#i mean even if i land the role someone else might get that apartment first

[despite-everything]

so i'm hesitant to even bring this up because i don't want to jinx anything or get my hopes up but... i have an interview for a job next week. it's in a pretty small town which would be tough for me, but everything else about it seems absolutely fucking perfect, and if it were to be any small town in the united states, this would be ideal, so i think i can handle it. anyway, there aren't a lot of places available for rent, but i just found a recently updated apartment perfectly within my budget that's cat friendly and most importantly: it's a two minute walk from where my job would be. like i'm not kidding. that would be so fucking amazing. i haven't even had my first interview yet, so who knows what will happen, but this feels almost serendipitous?

[hexagonalhavoc]

A story about literally anything Sado. There is never enough of the Clown wife. Please.

The Runaways 

Sado x Reader (Fantasy au)

[Author’s Note: I felt like doing an au would be fun and I wanted to get those creative juices flowing. Thanks for letting me take liberty with this it was super fun! I put so much love and passion into this 🫶🫶

⚠️ Arranged marriage, might be a little ooc for Sado]

     You were lucky enough to be raised within a peaceful kingdom, to have two loving parents, to be born into the role of the king and queen’s child. 

     But even your life was filled with its fair share of challenges. Even when you were younger you knew what would become of you. The neighboring kingdom was a lot larger than your own with more strength behind it.  So when it was discovered that the child of the neighboring kingdom was around your age, it made sense that a marriage would follow to strengthen your kingdoms. 

     Your suitor was kind, they were a natural born leader with an endearing personality. Without a doubt they would be a great ruler and you’re sure that if the circumstances were different you would have fallen in love with them. 

     But your heart belongs to someone else. 

     You weren’t supposed to be seeing her. She was a mage that specified in the magic of ill-will and misfortune. If you were to ask for something there would be a terrible price to pay. 

     That’s what you were told when you went into the woods where the sun could not shine through the thick forest with thorns as big as swords and insects waiting for their next prey. You found the elegant mansion and you went inside to make a deal. Your people were being picked off by an unforgiving plague and your parents were showing symptoms. 

     The one who referred to herself as “Sado” said that she could rid your land of its sickness. That everyone would recover from their symptoms and springtime would come sooner to bring warmth to combat the sickness. What was her price? 

     “Everyday you are to come here with the finest chocolates and converse with me.” At first you were surprised, thinking that you would need to give up a body part or years off your life for such a big request. Surely there would have to be something more to this.

     But there wasn’t. Everyday at the same time you’d bring the delicacies of your personal bakers and sit with Sado within the courtyard of her home, surrounded by black and red roses and statues of strange creatures. When you first started to talk she hid within the confines of her cloak but as the two of you got more comfortable she went without it, revealing the hair that spilled onto her shoulder like a starless night and an eye full of mischief. 

     Soon enough you started coming around more than you needed to, bringing all sorts of luxuries to give to your new friend. Simple conversations turned into walks around the woods and slow dances to the tune of enchanted instruments that played themselves. 

     You had fallen in love with something beyond human, a creature that hid their true nature in a vessel that was made to look as mortal as possible. Knowing how your parents would react you kept your love for her in secret. The only person you wanted to be with was someone that the world viewed as a bad omen. 

———-

     “You shouldn’t have to do anything for the sake of your kingdom.” 

     Sometimes Sado wonders if she should have let the plague eat away at the land. It’s not like she doesn’t understand the reason behind the marriage you were forced to partake in but that doesn’t mean she likes it. The way she holds you is gentle, she rests her head on your chest with a hand on your shoulder. But in reality she wants to claw into you and squeeze you so close to her that no one could pry you two apart.

     “But it’s my responsibility.” Ever since you were a child those words were engraved into your head. You weren’t allowed to play with the other children or make innocent mistakes. You had to carry the weight of the world and you were supposed to feel grateful for it.

     You rest your cheek on the top of her head. The blanket beneath you both kept the grass from irritating your skin. The atmosphere was dark but the strange flowers that surrounded you two glowed like stars that had descended to earth. 

     Your lover pauses thoughtfully before she speaks again. “It doesn’t have to be,” She takes your hand and intertwines her scarred fingers with your own. “Run away with me.” 

     It would be a lie to say that you never thought of it but that was only wishful thinking. The thought of getting married and having a more authoritative role within your kingdom terrified you but surely you couldn’t just runaway. 

     “I can’t…That would be selfish.” 

     “You’re allowed to be selfish.” She says firmly. Sado sits up and her grip on your shoulder pulls you up with her. 

     Out of all the people in the world, you were the one who deserved to be selfish. You have been self sacrificing for so long, running yourself in the ground for the good of other people. The people of your land do thank you but to her a simple thanks wasn’t enough. If the world wasn’t going to treat you like the wonderful being you are then it shouldn’t have the privilege of being within your presence. 

     “We could get married here. I’ll get you the prettiest ring and after that we can travel the world.” She whispers in your ear, kissing the side of your jaw tenderly. “I’ll take you to the lands within the clouds and in the sea. I’ll cut down anyone who dares to bring you down.” 

     How could you say no to her? She was willing to give you everything so surely you can take a risk for her. You’ve never cared about someone so much. You’re going to miss your parents and the land of your birth greatly but you know that your true home is within the presence of the one you love. 

     You squeeze her cold hand gently. “I do.” 

———-

     The day of your wedding you weren’t there. The outfit of white laid on the bed with a note resting upon it for your parents and your rejected spouse to read. The handwriting wasn’t yours:

     If you clip a bird’s wings I shall raise it to the sky myself, I’ll take the light from prying eyes and watch it shine as bright as ever. I’ll cherish what you could never.

[neengareadynaaready]

Mandela and Maaveeran

I finally finally saw director Madonne Ashwin’s Mandela (2021) and Maaveeran (2023).

These are fantastic! Mandela is his first full-length feature film, followed by Maaveeran, and I am now a fan of this director.

Mandela (2021)

Here, famous comedian Yogi Babu stars as Smiles, a barber from the Dalit caste. Smiles isn’t his actual name. It’s what the villagers call him - if not Jackass. He doesn’t remember his name. His parents are gone. His only family is this boy named Side Burns who isn’t even related to him. They live under a banyan tree. Sometimes, they’re given money for their services - sometimes they get a share of rice after Smiles gets their ration.

And then one guy steals Smiles’ money from the tree, so he goes to the post office, and the officer, Thenmozhi, recommends he get a bank account. To do that, he would need an official ID. And to get that, he would need an actual name.

With the help of Side Burns and Thenmozhi’s help, they landed on the name Nelson Mandela after the historical figure who, as Thenmozhi says, also fought for his identity.

The main conflict of the movie is that two political parties tied for number of voters. When Mandela’s voter ID arrived, they start fighting over him.

It’s definitely a great film to watch, with a Dalit as the main character. It doesn’t ask the audience to break the caste system though. It does talk about vote-buying as a very “normal” custom that people are used to doing or take for granted. It presents the issues to the viewer and leaves you to think.

Trigger Warning: there is a short scene where Mandela contemplates suicide but he gets interrupted and has a conversation with a younger woman who opens his eyes to see his situation through a different perspective

Maaveeran (2023)

What a truly fun film! Madonne Ashwin brought a smart and unique take to the table of masala action hero movies. It’s a very meta film. It places the action hero formula and elements in a fun new angle. I suggest it to anyone who loves to watch action hero films. I say “action hero” films instead of just action films because this movie focuses on The Hero, The Great Warrior aka Maaveeran. It’s about how one person (usually a man) or two (if it’s a dual hero movie) fights for his people and beats up bad guys while looking cool. They’re a superhero without the powers.

Sivakarthikeyan is in amazing form in this movie - and I don’t just mean his physique. He looks cool in the action scenes, as both someone who doesn’t really know how to fight and later as someone who fully embraces his “role” in the story.

Cinematography is slick, action sequences are quick and largely more grounded than in the usual masala movies.

The main story revolves around Sathya who is a comic artist. He draws the story The Great Warrior, which has been running in the papers for decades. He and his family were forced out of their home by the river and into a shabbily-done apartment complex with other families. Sathya, the opposite of most masala action heroes, does not want to complain. Unlike his mother (and the heroic father who died when he was young), Sathya isn’t confrontational, not even after his sister were assaulted (off-screen) by a neighbor.

He then hears his mother complain about him being a coward.

Cue TRIGGER WARNING: attempted suicide

Sathya, when he hears this, tries to take his own life. He gets stopped when his sister calls him via phone. He tries to get down but falls instead because of the substandard construction. This accident leads to him hearing a voice (by Vijay Sethupathi 🥰) that narrates the story of The Great Warrior, with Sathya as The Hero.

It is honestly a fun film. This might be my favorite SK film. Sathya is a great character. Despite him constantly resisting the Voice, we get hilarious masala action hero movie elements. It is SO FUN. I don’t know what else I can say — this movie is just a fun and enjoyable one.

If you’ve seen many mass action hero movies, you will recognize the elements in Maaveeran and how they wove it into the story in a very smart way.

Oh and THERE IS A POST-CREDIT SCENE! I found it very very satisfying and wrapped up the story in a good way.

I will be rewatching this with my family because it’s a truly enjoyable flick.

(One of these days I swear I will write a paper on this, just you wait, world)

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: The Importance of Timing, Ch 1

<<chapter navigation TBA>>

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb and Essek make the mistake of overworking themselves right before the Mighty Nein are scheduled for a reunion. Lessons are learned.

Wordcount: 3.6k (yeah, this one’s going to take a while)

A/N: making some more progress on my backlog of prompts (this one happens to be both from the most recent vote and this lovely anon prompt)! cross your fingers that this is going to be my first finished chapter fic lol

---

Caleb hardly remembers it, later.

It was evening - not particularly late, but after three near-sleepless nights time stretched into its own kind of viscous liquidity. Like a soup.

He laughed to himself at the absurdity of it, too tired for more than the barest expense of breath. Essek would know better than he, of course - he turned to him, intending to share the thought, and found a sheaf of notes thrust mere inches from his face.

“Here,” Essek said brusquely. Exhaustion did not lend itself to the usual smoothness of his speech. “I think I have it, finally - if we engrave it this way, the spell will replenish itself without interrupting conversation, yes?”

“Oh.” He took the papers, looking them over blearily - his eyes widened, a brief rush of vigor returning. “Oh, this is - oh, this is good! Let me just fabricate the surface smooth again and we can try-”

There was a crash from a location beyond the lab and therefore currently unimportant. Neither of them looked up.

The interruption, then, arrived unexpectedly.

“Hel-loooo!”came a lilting Nicodranian accent from the hall. “We got here early and you didn’t answer your door so we used our super cool magic powers to come in, and we should to-tally make a hammock themed room in the mansion tonight because I think Fjord is kind of land sick - Caleb, look at me, why do you look so terrible?”

Caleb knew the consequences of ignoring that voice. He looked up.

After hours of gazing at runes, his eyes refused to fully adjust and take in the three figures in the doorway. He squinted and managed to make out a bit of blue. “Jester?”

“They look tired right out, the poor things,” a purple blob pronounced from Jester’s right. “We haven’t missed out on an adventure, have we?”

“No,” Jester said, “Essek would never go out with his hair looking like that. Right, Essek? Aren’t you, like, super embarrassed that your hair’s all floppy right now?”

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with the floppy-haired drow in question, Caleb could just barely hear him hiss in protest at the interruption. “Leave, then, if it disturbs you so.”

Caleb blinked, starting to fumble together a sentence to dull the reprimand, and suddenly the remaining green blob resolved into Fjord as he put a hand on Caleb’s forehead and crouched to look into his eyes. “All right, it’s bedtime for you two. Jes, can you get Essek?”

“Wait-” Caleb grabbed weakly for the table, for his notes at least, but he was already being swept up in Fjord’s arms and carried bodily from the room. Essek sounded much more awake - and irate, frankly - behind him, trying to explain something, but it had been far too long since he had been anywhere near horizontal - with his head pillowed against Fjord’s bicep, he was asleep before they reached the stairs.

---

Waking is a slow process.

He is not alone - there’s a weight to being tangled up in someone else, the warm scent of closeness, and even without his eidetic memory he does not think he can ever forget the stony, moon-soaked smell of having his face buried in the crook of Essek’s shoulder.

He yawns lazily. Essek must be very tired, if Caleb is awake and he is not, and he is the better cook of the two of them anyway - although of course neither of them have any comparison to Caduceus, or Yasha now that it’s been several months since her last poisoning incident. He presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s jaw and rolls out of bed to get started with breakfast.

Or tries to, at least. His top half makes it out of bed easily enough, but the rest of him does not seem inclined to follow.

Something clanks at the foot of the bed as he narrowly hauls himself up from a quick trip to the floor. He props himself up on an elbow, halfway through another yawn, and finds himself staring down a pair of manacles hooked around his ankles.

He kicks cautiously. The chain threaded through his bed posts clanks again.

Panic begins to stir low in his gut. “Essek!”

There’s a sleepy murmur next to him. He twists to find Essek blinking awake - there’s not much else he can do, with his arms shackled above his head and his legs chained below in similar fashion. The cuffs are padded at least, stuffed with what looks to be worn handkerchiefs, and they’re both fully dressed in sleep clothes - their captors don’t want to hurt them, then, not yet.

Caleb scans the room frantically. The book he has been reading is still propped open on the bedside table, the door knob Essek had pried from an Aeorian ruin after Caleb had commented on its sparkle still proudly adorns the bathroom door, Kingsley is still leaning against the window-

He grins smugly as Caleb’s gaze snaps back to him. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. Comfy watch, but it’s ever so much more boring without the-” He pulls his hands from his pockets and rocks them back and forth. “Oh, and also the fish folk trying to kill us, those are great.”

“Kingsley?” Caleb demands. Next to him, Essek makes a shocked sound as he presumably recognizes that he cannot move any of his limbs. “What is this?”

“Oh, I can’t rightly say.” Kingsley saunters over and swings himself neatly up onto the mattress, worming between him and Essek to sit cross-legged at the center of the bed. “Wasn’t my idea, at any rate-”

“Jester and Fjord were here too,” Essek interrupts. “Is this - this is a prank, is it not?”

“Hush, you,” Kingsley smirks. “All I’ve got is that I’m to ensure you don’t make your way free with any spellcasting before Fjord and Jester get back. And to that end…”

He breaks the pause with a dramatic flourish of his arms, spreading them wide before laying a palm down lightly on each of their bellies. “I’m told this should do just fine, if the two of you care to demonstrate?”

Caleb connects the dots just a moment too late to throw himself back off the edge of the bed. “Kingsley - wait - ah!”

There was a time when it would take minutes for his mind to link the intruding sensation of touch to anything but wariness. Now, the instant Kingsley’s fingers start scribbling he’s flat on his back, pushing weakly at the offending limb and doing his best not to collapse into hysterical snickering at how much it - it -

“Tickle, tickle, magic man,” Kingsley teases, pupilless eyes aflame with mischief. “No, no, don’t bother fighting it. I’ve heard tales about those ribs of yours, you know. Especially how much you love letting Jester play with them, hm?”

“N-nein, that’s not-” Caleb tries to protest, but he’s already giggling just at the thought - Fjord and Jester are here, and he’s stuck, and Kingsley won’t stop tickling him-

Kingsley’s grin grows another satisfied inch as he turns back to Essek. “And you, stubborn - oh, are you trying to cast something? Is that what that face means?”

Essek is struggling, jaw working and face scrunched as his entire body trembles in time with the claw vibrating its way into his belly. Caleb can practically see the Misty Step brewing on his tongue, just a few short words between him and freedom if only he can get them out without laughing.

Until Jester tracks him down, that is. He hasn’t - they’ve been apart, and then in Aeor, and then working on their big project for the past few weeks, and Caleb hasn’t exactly gotten around to admitting that he might like Essek to - admitting anything, really. Or telling Essek that now that Jester knows he’s ticklish and doesn’t entirely mind it, any attempt to escape will only end in more retribution.

An oversight, in retrospect.

Kingsley purrs, apparently entirely delighted with his victim’s predicament. “Oh, come on now, you can do it! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good magic show.” Essek shakes his head frantically, lips pressed together even as his cheeks puff with repressed giggles, and Kingsley grins all the wider. “No? Let’s see how long you last when I really start pressing your buttons, then.”

On his side and snickering helplessly, Caleb cannot help but feel a little jealous as he watches Kingsley tug up Essek’s shirt and wait for his eyes to widen in terrible anticipation. “One last chance, then? Cause I think this is really going to tickle.”

Caleb wants him to succeed, really, he does - but watching Essek try as hard as he can to curl in on himself as a single fingertip starts to rub at his navel, squirming and squeezing his eyes shut and finally barking out the first two syllables of his incantation before the third succumbs to high, squeaking laughter holds its own considerable charm. “Ahahaaaa - nooo, hehe! - wh -” He laughs a little more, shoulders shaking, and barely manages to gasp out the words. “Fjord - Jester - where -”

“Couldn’t take it? Oh, you are a ticklish thing,” Kingsley tells him, laughing when Essek’s attempt at protesting collapses into a breathless snort. “You’re wondering where they are? Really, I couldn’t say. Maybe they’ll be gone for hours, and I’ll just have to keep tickling and tickling-”

He’s focused in on Essek now, taking his other hand off Caleb to wiggle it menacingly over a defenseless armpit - Essek takes one look at the new threat and screams. “Caleb!”

Kingsley’s replaced his hand with his tail squeezing around Caleb’s thigh, and it tickles so badly and unexpectedly that Caleb would like to curl up in a ball and do some screaming of his own, but with Essek pleading for his help there’s no other choice.

He pulls himself back onto his elbows and flops into Kingsley’s lap as best he can with his legs chained, reaching blindly for ticklish spots that used to belong to Mollymauk - gasping through a new wave of laughter as the spade of Kingsley’s tail starts to poke at the soft back of his knee, he crowds his fingernails against the small of Kingsley’s back and yelps in preemptive terror as Kingsley starts to laugh and reaches for him instead. “Fjord! Jester!” he shouts. “Help!”

“Gah - oh, fuck, thahat’s - haaaa-” Kingsley flails for a moment, legs kicking out as he tries to shimmy away, but in the next moment his fingers are tickling mercilessly under Caleb’s arms and Caleb can hardly breathe, let alone keep tickling him. He flails to escape, trying to wrap his arms around himself and use them to drag himself away at the same time, but really that just means that Kingsley’s hands are stuck in his armpits now and he’s going to die-

“Right, right, I’ve learned my lesson, no ganging up on our little star,” Kingsley grumbles. Caleb gasps in breathless relief as Kingsley works his hands free - he’s facedown on the mattress, but he hears Essek shout for Fjord and Jester too before dissolving into another fit of giggles. Presumably Kingsley’s putting his tail to good use somewhere.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he’s rolled over onto his back with his legs untwisting beneath him. He blinks up into Kingsley’s gaze, eyebrows raised in apparent dudgeon. “You, on the other hand,” Kingsley growls, as if his lips weren’t curving up into a fanged smile already, “I am absolutely going to need both hands for what I’m about to do to your ribs.”

“Mist,” Caleb sputters reflexively, and then, louder, “Fjord! Jester! FJORD!”

Kingsley’s eyebrows rise even higher. “Oh, it’s sweet that you think they’re going to help you. Unless - oh, did you want more hands?”

