancing around."

Roy didn't appreciate the fighting, even after learning they were all in good sport. The punishment of latrine duty was now part of her chores, for how much she heeded his grumbling. He blamed the bruises for too many things- headaches, sideways glances, the lack of respect she commanded for herself. Why did he care? She never asked, never expected it. But he never told her to stop, so she wouldn't.

"I can't always make it take easy on you, Vakarian," Mary retorted, sweeping out her leg to purchase at a braced turian.

The female turian's claws grasped into her arm, but she was ready, twirling around and planting her elbow into a painfully rigid chin sending the offender reeling back a couple of steps, "that's one advantage of an exoskeleton."

"Or are we afraid to bruise our pretty face in case the Major struts on by," Garrus teased, barely inching past the biotically charged fist going for his scarred mandible, "unless he doesn't know about our little fight club?"

"At least I can roll."

"I wouldn't worry, Shepard," if the Turian were human, his eyebrow would be cocked and a flashy grin across his face, "it's so much better when they are angry."

The turian cackled; today the hits were much easier to connect. Or was the human not trying? She could be like that, destructive. Silva kept the hits low and softened the severity in which she delivered them. Jane struggled to keep her hands where they belonged, one threading and rubbing through her hair each time they disconnected to reset their stances.

"Like I care what the M-" her friend's stern glare shut her down, "don't jealous Gar-Gar."

Jane tumbled to the ground, nose trickling the strange red color. It was time for this fight to be over, the human shook underneath her grasp. But the too expressive species wore a brave face, "Jane."

"Two hundred years later, and still nobody talks about fight club," Mary after close inspection, did notice that the Major strutted, "I'm disappointed I wasn't invited." The handsome human specimen winked at the Commander, his sideways grin all-knowing.

"It's fine, probably enough for the day."

The female moved out of her grasp, turning around to wipe at her face. Silva pretended not to notice Jane went for her eyes first.

"Well, that was quick," the turian was a little disappointed, "you're different for a human."

Jane deaned to turn her head back for that comment, cocking an eyebrow at her, "you must not have left Palaven, or whatever your colony was, much."

"No, ma'am," the turian hesitated, "at least, the rest of your group doesn't seem interested in us."

"How would you feel if this was Palaven?"

Her mandibles vibrated.

"Now add your species being attacked thirty years ago by this species you suddenly have to get along with," Jane smiled softly, she was too harsh, "plus we're a bunch of cranky jerks."

Silva laughed deeply, "and add a war that has crippled an entire galaxy, it is a wonder we aren't all fighting."

"It's the krogan," Jane mused.

"Spirits bless, the krogans being the most level-headed."

"After Tuchanka, they probably feel at home," damn her words, "it was the Salarians all along."

"I mean, that's some deep level conspiracy, but it checks out," her companion tried to keep up the fading mood.

"Just give us some time; we're people of action only that really means something," to which race the words were meant for was moot.

#shenko #fshenko #mass effect fancition #mass effect #female shepard x kaidan #fanfic #mass effect spoilers #take me home

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weltonreject · 4 years ago

Text

if someday the moon calls you

|| inspired by this post: years after leaving las vegas, theo’s only companion is the moon. he speaks to it as if it was Boris, his lost badr al-dine || ao3

It wasn’t a ritual, Theo told himself, so it wasn’t weird. It wasn’t obsessive or anything perverse like that. Theo just didn’t have anyone else to talk to on the long days that outlasted Theo’s patience, then left him in an anxious solitude while Hobie turned in early-- and Kitsey was out with her roommate. Instead of picking up the phone and attempting to reconcile the reality that there was no number for Theo to punch in, he just opened his bedroom window and sat along the ledge.

He lit a cigarette and kicked off his shoes, opening a beer for himself and then another for the other side of the window. For the other side of the conversation.

“Hey, Boris.” Theo said, cupping his lighter’s flame. “Work sucked today. Not as bad as last week but still fucking terrible-- I’ve got this fucking asshole after me over a goddamn armoire. Listen man, it’s not my fault you fucking spent your retirement on a place to put your moth-eaten suit jackets. That’s on you.”

Theo coughed on his first inhale, laughing for himself. For them both.

“I’m sure it’ll all blow over soon. It’s a hassle more than anything. It’s so hard to get anything done when he’s always calling me in the shop-- Oh! Speaking of the shop-- you’ll get a kick out of this, Boris.”

The moon was full that night. All the stars accounted for, present and listening.

“This Polish couple came in today looking at some chairs. Kind of sweet, right? Old and married for probably their entire lives.” Theo wasn’t sure when he found such a thing endearing. When he was talking to anyone else, the thought terrified him. “And they’re speaking to each other in Polish, of course. And fuck if I remember anything you taught me now. I missed all of their sentences and what they were actually looking for-- they never told me! It’s not entirely my fault as a shit salesman-- but I did catch what this lady called her husband. It was, uh, it was that cookie thing you kept telling me about when we were cross faded and 'stuck' in your blankets for six hours... Fuck, uh, chrusciki. Is that how you say it?”

Theo paused, trying to remember the woman’s voice. It only came back to him as a very energetic and hungry teenage boy.

Theo took a long swig of his beer, not fully exhaling his cigarette drag. His chest itched, but he kept swallowing and pretending it was simply heartburn.

“And, well, semi-related to that: I had lunch with Kitsey today.” Theo paused again, biting the inside of his cheek. “The engagement party is next week. Yeah... can’t believe it either. I don’t remember asking her-- still not sure I did.”

Theo laughed and wished someone else would too. It was a joke. The world could laugh-- it was funny. Only Theo could tangle himself up so badly even he forgot where the lie started.

“I miss you a lot lately."

That part had gotten both easier and more difficult to say as the months wore on. Easy because it was the only bit of truth left in Theo's life, but impossible to stomach on the days Theo knew admitting it meant nothing except squeezing an already bleeding wound.

"I mean, I miss you all the time but it’s weird, getting married that is. It isn’t until I see Kitsey getting all her girlfriends together for drinks and game nights and shopping days that I... I start to realize that I’m lonely. That what I feel every day is just... loneliness. That it’s disappointment. That I just... really miss you, Boris.”

The moon seemed perfectly aligned with the window pane. Theo shifted the other, full beer bottle to fit more evenly in the moonbeam over them.

“I hope you’re doing okay, Boris. Last time we talked, I guessed you were back in Europe-- Spain, I think I said, right? Well, I hope Barcelona was fun. That you didn’t do anything too stupid, had some really good food, and didn’t wind up in a prison where you don’t know the language.”

Theo smiled, imagining Boris-- in his fuzzy, undefined Adult Way Theo always conjured up-- wandering around during Golden Hour and waving to every person passing by. He always had a persimmon in his hand for some reason, chomping and chewing behind his smile. Theo had no idea how to correctly prepare a persimmon, but he always imagined that it was knowledge New Boris would have and use daily. Something he’d immediately share upon their reunion.

“I’m sure you had a great time, as always. Can’t wait to hear all about it. Next week you’re going to, uh,” Theo paused. “New Zealand, right? Yeah. Have fun going back Under! I’d ask you to keep a journal or something but. We both know your handwriting is illegible; you’d end up reading it to me anyway.”

Giving Boris a continuing life was comforting-- something to picture when he tried to sleep at night, Kitsey’s arm resting over his chest and trying to still his heart-- but part of Theo knew it was too polished. Theo wasn’t giving Boris the proper life, wasn’t accounting for everything he could be doing out... wherever he was. Theo never considered that talking to the moon was the equivalent of talking to a dead man.

And he never would.

“When you’re finished in New Zealand, if you want to be still for a little, um, I always have room here.” Theo inhaled sharply through his nose-- nearly sniffling. “Popper would love to see you... Me too. Maybe you could talk me out of this mess. Fuck, if Platt or Kitsey or even Ms. Barbour met you they might just call the whole thing off. Name you as my best man and watch them all start freaking out.”

Theo couldn’t laugh. He was too close to crying.

“The wedding’s going to be open bar. You should come. It’s next year, early spring. I already saved you, you know, saved you a seat at one of the tables. Tried to get you as close to the bar as possible-- without being too obvious of course. I know you like to have a little discretion and class. I plan on having neither of those things, let me tell you. God, Kitsey is going to hate me for it but: What can I do? I’m getting married.”

To a woman hung at the edge of Theo’s tongue, being pulled back in as he took another drag from his cigarette. He could hear Boris placating his cyclical panic in the rustling of the trees and quiet breeze: Is not big deal, Potter. Are two boys, yes but-- Potter, would you shut up! Is not bad thing. Keep to self and I keep to mine. All fine. No girlfriends, very normal-- yes?

Even in having a girlfriend, Theo still hadn’t found that particular normal. He only felt it loitering behind him.

“I wonder if you meant all that back then.” Theo put his half-empty beer in front of Boris’s, as if the bottles could stare at each other. “You never let me feel used, you know that? Sure, we were doing weird shit together, but it always had a rationale. It was fine because we didn’t have any girls around, we were happy drunk, I’d had a bad day and you knew how much I liked sleeping close to you-- it was always explainable... It was always okay. I mean, it wasn’t. We were fooling around which, obviously, is the wrong idea about us both but--”

The wind stopped and the night hushed for Theo. It leaned back and let the moon lean in to listen more closely. He looked up to meet its gaze.

“Why is it when I don’t need an excuse or explanation to be with someone that I feel the most used?” The answer was obvious in the silence-- the absence of the answer. “What am I supposed to do, Boris? I don’t think I ever planned this far.”

Everything was just a plan of waiting; waiting until Boris turned up in New York so the rest of Theo’s life could pick up where it had splintered. But the waiting turned into irreversible actions when Theo was at his most destructive.

“This is what I get, right? Running away to be a New Yorker again when I so obviously was a far better Vegas burnout. I mean, I learned from the best after all.”

God, Theo hoped Boris was as far away from that desert as possible. Had a house and a steady income and someone who listened to all his ranting and raving-- and sometimes even put up with it.

Although, sometimes, the thought of Boris being with anyone else made Theo sick. He at least knew his on-coming marriage was a sham. Boris didn’t know how to love people dishonestly; if Boris was with anyone, it was because he had opened his heart and life to them. Just the way he had to Theo-- before he turned around and shut Boris out.

Theo picked up his beer again, nearly finishing the rest of it in one gulp. If Theo had planned better-- at least in this area of his life-- it would’ve been something stronger. He wouldn’t have been speaking in complete sentences anymore. His slurred incoherence would’ve lent itself to a near-livable dream where Theo was no longer talking to himself; he could’ve been staring at the moon and pretending it wasn’t just another light over a bustling city, but instead the same one that hovered over the blankets of sands that tried to soak Theo up when he was too young to know that heat wasn’t always warmth.

“I think I’m going to turn in soon, Boris, I... I think I need to lay down.” The window was going to remain open, beer still on the ledge. “As always I really... really wish you were here.”

Theo placed his feet back on the floor.

“Please be alive. And please come back to me. Soon as you can, okay?”

The muted brightness of the moon remained unwavering, and low, distant rumbling held off on any clouds. The sky was clear, the stillness breathing through the silent pause.

“Okay. Good night, Boris.” Theo stubbed his cigarette out at the feet of the full beer bottle. The condensation surrounding it caused the cigarette butt to hiss as it extinguished. “Stay safe.”

Well, and of course:

“I love you.”

#the goldfinch fic #boreo #boreo fic #my fics #oh this one was fun to write #short but really fun to just play around with the idea #i really like some of these lines i'm really happy with it #i hope y'all like it ty ily #OH WAIT WHAT IF THIS WAS A DIARY SERIES??????? hold on #like theo never writes the journal or the novel just.... talks to the moon every day #flash inspo series

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lpenvs3000f21 · 3 years ago

Text

Nature Interpretation Through History...

“There is no peculiar merit in ancient things, but there is merit in integrity, and integrity entails the keeping together of the parts of any whole, and if these parts are scattered throughout time, then the maintenance of integrity entails a knowledge, a memory, of ancient things. …. To think, feel or act as though the past is done with, is equivalent to believing that a railway station through which our train has just passed, only existed for as long as our train was in it” (Edward Hyams, Chapter 7, The Gifts of Interpretation).

This is quite a quote to unpack! In simpler terms, I believe the author is saying that there is no more meaning in an older item than a modern day item, however, there is a distant memory in that older item. This quote is especially applicable to today’s way of life since we are so much more technologically advanced than a century ago, and we live life in a completely different way than our ancestors. The best way I can symbolize this quote is through old architecture which are kept as historical sites today. Why do we keep these buildings? Many of the artistic elements were accomplished by hand, all the engraved artwork we see on buildings such as Basilica of Our Lady Immaculate church in Guelph took hard work, precision and time. By going to such sites and reading the signage, one can imagine what was occurring at the time it was built, and can appreciate the dedication and vision of the artist. As Alan Leftridge said, writing is “intended to make intellectual and emotional connections between the reader and the resource, and it is goal-directed, with the intent of eliciting a pro-social response from readers” (Beck et. al, 2018). I now realize the accuracy in this statement, especially in this moment after summarizing my interpretation of the quote above. We will all have different interpretations of that quote, and different imagery will come to our minds due to our different past experiences!

The second part of this quote introduces a metaphor which I have thought of many times in my life because it feels so true. That when pieces of history are abolished, they are forgotten, and this sums up our own lives and fate. I often think if I were to die tomorrow, who will remember me? What could I possibly be remembered for? I really started thinking about this when I began working at my local cemetery, and had the realization that many of the people laying there to rest died before I was even born, therefore we never could have crossed paths. Sometimes, I would search up their names if they stuck out to me, or if they had an interesting image engraved on their stone and discovered that some of them were well known in the area, especially for their services! But, that stone is one of the only reminders that this was in fact a living being. My perspective was solidified after reading this week’s chapters when I came across this quote by David McCullough: “we need the past of our sense of who we are. We need the past for a sense of our civic responsibility, how all these benefits and freedoms came to us, and what it is our duty to protect” (Beck et. al, 2018). People who succeed in life, and who work for the good of their community despite not having a personal gain are remembered after they are gone. It is a thought that pushes me to keep moving forward, and to keep aiming for success and to be a helping hand in my community because if I don’t, I will just be another name on a gravestone.

It is important to propel forward in life, but to keep history with us. The textbook emphasizes tragedies such as the Holocaust and Residential Schools. These are terrible events which even though have not occurred in most of our lives, must be learned about to avoid being repeated. If we lose evidence of such events including sites, artifacts, and stories by those impacted, we risk forgetting the devastating impacts, thus are more likely to repeat these actions in the future.

Beck, L., Cable, T.T., & Knudson. D.M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage for a better world. Sagamore-Venture.

#nature interpretation #history

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thebeautyofdisorder · 4 years ago

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Dracula/Zoe- 68!

68. You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.

Ooh, excellent choice for Drac. Loads of pun opportunities. Ha, okay. I tried to keep this short as possible, but my intentions were thwarted by them wanting to be snarky bitches to each other for too long, alas. Bonus for you, extra time and effort for me. Enjoy ;) Backstory equivalent to my fic, if that’s easiest

Words Count: 1145

Rating: I’m going to say right on the EDGE of an M rating

Prompt list can be found HERE

Turning the knob to end the steady stream of hot water pouring into her bathtub, Zoe was prepared to shed her dressing gown up until she heard a suspicious rustling, followed by the sound of footsteps from elsewhere in her flat. It was times like this she really wished she had a cat to blame these things on - confronting a burglar was not high on the list of things she felt like doing tonight. Though frankly, if all they were doing was shuffling through her pantry, she was tempted to let them.

Heaving a sigh, she tightened the knot around her waist and moved quietly down the hallway, only to quickly see the tall and distinctive form of a 500 year old war lord standing in the middle of her kitchen with a look of baffled confusion on his face.

“You know, just because you can enter a home without invitation doesn’t mean you should,” the doctor scoffed wryly, her stance losing some of its tension.

“What in screaming hell are ‘potato flakes’ and why do you own them?”

“Because I’m a shite cook,” she defended flatly, and approached him just to grab the box he was studying with growing concern out of his hand, and toss it back onto the counter. It was only then did Dracula give her a true once over, dark eyes lingering over the thin material of her robe, causing her to cross her arms over her chest.

“Now what are you doing here? It’s late, I was about to have a bath.”

“Lucky me,” he self-congratulated, and was quickly met with a glare. Finally he rose his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I was bored.”

“Aren’t there other people you can harass, I just finally got home.”

“The city has been remarkably dead, and not in the fun way, so no not really.”

Suddenly the Count stepped closer, and Zoe forced herself to stand steady and look up at him as opposed to scurrying back, as she was almost certain he wanted her to. If he was looking for someone to frighten, he had really come to the wrong place. There was a foreign intensity in his gaze, though, that wasn’t of the bloodthirsty sort she was used to, and it made her fight not to squirm in the face of it.

“You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in,” he remarked with a growing smirk.

Her eyes rolled. “We both know you’re not going to try to feed from me, it never exactly works out in your favor. If you’re hungry-”

“I’m not,” he corrected quickly, before she could even finish.

Her mouth shut as quickly as it had opened, subtle realization dawning on her features, followed by a stifled laugh.

“Is that really your line right now?”

He lifted an innocent brow. “Is that a refusal?”

“I...wasn’t aware the 15th century was so ‘nontraditional’,” she couldn’t help but comment, curiously.

“Oh it wasn’t.”

It was her turn to lift a brow. “So this is an experiment. I see. Well, in that case, don’t let me keep you from finding another willing participant.”

He glanced upright at the ceiling, as though in consideration tracing his lips with his fingers in a rudely distracting gesture of thoughtfulness.

“Hm. No, see I’m not sure anyone else would be as forthright as you are.”

“Hm, no I see your problem. I would take great joy in telling you that you’re terrible at anything,” she agreed, mostly just for the sake of mockery.

“Knowledge of the scientific method would of course be ideal,” he added, advancing on her further, and she finally felt the need to take half a step back, only to feel the kitchen counter pressing into her backside.

“Seems a bit much, I think,” she corrected flatly, though hadn’t exactly made a move to leave either. Whether it was morbid curiosity or a three year dry spell holding her in place, she couldn’t be sure. Bizarre amusement?

“Perhaps, but ‘a bit much’ is sort of my area.”

“I deeply regret introducing you to the internet,” she sighed, finally breaking eye contact with him just to roll her eyes skyward.

“You still haven’t said no,” Dracula observed keenly, gently cupping her chin and urging her gaze back to him, breaching physical contact with surprising subtlety.

“Must be the razor sharp fangs and the sedative saliva,” she made a point of sarcastically emphasizing, doing her best to ignore his fingers as they trailed down her throat slowly.

“Oh that only happens when I want it to, Zoe.” He paused as she rose her brows in disbelief. “Okay, and when there’s an excess of human blood. Irrelevant. You’re practically undead, you’ll survive. I can’t say the same for anyone else-”

“Fucking hell, at least it’d stop you from talking,” she snapped, though before she could move to regret her consent, the Count’s mouth had already crashed against hers, and she found herself sitting atop the counter that had previously been at her back, so quickly she almost felt dizzy.

Her nails dug into his shoulders for support on her new perch, though they worked beneath the strain with utter indifference, shifting under her grip as his hands ran up her thighs under the quickly separating fabric of her dressing gown, urging them apart so he could stand between them, pulling her forward against his still be-suited form. His tongue was, much to her annoyance, already doing some rather impressive things as it invaded her mouth and curled against her own. She pulled back, though, just as one of his hands cupped her centre, with a bite of his lip. The soft growl that erupted from him in response was almost hilarious.

“Foreplay is cheating, if you’re running a proper assessment,” she corrected with a breathy attempt at sounding stern, a tone borne of academia and apparently hitting its mark regardless of her debauched appearance.

He looked for a moment like he would protest, but it faded into a strange sort of obedience just as quickly, his only move of defiance coming as he stroked his hand down the length of her exposed sternum and sliced the tie of her dressing gown with his thumb nail, splitting it in two and getting it out of his way entirely.

“As you were, Dr. Helsing,” he agreed roughly, and she watched him sink onto his knees before her in what was probably the most fascinating sight she’d ever beheld.

“I’m banking on this being a disappointment,” she challenged stubbornly, even as she felt him approach with baited breath, unable to resist a last jab even as she felt his lips brush against her mound with mocking lightness.

“Place your bets wisely,” were the finally words she had to hear from him for quite a long while.

--------

Tag List: @hoefordarkness @allis143 @festering-queen @lets-talk-about-claes-baby @river-soul @dracula-s-bride @vanhelssing @punk-courtesan @gabesprincess @skeletalremainswithinme @chelsfic @alma37 @break-free-killer-queen @mephdcosplay @camille-stark @leah-halliwell92 @bang-and-a-blintz @chrsitophwaltz @carydorse @lady-of-the-wolves @charlesdances @crazytxgradstudent @imagineandimagine @my-fanfic-library @angielandon @onyxthevampire @serindiyoza @kandomeresbitch @bellamortislife @fuukonomiko @hyacinth-meadow @guardianbelle @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @claesbangme @draculaclaes @girlonfireice @pullthedamnlever @lamourcommecesttoujour @hopipollahorror @jangleprojet @hiphop-gir @ss9slb @littlemessyjessi @flyingleapdisco @le-fay-87 @crowley-needs-a-hug @bloodspatteredprincess @malkaviangirl @mitsukatsu @katwoman06 @tanja2306 @myst-l-vie @gatissed @mood-adlock @gettingcrazyforlife @drsherlockmoffat @alhoyin @xis23 @dreamer2381 @profiler-in-courage @garlicbreakfast @the-sign-of-tea @rheabalaur @ombradellaluna @feralstare

I’m sure there’s more of you, but spread it around, my dears, if you like. Requests still open, time constraints apply, for various fandoms. Ta.

#bbc dracula #dracula bbc #dracula 2020 #netflix dracula #claes bang #zoe van helsing #dracula/zoe #dolly wells #the undone & the divine #my writing #requests #asks #answers #my drabbles #tongues are discussed #bratty drac #river-soul

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mattginnow · 4 years ago

Text

JFK

Matt Ginnow Matthew Ginnow

President Pitzer, Mr. Vice President, Governor, Congressman Thomas, Senator Wiley, and Congressman Miller, Mr. Webb, Mr. Bell, scientists, distinguished guests, and ladies and gentlemen:

I appreciate your president having made me an honorary visiting professor, and I will assure you that my first lecture will be very brief.

I am delighted to be here, and I’m particularly delighted to be here on this occasion.

We meet at a college noted for knowledge, in a city noted for progress, in a State noted for strength, and we stand in need of all three, for we meet in an hour of change and challenge, in a decade of hope and fear, in an age of both knowledge and ignorance. The greater our knowledge increases, the greater our ignorance unfolds.

Despite the striking fact that most of the scientists that the world has ever known are alive and working today, despite the fact that this Nation¹s own scientific manpower is doubling every 12 years in a rate of growth more than three times that of our population as a whole, despite that, the vast stretches of the unknown and the unanswered and the unfinished still far outstrip our collective comprehension.

No man can fully grasp how far and how fast we have come, but condense, if you will, the 50,000 years of man¹s recorded history in a time span of but a half-century. Stated in these terms, we know very little about the first 40 years, except at the end of them advanced man had learned to use the skins of animals to cover them. Then about 10 years ago, under this standard, man emerged from his caves to construct other kinds of shelter. Only five years ago man learned to write and use a cart with wheels. Christianity began less than two years ago. The printing press came this year, and then less than two months ago, during this whole 50-year span of human history, the steam engine provided a new source of power.

Newton explored the meaning of gravity. Last month electric lights and telephones and automobiles and airplanes became available. Only last week did we develop penicillin and television and nuclear power, and now if America’s new spacecraft succeeds in reaching Venus, we will have literally reached the stars before midnight tonight.

This is a breathtaking pace, and such a pace cannot help but create new ills as it dispels old, new ignorance, new problems, new dangers. Surely the opening vistas of space promise high costs and hardships, as well as high reward.

So it is not surprising that some would have us stay where we are a little longer to rest, to wait. But this city of Houston, this State of Texas, this country of the United States was not built by those who waited and rested and wished to look behind them. This country was conquered by those who moved forward–and so will space.

William Bradford, speaking in 1630 of the founding of the Plymouth Bay Colony, said that all great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage.

If this capsule history of our progress teaches us anything, it is that man, in his quest for knowledge and progress, is determined and cannot be deterred. The exploration of space will go ahead, whether we join in it or not, and it is one of the great adventures of all time, and no nation which expects to be the leader of other nations can expect to stay behind in the race for space.

Those who came before us made certain that this country rode the first waves of the industrial revolutions, the first waves of modern invention, and the first wave of nuclear power, and this generation does not intend to founder in the backwash of the coming age of space. We mean to be a part of it–we mean to lead it. For the eyes of the world now look into space, to the moon and to the planets beyond, and we have vowed that we shall not see it governed by a hostile flag of conquest, but by a banner of freedom and peace. We have vowed that we shall not see space filled with weapons of mass destruction, but with instruments of knowledge and understanding.

Yet the vows of this Nation can only be fulfilled if we in this Nation are first, and, therefore, we intend to be first. In short, our leadership in science and in industry, our hopes for peace and security, our obligations to ourselves as well as others, all require us to make this effort, to solve these mysteries, to solve them for the good of all men, and to become the world’s leading space-faring nation.

We set sail on this new sea because there is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people. For space science, like nuclear science and all technology, has no conscience of its own. Whether it will become a force for good or ill depends on man, and only if the United States occupies a position of pre-eminence can we help decide whether this new ocean will be a sea of peace or a new terrifying theater of war. I do not say the we should or will go unprotected against the hostile misuse of space any more than we go unprotected against the hostile use of land or sea, but I do say that space can be explored and mastered without feeding the fires of war, without repeating the mistakes that man has made in extending his writ around this globe of ours.

There is no strife, no prejudice, no national conflict in outer space as yet. Its hazards are hostile to us all. Its conquest deserves the best of all mankind, and its opportunity for peaceful cooperation many never come again. But why, some say, the moon? Why choose this as our goal? And they may well ask why climb the highest mountain? Why, 35 years ago, fly the Atlantic? Why does Rice play Texas?

We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.

It is for these reasons that I regard the decision last year to shift our efforts in space from low to high gear as among the most important decisions that will be made during my incumbency in the office of the Presidency.

In the last 24 hours we have seen facilities now being created for the greatest and most complex exploration in man’s history. We have felt the ground shake and the air shattered by the testing of a Saturn C-1 booster rocket, many times as powerful as the Atlas which launched John Glenn, generating power equivalent to 10,000 automobiles with their accelerators on the floor. We have seen the site where the F-1 rocket engines, each one as powerful as all eight engines of the Saturn combined, will be clustered together to make the advanced Saturn missile, assembled in a new building to be built at Cape Canaveral as tall as a 48 story structure, as wide as a city block, and as long as two lengths of this field.

Within these last 19 months at least 45 satellites have circled the earth. Some 40 of them were “made in the United States of America” and they were far more sophisticated and supplied far more knowledge to the people of the world than those of the Soviet Union.

The Mariner spacecraft now on its way to Venus is the most intricate instrument in the history of space science. The accuracy of that shot is comparable to firing a missile from Cape Canaveral and dropping it in this stadium between the the 40-yard lines.

Transit satellites are helping our ships at sea to steer a safer course. Tiros satellites have given us unprecedented warnings of hurricanes and storms, and will do the same for forest fires and icebergs.

We have had our failures, but so have others, even if they do not admit them. And they may be less public.

To be sure, we are behind, and will be behind for some time in manned flight. But we do not intend to stay behind, and in this decade, we shall make up and move ahead.

The growth of our science and education will be enriched by new knowledge of our universe and environment, by new techniques of learning and mapping and observation, by new tools and computers for industry, medicine, the home as well as the school. Technical institutions, such as Rice, will reap the harvest of these gains.

And finally, the space effort itself, while still in its infancy, has already created a great number of new companies, and tens of thousands of new jobs. Space and related industries are generating new demands in investment and skilled personnel, and this city and this State, and this region, will share greatly in this growth. What was once the furthest outpost on the old frontier of the West will be the furthest outpost on the new frontier of science and space. Houston, your City of Houston, with its Manned Spacecraft Center, will become the heart of a large scientific and engineering community. During the next 5 years the National Aeronautics and Space Administration expects to double the number of scientists and engineers in this area, to increase its outlays for salaries and expenses to $60 million a year; to invest some $200 million in plant and laboratory facilities; and to direct or contract for new space efforts over $1 billion from this Center in this City.

To be sure, all this costs us all a good deal of money. This year¹s space budget is three times what it was in January 1961, and it is greater than the space budget of the previous eight years combined. That budget now stands at $5,400 million a year–a staggering sum, though somewhat less than we pay for cigarettes and cigars every year. Space expenditures will soon rise some more, from 40 cents per person per week to more than 50 cents a week for every man, woman and child in the United Stated, for we have given this program a high national priority–even though I realize that this is in some measure an act of faith and vision, for we do not now know what benefits await us.

But if I were to say, my fellow citizens, that we shall send to the moon, 240,000 miles away from the control station in Houston, a giant rocket more than 300 feet tall, the length of this football field, made of new metal alloys, some of which have not yet been invented, capable of standing heat and stresses several times more than have ever been experienced, fitted together with a precision better than the finest watch, carrying all the equipment needed for propulsion, guidance, control, communications, food and survival, on an untried mission, to an unknown celestial body, and then return it safely to earth, re-entering the atmosphere at speeds of over 25,000 miles per hour, causing heat about half that of the temperature of the sun–almost as hot as it is here today–and do all this, and do it right, and do it first before this decade is out–then we must be bold.

I’m the one who is doing all the work, so we just want you to stay cool for a minute. [laughter]

However, I think we’re going to do it, and I think that we must pay what needs to be paid. I don’t think we ought to waste any money, but I think we ought to do the job. And this will be done in the decade of the sixties. It may be done while some of you are still here at school at this college and university. It will be done during the term of office of some of the people who sit here on this platform. But it will be done. And it will be done before the end of this decade.