Caleb hardly hears the approaching footsteps over his own anticipatory squeal as he watches Kingsley’s fingers start to wander back down towards his ribs. “Nein! - eheeheh, oh gods, nein-”

But then, suddenly, blessedly, the fingers ghost lightly over his ribs and settle for spidering across his tummy instead. He wheezes in relief - half of it comes out as giggles, his nerves still on high alert, but he fully intends to enjoy breathing while he can.

He flops tiredly back, eyes tracking to the doorway as Fjord and Jester stroll in. “Sorry for the wait,” Fjord says politely. “Jester and I were just finishing up lunch. Because it’s lunchtime.”

“No rush, Captain!” Kingsley practically chirps. “We’re having a wonderful time, aren’t we, boys?”

Fjord looks completely unsurprised to find the two of them in chains. Jester is practically bouncing beside him. Caleb imagines this does not bode well for them.

Essek pipes up from behind him, metal clanking as he tries to move to see around Kingsley. “Did - heh - did we oversleep? I think the shackles are a bit uncalled for-”

“Oh,” Fjord says, low and dangerous. He’s not smiling, not yet, but Caleb can see it in his eyes and that is even worse. “Don’t mind those. It would be a shame to let the two of you leave your bedroom so soon when you haven’t seen it in days and days, wouldn’t it?”

With Kingsley still tickling at his waist, Caleb can’t even begin to coax his stomach muscles to let him sit up as Fjord and Jester cross to the bed and loom over the both of them. Jester claps her hands together, looking dangerously pleased with herself. “Do you like them?” she enthuses. “We got them from a pirate raid, because someone put our other set on a fish person that jumped right back into the ocean.”

“They were getting rusted anyway - I don’t think we collected a single one of those at sea, they’re not even waterproofed.” Fjord grumbles amiably. “These, though-”

He hooks one finger delicately through the chain connecting Caleb’s ankles to the bedpost and tugs, dragging one helpless foot just close enough to scoop up in a waiting hand. “Now these are made for some real seafaring shit. Could hold a body for as long as you want, as long as they aren’t inclined to use any magic tricks.”

Caleb tries to yank his foot back. Fjord just chuckles and leans over to stare him down, his yellow eyes warm and amused. “Isn’t that right, Caleb.”

“No magic tricks,” he gasps out through another fit of giggles as Fjord rubs a warning thumb over his sole. It’s hardly a concession - between that and Kingsley, he hardly has the breath to try anything.

“Good,” Fjord says encouragingly. He puts Caleb’s foot gently down and turns to Essek. “Now you.”

Caleb turns to look at him - from what little of Essek’s body language he can read, he looks wholly confused. “You’re not going to let us go?”

Fjord crosses his arms. “Oh, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Just consider this a friendly reminder that Jester, Kingsley and I are quite capable of following any… magical exits.”

Essek visibly rallies at the mention of magic, quirking an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had learned how to Teleport.”

“Essek,” Caleb hisses. Fjord shushes him and stalks a single step forward, just close enough to start tickling lightly at the bottom of one purple foot.

Essek’s superior expression lasts all of a moment before his entire body starts flailing to escape the single point of contact. “Ah! No, nohoho, wahahait, I didn’t - ahaha, stop that!”

“You’re right, I can’t Teleport,” Fjord says conversationally. “Good catch, I’d kind of forgotten about that one. Jes, we’ve got some antimagic stuff on the ship, right?”

Jester interrupts herself from making increasingly dramatic faces at Essek to answer. “I think so? You know, just in case if we meet someone icky like you know who.”

“Perfect. Maybe you and Kingsley can keep Essek busy, and I’ll head back to the ship and root around for it?” He looks calmly down at Essek, kicking as frantically as he can with the few inches of leeway the shackles afford him and still completely unable to avoid Fjord’s fingers. “It’ll take a while, mind you.”

Jester perks up, dancing over and reaching for Essek’s other foot. “Yes! Kingsley, did you try his ears yet? They get all flappy and it’s really really-”

“No!” Essek rushes out, squeaking in harried protest when they still don’t stop tickling up his arches. “I - wait,” he pleads. “No! I won’t cast, I won’t!”

Fjord grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Alright, Kingsley, can we give them a moment?”

Kingsley removes his hands from both of them rather reluctantly. Fjord claps his shoulder in silent thanks. “Now, would either of you like to explain why we found the two of you half-dead from sleep deprivation?”

“Yeah, you guys, we were so worried!” Jester adds. “You can’t do that when we’re not around to take care of you! You guys haven’t been doing this all year, have you?”

“We’ve only met up in the last few months,” Caleb adds, wincing a little as their eyes turn to him. He sits up slowly, wincing apologetically in the direction of Essek’s wrist shackles. “But no, we have not, we are just working on this project - it is a real ficker, there are so many moving pieces - and we are nearly done, we meant to sleep last night.”

“How many days?” Fjord asks. “One? Two?”

When neither of them answer, sharing a silent look, he hovers a hand threateningly over each of their trapped feet. “Believe me, you really don’t want us to pick a number.”

“Four,” Essek says warily. “But Caleb slept for at least an hour each night, and I don’t need to-”

“Oh, four’s a lot,” Kingsley cuts in. “Did you not learn how to sleep in shifts, not being on the ocean, or do you just enjoy each other’s company that much?”

Essek turns bright red. Caleb’s pretty sure he turns even redder. Even Fjord looks a little embarrassed as Jester and Kingsley collapse into laughter.

Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb can easily guess what this punishment will entail. “Wait a moment,” he says hastily, “we have not even told you about this project-”

“It will be worth it,” Essek adds. “If you would just let us-”

Fjord nods thoughtfully, ignoring their protests. “What do you say, a minute for each hour they should have been sleeping?”

“No-” Caleb starts.

“So that’s sixteen for Essek, and - Caleb’s been napping on and off, sounds like, so we’ll round it down to a neat half hour for him.”

Caleb gapes fearfully. A half hour of tickling, after months and months - he can admit to himself that he missed it a little, but- “That’s too much,” he blurts. “Bitte, you’ll kill me-”

“Really, this is unnecessary,” Essek adds, surprisingly dignified for the way he’s trying helplessly to press his feet against the bed. “Just - we are well rested now, we only need a few hours more to finish the project, there is no need!”

Jester pouts. “Oh, Essek, don’t you want to hang out with us?”

Essek flounders at that, and Caleb can’t help the soft smile that slips out of him. “I would like nothing more,” he assures her, “but being chained up and - and tortured - was not quite on my mind-”

“Well then, you shouldn’t have been so dumb, Essek,” she says cheerily. “Caleb, do you want me or Fjord to tickle you?”

His mouth goes dry. Jester will be - Fjord teases, but he is gentle at least, and Jester is - Jester-

He looks over at Essek, wide-eyed and eyes flicking between all of them in some strange combination of bewilderment and anticipation, and braces himself. “Jester.”

Kingsley laughs, delighted. “Oh, he must really love you,” he tells Essek. “He’s gone and given you the better option by far.”

Essek looks at Caleb, gaze softening. “Really?”

Caleb grimaces back at him, a little embarrassed by himself. “He’s exaggerating. And besides, I am not the one laid flat out here.”

Essek frowns. “Yes, about that.”

“Caleb doesn’t like having his wrists pinned down,” Jester says easily, scrambling up onto the bed and into Caleb’s lap. “Though you should know that already if you two are boning-”

“Jester,” Caleb pleads. Kingsley starts to laugh again.

She beams at him, darting in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Hi, Caleb!”

It’s impossible not to smile back. “Hallo, blueberry.”

He looks around her to see Fjord walk over and settle on Essek’s side of the bed, patting his shoulder companionably. “It’s good to see you two, really.”

Essek just sighs.

Kingsley prods at his belly, earning a hasty yelp. “He’s in a mood, it seems. You want some help with him?”

His stomach grumbles, just then, and Fjord laughs. “Why don’t you get some lunch instead,” he suggests. “We’d have brought something up, but the screaming sounded rather urgent.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kingsley cocks a loose salute and swings back off the bed with one more tickle under each of their arms, snorting in amusement as Caleb and Essek both squirm and protest. “The others should be arriving soon, I’ll keep a weather eye on the door.”

“Yes, do that,” Fjord says, waiting for him to round the corner and start down the stairs. “That guy is really into sea lingo.”

“Kingsley is great,” Jester enthuses. “Don’t you guys think he looks so much prettier now that he’s all tan?”

She’s not wrong. “Ja, sure.” Caleb says. “By the way, what exactly did the two of you tell him about-” He flushes. “About my ribs?”

“Oh, you know, just some stuff!” Jester says cheerfully. “Most of it is definitely not true by now, probably, since it’s been a super long time since we’ve seen you.”

She puts both of her hands on Caleb’s shoulders and presses, sending him flat on his back and leaning over with a mischievous smile. “Good thing we have a whole half hour to catch up, huh?”

Caleb gulps.

[iceeckos12]

time travel snippet

little time travel au oneshot. season 5 jon travels back in time to season 1. from the perspectives of tim, martin, and sasha. 3.5k.

i dont think i need to tag anything, but please let me know otherwise.

Tim wakes up that morning, and it’s just like any other day.

Well—no, okay, that’s a bit misleading. Today is his first day working as an archival assistant, so he’s one part nervous, one part that breathless, exhilarated feeling you only get when you’re about to do something unfamiliar that may or may not redefine your life for the foreseeable future. When he says “it’s just like any other day”, he means that he wakes up, and he’s a normal person doing normal people things like eating a healthy breakfast and going to work.

(So, no. In short, he doesn’t realize that today is the day when It happens, that big, life-changing event that you think will Never Happen To You.)

He gets out of bed, stumbles into the bathroom. Washes his face of whatever residue that’d built up during the night, tries to scrape away the evidence of his nightmares, smiles big and bright at the mirror to see how successful his efforts were. He’s betrayed by the traitorous bags beneath his eyes, but that’s okay. Sasha taught him how to wield concealer as a shield whenever his past wore down his armor.

He shoots twin finger guns into his reflection, making soft pew, pew! noises that are almost too-loud in the hush of the bathroom. Then he turns on his heel and walks away, sauntering and humming along with the chorus of Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5.

He gets to the Institute twenty minutes before he’s supposed to—not because he’s trying to impress his boss or whatever (he and Jon have known each other long enough that there’s no point). It’s just, Jon will probably want to make some sort of game-plan before the actual workday starts. 

The poor man had been relieved to an almost comical degree when Tim had said yes, I’ll come with you to the Archives. It’s painfully obvious how out-of-his-depth Jon is with the whole “Head Archivist” thing. Tim’s honestly baffled as to why Elias had singled him out for the position in the first place, considering his lack of qualifications.

But, whatever. It’s fine! Tim and Sasha will be there to help him—although the third assistant is a bit of a problem, considering that they know absolutely nothing about him. There’s no guarantee that this Martin Blackwood won’t report inadequacies or mistakes back to Elias. If that’s the case, Tim and Sasha will have to be Jon’s safety net, which is partially why Tim is hoping to talk to Jon before anyone else gets there.

He also wants to talk to Jon because he just knows the man is probably working himself up over all of this. Maybe reassurances won’t do away with the source of anxiety entirely, but at least it’ll remind Jon that he’s not alone, and that he can count on Tim and Sasha.

As expected, when Tim gets there he can see a sliver of light pouring out from the cracked door of the Head Archivist’s office. He selects a desk and sets his bag on top of it, noting a set of strange gouges in the fake wood with a raised eyebrow, and then an internal shrug. The Institute issued laptop is near the far edge of his desk, and his collection of pictures are strategically placed so that he can see them all clearly.

His eyes linger over the image of him, his mother, and his brother. Their smiles are almost perfect replicas of each other, like someone took a mold of one of their faces and recreated it twice over.

Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he shakes himself, releases a slow, steadying breath, and goes to check on Jon.

Tim’s not sure what he’s expecting to see when he goes into Jon’s office.

(That’s misleading too, though. He’s not sure if Jon will be visibly calm or upset, if he’ll be on his laptop, if he’ll be picking at the skin around his fingernails, as he so often does when he’s stressed. He is expecting Jon as he is and always has been—a twenty-some year old going on sixty, who wraps his gruff, grumpy demeanor about himself to protect the soft, vulnerable core he likes to pretend doesn’t exist.)

He comes up to the door, and the soft rectangle of light that emanates from beneath the door paints the tips of his shoes gold. “Jon?” he calls softly, rapping his knuckles against the frame. There’s a soft rustling noise—papers maybe? but no audible response, so he shrugs and pushes the door open. “I’m coming in.”

Tim steps inside, a quip instinctively readying itself on his tongue—but then his gaze lands on Jon, and he freezes dead in his tracks.

Even years later, he still vividly, viscerally remembers the moment he saw Danny standing on the stage underneath the Royal Opera House, the way he’d looked...not quite right. The wrongness had been subtle, so much so that it had been unnoticeable upon first glance, upon second glance. The longer Tim had looked though, the more obvious it had become, exposing all the little faults in that almost-perfect recreation of his brother.

Looking at Jon now, it’s the first and only thing he can think of. Because—yes, there’s the long, silver-streaked black hair, there’s the rich brown eyes, there’s the pair of spectacles that make him look far older than he actually is. But that’s where the similarities between the Jon he knows and this Jon end.

Jon’s always been a small man, but his feigned haughtiness makes him seem much bigger than he actually is. Except—except this Jon looks smaller somehow, his shoulders curved protectively inward, like he’s trying to present less of a target. And there’s something about his face, too—his expression is too sharp, too much—

But the worst of it is his eyes. There’s something very wrong with his eyes.

Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Jon? He doesn’t say it out loud though, just keeps staring at Jon, a heady mix of terror and horror making any sort of reaction impossible.

After a moment Jon’s lips thin, contorted by some distant cousin of displeasure, and he rises to his feet. Tim stumbles instinctively backward, his breath escaping him in a sharp gasp that’s immediately swallowed up by the apathetic stacks of books and papers surrounding them. He’s struck by the fact that if he dies here, it’s unlikely anyone will notice; he’ll become just another set of marks gouged into the desk, willed away with an uneasy shrug.

Jon freezes, lips parting subtly, as though he were about to speak. Tim feels his breath catch in his chest, unable to shake himself out of the clouded stupor his mind has fallen into.

In the end, Jon says nothing. Just releases a long, slow breath of air and sits back down, pushing his chair close to his desk. The motion looks heavy, tired, as though it takes far more energy than it should.

“You—you should go,” Jon rasps, and there’s something off about his voice too, though Tim can’t put his finger on why. He can’t cobble together enough of a train of thought to make sense of any of this, all he can think of is that clown ripping Danny apart—

He stumbles out of Jon’s office, sits down at his desk. Stares down at the cheap, fake wood, at the gouges that have marred the otherwise pristine surface. Puts his head in his hands, and tries to will his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

-0-

Martin’s heard things about Jonathan Sims.

He’s not usually the type to pay attention or encourage gossip, as the vivid memories of his classmates tittering cruelly whenever he walked by still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.The problem with the Institute is that the employees get bored pretty easily. Though most would consider academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal to be fairly interesting, it’s still academic research. And the subject content can get to be a bit...repetitive. There’s only so many gruesome statements you can read without thinking, oh great, more meat.

So the employees gossip a lot, and while Martin usually tries to keep his head down and avoid it, it’s difficult not to overhear some things. And from what little he’s heard, he’s...a bit concerned. Rude and unsociable has frequently been mentioned, as have arrogant and unnecessarily finicky, and worst of all, a bit of a stuck-up know-it-all.

Normally he tries not to put too much stock in office gossip—he’s well aware that the grapevine tends to exaggerate one’s most undesirable traits—but if any of it is true, then he might just be in trouble. It was hard enough being a library employee when his boss wasn’t even paying attention most of the time. If Jon is as exacting as they say, it might be enough to expose the fact that Martin has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. And if that happens, then he might get fired, and he can’t get fired, he needs this job, he can barely keep up with his mum’s medical bills as it is—

Calm down, Martin tells himself firmly, pressing his hand against his sternum, as though that will be enough to quell the rising panic. It’s only your first day. Maybe he’s nice, and we’ll actually be good friends.

(With his luck? Yeah, right.)

The Institute looms in the distance, growing closer with every terrified, grudging footstep. A shiver runs up his spine at the sight of its imposing presence, a dark, ugly blot of a building against the backdrop of the iron grey clouds.

If there’s one thing he’s good at though, it’s keeping his head down and muddling through until he’s able to figure out what is actually expected of him. He can twist and fold himself into whatever role they need him to fill, as he has done so many times in the past. Not easily perhaps, but he has always managed. The alternative is untenable, after all.

So he takes a deep breath, and shoves his panic down as deep as possible. Lifts his head and forces a smile onto his face, like a good attitude will be enough to protect him from his boss’s wrath.

He could really do with a cup of tea.

Martin trudges down the stairs, giving the blank walls, the old-fashioned carpet, a dubious look as he does. The Archives themselves are as he remembers it—he’s been down here a couple of times when Gertrude made a request for something specific, but—

He pauses when he notices a man sitting at one of the desks, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders aren’t shaking and his breathing is even, so Martin doesn’t think that he’s crying? He’s just….sitting there, his stillness so perfect it’s almost inhuman.

“Hello?” Martin calls softly, cautiously, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

The man looks up, revealing a very handsome face and brown eyes so dark they may as well be black. His cheeks are dry but his eyes are bright and a little wild, and his mouth is pressed into a small, tight line. He doesn’t speak, just keeps watching, blinking dazedly in Martin’s direction. Martin gets the feeling that this person isn’t entirely there at the moment, like a house in which every room is lit, but there are no people inside.

He swallows and shifts nervously back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to call for some backup. Eventually he sets his bag on the floor and shuffles a bit closer. “Um—are you—is everything okay?”

The man blinks rapidly, some semblance of awareness creeping back into his gaze. He shakes his head slowly, pushes his short, gelled hair back from his head. His hands are trembling. “I’m...yeah, I’m fine. It’s—everything’s, it’s…”

But then his gaze lands on something over Martin’s shoulder, and all the color drains out of his face, his mouth shutting with a painful sounding click. Martin quickly spins around, searching for whatever could’ve scared him so much—

There’s someone standing in the doorway of Gertrude’s office.

There are so many things that one normally takes in upon first meeting another person: their hair, their skin color, all the little wrinkles and marks that give you the briefest insight into their life. Martin looks at posture first, tends to check if a person is intentionally looming, or if they’re making themself smaller.

But all Martin can see are the eyes.

There’s—two of them he thinks, but two is such an arbitrary number when the thing you’re applying it to doesn’t ascribe to human values (he’s not sure how he knows that—how does he know that—?). That horrible, terrible gaze is an unerring arrow, all-encompassing, all-consuming, piercing the deepest corners of his mind. It hurts in some distant, nebulous way he’s not even sure he comprehends—

Then he blinks, and the sheer terror, that feeling of the horrible, violating exposure of everything that he is, abruptly snuffs out. What’s left is just a person, wispy and small, his slight frame fairly drowning in a chunky, cable-knit jumper. He’s leaning against his doorframe, his eyes—two big brown ones, rich and unfathomably sad and more than that, human—drinking Martin in, his lips parted in a soundless gasp.