I am delighted that this university is playing a part in putting a man on the moon as part of a great national effort of the United States of America.

Many years ago the great British explorer George Mallory, who was to die on Mount Everest, was asked why did he want to climb it. He said, “Because it is there.”

Well, space is there, and we’re going to climb it, and the moon and the planets are there, and new hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And, therefore, as we set sail we ask God’s blessing on the most hazardous and dangerous and greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked.

Thank you.

Matt Ginnow, Matthew Ginnow

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mrneighbourlove · 5 years ago

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Into the Darkness and Unknown: Ch 6. Poking the Bear

The previous skirmish had Echidan doctor’s scrambling about. Luckily, most of the warriors escaped with minor wounds. The other extreme were so who weren’t so lucky as to keep their lives. At the infirmary, Leere was sweating buckets. Her leg twisted with pain from the injuries of the battle against Dio and her demons. Her femur was broken, and she trying to keep her breathing steady.

A Kokyangwuti approached Leere, all eight of the legs tapping against the stone floor. Very gently, she touched the sides of Leere's head. A voice followed through her mind.

"Mother said this spell should help me communicate to you since our tongue is unknown to you." She introduced herself. "I am Nomusa, the younger sister of Negasi and Morowa. You know them as Blue and White." Going around to the side of the bed, magic crackled in her hands. "I will heal your wounds now. This will not hurt. However, you might feel a slight pressure. Are you ready?"

“I’m glad to hear it’s someone I’m somewhat familiar with. Whenever you’re ready good doctor.”

Nomusa repaired Leere's side wounds and her broken leg with ease. The process took several minutes of flesh mending itself together and bone reforming to its usual shape. There was, of course, pressure upon the areas. It felt like someone was putting too much weight on the princess' body. Though, once Nomusa was done, there was not even a scar left from the horrific injuries. It was oddly similar to Bonegrinder's healing magic, or Leere’s own blood magic, though not as dark as the latter.

"Is there pain anywhere else?"

“No. You heal with the care of a blood practitioner. Thank you.” Leere didn’t think a headache counted as pain.

"You do need to eat, hydrate, and rest. I would recommend that you do no strenuous activity for the next few days." Nomusa gently helped Leere into a sitting position. "Do you think you can walk?"

“I can try?” Leere took a few deep breaths, psyching herself up to stand. “This mean no running, fighting or sex for a while?”

"No running, no fighting, no sexual activities, you know how it goes." Nomusa offered a hand to Leere to help her stand. "And make sure you eat meat high in iron for the couple of days to replace what you lost in blood."

“I’d love that.” Leere steadied herself with Nosuma, walking her way across the room. “You know, I actually know your older sisters.”

"Yes, Mother told me you are acquainted very intimately with them." Nomusa grinned. "They have a weakness for females with very large... milk glands."

Leere felt so incredibly small and flustered at the drop of that comment. “My milk glands? ... wow, no ones called me out in that term...”

"Aww, look at that, my sisters were right! You do blush so red with your fair skin." Nomusa giggled in amusement. "In all the times they talked to me, they mentioned how much they adored you. Their 'tiny human princess with the big milk glands'. They brag about how loud they made you moan. Oh! And that you had the best jiggle of an ass anyone had ever seen."

A switch flipped in Leere that took her beyond simple embarrassment. “That’s- I don’t- young lady that is not appropriate of your sisters to boldly talk about me that way.” Leere was mortified that they’d share such intimate knowledge of her.

"...? Why?" Nomusa blinked all eight of her eyes. "We Echidans always speak of intimate issues. It is a beautiful thing! It is how life is formed, how we express our love and lust for one another. It is nothing to be ashamed of! To be the highlight of your partner's sex life is always wonderful!"

Leere’s emotions flared up, her minds racing and disgusted that her trust in the sisters would be abused in her eyes. “You don’t brag about that kind of thing! Not without their consent. Holy gods. They make me sound like a conquest instead of a lover.”

"Conquest? Never! They absolutely adore you." Nomusa said with affirmation. "They always speak highly of you as well. Is this not a thing that Hylians do?"

“Only when they want to be assholes who want to colour someone as a slut. Sex is a modest, personal, and wonderful thing regardless if it comes from lust or love. You should keep what you do between the partners. If you want to know if I moan or have a spankable ass, you can have sex with me yourself to find out. Shame on Blue and White. God damn them! How could they do that to me?”

"Oh... I'm... I apologize, I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it." Nomusa actually looked a bit frantic, thinking she had ruined her sisters' relationship with the pretty human. "Please don't think badly of them, it is normal for them to brag about their lover. The prettier, the louder, the better they are to please their lover." She then paused and said. "If you weren't recovering, I'd take you up on that offer. But you must rest first."

Leere was incredibly miffed, with her sarcasm pouring out bitterly. “Oh, so I’m just pretty and loud to them. Great to know.”

She hobbled down to some earth in the ground, putting her hand to the dirt. She tried to sense where her Dead Hand was. Feeling it out, she felt a very weak presence. Must have been critically injured by the demons. Perhaps even other Echidans.

"No, no, that's not what I meant at all... goodness, I'm not the best with human affairs. Maybe I ought to let Bonegrinder explain it." Nomusa ran her hands down her face. "My sisters adore you because you're not afraid of them, and that you treat them... normally. Most humans scream and run when they see us."

“So, I respect them but they can’t respect me? Why wouldn’t I treat them normally? They couldn’t think the same of me?” Leere focused more on all the dead bodies still on the battlefield in the distance. There souls had since moved on. Shame. Terrible shame she couldn’t help these victims. “Where’s Mother, Nomusa?”

"Of course they respect you, they just... goodness, cultural norms for humans and Echidans are so different. Please don't be angry at them, I'll be sure to tell them to stop speaking of their nocturnal activities pertaining to you." Nomusa apologized to the human. "Mother is watching over Modoc. The one you know as Bonegrinder. She's in her nest."

“I’ll let her attend to him.” Looking up to Nomusa, she raised her brow. Leere shouldn’t direct her anger at the young Kokyangwuti. While it still festered, the necromancer thought of a subject change to bury that anger for now. “How old are you Nomusa?”

"How old I am? I'm 271 years. So... I guess in human years, that would be around... well... an old person," Nomusa sheepishly admitted. "But here, I guess it's the human equivalent to a teenager."

“Is that so? Why didn’t you travel with your older sisters?”

"Our father, Kiume, is getting older in years. I worry for him, and I have found a mate here. Potential mate, really." Nomusa explained to Leere. "I really had no desire to leave home. I'm happy here."

“Potential? You have a crush?”

"Let's just say that my father wants him to prove himself a little." Nomusa shrugged lightly. "I am the youngest, so he's pretty protective of me."

“You have a lover before?”

"Lovers? Yes. One I was interested in being mated to? Not really." Nomusa sighed, almost dreamily. "Until Gebhuza... he has the biggest muscles and is so fast, and spins such lovely webs. He even brings me fresh kills so I can feast on the blood. His dick is awfully nice---oops, sorry, I forgot human didn't like to talk about that."

Last thing Leere wanted to think about was monster dick at the moment. “Right… If you love him though, why offer your bedside to me?”

"Echidnans are not monogamous unless specified." Nomusa told Leere. "Gebhuza has had many lovers before too. If he desires me as a mate, then yes, I will only breed with him. Though sometimes, we cannot resist a good foursome. It's more fun for all the parties involved. My sisters used to share lovers all the time."

“I know a thing about that.” Echidnans were so wild. The cute arachnid wasn’t too tall, so to appease her own curiosity, Leere cupped Nomusa’s cheeks, giving her a sudden and deep kiss. Another truth was she was festering an anger at Blue and White for not keeping their threesomes and orgies to themselves, and wanted to get back by tasting the youngest sister. Once again, she was a fuel source of lust to monsters with her touch. “That means you’re ok with something like that?”

Nomusa purred. Loudly.

"Yes, very much so." She then returned the affection with a kiss of her own, sliding her tongue over Leere's. "You know, some of kind make such lovely aphrodisiacs... if you ever want to try one."

“I might. Too bad you said that sex is off the table for now. You should know I AM the aphrodisiac.” God, that tongue was so thick. With a light teasing purr herself, Leere sat herself down on a bench. Maybe she’d fool around, maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, it was magnificent kiss.

"Yes, sex is off the table until you recover." Nomusa reminded Leere. "At least for three days. You need time for your body to recover for the blood loss. I can heal you, but replacing blood is very tricky."

“Well, I suppose it would be humane to wait and not rely on sacrifice to restore my energy.” Leere chuckled, putting one leg over the other. “Don’t know how much longer we’ll be staying in Omisha for.”

"If you are staying for a few more days, I'd be happy to show you around---!!!" Nomusa heard yelling from the other private infirmary room. With a deep sigh, she told Leere. "Excuse me, one moment..." She skittered off in the direction and yelled. "Zubeka! What did I tell you about trying to undress the human male?!"

"I'm trying to get him to take off his armor so I can inspect his body for injuries!" Zubeka was a Kokyangwuti like Nomusa, but absolutely huge. She resembled that of a tarantula. "He's being stubborn!"

Malik happened to be sitting for an update on Leere, when the large arachnid insisted and, out of no where, tried to disrobe him out of his bloody armour. For her efforts, she had one of her hands twisted, having only taken a single gauntlet from him. “Touch me again and I’ll see to that your Matriarch finds out you tried to handle me on your own without my permission. Or I tear the hand off if you find that less dangerous.”

"Mother told me to check on you, you stubborn little brat!" Zubeka was certainly more outspoken than Nomusa or her twin sisters for that matter. "Hmph. He needs a spanking."

"He's not one of your cocoonlings, Zu."

"Still! He has no manners!"

"Just politely ask him to take off his armor and then he might listen---"

"Are you kidding me? Males never listen, they're all hardheaded."

"Good goddesses, I'll do it then." Nomusa approached Malik with a slight bow. "I apologize for the misunderstanding, Malik. Mother is simply worried for your well being. Might I examine you?"

“I’m over five-hundred years old you fat Skulltala.” Malik shifted his gaze to the younger doctor. “I have no sustained injuries. The most I took was being thrown into some rubble. You may not examine me. Focus on the princess that I brought here.”

"See? Ought to be his ass into the ground." Zubeka huffed with crossed arms.

"And wash his mouth out with ghost peppers."

"Leere is all well, she is fully healed. She only requires rest." Nomusa was going to try to mull the situation over as best she could. "Please, Malik, I do not understand the concept of human modesty, but I do know that if you do not allow me or Zubeka to examine you, Mother herself will do so. I only ask that you allow us to carry out our orders. I will not even lay a leg on you, just merely allow me to look to ascertain there is no internal bleeding."

As a point of defiance, he grabbed a blue potion from his pocket. He lifted his helmet up just enough to pour the contents down his throat. He left out a long, content sigh, his body being physically and magically healed. “I’ve never felt better. Thank you doctor for looking after Leere.”

"... a healing potion? Against demonic magic? Girl, this one done knocked himself silly," Zubeka scoffed. "He a fool if he thinks that will help. Come get me if he starts convulsing." With that, the larger spider-woman tapped off into the hallway.

"Good goddesses help me..." Nomusa sighed in irritation. "Very well. Mother will do this one herself. You may go see the princess now if you wish it."

“Good.” Malik made his way down to Leere, grabbing a few more potions. “She fixed your bones and internal bleeding?”

“Yes. What was the yelling for?”

He handed her two more potions, one red and one green. “Take a health and stamina potion. This should shave off your waiting time. We’re going to see Bonegrinder.”

The princess did so, feeling like she could walk briskly now. She was still in a sour mood from the battle and the breach of trust she felt. “I unsure if he’ll want to see us.”

“We have matters to discuss. Let’s go.”

Back at the temple, Mother was on her throne, magic sprawled across the air in front of her. She was making sure to reinforce the barrier, stretching it over Omisha's border once more. Now, it kept not only Malus separate, but most of Al-Daida as well. This was a difficult task, and one which required much energy. Yet, if it kept her children safe, she would see to it every single day. When Malik and Leere entered the room, she was pleased to see both of them were up and without pain. Yet, she did not smell healing magic on Malik. "... hm... did Zubeka nor Nomusa check you for injuries, Malik?" Mother waved away the magical particles and approached the pair. "Demonic magic, even if not a direct hit, can still effect a living being in a negative manner."

Malik bowed his head respectfully. “They would have found a trace of demonic presence they could never remove. I deemed it best to not worry them since I lacked injuries. My concern was for the princess.”

"Nevertheless, you will allow my healers to at least inspect you the next time there is a possibility of injury. Is that clear?" Mother's voice held no room for argument. "I will not have an ambassador of Hyrule dying on my doorstep because of his ego. Do you understand, Lord Malik?"

Malik bowed his head once again. “Understood.”

With that matter sorted, he looked up to Mother, a more serious aura felt around him. “What in blazes is Bonegrinder. He held the same magic as Teufel.”

"Bonegrinder is an Anagari and is not only that. He is more. This knowledge will not leave this Temple, Malik and Leere. It is critical to keep under wraps until the time is right... however much more time we may have on this earth." Mother used her magic to display a figure of the brother gods, Maker and Destroyer. "He is a deity bound in flesh form. Yet, his mind is scrambled. Between his life as a god and his life as an Anagari, he cannot process the two at the same time. Thus, accounting for random bursts of magic, visions, and confusion."

“He’s another god. Yet one that’s failed in bonding with a mortal.” Malik found this information highly intriguing. “Do you think he’s a threat to any of us?”

"Modoc... Bonegrinder, is the host. The memories did not even resurface until an attack hundreds of years ago." Mother frowned. "It was not supposed to happen then. His memories were supposed to return at a later time, but the recesses of Modoc's mind cracked when he spiraled into insanity, thus allowing his true nature, the deity to leak through." She paused when Malik asked if she thought the Anagari was a threat. "Why? Do you believe him to be dangerous?"

“I know he’s dangerous. I’m asking if you think he’s a threat to our realm.”

"No." Mother answered Malik. "But I sense you do not believe the same."

“I’m wise enough to know that gods, meaning to or not, bring destruction and death to life. Either he be passive or bloodthirsty will remain to be seen.”

"Perhaps so. Perhaps not. Only time will tell." Mother then said. "Modoc is still recovering from battle. You will have to speak to him later when he is conscious."

"Believe me, I will. Given that we do not know what time we have, I will start to build my forces in Hyrule to contend against Teufel or whatever God deems that they can destroy our world. Mother, as Lord of Hyrule, I ask for a change in our partnership. I am the only one who understands the length of Teufel's danger. Not only that, but I don't believe King Covarog or Queen Zarazu will ever be ready in dealing directly with you. I wish that you come directly to me with matters that concern the relationship of Omisha and Hyrule."

Leere glanced to Malik, caught completely off guard that he'd throw her brother and sister-in-law under the bridge like that. "What?"

"I have been a monster myself. I understand us. I can easily believe that given your mannerisms and presence, the King and Queen would not be able to maturely handle negotiating with you in person. They are jaded to monsters given their experiences with Vul'kar and his Abyssians. The King has always been cautious in dealing with outside nations. With this said, I believe that until one of their children can take the throne with clear, fresh eyes, I should reign as Hyrule's head negotiator for Omisha. Is this acceptable to you?"

"Hrm... I have heard the Queen of Lorleidians is less hotheaded than her husband, though I have heard rumors of the king being... biased." Mother tapped her claws on her throne's arm, thinking. It was a bit of a predicament, what Malik was suggesting. Keeping this alliance in the dark from the leaders of Hyrule was a risky tactic. One day, the nation would be a key player in the battle against Chaos. "You truly deem her unable to discuss such matters with me?"

“I do. She’s kind, but I suspect she’d be fearful of your appearance.”

"Of me? When she has a dragon at her side?" Mother thought this was odd. "It always struck me that dragons were the more fearsome creatures... then again, she is probably used to the dragons."

“I think she’d see you more akin to Vul’kar than one of her... children.” It took all his control to not call Ba’puu and his kin pests.

"And Leere? What do you think of Malik's suggestion?" Mother wanted to know her opinion.

Leere stared at Malik in a bit of disbelief. “What power grab are you trying to make here? Where’s your loyalty to my brother?”

“This fight that will happen will not be Covarog’s or Zarazu’s. Their destinies were fulfilled in stopping Vul’kar. I foresee it will be an oldest and youngest generation who will need to take up arms.”

"That is partly true, Malik... it will be their eldest daughter who will be pivotal in the future to help fight against Chaos." Mother then gestured to the lord. "And it will be your duty to ensure she is safe as well as trained. She will have to know how to fight."

“The Gerudo Queen will be ready when her time comes. Until then, I ask you deal directly with me.”

"Do you trust this plan, Leere?"

“...as I’ve said before, I trust Malik to do his duty.” To be honest, Leere wasn’t sure what Malik was scheming. Was he intent on taking the throne? This new light of information made the necromancer’s views on the Gerudo shift uncomfortably.

"Very well... though before we go on with the discussion of the future, there is one issue I'd like to remark upon," Mother then narrowed her eyes at Leere. "What was my one explicit command of you whilst you were in Omisha?"

“Pardon?” Leere was taken by surprise once again, with the conversation being shifted to her. “To be the most respectful and to not use necrotic magic on your dead.”

"On the dead. That translate to no necromancy at all." Mother looked very disappointed, and sounded as if she were scolding a child. "You are very lucky that my children did not perceive you in alliance with the Mortuus girl who came through here wrecking havoc."

“Are you speaking of my Dead Hand? It’s a conjuration construct that happens to be undead. I used it to help even the odds against those demons. I didn’t raise any fresh bodies to fight our enemies.” Leere looked visibly worried she crossed a line too far. However, another thought of hers was wondering why Mother couldn’t trust her to keep herself in control. “I acted in the moment.”

"Acting in the moment can be very dangerous in these parts, Leere. The reason I forbade your type of magic is due to the unease of my children." Mother told the princess. "What if one of them had reacted and cut you down? Mistaking you for an enemy? I would not have been able to stop their action in time."

The thought being the victim of friendly fire only made Leere’s anger spike. “My magic isn’t evil Mother. I’m not evil.”

"I know that. But do you think all of my children believe that?" Mother had to poke a hole in her logic. "Hylians once deemed all Gerudo evil. Danjurans believe all sea serpents are evil. Labrynnas believe dragons to be evil. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

“You’re all ignorant then?!” Leere didn’t realize she was standing defiantly until the bones in her back popped straight. “I saw an evil woman of my people. But you know what, there’s going to be good and evil found on all sides! Maybe I can be what teaches your people to not fear such magic. What’s going to happen instead; you put a barrier around all of Omisha?” Leere wasn’t standing down, and Malik wasn’t stopping her. “I saw a threat to your people and I did what I felt I needed to do to protect your people! To protect children like Solani!”

"We are not ignorant, Leere, we are cautious. You have not yet suffered at the hands of a Mortuus. My children have." Mother glared at the princess. "I need not tell you of Zarazu's battle with Vul'kar. If an Abyssian showed up on her doorstep, proclaiming to be innocent, do you not think she would be wary? This is to protect you, young princess. Do not make the mistake of using such magic again. The last thing I want is for you body to be buried here instead of at home with your family due to a case of mistaking you for an enemy." She then added, "And it's not just you, Leere. Malik is a human. My children are even wary of them, just like humans are wary of us. Your magic will not save you from an Echidnan who wishes you dead. I want you safe from harm here, yet you must do your part to be cautious as well. Do you understand?"

“That’s a load of shit.” Leere pointed at herself, her emotions reaving up now that her emotion wall was breaking down. How dare anyone tell her that she didn’t know suffering, or that they knew what was best for her. All the disrespect she felt finally was verbalized. “I was sexually violated by a Hylian as fucking child. You don’t think I don’t worry about Hylians? Worry about men in general? For someone who dabbles in darkness, I don’t slink away in my shadows. I’ve suffered, but I make the choice to see there are innocents among Hyrule. People that I can love. Apparently, unlike you and your people, I’m not a goddamn coward who lets my fears of others get the better of me! I wasn’t raised to be constantly in fear and needing to look over my shoulders. I look at the kids here and I see their curiosity, only for them to be spirited away before I have the chance to really breakthrough to them. Now maybe you might have a point, with what you see as enemies on all sides, but all you teach your people is fear when you can’t even give them a chance to build positive relationships with people like me. People who want to share hope! If they see a friend as an enemy due to their ignorance, then you’re all doomed to be isolated and alone!”

She stabbed a finger towards Mother, more fury directed directly to her. “You want to protect me? How about you stop lying to me first! I know for damn certain that you didn’t find that Mortuus three-hundred years ago. The kingdom of Lorleidi is older than that! You think lying to me makes me feel protected? All it tells me is that I can’t trust you! And how dare any of you assume I need protection! I’m choose to stand my ground against people who’d use darkness for insidious purposes. I would gladly lay down my life to protect you, Malik, Bonegrinder, my family, or even another Mortuus who’s innocent or good willed! So yes, if an Abyssisn came to Zarazu with good intentions I’d hold her to give them a chance! Meeting this Dio has also taught me one thing! If there are Mortuus who have been suffering for centuries, then they should have been saved long ago! How- how dare you! You should have reached out long ago to others who’d help! There have always been those throughout history who would never turn a blind eye to suffering, so don’t you lie to me that you couldn’t! find help for your people!”

Her breathing was getting ragged. God, when did she start crying? “I’m so sick of others thinking they can hand wave a whole culture as one thing. I’m so sick of them pretending they’re all alone with their own issues. If you honestly think that your people can’t accept me as a friend, that all Mortuus are evil, then perhaps Bonegrinder and the others were right. Maybe there was nothing of value to learn in Omisha! I don’t care about Malik’s stupid power grab to have allies. I came here to learn about your culture! To learn about Malus. You want to know my take away so far? The country of Malus is full of suffering, and god knows how long it’s been allowed to stew that way. What take away should I take from Omisha Mother!? What should I go back to Hyrule knowing? That little Solani can make friends with humans? Or that she’ll just continue to hold onto fear and share that into the next generation?”

"... are you done?" Mother did not look amused. She'd allow the princess her little outburst. Human emotions were volatile. "Or do you have more to say?"

No where. Leere felt that she suddenly wasn’t going to get anywhere with the matriarch. “I’m done.” Leere’s eyes were puffy as she silently calmed down.

"You have your view, I have mine. I must do what I think is best for my people." Mother told Leere sternly, not allowing her mind to be swayed. "After my people are comfortable with you, then I will consider usage of your magic. Trust is built very carefully and sometimes takes a long while to earn, princess. Not in one visit." She then added, "I will not reach out to help a country and risk the lives of my children when said country has had part in the demise of mine for so long. If there are innocents out there like the one Mortuus who met an untimely death in my borders, then I will consider it. But I cannot, will not, take the risk on a 'what if'. I need evidence. I need an attempt to make peace. And thus far, that has not been done, Leere." Mother was older and wiser than Leere or Malik and knew how to handle such delicate matters. "What you should take away from Omisha is what humans deem of us and what we deem of humans is not necessarily true in all circles. We Echidnans are a peaceful race... unless provoked."

“I didn’t use my magic in your land, until I was provoked.” Leere bowed her head low.

"True, yet, I asked you not to use it. There are others ways to fight than to relay on magic." Mother then told the princess, without room for argument. "For your safety, do not use it here in Omisha."

“I can’t do that if it means the death of one of your people.” Leere shook her head. “I can strain myself to use other resources, but I can’t let an innocent die if it means I didn’t give it my all.” This didn’t even include her own self-preservation.

"Then you understand that I will not be held responsible if one of my children attacks you out of fear?"

“I’d welcome it if it meant changing their viewpoint.”

"Hmm... this matter will be discussed at a later point when I have had time to address all of my children." Mother still did not look too pleased with the princess' outburst. Just because she had her opinion did not mean it was right. Then again, Mother knew that even she could be wrong. Yet, she could not risk it right now. There was too much at stake. "Malik... you had other questions concerning the future?"

Malik glared furiously at Leere. Even if she was right, there was a time and place. The Necromancer might have shattered his careful planning. “Is Bonegrinder awake?”

"No, he is not." Mother shook her head. "He is very unstable right now and in quite some pain."

“Then we will wait until he is awake and well. Please call for us if you desire anything.”

"For now, waiting is all we can do." Mother sighed, looking weary. "Malik do see that Leere is properly rested. The incidents have definitely caused a shock to her system. Do obtain some rest yourself. Do you need an escort back to the huts?"

“Shock? I’d think you’d be the last to accuse someone of hysteria.” Leere was so close to flipping Mother the bird and snapping at her further. Instead, she stormed off back to the hut to sleep the rest of the day off.

"... Malik." Mother turned her focus to the young lord. "Leere allows her emotions to rule her. This kind of incident cannot happen again."

The Gerudo Lord frowned behind his helmet. “What do you expect me to do?”

"I expect you to caution the princess of her behavior. If she cannot handle her emotions, then I will find another diplomat from Hyrule who can who hails from the royal family." Mother warned Malik. "While I trust you to handle these affairs, I will speak to Ralnor if need be. He is the only other one in the family who knows of our existence here."

“You cannot trust Ralnor. If anything, you can take from her outburst as a sign you can trust her the most.”

"... I will contemplate upon your words."

Ralnor was the last person Malik wanted to work with. The Prince would no doubt ruin his own plans for the future. “She wears her heart on her sleeve openly for all to see. Leere will respect your wishes, trust me. The princess simply felt hurt that you would not trust her abilities. What’s more... she cares about your people. I doubt Ralnor has the heart for that.”

"I believe Modoc's words that Leere is trustworthy, but I must see it for myself, as you must do the same with me. Trust will not be earned overnight, Malik. This you know all too well." Mother then rose from her throne. "I will go to check on Modoc. I do not know how long it will be until he is recovered."

“I’m certain that you will have it in no time.” Malik said his polite goodbyes and returned to the hut to find Leere head down as she sat in a seat.

“You must hate me. I can understand if you do. Was stupid of me to speak my mind like that to her. Jeopardized too much for Hyrule.”

A silence filled the room, leaving Malik unsure how to reply. He raised an arm, pausing behind her. Despite the potential to ruin his relationship with Mother, Malik couldn’t help be impressed in retrospect at her courage to speak up her frustrations. Content on his choice, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “You spoke what you felt was right. You spoke from your soul. You were very brave Leere.”

The princess looked to him, a heavy weight leaving her my mind. All it took was one person to believe in her. “Thank you, Malik.”

The Gerudo wasn’t the best at human interaction on a healing level, at least not with those he didn’t consider close family or soldiers under his command. “Perhaps we should rest.”

Leere sensed his small worry. Grasping his hand, she smoothly assured him he was fine. “Yes... I think that’d be nice. Sleep well Malik.”

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/190819547466/into-the-darkness-and-unknown-ch-5-a-blink-into

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/190931724986/into-the-darkness-and-unknown-ch-7-the-burden-of

#crossover #ridersoftheapocalypse #Omisha #Malus #Echidnans #Malik #Leere #Bonegrinder #Mother #Love to listen to comments!

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ranier-layarte · 5 years ago

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LONG Character Survey: Ranier Leveilleur

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Ranier Kyran Layarte Leveilleur

NICKNAME: Ran, Raven

AGE: 21-25 (depending on expac)

BIRTHDAY: 1st Sun of the 2nd astral moon

ETHNIC GROUP: Au ra (Xaela)

NATIONALITY: Eorzean – From Ul'dah

LANGUAGE(S): Eorzean,

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: No

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Isn't this the same as the above?

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married

CLASS: Weapon Master

• Proficient in almost all martial weapons.

• Tends to carry multiple weapons at all times.

• Prefers Axes out of all the bladed weaponry

HOMETOWN / AREA: Ul'dah

CURRENT HOMETOWN/ AREA: Shirogane Mansion

PROFESSION(S): WoL, Scion, Machinist, Businessman, Crafter

PHYSICAL: Extremely fit, exercises daily. Muscular build

HAIR: Black/Dark Blue

EYES: Crimson

NOSE: Average, straight, roman-esque

FACE: Straight essentially a greek nose. (At least if I had to try and describe it)

LIPS: A bit on the thinner side, very lightly pink.

COMPLEXION: A mix of Fair and Medium?

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: Scar on left thigh from stab wound, Scar on left midsection, and upper right thigh.

TATTOOS: WoL tattoo on the palm of his right hand. (Working on giving him another)

HEIGHT: 7'4

WEIGHT: 330 LBS/ 150kg

BUILD: Tall, Muscular, Fit,

FEATURES: None

ALLERGIES: None, at least not yet.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Long hair parted in the middle framing the face. Pulled into a ponytail and held with a silver bead big enough for the tail.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Around 40% expressionless, 30% Scowling, 20% Reflective, 10% happy.

USUAL CLOTHING: Higher end clothing generally a mix of casual with formal preferring long pants and a short sleeved shirt. Boots of some kind and armor of some kind at all times. Either under or over the clothes having a preference for the bulkier armors.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Dying and thereby becoming unable to prevent future deaths and incidents. A fear of the unknown. (Which is part of why he tries to prepare for so many things)

ASPIRATION(S): Being able to amass enough wealth to live comfortably and to continue making the lives of the less fortunate easier. Helping create a better society for all.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Empathetic, Compassionate, Humanitarian, Perseverance, Fairness, Courageous, Loving, Self discipline, Reliable, Thoughtful, Patient

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Bossy, Jealous, Secretive, Grumpy, Harsh, Aloof, Stubborn, Cruel (Only to enemies but that doesn't really matter to people does it?) Arrogant (In some things though less now)

ZODIAC: Pisces

TEMPERAMENT: Mix of choleric and melancholic.

SOUL TYPE(S): King, Warrior, Server (In that order)

ANIMALS: Raven, Bear

VICE HABIT(S): Training, Fixing machines, Drinking, Rubbing Chin,

FAITH: The Twelve (Loosely)

GHOSTS?: I mean if you've seen them you can't deny them.