“Um—” Martin glances over his shoulder, and almost leaps out of his skin when a land falls heavily on his shoulder. The man who’d been sitting in the chair is standing just behind him, a strained but polite smile on his face.

“Hi Jon,” the man says, an undercurrent of a warning in his voice.

Martin glances between the two, his confusion growing with every passing moment. This is not what he was expecting when he first came into work today, and the uncertainty makes him feel strange and off-kilter.

The person in the door swallows once, twice, then straightens, one hand still gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. When he speaks, his voice is soft, tentative, a little ragged around the edges. “Tim. It’s, um...it’s good to see you.”

“Martin Blackwood, was it?” Tim continues, injecting a bit of cheer into his voice. It takes Martin a moment to realize that he’s being addressed, and he shoots Jon—this is Jonathan Sims?—an uncertain look before nodding slowly. “We’re happy to have you on the team.”

“O-Oh?” Martin squeaks, then grits his teeth and bodily forces his voice back into its normal range. “I’m—um, I’m happy to be here?”

“Good,” Tim says through a grin that looks more like a grimace, giving Martin’s shoulder a friendly pat. The look he shoots Jon is a dark, mistrustful thing. The look Jon gives him back is fragile, vulnerable, that winds the tension in Tim’s shoulders so tight it has to be painful.

Jon’s gaze flickers to Martin, just for a second—and then he disappears into his office, leaving the door cracked behind him.

Tim and Martin stand there for a second, staring at the door. Tim’s still tense as a bowstring, and his grip on Martin’s shoulder is almost uncomfortable. The air in the Archives feels stuffy and too warm, and there’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of Martin’s neck, like he’s being subjected to close scrutiny.

Then Tim sighs and lets go of Martin’s shoulder, a little of the tension bleeding out of him, and without it he looks small, deflated. He goes back to his desk and sits down, booting up his laptop without a word of explanation to Martin.

Martin stares at the back of Tim’s head for a moment, a number of questions clamoring around in his brain—what the fuck was that? What’s wrong with Jon? Why are you so obviously suspicious of him?—but the words won’t come. Breaking the silence feels...sacrilegious, somehow. Every breath of air sticks against the back of his throat.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything either, just sits at his desk and takes out his Institute-issued laptop. Stares blankly at the screen as the machine slowly, laboriously, comes to life.

-0-

Sasha’s not entirely sure how to interpret the tense atmosphere that has descended over the Archives.

The first day she’d arrived a couple of minutes before she was supposed to, prepared to follow Jon’s direction and help him adjust as best she could. (Her feelings about Jon’s promotion...didn’t matter. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his fault that Elias was an old-fashioned misogynist.)

But when she’d come down the stairs, Tim and the assistant she didn’t know, Martin, had been seated quietly at their desks. They’d both had the same distant, shell-shocked look on their faces, like they’d received some shattering, horrible news. Sasha had sent Tim a confused look, but he either hadn’t noticed it, or hadn’t wanted to explain.

She hadn’t even seen Jon that first day, just received a polite email asking her to start organizing the statements according to the system which he’d devised.

It’s been almost three days, and nothing has changed. Oh sure, they’ve all started organizing the statements as directed. Tim cracks jokes, Martin tiptoes around them and makes copious amounts of tea. That strange tension that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, like the world is holding its breath in anticipation, hasn’t faded though. And while she doesn’t know Martin all that well, she knows that something’s still up with Tim. He seems more subdued than usual, keeps sending uncomfortable looks in the direction of Jon’s office—

—which hasn’t been open since that first day. She hasn’t seen Jon at all either, no matter how early she arrives or how late she stays. The only proof she has that he’s still alive is the polite email she periodically receives, detailing some specific task that he wants for them to do.

Even then, his emails are...odd. She’s not sure how she can tell, but they feel...awkward? Stilted? Like he’s only half-aware of what he’s typing, or like he’s only asking them to do things because he feels like he should, not because he has any actual goal in mind.

Normally she’d be frustrated by this, would complain bitterly to Tim about Elias passing over her for someone who obviously doesn’t properly appreciate the position they’ve been given—except that she knows Jon. He’d made a point to explain the situation to her himself, an apologetic twist tucked into the corner of his mouth. More than that, he’d asked her to follow him to the archives, saying that he wanted the two people he trusted most, her and Tim, to come with him.

He respects her too much not to take this job seriously.

The strangeness of the archives is only emphasized by Jon’s complete and utter lack of presence within it, but she doesn’t—she doesn’t buy that. She doesn’t believe that he’d just suddenly decide not to do the job he’d been so anxious to excel at. 

More damning than anything is Tim’s complete, utter silence regarding Jon’s strange behavior, but whatever he knows about it, he isn’t saying anything. Martin is willing to talk, but he seems to be as lost as she is.

“I—that first day, Jon…” Martin shrugs, shooting a nervous glance toward the door leading to the archives. He’s been spending a lot of time hovering in the break room making tea, not that she can blame him. “He—I mean obviously I don’t know him very well, but he seemed...upset?”

“Upset,” Sasha repeats dubiously.

Martin lets out an exhausted sigh and turns away, waving a dismissive hand. “Look, I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. He just—okay, so, bear with me for a second, but he reminded me of this guy who used to live in my neighborhood.”

Sasha backs off, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Okay?”

“There was this little old couple that used to live in my neighborhood. They were—they were really sweet! The husband used to give candy to us younger kids. But um—sometimes you’d see him sitting in the rocking chair on his porch, and it was like...he wasn’t entirely there? Like, he’d just sit there for hours, rocking and staring at nothing. That’s—that’s what Jon’s expression reminded me of.”

Martin gets more animated the more he talks, Sasha notes; his hands move in broad, sweeping gestures, his expression twisting into an expression of extreme concentration. The moment he finishes he deflates again, tucking his hands into his armpits self-consciously, a hedgehog curling protectively in on itself.

“So, yeah,” he finishes eloquently.

“Huh,” Sasha says thoughtfully.

She gets back to her desk. Looks over at Tim, who’s studiously working through a box of statements, his mouth set in a neutral, concentrated frown. Takes a deep breath, letting the taste of dust and old papers sit heavy on her tongue.

Then she opens her laptop and starts looking through the catalog of cursed items that are currently being held in Artifact Storage.

(She doesn’t think that she’ll find anything, but—but just in case.)

-0-

They all get the call the next Monday morning: Elias Bouchard was found dead in his office.

[oumaheroes]

Afterlife

Word Count: 2229

Names:

Alba- Scotland

Cymru- Wales

Albion- England

Ériu- Ireland

Set in the same world as ‘Wind Walk’

-----------

‘What happens when we die?’

Alba paused, halfway through carving a gouge in a block of wood to look over at Albion where he was stood by the fire, face turned to the flames. He had his back to Alba, a roughly spun blanket draped over his shoulders which was made from thick, undyed wool that scratched but did the job. Cymru was getting the hang of making them now, able to weave in a few patterns if he had the time and the colours, but it was haphazard work and nothing fancy at all. They were sometimes able to trade for nicer ones, ones with intricate designs of knots and swirls, charms woven into the fabric to dance across borders and seams, but food was more important, usually. Things they couldn’t catch or pick from the land, like bread.

Mama had never really praised overly nice things, or stressed their importance beyond a passing aesthetic appreciation, and so none of them were too concerned that their everyday clothes were dull and shapeless. Their nicer things Alba kept in a bag at all times near his person- golden armlets and bracelets folded in the plaid of their family woven by Mama herself to show them as children of the earth, Gods amongst men. Rich colours and bold patterns that Cymru eyed with greedy wonder.

Alba saved these for when they visited their people, the scatterings of them spread across the island that bore them. He was thankful that he and his siblings didn’t really grow.

‘What do you mean?’

Albion hesitated, mouth pressing into a tight line before opening again to speak, ‘When we die. Because people…’ Albion shifted, casting a quick glance back to him before turning once again to the fire, ‘humans don’t come back, do they?’

Alba, gave up on whittling anything further and sat up straighter, left hand holding what would one day be a bowl resting on his knee, ‘No, they don’t.’

He looked about their camp from his spot on the floor, back pressed again the trunk of a large tree they’d pitched their shelter against. Despite it being night Cymru was off somewhere, away on one of his walks that sometimes took him for days and there was no telling when he’d be back. This time Alba wasn’t too sure what had caused him to need space, the air was calm and friendly amongst them all, but Cymru had grown silent and still regardless and Alba had followed him with watchful eyes until he had taken himself away, seeing him retreat to the West where he could feel him linger on the edge of his perception.

He was the one that usually had these conversations, the ones where there wasn’t a clear answer, or a kind answer. Cymru could mould the truth into something palatable, something easy to understand and swallow without it becoming a lie. These sorts of conversations were not Alba’s strength- he did not like things for which there was no answer, or no easy answer, and so either worked at them silently until there was one, or ignored it. Not all things needed to be understood or reasoned with, some things just were and it was easier in the end to accept that.

But Alba had a feeling that Albion was leading to one of those sorts of questions and he was going to have to be the one to answer it.

‘But we do come back,’ Albion continued on. He said it as a statement; the tone was unquestioning but also unsure and Alba cracked his knuckles on one hand with his thumb as he tried to read between what Albion was saying and what he might be leading up to.

‘Yes, we do.’

An unspoken ‘sometimes’ fell flat and awkward between them. Mama hadn’t come back.

Albion looked down at the ground and rolled a stone underneath his foot. He was barefoot, again, because he refused to stay in shoes for very long if he could help it, and he balanced the pebble under the ball of his foot, round and around.

‘What is it?’ Alba knew this had come out rougher than he had intended by the way Albion’s shoulders twitched, a sudden self-conscious jolt that made Alba click his tongue in regret and try again. He was still getting used to this, ‘What are you thinking about?’

Alba watch the curve of Albion’s brow furrow into a frown, light from the flames silhouetting him and making him appear older and unknown, ‘Do we turn human? When we die? Is that why Mama…’ he trailed off, no words needed.

‘No, we don’t,’ he said it confidently but really, Alba knew as much as anyone did. Which is to say, he knew nothing concrete at all. None of them truly knew what happened to Mama, although her disappearance was as sure and real to him as much as his own hand was. Mama wasn’t missing or elsewhere, she was gone. He felt it as a truth deep within him, somewhere ancient formed long before his time. No matter what Alba didn’t know, he knew this all too well, ‘we stay as we are. We fade, when our time comes.’

He could see that this reply brought more questions than it did answers and thought of a way to try and fill the gaps, ‘humans die from age or sickness, or injury. We die from other things.’

Albion turned around to face him fully, ‘Like what?’

‘By the Gods, what is it with you today? Why so many questions?’

Albion scowled and lightly kicked the pebble he was worrying away from the fire. It rolled somewhere to Alba’s left, landing by the roots of a small shrub. They both watched its progress, ‘doesn’t matter.’

Damn it. ‘Don’t be huffy, why’re you asking all of a sudden?’

Albion shifted his weight from one foot to the other and tensed under the blanket, pulling it tighter around him and huddling in on himself. He ducked his head to stare somewhere off and down, ‘You’ll laugh.’

‘No, I won’t,’ Alba was slightly offended, although it couldn’t say for sure that it was unwarranted. Maybe there had been times when he’d read his youngest brother wrong. Albion was often prickly and capricious and it was difficult to tell how he was truly feeling, hard to know whether he was hiding another truth under thorns.

Alba also wasn’t used to talking with him in such a way yet. Before Mama died, he could be a brother: tease Albion whenever he said something stupid, or fell over, or messed up. But now Alba had to be something more, had suddenly found himself thrust in a role he didn’t ask for and the shape of caregiver hung too large on him. He was trying to fill a space of parent for everyone but all he himself really wanted was for someone else to come and do it for him, for Mama to come back and fill it perfectly.

It was hard to know where to tread on a path you’ve never gone down before, especially one made by someone else.

Albion still looked unsure and as much as a large part of Alba was tempted to let it go, to take the easy option that was presented to him and move on with the evening, another, more stubborn, part wanted to prove Albion, and maybe himself, wrong, ‘I promise I won’t laugh. Now will you just spit it out?’

Albion remained staring somewhere at the ground between them, ‘what if-,’ he cut off, swallowing, ‘what if you die?’

There was a beat of silence in which a flurry of emotions coiled in Alba’s chest, ‘I will die. We all die.’

Albion pursed his lips tight together and blinked a few times in succession- too quick, ‘But I don’t- I don’t want you to.’

Alba’s throat felt thick suddenly, ‘Hey, come here.’

Albion refused to move, still studiously looking down at the ground and locked stubbornly in place, so Alba half stood to reach out and grab hold of the blanket and tug him closer. Albion stumbled at first, unwilling to allow himself to let go easily, but another tug had him near enough for Alba to wrap him in arms, falling back down into a sit with him. Once there, all pretence was dropped and Albion lifted his arms to curl them around Alba’s neck, chin coming to hook over his shoulder.

Alba shifted him to settle more comfortably on his lap, legs around his waist and blanket forgotten on the floor, and rubbed his back, holding him tight with his other arm. Albion’s hands gripped Alba’s tunic in a tight bunch, tugging it awkwardly askew around his back. They stayed there for a few moments, mostly silent and unmoving apart from the odd jolting repressed sob from Albion who still refused to give in completely.

After he’d calmed down, shaky breaths softening into regular breathing, Alba reached up to cup the back of his head and lightly ruffle his hair, ‘I’m not going anywhere any time soon.’

Albion sniffled and released one hold of Alba’s clothes to rub at his eyes, ‘How do you know?’

‘Because I do.’

Albion dropped his hand to once again grabbed hold of his tunic but looser, tugging and pulling at the fabric in a half-hearted distraction, and huffed, ‘That’s a stupid answer.’

Alba prodded him in the side, smiling when Albion twitched in surprise, ‘It’s the truth. I think Mama knew; we knew as well, didn’t we.’

Albion hmm’d, unwilling to agree. Alba knew he had noticed though, as small as he was. He had never fussed or questioned when she’d wandered away and left them, had never tried to follow her on her journeys alone. He had known, as they all had, that she was disappearing into time and a place no one could follow.

‘We are our people. We watch them and speak for them- we remember them,’ Alba shifted him and rested his cheek on the crown of Albion’s head, speaking into his hair, ‘when our people change, sometimes we can’t change with them. I think that’s what happened to Mama.’

Albion stayed silent. Alba could feel him thinking, sense him turning this over in his head to search for holes.

‘What brought this on?’ Alba tried again, gently. He felt Albion swallow against his shoulder.

‘Things feel more different now. Cymru goes away and sometimes I can’t feel where he goes. Ériu feels the most different and-‘ he paused for a moment, thinking, ‘humans feel different. Some I can’t feel them at all, I know they’re not mine now. So, I thought… what if…’

Alba raised his head and shrugged his shoulder for Albion to move off. He leant back, heavy in his lap, and Alba caught him by the chin to keep him from looking away, ‘Just because we’re growing apart now, doesn’t mean we’re going away,’ he smoothed a thumb under Albion’s eye before resting his hand on his neck, steady, ‘we’ll be different but we’ll still be here. You’ll know when it’s my time to go.’

Albion’s eyes slid to stare at Alba’s shoulder so he tapped him under the chin to get him to look back, ‘Alright? You’ll know.’

Albion gave a small nod, ‘yeah, okay.’

Alba eyed him critically, searching for anything lingering that he still wasn’t saying. Finding nothing and feeling satisfied that Albion had taken in what he’d said, Alba gave a moan and rubbed theatrically at his thighs, ‘Good, now get off- you’re heavy.’

Albion scowled, ‘No I’m not!’

‘By Gods you are, I can’t feel my legs.’

Albion shoved at his shoulder but stood, moving off to the side, ‘Maybe your legs are just weak.’

‘Maybe it’s all those raspberries you keep filching when you think I’m not looking.’

Albion coloured, ‘No it’s not!’

‘Must be, I did think you were looking rounder,’

Alba prodded Albion in the stomach and he scowled, swatting his hand away, ‘I’m not round!’

‘Well, you certainly ain’t a feather. Here,’ Alba picked up his block of wood and his carving knife and held them out to him, ‘help me work on this. It can be for you to carry the berries in rather than stuffing them in your shirt and staining everything.’

‘I don’t do that,’ Albion huffed but took the wood and tool anyway, sitting down next to him. Alba picked up the blanket and shook it out to shake off the dirt before draping it back around his shoulders.

‘Do you think I can’t tell? Stop grousing and hollow me out a hole, we can smooth it later.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Albion began to carve in the centre, widening the impressions Alba had made earlier.

Alba fished in his pocket for his hunting knife, ‘I’ll sharpen this and then go and check the rabbit traps.’

He leant behind him and around the tree for his travel bag, pulling it closer and rummaging about inside it for his whetstone.

‘Thanks.’

Albion’s voice was small and quiet- Alba probably wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t still been so alert to noise from him.

He prodded his brother on the arm with his knee and turned to carry on digging through his bag, ‘of course.’

-----------

AN:

Another mini story that will be fleshed out for AO3 one day. Can you tell I’m procrastinating updating my other WIPs? Because I am and I am a cretin.

This is very self-indulgent with no historical accuracy or research whatsoever- please forgive me. If I go digging for historical truth, I fall into a rabbit hole and that is very difficult to peel myself out of.

Thanks for reading!

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part VI - Star Wars Time Travel AU

Part I - - - - -  Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V 

Anakin watched Obi-Wan through the stalks for several minutes. He could see him kneeling at the base of the waterfall, occasionally glancing around, as if searching for someone. Just when he was about to break and interrupt him, Obi-Wan stood and walked over. They sat together on the low bench, surrounded by the carefully cultivated colored fungi. 

“Obi-Wan...maybe we should talk about what’s going on with you. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” Anakin offered hesitantly.

Obi-Wan tensed, hands clenching in his lap. 

“No.” 

“Master Windu and Bant both seemed to think this isn’t a drug thing. Please, let-”

“That wasn’t what I was saying no to.” 

Obi-Wan stood and began threading a path through the mushrooms, careful not to step on any of the smaller ones. Anakin was forced to follow directly in his footsteps, not wanting to risk damaging something Obi-Wan clearly seemed to care about, but wishing he could look at his Master’s face.

“Did I ever tell you about Bruck Chun?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No. Who’s Bruck?” Anakin responded with deliberate patience.

“He was an old crechemate of mine, quite gifted, though he had a temper. There have been times you remind me of him. We were rivals.” They were approaching the end of the alcove, a large stone overhang throwing them in to shadow.

“Were?”

“He died. When we were twelve.”

When they reached the rock face, Obi-Wan started climbing straight up. Anakin followed. Several clicks above the floor, Obi-Wan squeezed his way into a narrow crack, invisible from the floor below. Anakin followed. They awkwardly shuffled along the passage until Obi-Wan suddenly dropped out of sight. Anakin followed.

They landed in a hidden alcove. It was half lit by sunlight filtering in from cracks above, and half lit by the glow of mushrooms and crystals tenaciously embedded in the rock face around.

“Oh.” Anakin said softly. “Is this where you go when you visit the fountains to meditate?”

“No, I hadn’t been here in years.” Obi-Wan answered wistfully. “I started getting too big, didn’t want to damage the passageway too much. I figured some other younglings would stumble upon it someday like I did. I’m sorry. I avoided this room for the first year or two of your padawanship. By the time I even thought to share it, you had already grown so big...”