AFTERLIFE?: With everything we see there has to be right?

REINCARNATION?: Yes, it's clear there is.

ALIENS?: Yes.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Leftist

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Prosperous, everyone has what they need. Along with the means to go beyond that if they are willing and able.

SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: I think there’s enough to go on.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Higher end of the spectrum, attended sharlayan schooling for a few years of his life. (Around three) Was home taught and by other teachers. Extensive knowledge in numerous subjects such as Machinery, Technology, Gunsmithing, Gemology, Business. Holding the equivalent of a mixture of Graduate or Masters in the subjects.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Kyran Layarte

MOTHER: Sahar Layarte

SIBLINGS: Kyari Layarte

EXTENDED FAMILY:

NAME MEANING(S): Ranier (Rainier with out the first I Meaning Wise army apparently)Kyran (Beam of Light) Sahar (Early morning or Dawn) Kyari (???)

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: My families connection to history? My connection? My father was one of the survivors of the hotgo tribe also. Does fighting in the Calamity among all the other events count?

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Whatever has his current interest, it can very.

MOVIE PLAY: Does this mean Movie or Play?

5 SONGS:

• “Shock me” Baroness

• “Up In The Air” Thirty Seconds To Mars

• “Rise” League of Legends, Glitch Mob, The Word Alive

• “Unbreakable” Of Mice and Men

• “Drown” Bring Me The Horizon

DEITY: Halone

HOLIDAY: Valentione's day

MONTH: March

SEASON: Fall

PLACE: Beside his wife or workshop.

WEATHER: Light rain

SOUND: The turning of pages, the sound of rain, metal moving against each other.

SCENT(S): Smoke, Metal, Old books, and sweat

TASTE(S): Dulcet, Spicy,

FEEL(S): Rocks, Silk, Smooth metals,

ANIMAL(S): This was listed before.

NUMBER: 1? I don't know.

COLORS: Black, Blue, Red, Gold, Silver

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Metalworking, Singing, Sewing, Gem Cutting, Technology, Smithing, Machinery, Dexterous.

BAD AT: Getting rest even now, Not over exerting himself, Not overthinking potential scenarios that may never happen. Dealing with almost all animals, Even now sometimes talking about what bothers him too well, but he’s gotten much better over the years/expansions.

TURN ONS: Caring, Helpful, Courageous, Educated, Aggressive. Listening, Reliable,

TURN OFFS: Selfishness, Boastful, Belligerent, Cruelty, Intolerant, Racism, Weak willed, Careless,

HOBBIES: Creating new things be it machines, armor, clothes, weapons, tools, etc. Working on the same as before. Reading, Exercising, Cooking. Shopping.

TROPES: Pragmatic Hero, Bad ass boast, Big Fancy House, Chekhov's Gun, Determinator, Don't You Dare Pity Me, Genius Bruiser, Heroic Build, It's All My Fault, No Challenge Equals No Satisfaction, Super toughness, Friend to All Children, The Chosen One, The Ace, Ain't Too Proud To Beg, Always Save The Girl, Berserk Button, Death glare, Excuse me while I multi task, Game face, Hypocrite, Lady and Knight, Not So Stoic, Not So Invincible After all, Red Eyes, Take Warning, Stern Teacher, Undying Loyalty, The Power of Love

AESTHETIC TAGS: Workshops, Tools, Kitchens, Weaponry, Guns, Armor, Fine Clothes, Rain, Feathers, Azure Skies, Romance.

VOICE CLAIM(S): Keith Silverstein, (Speaking voice) John Rzeznik (Singing) John Baizley (Singing)

FC INFO.

MAIN FC(S): Free company? Azure Talons.

ALT FC(S): What?

OLDER FC(S): What?

YOUNGER FC(S): What?

GENDERBENT FC(S): What the fuck?

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?:

• I genuinely don’t know. Something with the grandeur of lord of the rings maybe? But with the ability to add comedy and romance in the proper way. I'm all for serious movies but I enjoy the ability to add a well executed joke or sweet moment. It also would probably not just be a single film. Taking the general events and using my fics as material would probably be fine.

I’d have to think about it a lot more than I will right now

As for the name, well, I don't really have many options. But, probably something with Final Fantasy XIV as the main title. Give it a JRPG title I suppose as a sub title. Sort of like Warriors Dissonance or Uncovered Stories.

Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK / SCORE SOUND LIKE?:

• Ambient, switching to full of energy, able to convey emotion. Again mentioning LOTR, the score by Howard shore is really great and able to accompany many scenes in such a fantastic manner. As for the other bits perhaps the addition of artist tracks such as from favorite bands and those songs that have meaning to him. Like the ones listed above.

Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?:

• As a way to work on and show that, a character doesn't just have to be overly reliant on tropes and cliches. That those are good as part of them but not as defining traits of them. Along with breaking some of those. Like how all protagonists always have dead parents, what's up with that? I enjoy seeing characters that try to break their molds and be more than that.

Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:

• My general thing in any game where you can create your own character has always been. To make who you'd want to be in this universe. I did that and then worked on it and reworked things until I got what I have now. So also, yes, he was a self insert.

Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE:

• Hard one I suppose but. I'd say how he is capable of doing so much. Even though I work with it as it is a key part of him, it's still hard to make him feel right, feel human when he's got these clear incredible strengths. He's very proficient at so many things some would maybe say he's a mary sue type of character. I make an effort to work on how he became that way to offset it. So it's a lot of extra work than if I had him being a more archetypal hero of his type. I may dislike this the most but I also like it. Love hate relationship you know?

Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?:

• A good part of our attitudes and personality though on his end they are greater generally. Along with our want to be as best as we can at certain things.

Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?:

• Honestly, and in my current state. He would probably be very upset with me and to just know me or the hand I have in his creation and self.

Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?

• Alisaie Leveilleur – She is the main one being his main love interest, girlfriend, and wife later. Though overall he sees her as an equal and a partner, which is part of the reason their relationship grows as much as it does. Along with giving someone who he can trust in and rely on, and vice versa.

• Finn Hogveart - Who harasses Ranier often enough especially with his pet and regarding moogles.

• Alphinaud Leveilleur - and him sometimes get along strangely due to Ranier's relationship with his sister. For a long time he tried to spy on Ranier and make sure he was good for his sister even though he knew he was a good person.

• Cid Garlond - Ranier sees him as a mentor of sorts, along with someone that he can bounce ideas off of and work with on projects leading to a solid relationship between the two. The two sometimes bicker regarding their work but it's always just them being passionate for the projects.

• Gerolt Blackthorn – Similar to cid in some ways. Ranier looks up to Gerolt and his ability to continue making such amazing creations. Wanting to learn more regarding the processes means Ranier visits him when possible, bringing some drinks for him when he does. Almost having a relationship like bros. Ranier also sometimes has gone to try and sway Rowena on his behalf to lower his debt.

There are more but I don’t want to make this too much longer.

Q9: WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?

• I do not control the write, also Alisaie.

Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?:

Uhhhh maybe an hour all together. Over the course of three hours.

==========

Tagged by: @amandafullmetal @lyllyan-weiss

Tagging: @heyafinney @anikisbox and anyone who wants to do it that sees this.

#Ranier Leveilleur #Ranier Layarte #I did the best I could with it with the time i put into it.#I'm not the best at these either Hopefully someone finds new things or interesting #things from it

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the-rovarians · 6 years ago

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Some Information on Rovarians

- Basic Appearance/Anatomy - *They look like the Spirit/Opportunity rovers, except for the following differences.

Average height-around six feet tall

Average weight-around 500 to 600 pounds

Two robotic humanoid arms with five-fingered hands

Midsection below the shoulders is thicker and slightly darker in color

Females have lighter-colored solar panels than males

Two pairs of eyes

One set of eyes (the bigger ones) sees like we do. The “regular” eyes. The smaller ones see in infrared

The four camera eyes are what create facial expression, with shutters and apertures.

Their voices are synthesized, but still sound completely human, making it harder for others to write them off as just robots. They're beyond that, they're people

The solar panels can fold and unfold at their owner's will, allowing parents to carry the youngest ones on their backs

- “Reproduction” (Growing the Species) -

The actual Rovarian is a combination of the parents’ programming and code, which is what contains the personality, the “soul” (do not try it with Earth computers, it won’t work. They have special alien computers that do literally nothing else but this.)

Rovarian "sex" is just two people putting code into a computer.

The new code is generated by randomly selecting parts from each parent's code. These are NOT "designer babies".

Although traits are randomly selected, this doesn't mean the child could end up with an extra arm or missing eyes or anything.

The new child's code is then sent to special replicators that produce the frame, program it with the child's new code and activated.

The child “grows” as their code and programming evolves and matures.

They start out as little Sojourner models, as their programming isn’t yet complex enough to handle a big adult body.

They stay that way from “birth” to early toddler age (about 1 or 2 years for humans) then transition to a miniature version of the adult body.

The old frame is then reused for another child, or is recycled for its resources (yeah, these guys are way smarter with their resources than a lot of today’s humans)

They continue through gradually larger versions of this frame until they’re in the adult one, which on average is somewhere around 6 feet tall (of course there are 5 and 7 foot area outliers.)

When a Rovarian dies, their frame is either recycled (for another Rovarian or for resources) or buried, depending on the wishes of the family and/or the deceased person's last requests.

This is the way historical figures are remembered. They are interned either beneath or inside their respective monuments.

- General Society Roles -

Once they reach adulthood, they’ve been schooled and educated in all the stuff that everyone needs to know.

About a Martian year (1.88 Earth years) after the transition to the adult frame, they either take on a profession as a civilian, enter the government in some way, or join the Rovarian equivalent of Starfleet (some choose to join Starfleet itself) where they eventually get posted to a ship and captain, such as Captain Kiali of the Rovarian flagship Artax.

They generally choose their names from stars (Admiral Sirius), constellations (soldiers Centaurus and Crux), or other astronomical bodies (Ensign Messier, ambassador Lady Carina).

Metal bands worn on the upper arm indicate rank, department, and specialty. Some may also have an insignia for a specific ship on their rank band.

One does not need to be in government, military, or fleet to have department and specialty bands. For example, general practice doctors will have Medical department bands, surgeons will have Medical department bands and Surgery specialty bands

- Historical Events and Achievements -

The last of a dying race found the twins (Spirit and Opportunity), and, knowing they were going to die, decided to save the rovers, giving them their own life force, as well as their own technological knowledge of how to use resources they had stored on Mars. Very little is known about this race, except Spirit and Opportunity’s hazy memories of them. Rovarian historians suspect they purposefully erased all records of themselves, though why is unclear.

The Rovarians claimed Mars as their homeworld and an evolved Spirit and Opportunity as their co-leaders.

Before official First Contact, a human military-esque group of xenophobic extremists planning to wipe them out before they could “invade and enslave us” (which never crossed their minds) ambushed a landing party with the twins (Spirit and Opportunity), who came back to visit the place and people who made them.

The twins were the only survivors, and the group stole their ship, using it to lure others to Earth, where cells of the group waited.

The Rovarian crews were overwhelmed and slaughtered, and the ships used to wage a short but bloody war on the Rovarians, with battles fought on both planets (Earth and Mars), and in space.

At one point, NASA’s Reconnaissance Orbiter took pictures of a Martian plain littered with fallen Rovarian warriors, as well as their living friends and family searching for their bodies.

Some humans did side with them, and the conflict, while essentially ending in a draw, led to Earth working with them instead of against, as it was made clear they have no desire or reason to invade us.

Opportunity was severely, almost fatally wounded in one of the war’s battles, but the JPL rover teams turned the lab into a makeshift OR and were able to save him (after figuring out how to airlift/transport him safely and without further injuring him)

JPL was on the Rovarians’ side from the start of the war, since they already kinda felt like the rovers were more than machines,

They're the ones who got the rest of NASA to take the Rovarians' side, which helped turn the tide of the war, since the extremists then had a harder time communicating with their space and Mars forces,

NASA was in charge of almost everything space, and almost nothing got to or through space without them knowing it.

Add to that NASA also gained access to Rovarian tech, which enabled them to make it even MORE difficult for the extremists to function by cutting off communication completely.

As a result, the stolen ships had no warning and no time to prepare before a Rovarian fleet showed up to apprehend them.

An important feat of theirs: Massive magnetic field generators at the poles, so they could give Mars an M-class atmosphere. This makes trade and diplomatic matters much easier, since most species require such an atmosphere.

Having advanced alien tech, they were able to pick up on pretty much everything we were doing. And I mean EVERYTHING. That’s why the Rigel filter (named for its inventor) was created. It blocked out all the offensive (to a Rovarian) communications humans send. (it’s basically a spam filter (that actually works) on steroids

- Social Customs, Beliefs, and Daily Life -

Water and food are replicated as needed for visitors.

Farming is kind of a waste, as the whole species feeds off of solar energy (which, thanks to advances in Rovarian medicine and science, can be stored in much larger amounts in the same size battery)

There are artificial solar energy generators for emergencies.

The Rovarians actually find the human obsession with sex/sexuality/female bodies to be super weird and a little disturbing/off-putting

It's actually HUGELY insulting to make sexual comments to them.

Relationships are based on feelings for the other person.

They actually think the sex obsession is what holds humans back from advancing more quickly.

They avoided money. They do more of a large scale barter system, and everybody contributes to the society in various ways.

They have stores of other species' currency, but it's only used for trade with said species.

This way, nobody ends up in poverty and there's no 1 percent elite.

Even healthcare is given based on how urgent your need is. (the field of regular psychology is still needed. These are people, not just programs, and people always need regular psychology)

The system works smoothly, and crime is mainly just thievery and vandalism (because every species is going to have born criminals.)

Stuff like murder, which is very rare, is obviously still a crime, as is most of the major stuff ( dealing in illegal contraband, scams, espionage, etc.)

Things like racing shuttlecraft around planets are common activities anyone could do.

- Rovarian Stardate System -

The first two digits of the stardate indicate the century

The second two indicate the exact year (Earth year*)

The third two are the Earth month

The decimal point number is the exact day.

For example, this stardate, 215004.05, translates to April 5, 2050, in the 21st century.

They use Earth time because Mars time is only practical for those actually on Mars. For those on ships, it doesn’t make much sense. (this is just a cryptic way of saying that I am too hopeless at math to convert everything to Mars time. There’s lots of decimals involved in that.)

- Arts -

Music

No wind instruments

Non-electronic music consists of strings, percussion, and vocals (singing)

They do also play electronic music (think Daft Punk, Basshunter, or any other techno artist)

The overall style can range from sounding like Celtic or New Age to sounding like techno or dance music, or anything in between. It depends on who’s playing.

Architecture

Very futuristic, but with sharp, boxy design and edges

Lots of metals and glass for materials, very clean and shiny

No stairs, it’s all ramps or lifts (elevators)

Some buildings, usually those with huge crowds moving through, such as the spaceport, have moving sidewalks and moving ramps (Rovarian version of an escalator.

Cities have very tall buildings, thanks to the planet’s lower gravity making it easier to lift materials up to those heights.

Many buildings (especially the tallest ones) are designed to light up at night, some having patterns of color change or light movement

A plaque inside the main entrance of the building credits the architect, as well as everyone who helped construct it

Sculpture

As with architecture, metals are the primary material used

Depending on the artist, the piece can be something ethereal-looking, something futuristic, or something inspired by Earth art styles

There are many installment pieces, especially in cities. These can be inside buildings or out in parks and other public areas.

A plaque or sign placed with the piece credits the artist and anyone who helped construct it.

For smaller sculptures, a signature from the artist can be found directly on the piece itself

Visual Art

There are Rovarians who draw and paint, both traditionally and digitally

Many digital artists like to animate their work

They may also include an animated version of their signature

Traditional painters, along with ordinary paints, will also use metallic and/or glowing paints in their work

Like traditional Earth artists, they sign their paintings. The same is true for Rovarian drawing artists.

Some Rovarians practice textile arts such as weaving fabric, as this is a commodity that can be good for trading with other species

Other media for Rovarian visual artists include, but are not limited to: holograms, fiber-optics, LEDs, found items (for “upcycling”)

Theatre/Dance

Yes, these do exist for Rovarians

The first ever live production was a retelling of the twins’ story through dance, with singers and musicians providing the music

Costumes are typically very elaborate and eyecatching, unless the production calls for more subtlety.

Dance style is usually smooth, flowing, and graceful, though it can also be sharp, snappy, and energetic.

Literature

Very similar to Earth literature, except that the genre of erotica does not exist

Some writers will collaborate with an artist to create a graphic novel or a holo-novel

FINALLY got the information on these guys up.

Photos courtesy of @nasa , myself (the craptastic drawing), and an artist whose name I couldn’t find, but I know it’s someone awesome because of that Opportunity painting

#sci-fi #aliens #original species #rovarian #nasaAU #mars rover

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eotheria · 6 years ago

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The World of Eotheria according to Lady Valentine

Part 9: Celestials, Fiends, Aasimar, and Tieflings

Angels and demons are known in Eotheria, though few have actually seen any, and it’s far too easy to make assumptions about what they are. To the layman, angels are divine beings of pure goodness that protect the weak and fight against evil and impurity. Demons are hideous and blasphemous creatures that seek to corrupt everything they touch and dominate the world and its people. A struggle between good and evil, heaven and hell, black and white, as old as time itself.

Let’s get this out of the way right now. Neither the celestials of Empyrea nor the fiends of Sheol have the best interests of the mortals of Eotheria in mind. The angels are truthful when they say they want to protect us. Unfortunately, their idea of protection is to protect us from ourselves by stripping away what free will and individuality we have, leaving us all as nothing more than cogs in a great machine, until our world resembles a graveyard where the corpses happen to be mobile. The demons aren’t in all honesty much better; things like murder, rape, and theft are considered personal matters to demons, who abhor the very concept of law and order. Such a way of life would turn Eotheria into a bloodbath where only the strongest would survive. The struggle between Empyrea and Sheol is not one of good and evil on Eotheria. After all, if there is one thing I’ve learned it’s that you don’t have to be evil to commit evil acts; you only have to believe you’re good.

Empyrea and Celestials

Empyrea is an echo world created by the Primordials when they banished the celestials from Eotheria. I sadly have very little first hand knowledge of it. I visited only once, for about six seconds, before my skin caught ablaze and I was forced to return to the material world. Vampires as old as I are harmed by very few things, but Empyrea carries with it a vast light as pure and bright as a hundred suns. My acquaintances who have visited the echo world tell me it is a beautiful mirror of the angels themselves; serene, regal, and holy. Not so much as a shadow or even a sunset to be found. Because it is an echo world, things that appear in the material world have equivalents in Empyrea. For instance, the great lake that borders my city of Roselake appears in Empyrea, where I am told it is a wondrous spring of pure water where beautiful flowers and warm light are abundant.

Actually getting information about how Empyrea is run is difficult. The celestials seem to know of outsiders coming in almost immediately. Attempts at deception or persuasion fail under the critical eyes of the angels, who punish such transgression with extreme prejudice. Even if you do come to Empyrea with noble intentions, your safety likely depends on what sort of angel finds you first. Some angels are kinder than others, and will give you the option to leave Empyrea of your own volition. Others take no chances, and slay (or purify as they like to call it) intruders on the spot. The best i can tell is that the angels are run by a council of seraphs, but how many there are, what roles they play, and what other ranks are in the hierarchy are anyone’s guess. If I had a contact in Empyrea it would be easier, but getting an angel to act as a spy is like pulling bulette teeth.

Angels do not often appear in Eotheria, but when they do, it is always through a summoning spell. The more powerful the celestial being, the greater the scope of the spell required. The most powerful celestial to appear in Eotheria, the arch-celestial Malakhi, was one of the aforementioned seraphs, and reportedly his summoning took four years to complete and required components of such rarity that I doubt anyone would dare to try it again. Like all extraplanar beings, celestials that die on Eotheria are not completely destroyed. Rather, their spirits are returned to Empyrea where a new body slowly reforms for them. And yes, this means that Malakhi is indeed still alive, though I’ve not heard any mention that he’s attempting to pull a stunt like he did forty-five years ago.

In the past, celestials have had a better reputation than fiends, as most tend to associate them with goodness and purity, as opposed to the evil and chaos of fiends. Of course, the reality is much, much different, but it is primarily the reason why the celestials have had relations with mortals good enough for their mortal progeny, the aasimar, to have a nation of their own, whereas the mortal progeny of the fiends, the tieflings, are very rare and widely scattered throughout Eotheria.

Sheol and Fiends

Unlike Empyrea, I do have some knowledge of Sheol, having visited the plane many times in the past. It is the polar opposite of what others have told me Empyrea is. A world of darkness and chaos, rather than light and serenity. Like Empyrea, it is an echo world. Going back to the example I used before, the great lake that borders my city of Roselake is a lake of blood, over which floats a crimson sky with a bright moon, with decayed and dead trees around the lake shore.

Despite the rather horrid picture I paint of this world, it’s really not that bad. Not compared to Empyrea, at least. Unlike the angels, fiends generally don’t care much about outsiders coming to Sheol as long as they don’t try to mess things up for everyone. I still don’t recommend a vacation there, however, unless you’re particularly strong. Fiends can smell weakness over a thousand miles and will be more than happy to make you their playthings if you’re not able to stand up to them. Still, if you can prove yourself, you could do a lot worse than having demons for acquaintances.

The law in Sheol is quite simple: there is none. Just as angels are sticklers for order and structure, demons just tear that all down and do whatever the hell they want. If there are any leaders in Sheol, they will invariably be the most powerful of demons, those who can hold their power through strength and might. Other demons, such as the yugoloths, make their living by selling their skills to the highest bidder, acting as mercenaries. All demons absolutely despise rules and restrictions, and for that they hate the celestials most of all. Unfortunately the only way to Empyrea from Sheol is through Eotheria, and vice versa. Perhaps you can see now why we have the Primordial Ban, ere the angels and demons use our world as a war zone.

Like angels, demons must be summoned in order to come into Eotheria while the Primordial Ban is active, and the stronger the demon, the greater the ritual needed to summon it. Perhaps the most common demons found in Eotheria, though most don’t realize it, are the succubi and incubi. These demons are able to assume humanoid form at will, and tend to blend in disturbingly easily in the urban areas of Eotheria. Most are just shameless hedonists looking to get their rocks off, but some are actually employed as spies by some of the more important people in this world. And yes, I employ a few in the Blood Pact as well. I've actually taken a succubus as a lover before, and while they are very good at what they do, I ultimately would not recommend it. At best they sleep with your entire house staff behind your back. At worst they become faithful and plot to violently murder anyone who so much as looks at you, but I digress.

Aasimar and Tieflings

Aasimar are native to the small nation of Avaniel, which split off from Laguna roughly a hundred years before the coming of the goddesses. The humans of central Suvitha of the time were notable in making pacts with angels, ultimately resulting in the birth of the aasimar race. Aasimar are easily identified by their ashen white skin and platinum blond hair, making them look similar to albinos, though with bright yellow eyes rather than red. They have a rather rigid form of government that is quite similar to what I imagine the celestials of Empyrea would use, being ruled by a council of nobles, with several different castes below.

Avaniel has had a rocky relationship with the human kingdoms since its founding, having a number of on-again, off-again wars, with Laguna and Pecra both often trying to reclaim Avaniel, but to no success. The fact that the aasimar allied themselves with the Kordran did nothing to help their relationship with humanity, though many would argue that they only did so as a means of self-preservation. After the Cataclysm, everything changed. The Kordran violently turned against the aasimar, who turned to the Kresnik empire for aid. Avaniel now exists as a vassal state of the growing Kresnik empire as a result. While many aasimar are not happy about this new state of affairs, few are willing to outright betray their new allies of the Kresnik empire, as their honor will not permit it. However, not all aasimar follow the strict code of law that their angelic ancestors do. Call it a trait of their human ancestry, but some aasimar choose to live more individualistic lifestyles away from Avaniel. These so-called “fallen” aasimar can take many roles: that of bandits, rogues, or even freedom fighters looking to bring down Kresnik and liberate Avaniel.

Tieflings are comparatively rarer. It’s not that the populations are much lower, so much as that they’re far more widespread and disorganized than aasimar. Then again, that seems to be a recurring theme: chaos vs. order. Their demonic heritage is easily noted, often manifesting in horns, red or light blue skin, cloven hooves, and tails. Some of the more exotic tieflings have even more drastic mutations such as intense body heat or scaly skin, but these are very rare. While tieflings have no nation of their own, they are most common in what was once Laguna, having small villages peppered throughout the region. Laguna had always been the most magically inclined of the Seven Kingdoms, and many of its archmages made pacts with demons, resulting in the tieflings.

Though treated with suspicion everywhere else, tieflings had good relations with humans in Laguna until the Cataclysm, when the leaders of Laguna summoned fiends to counter the celestials summoned by the Kordran. After the Cataclysm and the subsequent destruction of the kingdom of Laguna by the Church of Galan the remaining Lagunese humans blamed the tieflings for the Cataclysm, even though they had almost nothing to do with it. It got so bad that Kresnik and the Church itself stepped in to absolve the tieflings of any wrong doing. While the tieflings are generally grateful to the Kresnik empire for this, the recent acquisition of Avaniel, and the subsequent alliance with the aasimar, has worried the tieflings considerably. Needless to say, the two races do not get along at all, though I have succeeded in getting an aasimar and a tiefling to work together in the Blood Pact without killing one another, so I suppose they can get along.

The Baatezu

There is one last thing about Sheol that I am hesitant to talk about, though I suppose it’s best if you know rather than not. Most beings in Sheol are highly chaotic with little regard for rules, social structure, or order. Most beings, but not all. There exists, in the deepest corners of the echo world, a group of fiends that stands in defiance of the chaos that has manifested itself in Sheol. The demons fear and despise these creatures, who are alternately called “devils” or “baatezu”. According to a number of arch-demons, they were caught in Sheol when the demons were. The two races immediately turned on one another, with the demons emerging victorious, but the baatezu remain in Sheol still, plotting and planning for the day when they will bring their dominion over not only Sheol, but Eotheria as well.

I personally have not seen a devil, but I know they exist. They are the demons’ opposite: orderly and efficient rather than chaotic and savage. They seek to dominate rather than cause destruction, bending weaker creatures to their will. Some particularly unfortunate warlocks may find themselves unknowingly entering a pact with one. It is often through these warlocks that the baatezu plan their moves, playing a long game of chess and subtly manipulating events throughout Eotheria to suit their needs. And the truly frightening thing about them is that most do not realize the work of a devil until it is far, far too late.

In the next chapter I will talk about two of the less common races: gnomes and kobolds.

#eotheria #angels #demons #dungeons and dragons #homebrew

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wackygoofball · 6 years ago

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you once talked about the parallels between sigurd and jaime I have to point out hat sigurd is a dragonslayer who killed fafnir ( who was a dwarf who became a dragon after killing his own father fafnirAsked his father for gold. tyrion Asked his father for his inheritance (Casterly Rock). fafnir Murdered his father upon refusal. Tyrion Murdered his father in light of multiple grievances. tyrion will end up helping dany with her dragons and/or riding one so what if jaime kills tyrion

Hi megashadowdragon and thanks for the question.

I realized I didn’t meta in quite a while, but ohwell, real life calling and all.

First of all, I am impressed that you still rememberor found a way to dig up that comment I made… years ago. Anyway, I had to revisit my own post to check, butreally, the main intention of that post was to point out the many similarities thatcan be drawn between Jaime and Brienne and Sigurd and Brynhild, less so aboutmaking predictions about how those similarities may foretell the outcome of thestory. I hope that this came across and that I didn’t make it seem like I wasfirmly believing in Jaime and Brienne fulfilling the Sigurd/Brynhild saga frombeginning to end.

After all, GRRM uses tropes and themes rather thancopying word-for-word the narrative upshots of the story he takes from. Like,JB builds on the Beauty and the Beast trope in order to subvert it, but thatdoesn’t mean it’s going exactly congruent to the original tale in terms oftrajectory (I can’t seem to recall zombie!Cat to have been amongst the ensembleof Beauty and the Beast, LOL). So Itry to be cautious when it comes to making predictions based on mythologyparallels I can spot in a narrative. After all, GRRM mixed in a lot of mythology, Norse mythology *atlarge* being the first idea that comes to my mind, wherein Jaime fits multiplecharacters. Like, you can easily parallel Jaime with Norse gods like Tyr, amongothers. Or Christian mythology with the Jacob parallels. So… I am very carefulon that territory, which is why I dare not predict future outcomes based onother story’s equivalents. It’s far too tempting to just go down the rabbithole because every story parallel you choose will give you a potentiallydifferent outcome based on the trajectory of the story itself. I am much moresold on the BatB trope and trajectory because a) GRRM has affirmed that hebased JB on that trope, and b) tropes are not the same as following a storyfrom beginning to end along the exact same lines.

However, as you rightly point out, there are greatparallels to be drawn between Tyrion and Fafnir, both taking part in patricideand developing a certain greed (hence the dwarf turning into a serpent as they aresymbols for greed) for gold, which again plays well into the Lannister gold andred theme. And I am thankful that you brought it to my attention because �� alsodue to my clear JB focus – did not even think about how Tyrion very well fitsinto the Volsunga Saga in that regard, and it may well be that GRRM drewinspiration from Fafnir when creating Tyrion’s character.

Yet, strictly following that analogy (for the sakeof the argument here), Regin is the brother of Fafnir who orders for hiskilling and enlists someone else to do it (Sigurd). Now of course, we caneither substitute Regin for someone to fill into that role and order Jaime todo it or we cut out the middleman for the sake of maintaining that parallel.

But anyway, perhaps we ought to see it not so strictin terms of how the characters are related and more in terms of what they doinstead. Again, the trajectory for Tyrion maps neatly on Fafnir, as you assert,even more so in the books wherein he has embarked on a much darker route thanin the show (I won’t dig too deeply into the matter as my knowledge remainslimited on book!Tyrion, not having read those chapters in their entirety justyet).