He sat down, legs stretched out in front. Anakin sat next to him, mirroring his position.

“I’m glad you’re sharing it with me now.” Anakin smiled reassuringly, but Obi-Wan was staring ahead blankly.  

The young knight swallowed nervously. “Did you...come here with Bruck?”

Obi-Wan let out a snort. “Gods, no! I hid here from him. Before we were rivals, he bullied me relentlessly.”

“And...this is the guy you said I remind you of?” Was he being insulted?

“At times. Math lessons, saber practice, none of that ever came easy to me. But you and him...you never even needed to study. And you do have a vicious streak, Anakin.”

Rather than try to argue in vain against the slight hurt, Anakin just asked, “How did he die?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “He fell.” 

Anakin jerked in surprise, “Wait, you mean-”

“We were fighting at the top of the waterfall- it- he had nearly killed Bant. He was angry that we both had been chosen by Masters, and Xanatos used that to manipulate him into helping with an attack on the temple. Bruck was lashing out. He was a better swordsmen, but his anger made him unbalanced. I knocked him back. And he fell. I’ve forgotten a lot of details about him as a person, but I still remember his body at the bottom of the falls.”

"That’s...awful. I’m sorry.” Anakin said helplessly. He had known the bare basics of Xanatos’s fall, but clearly not the full story.

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning slightly to press their shoulders together. Anakin scootched over to try and provide a little extra silent comfort.

“I thought I had learned to live with my guilt over my part in what happened to him, but I suppose recent events have torn open old scars, so to speak.”

Anakin held his breath, Obi-Wan didn’t add anything else. 

“Obi-Wan” he tried to nudge gently. 

“Hmm?”

Anakin lost his patience, jumping up. “Master, please!” He half yelled, looming over his Master. A flash of fear crossed Obi-Wan’s expression as he looked up, which immediately halted the fit of rage. 

He knelt down penitently, “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, I shouldn’t have yelled, but please, let me help. I won’t get mad like that again, I swear. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“You’re not.” Obi-Wan whispered, expression blank. He shuddered all over, fists clenching tightly.

“You’re NOT here for me!” Obi-Wan shouted, suddenly offended. “How can you POSSIBLY claim to be there for anyone after what you-” Obi-Wan seemed to choke on the words. He let out a strangled cry and pulled his knees up to his chest. Tears welled, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Anakin stared wide-eyed, cold all over. “This...this is about something I did. I don’t understand. You... told me a few hours that I’m dear to you, what...what could I have done since then to make you...I don’t understand.”

“You know what you did.” Obi-Wan let out. “And the fact that learning about it didn’t stop me from caring about you doesn’t help, it just makes the heartbreak a thousand times more painful.”

Anakin racked his brain wildly. This couldn’t be about his marriage with Padme, right? He told him this morning that he didn’t mind the sneaking off. There was only one screw-up big enough that could possibly warrant this severe a reaction, and only two people alive knew about that, both sworn to secrecy.

“The younglings,” Obi-Wan whispered. “You - you didn’t even spare the younglings.” Obi-wan looked gutted, terrified. 

Anakin felt like he had been dropped in ice water. This was- this was his worst fear- that Obi-Wan would learn about his darkest failing as a Jedi and be ashamed of him, angry at him, would abandon him. He had already made his judgement. How could he have even learned about about the Tuskens?

“Padme-” he breathed out. “Padme told-”

“No!” Obi-Wan denied desperately, lurching forward. “Padme would never betray you! I would never betray you! We both love you, Anakin. Please, some part of you must know that! You must!”

His master seemed frantic, fingernails digging painfully into Anakin’s arm.

“You love me?” Anakin asked brokenly, heart cracked open.

Obi-Wan let go of Anakin to curl in on himself again. He seemed very small. It hurt to look at.

“I think its safe to say at this point that there’s nothing you could, no betrayal or atrocity you could commit that would make me stop loving you. Despite what you’ve done, you’re my brother, my son- of course I love you. The fact that I led you to doubt my love for you might be my greatest failing, though there are so many its hard to really say.” Obi-Wan sounded utterly defeated.

Anakin’s heart was pounding. This was a nightmare and a childhood dream. Obi-Wan loved him unconditionally, but he knew about his slaughter of the Tusken's and was ashamed. This couldn’t be real. He can’t know.

“Palpatine-” Anakin tried to ask.

Obi-Wan growled. “I do not need to talk about how that power-hungry liar systematically worked to tear us apart. I want to know why you would-” he cut himself off again.

Palpatine told Obi-Wan- that was more than he could even begin to process.

"I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sorry for failing you.” The words came desperately tumbling out, “I was just- I was so angry about my mom’s death and-”

“Your mother’s death? You killed innocent children for the sake of your Mother?! I don’t- how could anyone possibly rationalize-” Obi-Wan hissed out, truly angry for the first time that day. He took a deep breath and pulled himself upright.

“Your mother’s death was a terrible tragedy and I will forever regret my role in it. I should have tried harder to free her, for her own sake. I was so afraid that if I pushed for permission with the council they would think I was failing you, and they would take you from me. I made- so many decisions out of attachment, out of fear of losing you, and in the end I hurt you so badly you couldn’t trust me. You didn’t trust me with the truth of your visions, so I gave you bad advice born of misunderstanding, and your mother died horribly. I- I can see how you would blame the Jedi for that, even if its not rational. I certainly understand why you would blame me for that, why you would hate me because of her death.”

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his face mercilessly, practically tearing skin in his haste to wipe away snot and tears.

“But why, if you were getting revenge, would you kill the children and not me?” “Why couldn’t you just kill me and be satisfied?” He finally looked straight at Anakin, asking like it was a real question.

Anakin was horrified. After a few false starts he finally choked out, “Master, I love you. I told you, you’re the closest thing I have to a father. You’re the last person I could ever kill.”

“The last person you could ever kill,” Obi-Wan echoed back, looking pained.

“Please, Master, tell me how to fix this. I want to make things right. How can I fix things?” Anakin begged.

“That’s not a fair question. You can’t unmurder people. You can’t put them back together like a- an engine or a droid- ”

“There has to be something I can do to make you forgive me!” Anakin said desperately. “You can’t just tell me you love me and then say I’m an irredeemable monster!”

“Well that’s an entirely different matter, though no less cruel to think about.”

He leaned into Anakin’s side once more, the press providing a hint of warmth even in the unshakable cold. “Anakin, it isn’t very rational or fair of me, but it wouldn’t really take that much to get me to forgive you. Kriff, if you just acted sorry for what you had done.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“If you told me that you regretted the lives you took and swore you were going to stop murdering, force help me, I’d probably take you back in an instant. All I ever wanted was to help you be the best version of yourself.”

“I’m sorry.” Anakin said immediately. “I’m so, so sorry for what I did. I lost control of myself because I was scared, and angry, and suffering and, and then I was so scared that you would hate me that I pretended it was ok, and I told myself that they deserved to die, but how could children ever deserve to die and please Master I’ll throw away my lightsaber just please, please don’t leave me, I need you, please-” and the rest of the words dissolved into large, ugly sobs.

Obi-Wan keened and pulled Anakin into his lap like he was a child again. Anakin scrabbled at his cloak, desperately trying to hold on. The terrible chill that had been haunting him slowly started to fade away as he was rocked back and forth. 

After a minute, Anakin got enough of a hold on himself to consider trying to stop blubbering like a crecheling on his Master’s robes. But he quickly realized that Obi-Wan was also crying, so instead threw his arms around the older man and let himself go.

An uncertain amount of time passed before they both slowed from heaving sobs, to dry hiccups, to quiet whimpers. Eventually they ended up laying in a heap, boneless but for their hold on each other. And finally, the cavern was more or less silent.

Anakin felt physically lighter, mind clear like he had just completed an extremely successful meditation session.

Without a word, they slowly shifted so they were leaning on the wall instead of sprawled on the ground. Obi-Wan pulled his robe off, first using it to wipe his face, then tenderly cleaning his Padwan’s. 

Anakin just chuckled. 

Obi-Wan threw the robe so it covered the two of them, which was a little gross, but that only made Anakin snort giddily. 

They sat there peacefully for sometime. The shadows from above started shifting, and Obi-Wan sighed, “I really should go eat something.”

Anakin sighed back at him in agreement. They both stretched in the small space, joints popping.

“Do you need to walk through the rest of the gardens first?” Anakin asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, tenderly fussing with his kid’s hair and robes so they looked presentable. “This was...more than I could have hoped for.”

Anakin beamed, giving Obi-Wan one last quick hug before gesturing upwards. “Time to get back to the real world?” he joked with a hint of regret.

“Time to get back to the real world.” Obi-Wan repeated heavily.

Part VII

[januaryedgelordess]

I'd like to discuss a SnK theory with someone, it's on the possibility of a different (or expanded) AnR theory.

Disclaimer: Perhaps you should read this post with the lyrics for Akatsuki no Requiem by Linked Horizon in mind, but I also don't stand by the original reddit theory a 100%.

--

One of the questions that lingers around the fandom is: "who would've survived the Rumbling had it been done as originally implied by the themes and foreshadowing of the story?". Some believe only Eren and Historia would have had that chance, but they might be mistaken.

The first proof I have in order to back this claim is AnR's official art as drawn by WIT Studio during the production of season three of the anime:

(Note: these are originally four different images, the source of this collage is vaguely anitwt).

Just as shown in the original PV by Linked Horizon, each of these characters are standing by a gravestone while holding a bouquet and looking conflicted. Now, to counter the original AnR theorists, I propose that Eren —and by extension, Historia— weren't the only ones to live on with regret in their hearts, instead, Levi and Hanji survived as well.

Why did they survive? Is my conclusion solely based on these pictures? Well, just in part.

I believe Attack on Titan was never meant to be a one-sided story, and that one of the various themes that weren't thoroughly explored in the later chapters, a theme which was instead rushed and swiftly overlooked, is that of the conflict between "Nationalism" and "Internationalism". It's obvious and needless to point out that Yaegerists were the former, but the latter never take a name for themselves. However, we get a rough idea of who they might be, one of them is clearly Hanji Zoe:

Another internationalist is obviously Onyankopon:

Another one is Armin and so on, and so on.

Are they the only type on people on Earth? Of course not. Notably you also have those who have egotistical motivations, like Jean, who just wants to get married and live a peaceful life in the inner cities; or the Hizuru ambassador, Kiyomi, whose motivation is monetary gain. The world isn't black and white in AoT so, to clarify, it's unnecessary to classify every character in the dichotomy here presented.

Now, if Yams hadn't downplayed this interaction, we may have had a better thought out plan to stop the Rumbling and, possibly, a less moronically cringy way for "The Alliance" to be presented.

Why is that? It's because of various reasons. First, one of the most observant characters, Hanji, is notable for having spied on some of Eren and Historia's interactions (the "You look happy — that's because I am" scene for example) but by the end of the story the audience never got a reason as to why this observant behavior happened. If Hanji really is as cunning and observant as she is portrayed to be, she should've been the first character to suspect that Eren is the father and, therefore, that Historia's pregnancy's due date was off. Instead of the survey corps discussing this info, we get some random officers discussing irrelevant rumours about it. Isayama I mean, Kawakubo played Hanji Zoe dirty, in my opinion, in this scenario.

If Hanji had noticed that important information, and if that info had been shared with the Survey Corps, as was natural for her character to do, "the Alliance" may have had been able to act sooner against the AT.

Now, would more prep time save the world from devastation? No, I don't believe so. I believe it would, instead, make them have a slightly more realistic last fight by a) having them recruit actual soldiers and weapons for the final showdown, heck, if they have enough time even other countries would chime in, vs Hallu-chan and the Attach Titan; and, therefore, b) not having them rely on a Deus Ex Machina to defeat Eren.

That way, Hanji would live on with regret, knowing the Alliance did everything in their power to defeat the Attack Titan but failed miserably in the end. Instead of having her smile as her ghost-self at whatever the hell the canon battle achieved, she'd mourn the world that's been lost, and she'd feel regret for not being able to save it.

Now, for Levi I haven't done a thorough analysis yet, but I believe it's not difficult to see why humanity's strongest soldier would survive this ordain. I'd really like to hear someone else's thoughts on that matter.

Also, I'm in no way trying to imply LeviHan was supposed to be part of a kino ending, but I'm not too into that ship so I'd like to hear someone else's thoughts about it and on why they were the only two members of the alliance to survive according to WIT Studio's AnR official art.

Now, onto the second part of "who survived the Rumbling?". The next piece of information contradicts previous statements, and it also contradicts an AnR ending to some extent, but bare with me, please.

Exhibit A, Mikasa and Armin should have survived:

However, for Kruger's prophecy to succeed, I stand by my previous statement that "the Alliance" should've acted sooner, and that Armin is part of the Internationalist faction ready to "save humanity". Why do I believe that? It's easy, first, let's remember this quote from the moment Erwin died:

Note how, not only does Eren say Armin will save the humans, he also implies Mikasa will know it'll happen (so she'll be alive by the time the battle ends).

And, piggybacking on that moment as well, Armin would've been able to use his intellect to make a plan to divert the Rumbling titans. I'm adding this here to stress something that can't be stressed enough: Armin shouldn't have had to fistfight Eren twice, and he shouldn't have had to steal someone else's kill. Now onto that kill...

Should Mikasa have been the one to deal Eren's final blow? In the canon version of the story it's shown, in a rather cringy way, how she has to make up a whole different scenario inside her mind to get the mental strength to kill him. To me, Mikasa instead should've used the devastation caused by the Rumbling to completely break away from Eren's character and to be able to see past the "you're being brainwashed" narrative. Now, besides some of Isayama's interviews, there's other proof to back this up: the Historia-Mikasa parallels in Ending 4 and Ending 1:

Ending 1: https://youtu.be/O4wezNlsxB0

Ending 4: https://youtu.be/o05UK9lXtC0

We see some petty similarities in both: how both girls seem to be inside a pond or a lake, a snip of them running when they were young, etc.; but we also see some more important things for this theory: their growth as a person (how they survived whatever the past cast upon them), and them catching up to the people who they look up to and love.

Now, two things we know about Historia are that her beloved Ymir left her and she had to learn to accept it and move on; and that her sister, Frieda, died and she, without initially knowing even that she'd lost her, had to learn how to live on her own when she was young. Would Mikasa and Eren be able to have an end like that? I think it was implied that it was possible, but other than that, as part of any healthy development of her character, it is important for her to move on just as the Eldian Queen did: even if Eren chose to live a life apart from her (like Ymir did to Historia's early knowledge) or even if he were to die (like Frieda did).

Also, I have some doubts about Mikasa being the one who was supposed to kill Eren, since the one who was foreshadowed to be a Helos' parallel, and who'd fit the role just as well is Reiner, but I won't discuss that here.

So, to me, Mikasa was never an Internationalist, but for the sake of her character, a break-away from Eren should've been a good conclusive act.

As to some other parallels between Mikasa and Historia we have this part:

In which it is implied that they share the same burden by birth, and the same destiny, possibly. Mikasa is shown to be embarrassed about it but Historia seems to be thoroughly delighted.

With this parallel I'd also like to recall two other threads left undone: the Azumabito clan and the Ackerman mystery.

First, the Azumabitos. It's implied that their land is to "the Orient", and we also get a small snip during the Rumbling which implies they have a coast (it's obvious their country is a direct reference to Japan, needless to say). All of which would imply that, as it does in the Real World ™️, Hizuru is almost the Eastern-most Nation of AoT's world as well, and therefore, it may be one of the last countries that the Rumbling would have reached. If you add that they were the first people to send an ambassador to Paradis, you get: Hizuru being the first nation to be included in a possible Internationalist "Alliance" (had it been done in the appropriate time) against the Attack Titan; and you also get that this would increase their possibilities of surviving, at least just in part, the Rumbling.

Why is this important? Because AnR's lyrics do not imply the world will be completely and absolutely obliterated. AnR's lyrics imply the world will live on but the power dynamic of the world will be reversed: Paradis will rule, while the rest will be forced inside the cage.

https://www.musixmatch.com/lyrics/Linked-Horizon/Akatsuki-no-Requiem-TV-Size

Now, the Ackermans. Just as Historia and Zeke posses a special particularity by virtue of birth (they are direct descendants of Ymir), which make them valuable assets to "breed" for whoever is using the Eldians (be it Marley, the Azumabitos, or the First King), I believe the outside world would be interested, at any part of the story, to have an Ackerman in their line of defense against the Eldians. In this case the Mikasa-Historia parallel is strengthened, simply because it would be interesting to see Levi or Mikasa confront that part of their destiny (to make the Ackerman clan continue for the sake of a plan, while acknowledging they're the only survivors). Perhaps Hizuru would've been the country to try and make use of that potential? This parallel was, of course, never used, but it would've been delightful to see it exploited at some point in the AoT timeline. However I acknowledge that continuity is impossible in a world without titans, unless one of the surviving countries on Earth are in serious need of Olympic competitors, of course, so perhaps it should've been mentioned before The Rumbling arc.

.

Well, this turned out to be more like a vent or a rant than a theory now, and I wish I could've had discussed it quietly with someone instead of just posting it here. There are some other nuances to this analysis that I would like to explore in the future (since this isn't thoroughly thought out) In the meantime what do you all think of a new AnR theory like this one? Does it make a little sense? At least a bit? I hope so. Thank you for reading and sorry about the grammar mistakes.

TLDR: I believe Armin, Mikasa, Eren, Historia, Hanji and Levi should have survived and also it's possible for Hizuru to have survived. Please feel free to point out any flaws.

[sabraeal]

Climb to the Rooftops

[Read on AO3]

Written for @another-miracle; a birthday fic that is COMING OUT ON TIME would you look at that (though I am definitely doing some fancy footwork to make it work out in both time zones 😂 Yixin asked for the Post-Rescue Tanbarun Tree Scene for WFB, and then I said, I could give you that, but what if I told you about a secret scene instead...

And then Yixin told me to write whichever one was Obi POV

He knows her.

That’s what keeps running through his head’s hamster wheel as he clomps up the student center steps. He knows her; he’s always known her. If he reached out on that park bench, if he’d grabbed her with both hands and just said, don’t leave me--

He would have been laid flat on his ass, courtesy of that mean right hook her dad taught her before he bounced. And there’d be another demerit on his record to boot, one more instance of anti-social behavior to make him even more unadoptable than he already was. Doc was always destined to go to a loving home, complete with cozy hideaways and towers of books, with warm firesides and even warmer grandparents, and he...

Well, he wasn’t meant for anything like that, no matter who he clung to. Sometimes shit just happens, and no wishing on stars thirteen years gone can change that.

It’s good to see her though. He’d always wondered what happened to his muppet girl, whether she’d gone off and had her happy ending just like she said she would. And now he knows she did.

He glances down at the peanut butter canister in his hand. Well, at least for a little while. That’s the thing about happy endings; they don’t really stick.

Obi hesitates, one foot poised over a step up, his hand wrapped around a ruddy safety rail. “Um, Doc.”

It takes her three steps to bounce to a stop, just enough to let her look down instead of up or across. He’s got double vision for a moment: Doc in the here and now looking at him with so much hope and anxiety that he’s half-afraid she’ll shake apart like a Hot Wheel in a blender; superimposed over the little girl in his memory, round face beaming up at him and her worries far behind her.