Though that in itself should be telling, I think, withregards to Tyrion’s outcome in the overall series. I think the general themewill be that most characters will move into a gray area in terms of morality(safe for the clear villains that we have… like, Euron won’t become a graycharacter, Cersei won’t either, I daresay). Characters like Jaime are movingtowards the lighter spots whereas supposed heroes have become/are becomingmorally corrupted or at the very least tested in their morality and balancingit with the need to maybe do acts of dishonor for the sake of the people atlarge. The show did away with the dark tidbits of book!Tyrion’s journey why? We will only know once the finalseason airs, of course, but as others have put forward before me (and far moreeloquently than I do here), it may well be that show!Tyrion will move into moremoral grayness towards the end, whereas book!Tyrion may well get a redemptivemoment of some kind to move him back towards gray.

I tend to think that the show wants to link Tyrion’shaving to make tough choices between his family (Jaime) and the woman of nametitles to the grayness of his character. This has already been party exploredin season 7 wherein Tyrion was kind of hoping for Jaime not to be offed byHighgarden and looking completely devastated when he had to see what the womanwith many titles could do with a flying nuke and a bunch of Dothraki in an openfield. It was surely not without purpose that a) she questioned his loyalties beforeand after that and that b) Tyrion looked so clearly devastated and was made tobear witness of the apparent horror that the woman he chose as the one he meansto support can cause to see the overall goal of her ascending to the IronThrone being achieved. They also could have chosen to have Tyrion stay atDragonstone to await the news, but the fact that he bore witness to both thehavoc a dragon can cause on a battlefield plus the barbecuing of the Tarlys wassurely not without purpose. Which was now a long way of saying that I wouldn’tfind it farfetched if his loyalties were to become ultimately tested in season8, and further, that he will ultimately have to choose between his brother andthe mother of nukes.

While characters are supposedly uniting for thegreater purpose of fighting against the White Walkers now, I am by no meansconvinced that this is smooth transition from war to the Star.garyenRestoration Period towards the end of the series, which is to say that it maywell be that we are headed for conflict among the factions and that maincharacters who offered their support last season may still find their loyaltiesquestioned in their wish to seek power and may or may not ditch the groupeffort at least for a certain amount of time. Now, I don’t want to dig intothat whole matter because that is something people have sent plenty about and Ihonestly can’t be bothered too much about either the fandom-favorite theoriesregarding the restoration period or the hype of the characters mostlyassociated with said theories. I don’t discount their overall importance to thenarrative, I am just saying that I personally have zero shits to give besidethe plot purpose they fulfill for the overall narrative, but I have no personalinvestment in the lady with many names beyond her arc contributing to theoverall series.

But I derailed now again, sorry, I suppose I justwanted to position myself so that I don’t then get questions about a character Iam not invested in and don’t want to be bothered to bash on because, really, Ijust don’t care. The point I was heading for but kind of got away from is thatI am not entirely sure whether Tyrion *will* remain Team Lady of Many Names bythe end of the series. The fact that Tyrion’s and Jaime’s conflict has not beenwholly resolved just yet (while they wereon friendlier terms again, Tyrion did only so much as dodge the big questionsstill standing between the two – namely the consequences of his killing Tywinthat had direct impact on people Tyrion did not intend to harm with that, e.g.Jaime, Tommen, etc., for his own purposes of getting revenge on his father andI think the narrative set it up in such a way that when they met again for thefirst time in the vaults of the Red Keep that it was meant to show that Tyrionwas giving Jaime the same old argument as always instead of owning up to it)has me sold on the idea that something else is still coming with regards to thequestion of where his loyalties will eventually lie.

Now, to come back to the Volsunga Saga and theparallels to GoT/ASoIaF: I would also suggest another thought experiment justto explore the many ways of looking at it: Trade in Fafnir for the woman ofmany names (undeniable, the dragon connection is strong with her… and while sheis certainly no dwarf… she is not exceptionally tall, LOL, but now I digressfor sure). She had Khal Drogo kill Viserys with gold (hence, arguably, substituting Hreidmar, the father of Reginand Fafnir, for it), hence also having the gold aspect on her side and the ideaof greed being potentially subsumed in her ongoing quest for power even aftershe achieved to establish herself as Boss in Essos. Now fast-forward to (forthe show here) season 7 and Spoils of Warand have Sigurd (Jaime) go up against Fafnir (the woman of many names) afterreceiving orders from Regin who wants to see Fafnir gone (Cersei). Yet again,gold also plays a large role, and while Jaime is not successful in killing her,he was definitely going for it right there.

So, you see, I think that you can spin this manydifferent ways (which is the wonderful thing about literary analysis that Ilove so very much) and arrive at similar results. It neatly fits with GRRM’smode of paralleling and mirror characters. So the woman of many names does wellfit Fafnir the same way you can find reasons to see Tyrion being paralleledwith the serpent/dragon.

Now, to go back to the suggestion that Jaime may killTyrion… within the narrative, I just fail to see how he would pose such a*threat* that would make it necessary for Jaime to kill him. Tyrion… is only asdangerous as is the power he is granted. If Tyrion were to go completely rogue,hotwire a dragon and ride it into battle against his brother et al., then thatwould require some… serious turnaround and it would still make the dragon the more immediate threat to get outof the way.

Now, he could use wildfire to trigger Jaime into goingagainst Tyrion and make an attempt on his life, but I have my doubts regardingthe matter. I think wildfire will be vital to the plot in defeating the WhiteWalkers, and that it won’t be only limited to being at Cersei’s disposal,because let’s be real, it kind of loses effect and is in itself a gun she issitting on, waiting to be fired. And while Jaime will certainly be triggered byit, I think it makes much more sense for him to either then help evacuate thecity or help set up the trap for the White Walkers to walk into, seeing thenecessity. Now, if we spin this into the woman of many names going rogue andwanting to torch the capitol to thus blow shit up in red and green, then Jaimewould still have more incentive to be mad at her than at Tyrion.

If we spin it in such a way that Tyrion commits utterbetrayal towards Jaime a second time and Jaime found himself in a position ofauthority in the post-war times, then this would come close to Jaime having tosentence Tyrion to death, which I don’t really see happening, to be honest. Atleast I can’t come up with scenarios that would map with what we have been setup for in terms of character development over the past few seasons. While Jaimesaid that he would kill him, he evidently did not whenever he had a chance forit (if he was serious, he could have offed Tyrion in that vault with even justone hand and a tourney sword). Because just as evidently, Jaime loves hisbrother still, which made Tyrion’s betrayal burn ever the harder for Jaime, butthe more organic conclusion to such a conflict is that they talk it out or that Tyrion makes good onhis promise of when Jaime freed him from the prison where he said that he owedJaime his life, which makes him indebted to Jaime.

So I can actually see self-sacrifice to a certainextent far more prominently being one possible upshot of Tyrion’s arc than himgoing rogue on a dragon to require Jaime to slay his own brother instead ofhaving Jaime go through the motions of committing an additional act ofkinslaying. Generally speaking, I just don’t see Jaime offing any more of hisfamily members (and yes, that includes Cersei, the whole valonqar thing beingJaime and then going into suicide for *reasons* is nothing I am getting behind,but yet again, I digress and, yet again, I think people have written enoughabout that by now, so I would much rather focus on literally anything else). Because it would be sovery repetitive for Jaime and the Lannister clan at large. Cersei killed Lanceland Kevan and the in-laws Margaery, Loras, Mace… and kind of gave rise toTommen’s fall by making him watch that shit show *ahem*… Tyrion killed Tywin. Jaime(at least for the show… for *reasons*) killed a cousin and in-law Olenna uponCersei’s order. Like, honest to the Seven above, I don’t see the Lannistersdoing any more internal family murder. I think another family can well take aturn now.

So… to somehow tie those loose threads of thought togetherthat I have been spewing out now, anon… I think the parallel of Fafnir andTyrion most definitely fits, and I think there is a lot to be said about thesymbolism and even potential trajectory of the overall story, especially if youlook at book!Tyrion and his dark journey which neatly maps on Fafnir’s fallingfor the gold/greed. However, such analysis only ever takes us so and so farbecause, as I hope to have highlighted, we can recreate similar parallels byexchanging the players and it still matches. Because that just correlates withGRRM’s way of writing, which heavily builds on involving themes andpre-existing tropes, mythology, and narratives. That doesn’t mean we can takeone narrative and go to the end to determine future outcomes for GRRM’scharacters, though. It may well be that it will turn out eventually to be truefor one case, but at this point of time, it is simply too hard to guess whichone he may pick or subvert or abandon.

Though more on a sidenote, I will say that I would notfind it entirely unlikely if Tyrion ended up riding a dragon, as you pointed toin your ask. In fact, I would find that muchbetter than Jesus I mean King in the North riding one because Tyrion has builtup a significant relationship with those scaly nukes and I would much rathersee the dragons being okay with being ridden by a guy they learned to trustthan one that has the right Targ smell to him. But then again, I think dragonsare dicks, so maybe that is why they are more sold on the King in the North orthey just really want their mom to bang her nephew… so, who knows?

Now, speaking more in terms of *just* the show/books,I don’t think Jaime will kill Tyrion because I just don’t see where they would getthe conflict if the show has already hinted at it that there is more things toconnect them than keep them apart. If the woman of many names is supposed to bethe reason why, then Jaime should direct his anger towards *her* rather thanTyrion, and I do think that Jaime canmake that kind of rational decision, even with all those feelings involved. Thenarrative would have to make some true 180° to go back to where we basicallywere in season 5 to have Jaime be again all “I will murder him first chance Isee him.” And all atrocities I can come up that may trigger Jaime would almostalways relate to the woman of many names instead of his brother.

So, in sum: Tyrion and Fafnir parallels are awesome and I am grateful that you brought it to my attention because I missed the connection before. Ithink Jaime and Tyrion will pull themselves back together. I hope that Tyriongets to ride a dragon to prove that you don’t have to smell of Targ in order toearn yourself a ride on a nuke. And I most certainly hope that Jaime’s andBrienne’s narrative will end on an entirely different note than that of Sigurdand Brynhild because I remain sold on the idea that they are, against whatseems to be commonly believed by many people, headed towards a happier endingthan most will have in mind. Naturally, I may be totally proven wrong on thematter, but for now I reserve for myself the luxury of being in the hiatus ofsweet, sweet oblivion, wherein I can imagine all kinds of scenarios where Jaimeand Brienne live happily ever after, to finally get started on the Braime Bunch™,and that if Tyrion is meant to live till the end of the series, will spend his daysin good companionship with his brother.

*flies away*

#anon #ask #game of thrones #jaime lannister #tyrion lannister #jaime x brienne #meta #got meta #essay #kind of #it's long enough to be one lol #thanks for the question

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invictus-rp · 3 years ago

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Team B Infiltration

Setting the Scene: Team A has already begun the front assault on the large stronghold, drawing a number of the Apokolips army's forces out to the main fight. As the halls empty, Black Canary's previous knowledge of the labyrinthine area will tell you that you need to get down to the subterranean levels. While many of the Apokolips army is distracted, this will not be an easy journey down. If you must fight, the goal is to dispatch quickly and quietly so as not to sound up an alarm and distract from the front assault. Dinah Lance

She breathed through her nose as she approached the lift. The others were doing their part and the distraction was all they needed to get inside. She probably thought there was people better for this job. Hell, she was surprised she was given leadership but she supposed she had to make it count for something.

“I know some of us haven’t worked together before.” She murmured. “But I need you all to keep this tight.” She pressed the button for the lift, hearing the battle start outside. “Our priority are the captives kept on the lower levels. Myself, Gambit and Spider-Boy will form a tight circle around Scarlet Witch when we have everyone.” Her eyes shot to Wanda. “You are the master key out of this place. We’ll cover your back.”

“And if that fails, well, someone will owe me a new jacket.” She mused as the lift arrived. “Come on in.”

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔 With all Remy's years of experience at getting in and out of secure places, there was no way he would not have volunteered to help out this time. Not that he was not equally good at blowing things up and distracting, but he thought this was where he would be needed more.

"Ah, no worries on dat account, chere," he said to Dinah, "I'm good at adjustin' on de fly." That he was. Even if Remy had not worked with all of them before, he was mighty good at improvising. He only hoped the rest of them were as good on that count. But Dinah was right that getting everyone out of there depended on Wanda. "Uh, yeah, I don' t'ink any o' us wanna be stuck down dere, so I hope your hocus pocus is up t' snuff."

The elevator arrived and Remy stepped inside, adjusting his own coat a bit as he smirked at Dinah's remark. "Hope you got more faith in us dan dat, but I'll be sure t' steal--er--buy you a nice one if it comes t' dat." Wanda Maximoff Wanda nodded, listening to the instructions before letting her eyes slip closed for a moment so she could take stock. "I can do it," she promised. At least, she was decently sure she could do it. "But I have to stick mostly to my hex bolts otherwise. Any other overly taxing magic and my stores might get depleted. Without a means of channeling anything, I'd have to recover naturally." And she very much doubted they would have the time. Still, she gave a wry grin. "Good thing I'm learning to punch." Dinah, Peter, and Remy were all better martial fighters than she was, though. In this case, that was a good thing. Spider-Man Sneaking was what spiders did best, so Peter pounced at the opportunity to work a little more closely with the team - he loved street work, he really did, it was where he thrived, but he also needed to stretch his legs a little and do something that needed a little more finesse. He was glad to see Wanda in their group. The other two he hadn't the pleasure of working alongside until then, though knowing where their strengths were held Peter was hopeful that they'd make it out intact. Hopefully.

He stepped into the lift beside Remy and sucked on his teeth, the sound muffled just slightly by the mask covering his face. After Darkseid's initial touchdown to Earth, Peter's select few who know his true identity grew - strictly, really, to the Avengers and Fantastic Four. The latter were family, the former - coworkers, but people he trusted. The rest had to earn it.

"Don't worry, I think we've got you covered. We're your personal punching posse, after all," Peter returned to Wanda, a little proud of himself at that one. "Also, I know that some of the newspapers get it wrong, but it's actually Spider-Man. You know, like a boy, but grown up.. I haven't been Spider-Boy in like, ten years. It's, uh.. Sorry." His voice waned towards the end as he suddenly felt too anxious to hold the humored steadiness in his voice. Peter was smart enough to be at least a little scared of a lady who could definitely kick his ass. Dinah Lance She pressed the button and rolled her shoulders before she looked over to the Cajun mutant. “Don’t let my boyfriend here that.” She humoured when he mentioned buying her a new jacket. She wasn’t actually too concerned. Inside, it was more the fact she didn’t know these people well like her own. Even then, it took her time to trust Barbara and Helena. To trust the League. She liked the idea of a team but she had fought on the gritty streets. She knew what is was like from ground level that some didn’t get to see.

As Wanda mentioned about her training lessons, Dinah nodded. “Don’t forget to rotate your hips. It’s where the power comes from.” She reminded her as she pressed her back to the wall of the elevator and gestured to the others to do the same. “Most of the forces will be out there but that doesn’t mean this is unprotected.” She told them. The last thing they needed was to be fired at soon as the doors opened.

As Spider-Man began talking, Dinah let him finished and paused before she spoke. “You talk a lot.” She said as the elevator pinged. “Keep it together. Keep it tight.” She reminded them as the doors drew open.

Setting the scenet: As the elevator descends, Wanda senses the twinge of a number of threads. "We won't be alone once the door opens," she tells them. There are a few waiting Apokolips forces. Tread lightly, heroes.

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔 As Spidey moved beside him, Remy chuckled at his insistence he was Spider-Man. "You sure 'bout dat? Don' you need t' be at least...dis tall t' be Spider-Man?" He held his hand up purposely a good ways above the web-slinger's head as he spoke. He had no idea how old the guy really was, but he could not resist the tease. "Hey, if you're legal t' drink or not don' matter. It only matters how good you gon' throw dose punches when de time comes."

Dinah's comeback made him grin. "Wouldn't be de first time I'd been told dat," he said, which was certainly true. But hopefully they would make it out with both themselves and Dinah's jacket intact, and thus render that problem moot. At her instigating, Remy pressed against the wall. He would not be surprised if there was a welcoming party waiting for them, which was why he reached into his pocket and pulled out his bo staff, promptly extending it.

Wanda's punching ability might not have been tested yet, but her ability to sense danger certainly was. "You got it, chere. Bring on de bad guys, hein?" And when the doors slid open, they certainly did--a bunch of them, heading for the elevator. Remy heard their footsteps, and waited with the others until they drew near enough. Then he finally leapt out, whirling his staff to knock out the nearest one. "Bonjour, mes amis! Hope you don' mind us droppin' in wit'out an invitation!" Wanda Maximoff Wanda was happy to help where she could, as it wasn't exactly her forte to throw herself into the fray. She tended to provide magic support from the back. However, it wasn't the same now that she didn't have unlimited access to her magic. But, like she had said, she had her hex bolts. Quickly, her eyes darted around the area before she stepped back to give Remy room to work. His words almost would have made her laugh if the situation weren't serious. Red power thrummed in her palms before she called out: "I count eight!" Setting the Scene: Blasts begin to fly from the eight guards in the area. The Apokolips army is extremely fast, their speed difficult to track. Hiding behind the martial fighters, Wanda's hex bolts provide support, taking down a few of the attackers from the back.

Dinah Lance Seeing the oncoming forces, Wanda and Remy helped thin out the approaching members. As they got close, that is when Dinah stepped in. She landed an uppercut that Ted would be proud of before performing a Krav Maga elbow strike to the face. The enemy stunned, she gripped the large arm, drawed herself close and manipulated his weight into a Judo throw to the ground, flowing into a high drop axe kick.

Like water, she flowed into combat easy as her clenched fist smashed into her next target before her leg launched into a low kick, causing it to hunch over. Rolling across their back, her arms linked theirs, manipulating their weight over herself to then collide with the floor, finishing it off with a direct blow of her forearm.

Standing up, Dinah braced herself. “Cover your ears!” She called out before, her face contorted. Her jaw clenched. Then she released that signature sound. The sonic waves made the walls vibrate as if a train was running right by then, the lights flickering and bursting as bodies went flying back.

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔 As soon as Remy had jumped out of the elevator, he had been knocking back as many of the oncoming attackers as he could. Wanda's magical attacks helped immensely, as did Dinah's fighting skills. He definitely would not have wanted to end up on either of their bad sides. "Remind me not t' get either o' you mad anytime soon," he remarked, never able to refrain from quipping as he fought.

That became even more apparent as Dinah gave them a warning before unleashing her real weapon. Thankfully Wanda had put up some sort of magical barrier to protect them from the vocal equivalent of a grenade. "Eh? What was dat?" Remy said afterward, smirking at Dinah as he pretended to clean out his ear, "Not sure I caught what you said dere, but wow, dat's some voice you got, chere." It sure was, because it had taken out most of the attackers, and left the others seriously disoriented. Flipping his staff, he knocked out one of the few left standing. "Wish I could jus' scream at someone an' make 'em fall down!" Setting the Scene: The attackers have fallen. Down the hall is a thick door that will require either picking or a hacking job to open. Likely, this is where the prisoners are being stored.

Wanda Maximoff Grinning a little at Remy as he finished the last of their attackers off, she nodded about Dinah. "She's incredible, isn't she?" the witch praised. "But you're pretty good yourself." She let the field fall that she had put up to protect their ears, taking a slow breath as she felt her magic dwindle. She'd have enough. She had to. But Wanda hated these restrictions. It really took her out of the game.

"Can we get that door open?" Dinah Lance Despite her usual cockiness, she was never sure how to take compliments like this sometimes. These were people she deemed much more powerful than her, praising her. She was a fighter with a sonic bird call. These guys were on a whole other level. “A bird call.” She mused as Remy asked what the hell she just let out. “Yeah? Well, even Mariah Carey has days off.” Approaching the door, Dinah knocked it gently. “I can’t scream at this range. It could kill them. “ She looked at the others. “Don’t know if you have a hacking spell or something under your sleeve. Computes aren’t really my strong point.” 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔 "Ah, I jus' seem t' end up in de wrong place at de righ' time," Remy said with a grin in response to Wanda's compliment. But he had a little difficulty wrapping his mind around Dinah's vocalization being a bird call. "Dat's some kinda bird you callin' den. Don' t'ink I wanna see it."

Now that the attackers were out of the way, he took a look at the door. It was a pretty tough one, and while Remy might not have been a hacker, he had bypassed plenty of security systems in his time. "Pardon cheres, but I t'ink I might be able t' handle dis." Smirking, he reached into his coat and withdrew a lockpick. "I might not be officially thievin' dese days, but I still never leave home wit'out one o' dese."

Kneeling down, he took a moment to study the lock before starting to work. It definitely was not easy; obviously these aliens were better at keeping their valuables secure than humans were. But there was not a lock made yet that could keep Remy LeBeau out, and in a little while, this one joined that list. Hearing a click, he smiled and said, "An' dere we go! See, a gentleman always opens de door for ladies...an' Spider-Boys," he added with a chuckle at Peter. Wanda Maximoff Watching Remy work, Wanda let her eyes closed, her mind reaching out to display the threads of reality around her. If she could find the threads connected to the people they were seeking, it'd be easier. They'd have a clearer trajectory. Her eyes glowed red as she focused. "Down. They're further down. But we're nearly there. There's... hm..." Her brow furrowed before she focused on the room again.

Remy had the door open and Wanda nodded to the long hallway. "We're lucky," she murmured. "We have a gentleman, a freedom fighter, and a witch. I only hope there won't be any more parademons waiting to see what we're made of." Spider-Man "There's.. What?" Peter trained the large white lens of his mask on Wanda, worried both for her and for their situation, though the click of the door unlocking stole his attention. He focused beyond it for a breath of a second before offering the group a shrug. "I don't sense anything on the other side, so we should be good to go," Peter remarked, ignoring Remy's comment but he found himself smirking at it despite himself. Dinah Lance She glanced between the all of them before shrugging to Remy. “Yeah, well, when it comes to the queen of Amazons and an alien god then, yeah, it’s a sonic bird call.” She mused. She didn’t compare herself to the likes of Clark or Diana because she would severely outmatched, even with her vocal power.

As the door opened, Dinah glanced to Wanda who seemed to be locating the group. “Then we head down.” She stated before frowning slightly. “Why did you hesitate?” She asked, the others having not mentioned it.

“Don’t forget. Keep it tight. One of us goes down the rest will fall.” Though Dinah had already planned that if it meant the mission would be complete then she would stay behind in the thick of things. 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔 Proud of his opening the door, Remy smirked as they started to walk past it. But he agreed with Dinah; he had not liked the way Wanda had paused. He was not in tune to magical stuff, so if something was bothering her, it was probably not good. "You know somet'ing we don', chere? Should we be 'spectin' more o' a welcome wagon? Or somet'ing else?" He still had his staff in his hands, and plenty of cards in his pockets, though he was trying to avoid using them in such close quarters, especially once they found the people they were looking for. Wanda Maximoff She wasn't as accustomed to reading minds as a telepath, but she could do it if she focused. Trouble was, more focus meant more power used, and she was conserving. Still, she looked between the three others. "There are more Parademons, I believe. But something... else, too. Altered. Like their reality has been changed." It was cryptic. She gave an apologetic smile. "I can't investigate too much. I want to be able to do the teleport."

Setting the Scene: As they reach the bottom of the elevator shaft, the door opens to a large handful of parademons with their weapons. The presence that Wanda sensed is a pair of parademons in strange helmets. Wanda can't get a read on them, but she throws up a forcefield to guard her allies. Inside the room is a large caged off area full of prisoners. This is your objective, ladies and gentlemen. You've done it. Now you just have to make it out. The forcefield will hold, but the longer Wanda holds it, the more magic she saps. Act fast!

Spider-Man "Sounds like a party," Peter returned - altered Parademons? That really was the last thing they needed, but he felt confident in their group that they'd pull through. Still, Wanda was an integral part of them getting out in one piece, so he was pretty okay with relying on a bit of mystery. He had to rely on his 'feelings' one way or another; so instead of pushing, he waved away Wanda's worry with a slight wave. "Hey, no worries. We want you to be able to teleport, too," he finished with a sheepish laugh.

Though the sound was cut short when the elevator door revealed, indeed, a party of Parademons ready to turn them into swiss cheese. The two with those funky headsets were Peter's top priority, if only they'd caused quite the concern earlier. The instant that Wanda's shield went up, Peter already had his web spinners aimed at the pair - webbing was quick to shoot out and landed its mark. He kept the line tethered and pulled hard as he leapt forward into the fray. The goal was to drop the first two and bounce around the room to avoid random fire. Dinah Lance Her lips formed thin lines as Wanda described what she had sensed. Wanda was a finite resource at the moment which meant she could only be used sparingly. “We are all wearing costumes and doing something stupid. I think we can all handle this.” She mused though she was concerned in the back of her head.

As the gunfire began, she watched the bullets bounce off Wanda’s force field. “We’ve got to handle this fast. If Wanda runs out.” She didn’t need to add anything other than that. Stepping forward, she released her Canary Cry again, knocking several parademons back and keeping the pressure on them. “Remy, you’ve got nimble fingers.” She called out, her leg firing into a push kick as she was charged into a frontal assault. “Think you can get these cages open?” She asked as she threw an elbow back into another enemy.

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔 Any magic stuff was out of Remy's realm, so he was not going to press Wanda for more. "You already doin' plenty, chere. I don' need t' know more more dan 'it's somet'ing weird'." A bunch of Parademons was plenty weird, so how much weirder could it get? Coming out of the elevator, they found more of them, though the ones in the helmets were certainly weirder. Clearly Remy should not have wondered about things getting weirder.

Wanda had put up a forcefield, which was good, and Spidey was shooting webbing at the helmeted Parademons, and Dinah was giving her "bird call" again. Remy was still reluctant to use his cards in such close quarters, so he was ready to start knocking Parademons with his staff until Dinah spoke. "Oh, I been told dat quite a lot, in more dan one situation," he said with a wink, "So yeah, I t'ink i can do dat."

Thus instead of readying his staff to hit the Parademons, he used it to vault over them, landing close to the cages. One of the nearest enemies figured out what he was trying to do, but a quick knock from Remy's staff took him out of the equation, and thankfully the others were occupied with trying to attack his comrades, so he turned his attention to the cages. "Jus' a moment, mes amis, an' we'll have you outta dere," he said to the people closest to the doors as he took out his lockpick again and went to work. After a moment, the lock clicked, so Remy opened the door and moved on to the next one, then the next one in quick succession. Now that the people were free, they just had to get them--and themselves--out of there. Setting the Scene: As Remy gets close to the people in the cages, they seem terrified. One of them whispers: "The helmets. The ones in the helmets can do things."

As if on cue, one of the helmeted enemies engaged with Dinah throws her back before raising their hand and beginning to murmur something. Around them, strange symbols begin to form, almost as if they are on fire. Single versions of the inscrutable glyphs fly toward Dinah. When they hit her, they seem to affect her mentally.

Wanda Maximoff

As the doors clicked open, Wanda let magic flow through her to appear in the midst of the frightened civilians. "You're safe now," she promised, trying to let her magic calm them. As the scarlet energy glowed in her eyes, however, several were afraid as they staggered toward Remy. "Is she like them?" they ask him.

Wanda was about to ask what they meant when her hazel eyes shot to Dinah as a new sort of power... not quite magic but not exactly mundane filled the room. "Peter!" she shouted. "Stop them!" There was something Wrong about it. Something thick and dominating. Dinah Lance Her fist collided with another monstrous jaw before she kicked them back, her leg firing like a loading gun. “We can’t keep this up.” It was like a small tickle in her brain to start with. Then it grew and grew and it was like she was drowning. Dinah froze as her breathing was hard, looking around her. “I…I can’t do this.” She whispered. “I’m not strong enough to save them. I can’t-“ A sob caught in her throat as she fell to her knees, being overwhelmed by the outside force.

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔 He had expected the people in the cages to be nervous, worried, scared. Remy could only imagine what they had seen. Obviously they had seen something from the helmeted Parademons. "Quoi? What can dey do?" Weird magic shit, apparently, as one of them suddenly sent a bunch of blazing symbols to attack Dinah. "Merde. Why dese t'ings always have t' get weird?"

At least Wanda was nearby with her own, and reassuring, brand of weird. Some of the people were concerned about her, though, and Remy was quick to tell them she was good. "Non. Whatever dey are, she ain't dem. She got magic, yeah, but she's here t' help you. I promise."

Dinah definitely needed some help, but now with the people right there, Remy definitely did not want to throw any cards. And he did not fancy his chances fighting hand-to-hand with someone who could do magic. "Wanda! Can you do your t'ing an' get us all out? Or at least do somet'ing t' combat whatever dat shit is? 'Cause I can't exactly blow up somet'ing dat ain't really dere!" Spider-Man Things certainly took quite the sharp left turn in the wrong direction, something they all really should have anticipated a little better - okay, maybe there was really no way of knowing that the bad guy's had some crazy mind altering Parademons under their sleeve, but they'd all dealt with worse - right? With Black Canary faltering quickly and everyone else tied up, Peter steeled himself and set his aim on the helmet twins. Using the Parademon he'd just knocked out as a sort of diving board, he leapt through the air and careened himself into the first one. The idea was to at least break the mental connection it had on Black Canary; the taste of success only lasted for so long before his attention was on the second demon. He made short work of it with a wad of webbing to the face, incapacitating it momentarily - or for however long the webbing held.

Wanda Maximoff

Wanda used the moment that Spider-Man incapacitated Dinah’s attacker, her eyes glowing bright red as she let power flow around the people in the cage, around Remy, around Dinah and Peter. It was a lot of power, draining her resources down to the quick as they all moved. When the scarlet power cleared away, she went to her knees, exhaustion going through her. But they were done. They had made it. And the other teams were going to need communication soon.

#invevent #invictuslibertas #marvel rp #dc rp #mutant rp #dc rpg #marvel rpg

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