She’s got more freckles now, though most of them are hidden beneath her coat, fading without the direct application of summer sun. More inches too, though not as many as he’d given her in his head; for once he’d given more benefit of the doubt than nature could provide. And her hair-- well, that’s the same. Red. Fluffy. Muppety, too, if it’s the morning.

“Obi?”

He should really be paying attention to this conversation he fucking started, instead of just staring at her like a creep. “I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh.” She goes rosy under the freckles he can see, shifting the urn from her hands to her elbow. “I’m-- I’m fine. I’m glad that we could find--” one arm juts out, trying to encompass both them and the containers-- “everyone.”

“Yeah, I got you, but I meant...” He angles a pointed look over her shoulder. “Why are we going up?”

Doc’s jaw drops, and he sees it, the way panic crests right behind her eyes.

“Not that I’m suggesting we don’t.” He takes the next step slow, just enough to put them on equal standing. Except it doesn’t, it puts him a little above her; the beginning of really looking down. His heart flutters in the exact way it shouldn’t when he’s carrying human remains. “I’m just saying, if we’re going to carry geriatrics up a few flights, the elevator’s better for their hips.”

He expects her to laugh at that one, or maybe even roll her eyes, but instead Doc breaks out into a full-body Chihuahua tremble.

“Obi.” Her eyes are so big in her face they might swallow him whole. “We can’t take the elevator.”

“We...can’t?”

Her head jerks in the scarcest side-to-side. With one long, steeling breath, she informs him, “We’re going to do something a little illegal.”

His brows raise. “Illegal?”

The urn bobbles treacherously as her hands fly up between them. “Only a little!”

“You cashed in your favor with me,” he repeats slowly, savoring the thrill that zips through him with every syllable. “To do something illegal.”

Doc deflates with all the gravitas of a popped kiddie pool. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if that would be okay. Especially with, um...”

She’s far too polite to say, your presumed preexisting criminal record, Doc just hasn’t realized it yet. Not when she doesn’t know for sure whether it does exist or not. It’d be easy to help her along, but it’s kinda satisfying to watch her flounder, fishing for the pieces of him she does know.

“If it’s a problem,” she says finally, lifting her eyes to his. “You don’t have to--”

“The only problem is how hot that is, Doc.” He wraps a hand around the rail beside her, leaning in close enough that her eyes nearly cross watching him. “Are you gonna get into your old field hockey kit and punch a girl up there too?”

She blinks, heels clunking into the concrete rise. “I don’t think it would fit. The skirt would be too short, at least.”

Are you sure, he wants to say, stretching every last inch over her, but instead he rumbles, “Honey, you’re saying all the right things to me--”

“Hey.” A finger presses into his nose, hauling his words up short like a pileup. “No call list.”

“Ahh.” Her mouth twitches as he pulls back, rubbing at his nose. “Haah. You know I hate that.”

“Then stick to the list,” she informs him pleasantly. “Besides, are you really trying to flirt with a girl in front of her grandpa?”

“Well.” He holds up the tin, giving it an experimental shake. “You think they’d mind?”

There’s a quality to the silence in the stairwell that clues him in to the fact that he’s cocked up real good this time. First with the tomb joke, now asking if grandma might be watching from beyond the grave, objecting to his game. At least he knows he never had a chance; otherwise he’d have to go take his hopes out behind the woodshed--

“No,” she hums, confident. “They’d like you.”

It’s a good thing she doesn’t get it in her head to try the nose trick again; it’d push him right over. He can survive a lot, but four flights is pushing it. “Doc,” he huffs, scratching the bristle at the back of his head, “I don’t think--”

“Well...” She’s thoughtful when she puts her back to him, bouncing up the next couple of stairs. “Opa would. Oma would think you needed to be fattened up.”

He laughs, but even to his own ears it sounds busted up, wings broken. “Sounds like my kind of lady.”

“Ugh,” Doc sighs from one landing up. “She’d love that you said that.”

“That just makes her even more--”

“Don’t.”

RESTRICTED ACCESS, the doors says, bright red letters fading against the plastic sign. ALARM WILL SOUND.

Doc’s been bullish these last few flights, pushing a pace that makes him want to remind her he’s a hitter, not a runner, but now--

Now she shuffles on the stairs, daunted. “Do you think it will really...?”

Obi thinks this might be a private university, funded by mommy and daddy’s pockets to keep their babies safe, but alarms go off all the time. Unless this building has a rent-a-cop watching daytime TV down in the atrium right now, it could take hours for someone to answer the call, especially mid-afternoon on a Saturday.

“Who knows.” He’s not sure what she’s got up her sleeve that involves two dead people and a rooftop-- especially when even Doc is quick to admit it’s got at least a toe on the wrong side of legal-- but it probably won’t look good if they’re interrupted, even by the Diet Coke of the law enforcement vending machine. “Maybe you should plan to keep the fancy speeches to a minimum.”

“Eulogies.” Her thin fingers flex over ceramic, white where they press in. “You mean a eulogy.”

“Gesundheit.”

Doc turns her head, real slow, letting him soak in every drop of her disapproval. Well, that’s one pigtail successfully pulled.

With a breath so deep it makes her pea coat really earn the name, Doc nods. “Right. Okay. I think...”

Obi expects some dithering, some real soul-searching doubts being dragged out for airing right here in the stairwell. Doc likes that sort of thing, taking everything out of her head so she can fold it all up real nice again, but instead--

Instead she barrels across the landing, plowing right through the metal door, a whole stretch of gray winter sky stretching out before her. There’s one blink, two, and then-- well, the sign wasn’t kidding. The alarm does, in fact, sound.

He catches the door with a hand; it’s weighted, ready to swing right back into place and-- if he knows his doors-- lock right behind her. Not that it’d be a problem if he meant to stand around on the stairwell and act as look out; a role he’d be happy to play if that’s how Doc wanted this whole show to run. But right now she’s slumped at the ledge, every last ounce of her usual moxie wrung out.

Maybe she might tell him to stand back, that this is something she’s got to take on alone, but Obi knows every aching line of that pose by heart. A car can keep going for fifty miles once it hits empty, but that just means you’ll never know when the tank runs dry. That’s where she is right now, stalling out at her limit.

And that’s what he’s here for, to push her that last inch over the finish line. Besides, he can’t just stand back, not when he’s grandpa’s ride.

“So.” There’s a shim in a corner-- a naughty thing to have around an emergency door like this, but Obi’s not about to tattle. He’s perfectly happy to wedge someone else’s problem right where the paint’s flaked off the door. “What’s the problem?”

Doc blinks, one hand trembling on grandma’s lid. “W-what?”

He settles grandpa on the ledge, arms folded around him, taking in the sprawl of buildings below. Clarines isn’t as big as one of those state universities, but it makes Tanbarun look like a college playset instead of a campus. Both of them have those stuffy brick and marble buildings they like up here, the kind that say academic and too good for you loud and clear, but whereas Obi’s walked across Clarines for thirty minutes and still never hit the edge, it looks like he could lap this place in twenty. No wonder Doc was miserable here; the real mystery is how she managed an entire year in this fancy rat cage.

“There’s got to be one.” He knows better than to look at her; if he’s going to make her talking about feelings, the least he can do is give her the privacy to have them. “You were all gung-ho a minute ago, ready to do your thing even if you had to punch out a cop to do it--”

“--I didn’t say that,” she murmurs--

“--but now you’re just standing here.” He shrugs, chancing a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Looking lost.”

“I just...” She shifts, head twisting toward him, he doesn’t need to meet her gaze to know it’s wild, desperate. “It doesn’t feel right that they don’t go together.”

It’s his turn to stare now, lost. “O...kay.”

“What if...” Her teeth fold over her lip, worrying at places already worn. “What if I left them go, and they don’t find each other?”

“Ah...?” It seems like a bit of an oversight now, not asking what the plan is, but he ventures, “You mean...the ashes?”

Her mouth twists up, annoyance in every wrinkle. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“No, no, I’m just...” He glances down at the tin between his arms. “I’m just putting things together. There’s nothing wrong about how you feel, Doc. Not like anyone’s really written a book about how this works.”

She looks up at him, so guileless. “Of course they have, Obi. There’s a whole section in the bookstore for it. It’s just that they’re all written by charlatans and quacks.”

Whatever the conversational version of whiplash is, Obi’s experiencing it now. For a minute all he can do is stare, taking in the abject disapproval rumpling her face, and then he-- he--

He laughs. Because this is what he’s into. The sort of person who pumps the breaks and spins the conversation 360 without even a courtesy ‘buckle up.’

“Listen, I’ve been thinking...” He taps the top of the tin, the metallic ting drowned out by the blare of the siren. “What if we just...mixed them? Then when you release them--”

“--They’re already together.” Doc blinks up at him, eye shining like he’s her savior, the center of her world, the answer to her cosmic question--

The way she really shouldn’t, when she already belongs to someone a hundred times better than he’ll ever be. Not when she’d never mean to get his hopes up.

“Thank you, Obi,” she breathes, a smile dawning on her lips. “That’s exactly what we need to do.”

Like all his good ideas, it’s easier said than done. On the ground, it’d been breezy, the sort of gentle push he’d come to expect from New England right before it got its first good snow, but up here--

“Here, take this.” Obi shrugs off his jacket, hurriedly pushing it into Doc’s boneless hands, but it’s too late-- they’ve already lost a bit of grandma. “Hold it up.”

She stares down at it, thumbs rubbing over the leather in a way that makes his shoulders itch. “Hold...?”

He swings out one arm-- the one not holding a geriatric-- yanking it wide. “Like a wind screen. I don’t want to lose Oma’s pinky toe or something.”

Doc blinks, stretching the coat between her hands. “Pinky toe?”

“Wouldn’t that make you cranky in the afterlife?” he asks, shaking more of Oma loose in a lull. “Losing a toe? Or a finger. Like just the last knuckle. A bit of your nose.”

The leather starts to ripple as the wind spins back up, and Doc stomps a foot down on the end of it to keep it from smacking up into his face. He appreciates the effort; it’s hard enough trying to pour from a large container to a small one without his zipper clocking him over the eyebrow. “Would that really matter?”

He shrugs. “To some people, probably. I got plenty of nose to spare.”

Doc mouth curves shyly, hunching down to hide behind his coat. “I think it’s fine just as it is.”

“Haah.” It’d be nice if she could give him a heads up when she plans to make his heart pound like that. “Think you might be the first to think that.”

“I don’t know,” she hums, eyes electric with some mischievous spark in their depths. “Maybe I’m the first to say so, but you certainly weren’t getting any complaints a few nights ago--”

He huffs. “Drunk college girls aren’t exactly arbiters of taste, Doc.”

She fixes him with that steady stare of hers, the one that’s so earnest it makes his heart make a bid for freedom through his throat. “I think,” she says, each word weighed before she lets it free, just like a good scientist, “that they did just fine.”

He smothers a whimper into a sigh. “Maybe your grandparents don’t mind me flirting,” he mutters, hunched over that stupid peanut butter tin, “but I’m sure they wouldn’t like you returning the favor.”

She blinks, head cocked. “Did you say something Obi?”

“No,” he says, just a little louder. “Just talking to myself.”

“You know--” he sets down the urn, wiping the sweat off his forehead-- “this would have been a lot easier going the other way.”

“We can’t.” Doc’s mouth twists up into that troublesome knot. “Opa always said he never wanted to be in one of those big fancy vases. And even if he would never know, I...”

Obi sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, I know, I get it, just...complaining to complain. You know how it is.”

She stares down at him like he’s a fish on a dock telling her about the dangers of air. He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. Of course Doc wouldn’t get it; she could lose a limb and she’d still be thankful for the other three. Probably point out how much better things were now that she didn’t need to keep track of all of them. He might complain like it was as easy as breathing, but Doc-- Doc would take every last uncharitable thought to the grave.

Haah, give her some time. A few more months around him, and she’d discover some things to complain about. People always did.

“So,” he says, picking grandma back up. “Why here?”

Doc blinks. “Huh?”

“You know, on top of the roof of the campus center at one of the prestigious universities on the East Coast?” He raises a brow. “I know you used to go here, but most people just settle for leaving dog shit on the stoop when they want to send a ‘fuck you,’ you know.”

Doc unleashes a sound that can only be termed a squawk. “What? What do you mean most people--?” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t-- I mean, it’s not supposed to be a, um...”

“Fuck you?”

“Ah...yes. That.” She grimaces. “They met here. And when I tried to think of places they might want to be...”

Her words drift to a stop, but it’s gentle. They don’t abandon her, leaving her high and dry, but she just...stops saying them, letting the wind carry them away.

“I couldn’t think of any place else,” she admits, fingers tightening in the leather. “They always talked about Tanbarun so fondly, and I...I always thought it sounded like paradise.”

“But the roof?” Obi asks, incredulous. “Is it just easier to scatter the ashes, or...?”

“It’s where they met,” she repeats, like that makes any sense at all. “They used to have movie nights up here, played on one of those reel projectors,”

Her gaze swings out over the concrete like she could see it; all the hippy bean bags piled up, big screen pulled down and movie hardly able to be heard over the wind. Not a bad picture, he’ll admit. Wholesome, just like he’d expect out of the people who raised this Precious Moments doll of a person. Doesn’t really explain Mukaze, but well, shit happens. Half the people who raised him don’t deserve the person he’s become either. “Nice story.”

She’s hardly here with him, eyes hazy and distant, stuck in a past only she can see. “That’s what I always thought. I always wanted...” Her voice trails off again, but this time her smile falters, topping like china from a wobbling shelf. “I always wanted to have a story like that too. But it, um, didn’t really work out that way.”

He shouldn’t say anything. He’s not some neutral party, here to give her that impartial, unbiased pick-me-up she wants to hear, like telling her won’t rips a strip right off his back, so-- he should keep his big mouth shut.

But he’s never been good at any of that being smart shit. “It’s not like you didn’t have your own meet cute, it just wasn’t here. It was, er...”

Huh, now would you look at that. He’s never actually asked.

“At a record store,” she supplies slowly, like she has to think on it too. “Between the aisles after I missed my bus. No--” she laughs, more bitter than he’s ever heard her-- “after I chose to miss it.”

“See?” he hums, vibrating the knife deeper. “That’s already a good start.”

Her lips press thin. “I suppose...”

“No supposing about it.” He taps grandpa so the ashes sit flat before he starts another pour. “If I know anything about your Oma and your Opa-- and I don’t know nothing besides what you told me--” and what he saw a decade ago, sitting on that park bench-- “I don’t think they care whether you met your person at a rooftop movie or in a Walmart--”

“Record store.”

“They have CDs too,” he informs her, just as prim as Doc gets with him when she indulged the one pedantic bone in her body. “But the point is, they wouldn’t care where it happened, they just wanted you to find what they had.”

“I...” She deflates, the leather bowing over her legs. “I know. I think they used to worry that I wouldn’t, especially since I wasn’t really, ah...”

“Looking for it?” he offers.

She nods, relieved. “Yes, that. After my parents, I think they expected a much more, um, active interest in...anything. And I wasn’t.”

He doesn’t need to hear her say it to know that there’s more to it than that, that what she means to say is, and I don��t think they understood.

“Well, nothing for them to worry about anymore, is there?” She blinks up at him, alarmed, and he adds, “You and chief are kind of a done deal right?”

“Ah!” It’s hard to tell with the wind slapping both their cheeks red, but he could swear Doc’s blushing. “I don’t-- it’s not-- we haven’t really talked about--” she heaves a heavy, resigned sigh-- “I mean, I...I guess?”

“As done as it can be without getting PR involved.” He gives her the sort of eyebrow Kiki might. “I’m sure that if they’re out there floating on clouds or whatever, or, i don’t know, free energy in the universe, molecules just bumping around...they’re happy for you.”

“Right.” Her reply’s so faint he nearly misses it, but the wind that snatches it away carries it right by his ear. “Yeah.”

“All right, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” Obi levers himself to his feet, brushing off his lap before handing her the tin. “You ready for this?”

Doc stares down at the canister, jaw set, the same way he’s sure it looked right before she threw herself out a window. Certainly looks the same way it did when she tried to bean Itoya with her purse.

“Yeah,” she breathes, fingers tightening around the metal. “I think I am.”

The wall’s not tall, but neither is Doc; she has to go up on tip-toe to throw an arm over it, the wind already pulling at the ashes laying loose at the top. Her brow furrows, mouth working for a good minute before she manages, “It’s time to say goodbye, I think.”

Obi stares. Sure, he’d said to keep it short and sweet, but if it’s taken this long for the rent-a-cop to hustle up, maybe she can spare the people who raised her more than--

“Thank you.” He’d thought it might be hard to hear her over both the alarm and the wind, but somehow all her words fly true, brightening the air. “For...everything. I don’t really know how you...”

Her breath catches, but her eyes are clear, no tears streaking down her face. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You did everything and more. But I think...” She sniffs, taking a moment. “I think I can take it from here. I’ll miss you, Oma. And Opa...”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I forgive you. For whatever still needs forgiving. Rest well.”

Her hand tips, just the barest degree, and the ashes scatter, wind whipping them past, twisting high over the quad.

“Hey.” Obi steps up beside her, shrugging his coat on over his shoulders. If it’s a little gritty-- well, good thing Doc thing thinks Oma would like him so much, because part of her might linger until the next wash. “I’m pretty sure it’s super illegal to scatter human remains like this.”

“Oh,” Doc hums, shoulder bushing his arm. “It absolutely is without a permit. I was not joking about the slightly illegal thing.”

Obi grins. “Well good thing that no one ever came to check on the--”

As if summoned by the mere mention of potentially having something approaching good luck, the door bar rattles, accompanied by some creative cursing.

“Who the fuck is leaving this open?” A gruff yet feminine voice demands, as if she might be able to shake down the universe and pick up the answers from what fell out of its pockets if she just rattled it hard enough. “Bill, is it you? God, what did I say about using the roof for your smoke breaks--?”

The door swings all the way open, and there she is, a security guard with shoulders that could have dropped straight from the Lowen family tree. Obi would take a picture if he wasn’t sure that would get him thrown in the campus drunk tank.

She takes one glance at them, then another angrier one. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“UM,” Doc shrills informatively.

“No, wait.” One broad hand waves in front of her. “I don’t care. What are you doing up here?”

Doc flounders in the face of authoritarian disappointment-- which is fine by Obi. This is his wheelhouse, after all. It’s nothing to reach out, cinching Doc’s waist against him, grin wide. “Sex, obviously.”

If it were possible for a body to choose the time and place of its expiration from this earthly dairy aisle, Doc’s mortified stare suggests she might curdle on the spot. “Obi.”

The guard’s glare is a study in skepticism, taking in the both of them, and then the concrete wasteland around them. “Here? With your clothes on?”

“It’s our kink.”

“Please,” Doc mutters against his shirt. “Don’t talk.”

The guard spares them one last weary look and sighs. “You know what? I don’t care. Just get out.”

Doc certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. Obi’s got his mouth open, what can’t you let us finish first about to spill right out, but her small hand clamps around his, and she drags him right off the roof.

“SORRY,” she yelps as they pass. “WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.”

“Yeah,” Obi agrees with a grin. “Next time we’ll fuck on some other roo--”

Doc pauses for one moment, just long enough to raise a finger and inform him “DON’T.”

This time he lets her drag him off, grinning.

They’re halfway down the stairs when Doc finally slows, her cheeks reaching a shade of red that looks more lipstick than lobster dinner. Her hand wraps tight around the rail, and it’s not until he saunters down the last couple steps to stand beside her that he realizes-- her eyes are screw tight, breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Hey,” he murmurs, trying to ignore the spark of alarm zipping under his skin. “Did you just realize we could have used the elevator?”

Her fingers, already wrapped tight around his palm, squeeze. “Obi...”

The muscles in his arm lock, the way he’s sure lizard tails do, right before they drop them off and run. “Doc?”

Her head turns toward him, and when her eyes flutter open, they’re bright, clear. “Thanks. For being there.”

“No. No, no,” he murmurs, his fingers spasming against hers. “You’ve got it all wrong. I should be the one thank you for letting me. No one...”

No one has ever asked me to be there, he doesn’t say. No one but you.

It’s too much when she’s looking at him like this, like he’s not just a stand-in but her first choice. Like there’s more to how he feels than some one-sided over-investment. It brings him so close to feeling like someone, like the kind of guy who might be her person--

And maybe he could have been, if he hadn’t let some asshole rip her right out her arms in the middle of the night. If he had a record of being something other than a professional disappointment.

The grin doesn’t sit right on his face when he says, “No one’s ever asked me to get rid of a dead body before.”

Doc blinks, then rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she sighs, tugging his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Well,” she wheedles. “That. And I dropped the tin when the guard surprised us...”

“Ah I see.” He slips his hand from hers, grin finally sitting the way it should. “So we’re adding evidence removal and obstruction of justice to our list of crimes.”

She tips a dubious look back at him. “Are you complaining?”

“Doc,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his chest. “I would never. I’m touched that you would even think that I could--”

“Come on, Obi,” she laughs, hopping down the steps in front of him. “I’d like to do this sometime today.”

His mouth curls as he watches her back. “Your wish is my command.”

[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: Prince Animage May 2021 Issue (Part 2)

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

Due to the amount of content in the magazine, I have decided to the split the translation into three parts:

Part 1: Elder Son’s Resolve! Interview with Director Satou Teruo

Part 2: We Won’t Give Up On the Future! Father-Daughter Round-Table Talk with Narita Ken, Matsumoto Sara, and Komatsu Mikako

Part 3: The Strength to Overcome Destiny. Interview with Director Satou Teruo

Intertwining Fates

The curtains on the Yashahimes’ story briefly closed with the shocking scene of “Setsuna’s death”. With Towa and the others at its center, the complexly intertwined fates of various people continue into the second chapter (season).

The fire that tore Towa and Setsuna apart, the Dream Butterfly that stole Setsuna’s slumber, the sleeping Rin, and the Rainbow Pearls that possess demonic power; all these things that became key to the story were connected to Kirinmaru’s elder sister, Zero.

Zero previously heard the Shikon Jewel’s prophecy: “An existence that is neither demon nor human and can cross through time will destroy Kirinmaru.” Thinking that it refers to Towa, Setsuna, Moroha, and Inuyasha, Zero tried to eliminate them in order to protect her younger brother. However, that was just an ostensible reason. Behind her actions lurked a feeling of jealousy towards the half-demons and quarter-demon that carried the Dog General’s blood. It seems her unrealized love for the Dog General was the motivation behind her twisted emotions and actions.

Zero’s behavior rouses Kirinmaru’s anger and she disappears from his sight. However, the story does not end with just this issue being settled. As part of the “Rite of Courage and Cowardice”, Towa and the others end up having to fight Kirinmaru and unbelievably, Setsuna loses her life during the battle.

There is a heap of other issues such as Rin who still continues to sleep even now and the Grim Comet that has appeared in the modern era. It is now an anxious wait for the broadcasting to see how future mysteries will be unraveled in the second chapter (season).

Character Bios

Zero Kirinmaru’s elder sister. She was in love with the Dog General. Being that she was the one who created the Rainbow Pearls, she went to go look for the scattered pearls after her breakdown with Kirinmaru.

Kirinmaru The beast king of the eastern lands. Irritated by his elder sister, Zero’s, misconduct towards Sesshōmaru, they part ways as brother and sister as a result. He battles the three (Towa, Setsuna, Moroha) and kills Setsuna.

Sesshōmaru The son of the beast king who once stood on the same level as Kirinmaru, the Dog General, and Towa and Setsuna’s father. It seems he is searching for a child named Akuru but the reason why is unknown.

Higurashi Towa She treasures her younger twin sister, Setsuna, above all else. As she grieves over Setsuna’s death, she receives a broken Tenseiga from her father, Sesshōmaru… …?

Setsuna A half-demon whose sleep and memories were stolen by the Dream Butterfly. She loses her life while battling Kirinmaru but just before drawing her last breath, she calls Towa “Towa-neechan”.

Moroha Towa and Setsuna’s cousin. Despite being enraged by Setsuna’s death, when she turned into Beniyasha, she was able to maintain her (sound) mind and not get overwhelmed by the rampage of her demonic blood.

The Offense and Defense Concerning Half-Demons

Zero has attempted to eliminate the half-demons that carry the Dog General’s blood by doing things such as spurring Kirinmaru to kill Inuyasha or burning the forest that Towa and Setsuna were hiding in. Sesshōmaru was always by her side. Though he does not say much, Sesshōmaru may have seen through Zero’s intentions early and acted one step ahead.

Rin and Zero’s Connection

Zero can connect to others via “fate” and control them as she pleases. Those whose fates are connected to Zero will die alongside her should she lose her life. It seems Zero herself connected her fate to Rin and used that to keep Sesshōmaru in check. The details on how Rin and Zero’s fates were intertwined is of interest.

That Which Sesshōmaru Searches For

Sesshōmaru is someone who never appeared on the story’s center stage for long. During that time, he was searching for a child named Akuru. It seems that the pinwheel Akuru holds is somehow connected to the giant “Windmill of Time”. After Akuru appeared before Sesshōmaru, the Windmill of Time that had not moved for so long moved again but what does that mean… …?

Setsuna’s Seal

Zero wants Kirinmaru to exterminate Towa and the others but Kirinmaru, preferring to fight fair and square, realizes the difference in strength between him and the girls and decides to hold off battling them until they have grown (in strength). It is there that Zero forcefully releases the seal placed on Setsuna’s demon blood so that Kirinmaru will fight Towa and the others seriously.

A Broken Tenseiga

The Tenseiga that Sesshōmaru carries is a sword of healing that was created from the fang of the Dog General and is known as “the sword that saves the lives of the weak”. Sesshōmaru resurrects the dead Zero with Tenseiga but that enrages Zero and she breaks the blade. Will the broken Tenseiga be able to revive Setsuna who has lost her life?

Famous Quote Pick Up!

The role of Sesshōmaru, Narita Ken “Anymore will sadden Rin”

“Personally, the monologue in episode 24 “Anymore will sadden Rin…” struck me. Even though Sesshōmaru doesn’t show kindness, periodically he will suddenly say something like this. On top of that, he doesn’t even put a lot of emotion into it and it just comes out nonchalantly. I think that‘s what’s good about him.” (Narita)

The role of Higurashi Towa, Matsumoto Sara “We’re not alone now.”

“(the line) At the end of episode 16 “We’re not alone now.” I felt was just like Towa. She says that to Moroha but of course Setsuna is among those she’s thinking of. Towa came to the feudal era for Setsuna’s sake she has always held the feeling of “It’s okay because Setsuna is here” at her core. The strength of her unwaveringness really shows when the three of them are backed into a corner.” (Matsumoto)

The role of Setsuna, Komatsu Mikako “You can always change the way you live”

“The phrase in episode 16 “You can always change the way you live” left an impression on me. Even though Setsuna is a half-demon, she’s quite farsighted (philosophically) for a 14-year-old. I think her environment up until now and the blood that flows within her makes her that way. Having passed episode 20 which depicted Setsuna’s past, I once again feel how powerful this phrase is.” (Komatsu)

We Won’t Give Up on the Future! Father-Daughter Cast Round Table Discussion

Role of Higurashi Towa: Matsumoto Sara Role of Setsuna: Komatsu Mikako Role of Sesshōmaru: Narita Ken

Demanding “A Sense of Smell” From Playing Sesshōmaru

— Since this is after the recording of episode 23 today (the day of the interview), thank you all for your hard work!

Matsumoto: Thank you! You see, today is actually the first time I recorded with Narita-san for “Hanyō no Yashahime”. It’s like “we finally meet” kind of feeling and I’m very happy!

Narita: Finally, it was our first father-daughter meeting! I look forward to doing this interview together.

Komatsu: Likewise, I look forward to working with you as well. Narita-san went straight into recording episode 24 (the final episode) right after recording episode 23. The last episode is next week for us, but we read the script and it was completely shocking… …!

— The final episode had an ending that really made you wonder about the future. Having traversed through the story up to this point, what is everyone’s state of mind right now?

Matsumoto: After episode 20, going into the final stage, the vigor of the story increased. For viewers, I think their theories up to now were all overturned at one point. We also started recording not knowing what was going to happen in the future, so we progressed through recording while talking about “What’s going to happen next?” every time. It was a continuation of surprises. Just when I thought we finally got to interact with our father in episode 23, this time, something like that happens to Setsuna… … I was shocked like “To think they would end it like this!” and I immediately started thinking about how the second chapter (season) would connect from here. My current thought is that as I look forward to the second chapter (season), I want to rewatch season 1 one more time before the broadcasting (for season 2) begins.

Komatsu: Back when I didn’t know what was going to happen, when I asked the staff “How is season 1 going to end and what’s going to happen in season 2?”, they told me “Most of the questions that the viewers have will be answered in season 1. Around the last episode of season 1, you might be able to record with everyone in the Higurashi family again.” That’s why in my (mind), I had my hopes up like “I wonder if in the final episode, the whole Kirinmaru situation and Rin’s sleep would all be resolved and Setsuna and the others go to the modern era again, and in season 2 the three Yashahimes would start a happy school life?”

Everyone: (laughs)

Komatsu: And then it went in a completely different direction! Just when I thought the story was connecting in a line, there’s suddenly more questions. There’s still many unanswered mysteries and in the second chapter (season), what will happen (in regards to the those mysteries) … while having that anticipation, as Setsuna, I want her to be revived as soon as possible. In the Inuyasha world, you get pushed down many times, no matter what, and those intense developments where you fight as you climb back up are a distinct characteristic. Hence, I look forward to those intense developments in the second chapter (season)!

Narita: I don’t like calculating future developments and then think “I’ll do this part like this” so I go into the recordings without knowing the upcoming story or the movement of the characters as much as possible. Besides, it feels more fun to go into it without knowing the story. As such, all I use is my sense of smell. In this work, it feels like I’m using my sense of smell 1,000 times more than usual. That’s just how much concentration is needed, and I feel that this work is very stimulating in more ways than one.

— It seems that Sesshōmaru himself moves knowing what Kirinmaru and Zero are after but Narita-san, you were acting without knowing the upcoming development I see.

Narita: That’s right. Sound director Nagura Yasushi-san asked me “Would you like me to give you something that explains how things will turn out?” but I purposely declined. If I found out, it felt as though unnecessary emotions would come out of my voice. When I act, I aim for the middle between “Lines written in the script as is” and “my own considerations” like “It probably goes like this right?”.

Komatsu: Even though I think Sesshōmaru probably knows everything, his lines have various components mixed into them, so I always get a sense of “I wonder?”.  That’s why as a fan, I love speculating that marginal aspect.

Matsumoto: I’m the same way. (His lines) always leave room for pondering.

Komatsu: He doesn’t speak much to begin with, but I think it’s just like father to not say everything within those few words. Watching Narita-san record in person today, I was moved by how Sesshōmaru’s nuances were expressed with such finesse.

Narita: As expected, you two are “Inuyasha” fans (laughs). But it really is difficult. He won’t say things with words after all. Although, he would just become a boring man if he said everything. I think he himself knows everything, but suppresses giving out the answer and just highlights it a little bit… that kind of moderation is important. I’m always conscious of this when I act but it’s tough after all. I only have a few lines so I have this feeling of “If I mess these words up, when is the next time (I speak)?”. That’s why I act with this feeling of “I’m going to put everything into these words” every time.

— Narita-san, how did you feel when you first heard about the “Hanyō no Yashahime” project?

Narita: I never thought they would revive “Inuyasha” in this form. If they were going to do it, I thought naturally Inuyasha would be the center of the story. The setting of Sesshōmaru’s children being the main characters never crossed my mind. I thought something like that would be impossible and I wondered about a lot of things like “Then who’s the mother?”.  Rin (being the mother) was unexpected.

— It was unexpected?

Narita: I didn’t think he would ever touch upon that. I wanted to shake Sesshōmaru’s shoulders like “This isn’t like you~!” (laughs).

Komatsu: Love sprouted!

Narita: How do I put it, love is something far off to Sesshōmaru… I even think he had kids because he probably had some kind of objective.

— In other words, not because he wanted to create a family?

Narita: That might be true for Inuyasha, but for Sesshōmaru, I think there was an experimental aspect to it like “What sort of chemical reaction would happen in my heart if I had kids”. After all, I don’t think it’s necessary for him to be a dad.

Komatsu: Sesshōmaru certainly does seem like he would have that kind of desire to “want to know”.

— Then how did you feel when you saw the girls?

Narita: “Ah, so this is what they’re like” is what I thought. I thought they were brave, healthy looking kids. When color was added to the characters, I felt there were aspects similar to Sesshōmaru. But you know, the shock that he had daughters really is big. It was like “Will the Sesshōmaru up until now fall apart?” “I don’t want him to start ogling”. It was a little complicated there. It's just that it’s true that in the story of “Inuyasha”, he gradually showed his affection for Rin. In that case, something close to that may also bud for his daughters and that too may become a new appeal for him.

Reenacting Sesshōmaru’s Solitude for the Final Recording

— It’s been 20 years since the time of “Inuyasha” but Narita-san, do you remember the time you met Sesshōmaru?

Narita: I did not get the role of Sesshōmaru through auditioning. It seems there were actual auditions, but they couldn’t come to a decision, so they had Takahashi Rumiko-sensei, the author of the original work, listen to the voice samples of various candidates. It was there that Rumiko-sensei picked me is how the story goes. Until then, I did not have many appearances in anime works, so I think there are many young people who recognize me for my role as Sesshōmaru. I also felt that things changed after I played Sesshōmaru. That’s why to me, his existence is very big.

— His looks are androgynous but his voice is deep, so in the beginning, there may have been people who felt an element of surprise from that.

Narita: When I first saw his character appearance, I remember thinking he was woman dressed in a furisode. That’s why during the first test, I used a higher pitched voice. Like the pretty boy voice so to speak.  Then, the sound director at the time, Tsuruoka Yōta-san told me “Please make it deeper”. I lowered my voice while thinking “What?” yet he still said “Deeper” … That’s why it was very hard in the beginning. It was to the point that I thought “I can’t keep going like this!”.  That’s why I raised my voice just a little bit at time so that it wasn’t noticeable. Otherwise, I felt that I couldn’t express (things). When I did that, it gradually became easier.

Matsumoto: So that’s how it was.

Narita: Although, there was a trigger behind that. At one point, I received a letter from someone who was a fan of the work and it seemed that the Sesshōmaru that person imagined was a certain voice actor who was very popular at the time. When I read that, I thought “Whaaat!” (laughs). But if that’s the case, I thought “It’s fine if I do this more freely” and my shoulders relaxed instantly, and I felt better.

—  As in acting in a way that only you can?

Narita: Yes, that’s why I’m grateful for that letter. It’s thanks to that that I was able to reach a turning point after all.

Komatsu: Meaning you broke through that “Sesshōmaru has to be like this” kind of (mentality). When I first heard Sesshōmaru’s voice in the animation, I was able to grasp that “This is what Sesshōmaru’s scariness was”. To begin with, his beauty and contrasting calmness pierced through me and I had this scary image of him from when I read the manga. However, the moment that became a voice, I really felt that it made it convincing. That’s why from the start in my mind, I couldn’t imagine anyone else for Sesshōmaru other than Narita-san. It’s the complete opposite of Inuyasha’s high tone and he’s calm. He felt like a true greater demon. His rank is much higher than Inuyasha’s and I could feel that sense of him being beyond anyone’s power.

Narita: Afterall, his father (the Dog General) was Ōtsuka Akio-san and his mother is Sakakibara Yoshiko-san. The parents were amazing, weren’t they?

Matsumoto: For sure, the whole family is strong… …!

Narita: But Sesshōmaru’s strength is that he doesn’t flinch even before such parents. Like he has his own world. I thought I really should (act) that part without wavering.

— How did it feel playing Sesshōmaru again for the first time in a while in “Hanyō no Yashahime”?

Narita: It’s been 20 years since “Inuyasha” and 10 years since “Inuyasha the Final Act” so that amount of time is pretty hefty. I thought I could do it instantly but when I tried, it felt off. I was bewildered like “I did this originally so why?”.  I started acting while doing my utmost to recall the feelings from back then, but it didn’t go well immediately and even I was surprised. The stronger the emotional attachment, the closer to myself I got and I thought “This is a human”. I kept comparing and adjusting many times like “Gotta change it back, gotta change it back”.

— So there’s a certain feeling when playing a demon.

Narita: That’s when I thought I probably focused a lot more back during “Inuyasha”. The onsite studio for “Inuyasha” had a peaceful atmosphere and I felt that I couldn’t let myself get caught up in the atmosphere. Stubbornly, I strongly made myself think “I am solitary”. Until I stood in front of the microphone, I would create Sesshōmaru inside myself and carry on as such until the end. That may have been what I was missing. That’s why at the recording of the final episode today, I purposely told the girls “I want you out”.

— In other words?

Narita: Just as I said earlier, I recorded episode 23 with the girls but I recorded the final episode alone. During that time, the girls waited for me (until the interview started) and they could’ve stayed in the booth but I purposely wanted to do it alone. It probably wouldn’t have changed much whether there was someone inside or not but how to put it, I wanted to get closer to the me back then, even just a little.

— I see.

Matsumoto: There’s certainly emphasis on recording with a small number of people right now, so it might be a difficult environment to face your role in. It’s pretty much you get to the studio, immediately voice the scenes you appear in, and then immediately go home when you’re done. Even as a newbie, I can feel it throwing off my rhythm somehow.

— So even bout scenes get (cut up) into small pieces then.

Matsumoto: I think if we had recorded with everyone together from the top, we could’ve created time for each of us to focus on our roles while feeling the flow of the story. I think there’s definitely something that can be built with everyone onsite. However, there’s difficulty from not having time to build that.

Komatsu: When you can feel the flow of the whole thing onsite, the feeling changes a little from when you’re reading the script at home. There are times where you realize things for the first time. But right now, we’re only doing our corresponding scenes, so things come up that we just can’t grasp. There is merit in just doing your turn in a short time, but it feels completely different from doing it with everyone.

— So there’s a challenge that comes from the Corona crisis.

Komatsu: The staff have shown consideration for us by making it possible for us to interact with each other as much as possible, so I’m grateful. While taking in consideration counter measures against spreading the virus, they adjusted it so that those voicing scenes with character conversations can record in the same booth together. Thanks to that, the cast of the three Yashahime were basically able to record together.

Narita: They were limiting it to around 3, 4 people at most. I recorded with Kirinmaru (Yoshimasa Hosoya-san) and Zero (Sakamoto Maaya-san) many times. Then there was Jaken-chan (Chō-san). Jaken was the same old Jaken and he made me think that I had to do my best without losing. I didn’t (record) together with my younger brother (Inuyasha played by Yamaguchi Kappei-san). Not that I want to meet him or anything.

Matsumoto: It’s Lord Sesshōmaru! (laughs)

Komatsu: Thank you! (laughs)

Narita: (laughs) Also, I was able to record together with Rin (Noto Mamiko-san) in episode 1. It felt as though Noto-san had matured a little bit. Her growth as a woman came through a little in her acting, which I thought was wonderful.

Matsumoto: Us daughters haven’t recorded with Noto-san but I just happened to be able to watch the recording for episode 15, so that’s when I greeted her. When I told her “I’m your daughter; thank you for giving birth to me” Noto-san was like “Oh my god~! My daughter~!”. But we had to maintain social distancing so we were both like “I can’t hug youuuu~!” (laughs).

Komatsu: I’m so jealous. I can picture that situation (laughs)

Concern about Setsuna’s life and Towa and Riku’s relationship

— In regard to Rin, it was revealed in episode 23 and 24 that her “fate” is connected to Zero. Matsumoto-san and Komatsu-san, as daughters, what do you think?

Komatsu: I thought “what a cruel fate”. While the feeling of wanting to hurry and meet mother face to face grows stronger, currently the only way to prolong Rin’s life is to keep her asleep, and it’s there that Setsuna’s Dream Butterfly is involved. All that is linked to Zero.

Matsumoto: It’s a negative chain where in order to get Setsuna’s sleep back, you have to kill Zero but doing so would also kill Rin. Towa wants Setsuna to be able to sleep but she still doesn’t know about that connection. She tried to sever that in the final episode, but the result was…

Komatsu:  Setsuna, who was never able to sleep, was finally able to sleep via death. It was such an ironic plot twist… …!

Matsumoto: Seriously, I thought “You’d write this kind of script!?”! (laughs) In the opening for cour 2, there’s a scene where Rin catches a falling Setsuna but I want them to hurry and do this scene in the main story.

Narita: Setsuna will be in season 2, right? We won’t be able to sleep in Setsuna’s place because we’re so curious.

Komatsu: I have faith that she’ll appear… … For that reason, I look forward to Towa’s efforts.

Matsumoto: I’ll do my best! At the end of the final episode, Sesshōmaru takes out a broken Tenseiga and says “Shall you try, Towa…”. That was the first time father said my name. Earlier, I watched Narita-san record from outside the booth and that was truly unforgettable. Seriously, I think it was a scene that entrusted a lot of things (to Towa) so I want to carve that voice into my heart and take on the recording for the final episode.

— In regard to Towa, her relationship with Riku is also of interest.

Matsumoto: You’re right. The scene where she told Riku “I like you!” really surprised me!

Komatsu: Love made up a large portion within the story of “Inuyasha” but “Hanyō no Yashahime” doesn’t have a love component to that level. It was a scene where you saw a small sign of that.

Matsumoto: For the line “I like you”, Nagura-san directed me before the recording “It is absolutely not fawning. Please don’t go in the LOVE (romantic) direction.” I think it was a refreshing emotion and that she liked Riku as a person type feeling. I was also told “It’s okay to show happiness when Towa sees Riku like ‘Oh it’s Riku’”. Even though she doesn’t think it’s (romantic) love, it seems she’s always had this perception of “Riku’s not a bad person” and I think what burst out from that was “I like you”. The fact that Riku hugged her was something that lingered with her into the next episode, and it was very memorable.

Narita: Riku… … he can’t be overlooked in many ways (laughs). This won’t do, I can’t let him live. I guess I should cut him down in a single stroke!

Matsumoto: Fatheeeeer!! (laughs)

Komatsu: Like “I won’t forgive anyone who make a move on my daughter” (laughs)

— Riku’s wellbeing will be something to pay attention to in season 2 (laughs). Lastly please give a message to our readers who are looking forward to the second chapter (season).

Komatsu: First off, there’s what’s going to happen to Setsuna. I’m sure Towa, who’s been entrusted with things, will revive her in the second chapter (season)… … Personally, I want to see father-daughter interaction and a reunion scene with mother. I also haven’t given up on my dream of an exciting modern era school life! Just once is fine but I want an episode where everyone goes to the modern era, wears a school uniform, and takes Kirin-sensei’s class. Having it end as “it was all just a dream” is fine too (laughs). I believe there are issues as well like Inuyasha and Kagome being trapped in the black pearl, so I hope everything is included in the second chapter (season)!

Narita: Indeed, when I think about what all is going to happen, I can’t help but be curious. Coming to episode 23, I recorded with the girls for the first time but how are things going to be between (Sesshōmaru) and the girls going forward? I’m also curious about the relationships with Inuyasha and Kirinmaru. I’m just like the viewers in that I want to enjoy each episode one at a time. I’m truly happy to have encountered this work. I would be happy if everyone continued supporting us.

Matsumoto: In terms of hopes, I want Setsuna to be revived immediately at the beginning of the second chapter (season)… … Even if that doesn’t happen, I want Setsuna to be revived as soon as possible. I think there will be new encounters getting there. At the end of season 1, there was a character named Akuru that appeared along with the keyword “Windmill of Time”. I’m excited to see how those will connect into the second chapter (season). Another thing I’m curious about is the promise that was made to Mei, “We’ll come back for sure”.

Komatsu: Oh yeah

Matsumoto: I do feel that I want to see a scene where Towa says “I’m home” to the Higurashi family… … but right now I don’t want to go back to the modern era! Need to revive Setsuna and clean up everything before that! Riku, Zero, and Kirinmaru might show some new movement in the second chapter (season). Please look forward to it without missing the details!

Q. Who did you think was Towa and Setsuna’s mother?

Narita: I thought it was Jaken (laughs).

Matsumoto: The Mama Jaken theory! (laughs)

Komatsu: Even among the fans, there was the Mama Jaken theory in the beginning (laughs).

Narita: Well, Jaken stays close to Sesshōmaru the most and knows him best. If love was going to sprout, it would’ve been from Jaken. Plus, he’s a full demon.

Matsumoto: Master Jaken really looks at Lord Sesshōmaru after all.

Komatsu: In actuality, Master Jaken was both the educator and caretaker, so his position was like a wet nurse.

Narita: He might’ve been breast feeding them periodically. Demons seem like they can do anything (laughs).

Komatsu: I think Master Jaken guessed what Lord Sesshōmaru was feeling and thought “What is my role…”.

Narita: He probably can’t be by Sesshōmaru’s side if he doesn’t have that kind of anticipation (laughs)

[sfb123]

Sapere Aude - Part 8A

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: M -MATURE 

Warning: Adult language, smut (🍋🍋🍋) and other adult themes.

Word Count: 4,049

Notes: I know I’ve sucked at updating and posting. I hit kind of a personal slump in my writing, there was a lot of self-loathing involved. I really struggled with writing chapter 9, and I eventually had a revelation that it was likely because I wasn’t done exploring everything that happened in chapter 8, so I’ve made a sub chapter. We follow Liam when after he leaves their quarters and get into his thought process in dealing with the bombshell that was dropped on him.

And yes, you read that rating right, my lemon tree has had its first bloom. I really stressed myself out over this, so I hope it’s worth the time I spent trying to convince myself that I was doing a good job, not to mention the time my friends had to spend (see below) to boost my ego.

Thank you so so much to @txemrn for reading a couple of snippets for me and being the cheerleader I needed when I was feeling really down on myself and my work...even though I was supposed to be the one giving YOU a peptalk!

And a super special thank you to my fairy smutmother @jessiembruno. You listened to me complain, and doubt myself, and a million other things multiple times a day while I was trying to find my way, and you never once came off as annoyed or frustrated. I am so lucky to be able to call you a friend.

Finally, thank you so much @twinkleallnight​ for my UPDATED moodboard! She took it upon herself to update it to better reflect the feel of the story, and she did a kick ass job!

Tags: I’m officially rocking my new tag list. Everyone is listed below as well as in the comments for safety. If you’d like to be added or removed, let me know! 

“Liam, where are you going?”

“I need to take a walk. Gather my thoughts.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I need to be alone right now. You stay here, I’ll be back shortly.”

Before she could stop him, Liam was out the door. He knew she just wanted to be there for him, but he needed to be alone. The royal quarters, his home, his sanctuary, suddenly felt so small. He was suffocating there, he needed to get away, to breathe.

“Your majesty?” Bastien stopped him. 

“I’m fine, Bastien, just going for a walk. Please stand down.” Liam tried to keep his tone and expression neutral, but it was obvious to Bastien that something was wrong. He bowed to the King, following orders and remaining at his post. 

Liam continued walking through the palace, unsure where he was going, he just needed to get out. He found himself walking through the gardens, approaching the maze. One of his mother’s last projects before her passing...or rather, before she abandoned him. It was always a special place for Liam. Growing up, he would often go there to hide out when he was feeling lonely, or missing his mother more than usual. It was one of his favorite spots on the grounds, possibly in the world. How would he ever be able to look at this space the same again? It would serve as a constant reminder of the insurmountable betrayal he had faced at the hands of the woman that gave him life. 

As he walked the familiar path through the maze, he considered his options. Perhaps he would burn it to the ground, and salt the earth to prevent any attempts at regrowth. Would that make him feel better? Would it take away the pain? 

Likely not, but it would feel good to know that I took something away from her that she cherished so dearly. A metaphor for what she has done to me. My memories of her, her kindness, her generosity, they mean nothing anymore. Because, to her, I meant nothing. I couldn’t have. If I did, she wouldn’t have left. 

He continued his journey, getting lost in his thoughts. He would look back at his childhood memories, trying to remember something, anything, that could ease this moment for him. Nothing came. His mind then wandered to the relationship he could have had with Thomas, his brother. He had another brother this whole time. All those times when Leo had run off to god knows where, he wouldn’t have had to be quite as alone as he was. Sure, he had Drake to keep him company, but Drake wasn’t a prince. He didn’t have the same expectations, the same limitations, that Liam faced. He could have had someone else by his side that understood all of it. 

How was he supposed to feel about Thomas now that he knew the truth? His first instinct was anger, but he quickly rejected that. It wasn’t his fault that they were kept apart their whole lives. He was suddenly very curious about Thomas’s life.

What was his childhood like? How did he feel when he learned that he was also royalty? Has he ever wanted to say anything to me, to come forward? Would I have believed him if he had?

Even though he wasn’t supposed to know any of this, he hoped that things would get to a point where he could talk to Thomas, and ask those questions. Ideally in a casual setting over drinks, and not an interrogation cell. 

Liam soon found himself in the center of the maze. As he took in his surroundings, his mind kept racing back to his childhood. The picnics with his mother, the games of maze tag with Drake. 

I wonder if Thomas would have liked to play maze tag with us, had he been around. 

He felt a sudden calming come over him at one point. When he took a look around, he realized that he was standing in the exact spot where he and Riley had landed when he inadvertently tackled her the night of the masquerade ball. The night he learned she had traveled halfway around the world just for a chance to be with him, because she felt what he was feeling after just a few hours together one night in New York. Even now, all these years later, he still felt the same butterflies in his stomach thinking of that moment. 

Wistfully, he walked a bit further, to the spot where they stood the night of his coronation, where he had finally managed to say those three words he had been feeling since the moment his eyes met hers. He smiled as he replayed the memory of her saying it back to him. He was fairly certain at the time that she felt the same way, but to hear those words fall from her beautiful lips, he had never felt a high quite like that in his life. His mind then wandered to the events that those words led to, another moment he had long dreamed of. Physically expressing the love they had just declared. He felt his heart start to race thinking of their first time together. All of the sudden, anger quickly replaced all other emotions, as he remembered that there was a tape of that moment. A tape that was recorded, and held, by her group. He quickly searched the area, digging his arms through the hedges, looking for anywhere a camera might be hidden. He came up empty. Given how long it had been since the recording, it made sense that they had likely removed their surveillance from the area. 

Another reason to be rid of this maze once and for all. Another reminder of the deceit. Only this time it’s worse, they brought Riley into it. 

Liam needed to move on from the center of the maze, so he continued walking, finally coming across the wishing well. The wishing well his mother had told him about when he was a child. 

Can you take back wishes? I wished so many times that my mother would come back to me, for her death to have been a misunderstanding. Well Liam, you got your wish, now look at you. How many other wishes have I made that will come back around to bite me in the ass? 

His mind began to wander again. This time, to the night of the Homecoming Ball. The night Riley was officially presented as the Duchess of Valtora, and more importantly, his fiance. They both made wishes that night, he remembered his wish: to never let fear dictate his choices, the way his father did. 

He let fear dictate his choices because of the loss of his wife. Had he known what truly happened, things would have been different. Perhaps he wouldn’t have interfered with my choice during the social season. I could have been with Riley all along. The way things were always supposed to be. I know we ended up together, and the struggles made our bond that much stronger, but there was a very real chance that I could have lost her forever, I almost did, over his choice.

Thinking of Riley reminded him of her reassurances that night, she was so confident in his ability to be a good King. She believed in him from day one, and never faltered in that. Even when he didn’t believe in himself, thinking of Riley, and her faith in him gave him the strength to continue on. To be the best man, and King he could be. To make his Queen proud. 

In that moment, Liam had an epiphany. This maze was so much more than his childhood and memories of a mother that betrayed him. This maze was about the love he and Riley shared. It had played a paramount role in their story. When he looked around, he saw memories of them, their stolen moments, their heartfelt confessions. He couldn’t get rid of this maze, if he did, he would be destroying a piece of his heart. 

From this moment forward, this maze is not about her, not about the lies that she raised me on. It is about the love and support I have shared with my soulmate. This is where our love, much like the flowers that adorn these hedges, blossomed. 

Riley...my heart, my world, my Queen. She gave up her life, her freedom, to be with me. She left her family and friends, her job, everything, for me. She has dedicated her life to my country, she has taken on my responsibilities. What have I done in return? I’ve put her in this impossible position. I’ve put her in harm's way, yet again, for the good of Cordonia. A country had never even heard of before I came in and turned her life upside down. 

He needed to get back to her. Walking back toward the palace, he started considering how she might be feeling in that moment. He had been so caught up in his own mind, that he didn’t stop to think what all of this was doing to her. She had to deliver devastating news to the man she loved, and his reaction was to abandon her. His heart sank as he approached their quarters, he felt so small. He entered their bedroom, overwhelmed with shame for the way he had left her. 

Of course she’s still awake. She probably stayed up worrying about me. I was so selfish to just leave her like that.

He kept his head down, too ashamed to look her in the eye, and walked straight into his closet to get ready for bed. His mind working overtime, trying to find the right words, but nothing came. He exited the closet and walked toward the bed, hoping something would come to him. 

Finally, Riley broke the silence in the room. 

“Liam…” She said barely above a whisper, he turned his head and looked at her for the first time since arriving home. “I’m sorry.” She placed her hand gently over his. 

She thinks I’m mad at her. She’s blaming herself. How does she not understand that she is the only thing keeping me from going off the edge? I’m the one that dragged her through all of this, and she’s apologizing to me. I don’t deserve her love. 

He was overwhelmed with anger at himself, and heartbreak for his wife. “Riley, you have nothing to apologize for. I am the one that wanted you to do this. You did nothing wrong. None of this is on you.” He tried to smile, but he knew it was unconvincing. He could feel the sting of tears beginning to well up in his eyes. 

“Fine, but you’re not allowed to blame yourself either.” 

Even to this day, after all of these years, it astonishes me how she can see right through me like that. I’ve had years of training to hide my thoughts and emotions, that training proved useless when it comes to Riley.  

“What you just said, telling me you were the one that wanted me to do this. I know you Liam Rys, better than anyone. You’re thinking about how you brought all of this on yourself.” 

It’s the truth. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t talked you into joining. 

For the second time that night, Liam couldn’t bear to look his wife in the eyes. She was right, but so was he. Liam felt the firm, yet loving touch of Riley’s hand holding his chin and lifting his gaze to meet hers. There was a fire in her eyes, unlike any he had seen from her before. 

“This is all on them, it’s the Via Imperii’s fault. That’s why we’re going to take them down. Together. Just like Anton, just like Auvernal, just like Barthelemy, just like any other enemy that has ever, or will ever come our way. We are the King and Queen of Cordonia, Liam and Riley Rys. We are a force to be reckoned with.” 

Liam was taken aback by the determination in her statement. He knew she was strong, she had been his rock since the day they met, but this was so much more than that. He didn’t know it was possible, but he felt his love for her grow. 

Awestruck, he took the hand she had planted on his chin in his, and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You always know just what to say, love.”

“Years of diplomatic training. I need to be prepared for every possible scenario.” She winked at him.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment. She made it seem so easy to turn his mood around. It was something he would never understand, but always be grateful for. 

God, I love this woman. 

Riley smiled and leaned into him. “C’mon, let’s try to get some sleep. We can circle back to this nightmare in the morning, start working on a plan.” They both laid back onto the bed, and into each others arms. 

In the middle of the night, Liam’s eyes shot open, his heart pounding in his chest, worry overcoming him. He needed a moment to get his bearings, turning to his left to make sure she was still there. She was.

He had been dreaming, a nightmare, technically. Riley was gone, he wasn’t sure where she had gone or why. All he knew was he felt empty, broken, more so than he ever had before. He watched Riley as she slept, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He thought back to his family, the people that were supposed to be there and care for him above all else. 

His mother, who had lied to him from the second he was brought into this world. She was his benchmark for love and support, but it was all fake. Because of her, he lived his life based on false ideals. Then he met Riley, she showed him what love and support truly was. 

Leo, he was a great brother growing up. He made sure Liam got to have fun, and took the heat when it would get out of hand. However as he got older, his priorities changed, and he was around less and less. When he finally abdicated the throne, he placed the weight of the world on Liam’s shoulders. The bright side to that, was that becoming the Crown Prince, and having a social season, brought Riley into his life. She helped him believe that he truly could carry the weight that was thrust upon him. 

His father, a King above all else. As hard as Liam tried to break through that wall, it was duty and his country above all else. That never mattered to Liam though, he still looked up to his father and held him to such a high standard. Until it was uncovered that he attempted to destroy his son’s one chance at true happiness. Despite his attempts at ruining her name, and putting her in harm’s way, Riley stayed and fought. She fought for herself, and she fought for their love. She forgave him for his actions, something Liam was never fully able to do. And when Liam mourned his loss, she was there by his side, holding his hand. 

Riley, his bright spot in all of the darkness. His constant source of goodness and joy. In all of that pain, Riley was there. Who would be there if she left him? He would have nothing, he would be nothing. He felt a tightness in his chest at the thought of losing her. He reached his hand out and gently stroked her arm, needing to touch her. 

He saw her eyes slowly start to flutter open. 

She’s cute when she’s tired. 

He watched as she lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. 

“Hey, are you ok?”

He unsuccessfully tried to swallow away the lump in his throat before answering. “Please don’t leave me, Riley.”

Liam watched as she sat up in bed, a confused look on her face. “Liam, never. I love you, you’re stuck with me for life.

He knew she meant it, but he also knew these things weren’t always under their control. “I just…there have been so many people that said they cared about me, and then left. Losing them was so hard. But if I lost you Riley, I don’t know how I would be able to continue on. You are the most important part of me, my everything. I don’t exist without you.”

A sadness overtook Riley’s face, Liam felt horrible for making her feel that way. He looked down before feeling her hands on either side of his face, her thumbs softly stroking his cheeks. “Liam, I promise you with all my heart, and everything I am, that there is nothing on this earth that could take me away from you. My husband and my daughter are the greatest joys of my life. A world without the two of you is not a world I would ever even want to think about.”

In that moment, all Liam could think about was being as close to her as he possibly could. He desperately needed to feel her body tangled with his. He surged forward and kissed her with everything he had. It was a kiss loaded with love, longing, and need. He lowered Riley from her seated position and rolled on top of her. 

“Show me.” He whispered. 

“Yes, my king.”

He shuddered at her words. Pinning her hands above her head, he slowly rolled his hips into her so that she could feel just how desperate he was for his wife. Riley closed her eyes and moaned at the sensation. 

Liam’s mouth moved to her ear, nipping at the lobe before saying in a commanding, yet tender tone, “Open your eyes Riley, I want you to see everything I am going to do to you.”

Riley’s eyes opened as she met Liam’s hungry gaze. “Yes, my king.”

“Good girl.” He kissed her deeply, removing one hand from hers and slowly moving it down her body, traveling the familiar curves that drove him crazy time and time again. 

Liam’s lips moved away from hers, treading across her jawline and down her neck. Riley hissed at the feeling of his teeth running along her tender skin. “Liam, calm down. You’re going to leave marks.”

“Good, they will serve as a reminder that you belong here, with me.”

Riley freed her wrists from Liam’s grasp and brought his face to hers. “Liam, I don’t need a reminder, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.” 

He silenced her with a searing kiss. One hand traced the curve of her breast as the other traveled downward, rubbing her center through her panties. “You’re so wet for me already, love.”

All Riley could do was groan in response. She felt his lips return to her neck, as his hands traveled to the hem of her tank top, he gently lifted the shirt over her head and deposited it on the floor. His mouth continued its descent, kissing her shoulder and quickly moving to her breast, taking the nipple into his mouth, slowly circling it with his tongue. He kissed across her chest, paying the same attention to the other breast. 

The quiet moans and whimpers coming from his wife were the encouragement Liam needed to continue moving south, kissing down her torso until he was met with the waistband of her panties. He paused and looked up at her. 

“Liam, please.” She whispered, desperate for him to remove the lacy barrier. 

He gave her a wolfish grin before taking them between his teeth and quickly dragging them down her legs. Once they were removed, he lifted her foot and softly kissed the inside of her ankle, his lips moved at a painfully slow speed, resting her leg over his shoulder as he moved closer to her wanting center. 

As soon as Riley felt Liam’s breath on her glistening core, her own breath hitched. Liam heard it, and it satisfied him to know that in that moment she needed him just as much as he needed her. He tantalizingly licked up the length of her slit until he reached her sensitive nub. 

She gasped as he began sucking and licking, his tongue moving in calculated circles. He knew her body inside and out, he knew just what to do to her to get the reaction he wanted. 

Riley’s hands quickly found their way to Liam, running her fingers through his hair and gripping tightly guiding him exactly where she needed him. The pressure caused Liam to moan into her, Riley felt the vibration against her body and trembled. 

Sensing that she was close to her release, he slowly slid one finger inside of her, and curled it slightly. She bucked her hips and moaned Liam’s name, that was all the invitation he needed to add a second finger. 

“Yes Liam, don’t stop.”

He looked up at her with an unmistakable mix of lust and adoration. “Never, Riley.” Before continuing his efforts, causing Riley to plummet over the edge, loudly moaning his name. He worked through her release, savoring every second of her ecstasy. 

As she started to come down from her release, Liam kissed a path up her stomach, positioning himself on top of her. Once they were face to face he kissed her deeply. 

Their tongues intertwined, and Riley’s hands drifted to the front of Liam’s pajama pants, palming his hardness through the fabric eliciting a deep groan from him. Riley smiled into the kiss, moving her hand into his pants, wrapping it around his length and pumping slowly. 

“Mmm...are you ready to take all of me, love?” He asked as he thrust into her hand. 

Riley nipped at his bottom lip before responding. “Yes Liam, I need you.”

He quickly removed his pants, lining himself up with her entrance. Pressing his forehead to hers, and looking deep into her eyes, he eased himself into her carefully, desperate to feel every inch of her. He paused for a moment, allowing her to adjust before slowly rocking his hips against her. 

As they moved together, Liam began sucking and nibbling on Riley’s earlobe. Riley whimpered in response, her hands running up and down his muscular back. She wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels into him, urging him to move faster. He complied, and almost immediately, he felt her walls starting to clench around him. 

“That’s it Riley. Cum for me, love.” He locked eyes with her again, bringing one hand to her cheek to ensure she held his gaze through her release. 

Riley’s back arched as she lost control, the muscles in her body tensed, and she screamed out in pleasure. “Oh god Liam, yes!”

Watching and feeling Riley come undone was all Liam needed to push him over the edge. He thrust into her one last time with a guttural groan as he filled her with his seed. 

They laid still for several moments, Liam resting his face in the crook of Riley’s neck, breathing in her scent as his breathing slowly began to return to normal. He then removed himself from her and laid on his back, pulling Riley to his side. She rested her head on his chest, and he responded by planting a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. 

“Are you feeling better?” She tilted her head up to look at him. 

He stroked her cheek and smiled softly at her. “Much. Thank you Riley.” Their lips met in a brief kiss. 

“Good. Now please try to get some sleep, we’re going to have a lot to figure out in the morning.”

“Of course. Riley?”

She looked up at him, eyelids heavy. “Hmm?”

“I love you, so much.” He kissed her on her forehead. 

She smiled and leaned into him, placing several light kisses on his chest. “I love you too, Liam. Always.”

He let out a content sigh and tightened his arms around his wife as they both drifted off to sleep.

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[demons-fanatic]

Rosaria: Our Lady, Holy Mother

So, I've been replaying Dark Souls 3 and during so, I've honestly been realizing way more about some characters and really indulging in them. One of them is Rosaria, Mother of Rebirth.

Warning: Spoilers for Dark Souls 3 for the ENTIRE post below!

In Dark Souls 3, there's a particularly interesting character named Rosaria. She leads a covenant called "Rosaria's Fingers" which are directly opposed to the Way of Blue and Blades of the Darkmoon. Which leads us to our first major point; Who is Rosaria and why does she hate the Gods?

At first glance at her character, Rosaria is really dark. As in literally dark, her black clothes, black hair... etc. Opposed to the Gods who are usually represented by White or Divine Colors(See Gwyn's Family) and I'm not sure if it's really intentional but it is something that is obvious. Next, what exactly does Rosaria represent or what is her place in the Dark Souls world? For this, we must look at a Japanese Myth.

The Story of Izanami(伊弉冉尊) and Izanagi(イザナギ) is the basic creation Myth for Japan. They were both the first Man and Woman, they created the first land. They did so with a Spear that was gifted to them and then created the Great Sea. They birthed two children, Hiruko(蛭子) and Awashima(粟島), Hiruko in particular meaning "Leech Child". After giving birth to Kaga-tsuchi(火之迦具土, Literally "Shrine of Flame"), Izanami dies and is sent to the Underworld, becoming the Goddess of Death. Izanagi comes to look for her and while going there, Izanami tells Izanagi not to look at her. However, he does anyways revealing the Underworld has permanently obstructed her form. This terrified Izanagi and he left her in the Underworld. After this, Izanami proclaimed she would kill one thousand people a day but Izanagi said he would father a thousand and five hundred more a day. They were officially divorced in this event.

As we can tell, there are a lot of interesting things we can gather once we connect Izanami to Rosaria. And you might be asking... can we even do that? Well, yes. Rosaria is connected to divinity in some way. Only large people are seen to be deific and once we get Rosaria's Soul(I'll get to that later) we can acquire Gwynevere's Miracles meaning even if she wasn't a god, she was heavily connected to the Gods in such a way she knew and or used these Miracles. It is also worth mentioning that Leonhard calls her a Goddess, but that could be due to his adoration. The other connection is that in some way, Rosaria was betrayed by the Gods so badly she now garners followers in the hopes they will kill members of Royal Covenants and steal something taken from her, tongues. Another connection is Hiruko and the Slug in Rosaria's lap, Hiruko was considered inadequate as a Child and deformed, as you can tell the creature that lays on Rosaria is definitely a deformed creature, similar to the Man Grubs, possibly her Child as it is the biggest(this has no evidence what-so-ever). The last connection is also something pretty interesting; The Deep and the concept of "Kegare(穢れ)".

This leads into a lot, so be wary of this part if you want to read it. So, in Shintoism, water is a very important part of the entire thing. Along with this is the concept of purity through flowing water or "Harae(祓)". Flowing things, especially water, is clear and clean unlike still water which collects grime and impurities. Of course, you want to be clean, right? Well, this is the concept. Flow is good, stagnation is bad. While we are stagnant, whether spiritually or physically, we collect impurities and do not really do anything. You may ask... How does this relate to Rosaria, specifically the connection of her and Izanami? Well, let's look at the place she's at. I don't even mean her room but the entire location. The Cathedral of the Deep is full of Kegare, absolutely full of it. All of the water is disgusting and muddy and mucky, poison comes out of the faucets and the foundation of the Cathedral is sinking. The entirety of the Deep is also just Kegare, but I plan on making a post just on that. So, yes, Rosaria is surrounded by Kegare and so was Izanami. The Underworld filled her with impurities and deformed her entire body. Rosaria seems to be very dirty herself, in her hair is slime and she lacks a tongue, which was stolen from her. Both Women are considered deformed and dirty and are surrounded by stagnation. Rosaria herself does not move and only sits in her Chamber, same with Izanami only staying in the Underworld, stagnating, in a way. Now, this is not extremely high evidence but it is an interesting connection that could explain Rosaria's role and some of her inspiration.

Next is another connection but this time it's in the Universe. This one is quite obvious if you've played Dark Souls 1 and this is Rosaria and Anastacia. Both scenarios play out very similarly. Their Souls are stolen by Men who bring their Souls to Anor Londo but for different reasons. Lautrec's is actually never stated and thusly is unrelated. But Leonhard's is because he wishes for no one else to have her. Claiming that you and most likely everyone else will just steal it too. Why they have similar plotlines, I have no idea and it doesn't really make sense. Though, it is possible that Rosaria is a Firekeeper of some sort as she can Respec(reset skill points) the Player Character and the only other Character's in the series who can do that are Firekeepers. However, her Soul doesn't look like a Firekeeper's(reference below)

(Rosariaiis's Soul)

(Fire Keeper Soul)

Admittedly, it does look like a bit of Humanity is swirling in her Soul, compared to others but, who knows. She probably is a Firekeeper but we'll probably never get an answer on that. And by the end, Anastasia does have her tongue back but for some reason Rosaria does not and it is absolutely not clear why this is the case.

Next, let's talk about the bit of lore she does have. It's said that her tongue was stolen from her First Born and that could be a lot of people. First off, it does imply more Children and that does fit with something later. So, who is this first Child? Well, most signs point to Aldrich, whose Bodily slime is actually near the doors of Rosaria's Chamber, this proves not a lot but given the fact Aldrich is a cannibal, he definitely did something to her whether or not it be he stole her tongue. But of course, why wouldn't he eat all of her? It's kind of confusing and this part of the lore is extremely lackluster and even if you think about it you can't get anywhere.

Next, let's talk about her Covenant, but before we do that let's ask another question. Is Rosaria someone we have seen before? Well, if you're telling yourself "Hm, she sounds like she could definitely be Gwynevere" you'd be right. Not that she is Gwynevere confirmed but more signs point to yes than no... Let's go over the evidence:

Is a Goddess

Connections to Miracles about Gwynevere

Connections to the Old Gods in some form

Has Children(Amazing point, I know)

Have Magical Abilities

GNow, I know this isn't much but all together it is pretty telling evidence that something is afoot with the connections. Your first thought of it being against is "Oh, well yes it's possible but isn't Gwynevere like 40 feet tall" and well, no, not really. Even in DS1 this can be debunked in the same room(sorta). We all know Gwynevere is an illusion, so how do we know her real size? Well, in the Ornstein and Smough Boss Room we see these statues .

As we can see, Gwynevere is almost as tall as the Gwyn statue which is basically built to scale. Presumably, anyways. And as we can see, Gwynevere is not as big but she is pretty tall. Now, let's compare it to Rosaria(with Player scale too):

(Source)

As we can see, this height is actually plausible. Rosaria isn't actually that much taller or bigger. Her legs are long and torso about the same size. The next point against it though is the names... Rosaria is obviously not the same as Gwynevere. But, assuming that if you're running away from your family, you'd change your name too. And the Miracle she gives with her Soul, Bountiful Sunlight, which mentions Gwynevere's occupation as a Mother and Wife. This obviously fits in with Rosaria's mentioned child and children, assumedly. But, it's never said that she was married. But, Gwynevere is married, to the God, Flann. They could be hinting at the fact that either Rosaria is Gwynevere's daughter or her, herself.

Another suspect of who she could be is the Queen of Lothric. We know the Queen left after her Husband became mad with the power of the Dragon. There is also evidence for this. Gertrude, the Heavenly Daughter, is said to be the Daughter of the Queen, Rosaria is surrounded by Man-Grubs that are reborn via her and there is actually a Man-Grub near Gertrude's cage. The Queen is said to have several Heavenly Children and the Queen is also compared to a Goddess of Fertility and Bounty(Gwynevere). Rosaria is considered a Goddess and the Queen was worshipped as a Goddess for sure. Another Child of the Queen is the Dancer of the Boreal Valley, how do we know this? Well, the Dancer's Soul gives another of Gwynevere's Miracles, Soothing Sunlight which explicitly states the Dancer is a member of the Old Royal Family, at least for the most part as in it's in her tree. So, how does this connect back the the Queen and Rosaria? Well, it's very much told this way with Miracles the Queen is the Daughter of Gwynevere, who was also her Maiden and carried on the stories of her Mother to her Children. This does make the most sense in comparison to her actually being Gwynevere, but, options. Rosaria's tongue though is still a mystery, I have no idea if her firstborn(presumably Lorian or Aldrich but... that has no evidence) stole her tongue and if that's the case, why. It could just be apart of the hellscape that is Dark Souls 3's lore.

So let's talk about the covenant, Rosaria's Fingers. As to why they are called as such, I am actually not sure and it honestly seems to hold no important to what I see. The member's of this Covenant have a prefix regarding names of specific finger's, somewhat. Yellowfinger is not really a finger. There's also the symbol for the covenant which is actually the Papal Cross of the Christian Religion and is the Emblem of the Pope, there is actually a Pope in Dark Souls 3 in the form of Sulyvahn but there seems to be no connection other than Aldrich being connected to Sulyvahn and that's really it. Rosaria's Fingers collect the tongues of their foes, which are the Way of Blue and Blades of the Darkmoon, two covenants that are explicitly connected to the Old Gods. Obviously, this tells us that Rosaria not only hates the Old Gods but it's possibly they are the ones that stole her tongue from her. Meaning her firstborn is most likely connected to the Old Gods, but as given before, that was obvious. It is either that or the Old Gods have disrupted her in some other way. In other aspects of the Covenant, Rosaria gives the option of Rebirth(or Respec'ing) which basically lets someone reallocate their skills, what implications this has in the universe is completely unknown and is probably just a way to make yourself stronger. You can rebirth yourself in-universe until you become a Man-Grub, and it's basically literally what the name implies. But the descriptions imply it might not be that simple. Some of them wield staffs that cast holy spear spells to protect Rosaria. Why she can do this is not clear, nor why it happens is not clear either. It doesn't seem that she hates her subjects or anything of the sort, so it could just be a curse she has given her abilities.

Rosaria doesn't really have a lot to her character, along with that she barely has lore, unfortunately and all that can be gathered aside from the only clearly stated things is guesswork and it's not that much fun. The only cut things that have come from her is a cut Boss Track related to her(interesting to note this track IS similar to the Dancer's who is interestingly not a Boss at first), whether she was the boss or not, is not clear.

Unfortunately, this seems to be all that Rosaria has to her but if you know anything else or want to correct some information for me please do so! I'll gladly edit something things and I might add more. My next post is hopefully going to be the Angelic Faith of Lothric and the Primordial Serpents.

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 15

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

Previous Chapter: Chapter 14

Next Chapter: Chapter 16

Will covered his face with his hand. ‘I do not understand why after yesterday you’d want to return to the woods,’ he said. ‘Well, I understand the recklessness of some of you, but I was expecting a little more sense from Alastair.’

Lucie had to agree that if any of them had the common sense not to run towards danger, it was Alastair.

‘If we do nothing, we stand little chance of saving Thomas,’ Alastair said, his voice betraying no emotion but he did seem a bit stiff.

‘Excellent point. I’ve heard I am to congratulate you, by the way, Alastair. And Thomas too, of course. Here I was hoping that after James and Cordelia broke up, I’d have another chance for a Carstairs in the family with you and Lucie.’

Lucie wished she could disappear. She deeply regretted telling her father about her crush on Alastair, almost two years ago. Nowadays, she realized she’d probably just looked up to him, she had been grateful for the way he’d defended her. She had liked him better than most boys in school, and had mistaken that for a crush. However, when it came to boys in school, the bar was on the floor.

Alastair, for his part, looked horrified. ‘That will never happen. I’m gay.’

‘So am I!’ declared Lucie. She figured this was as good a time as any to bring it up, and she’d been meaning to tell everyone anyway.

Everyone stared at her. Alastair looked amused. ‘Well, that is one way to come out. Congratulations, Lucie.’

Her father looked surprised. ‘Really? You always told me about boys you liked.’

Lucie shrugged. ‘Yeah, that’s weird,’ she said. ‘I think at some point I started looking at girls and realized what I felt for boys didn’t really compare.’

Lucie wasn’t sure that made sense, but on the internet she’d discovered plenty of lesbians had had crushes on boys before realizing. Feelings were confusing for sure, and the longer Lucie thought about it, the more she began to understand those oblivious book characters who were obviously in love but had no clue.

‘I didn’t realize,’ Will said. ‘But I’m glad you told me. Can’t wait until you tell us about any girls you like.’

Considering her father’s fondness for the Carstairs family and how determined he was to bring one into the family, Lucie wasn’t sure telling him how she felt about Cordelia was a good idea. She didn’t doubt her father would think it a good idea to help, which would end in disaster.

Lucie felt that was enough said about the topic for now. ‘Back to our plan,’ she continued. ‘We need to find the selkie skin, which according to our source is located in the woods, in the land in between. The same place Alastair and Thomas ended up finding yesterday. There was a trap door they couldn’t open, but cortana could cut through the lock, so that’s our way in.’

Lucie didn’t mention the minor risk of getting trapped all the way in the realm of the thief of souls. Nor were they completely sure the trap door hid the selkie skin, but it had to hide something interesting, right?

‘Hold on, whose selkie skin, and why?’ Will asked.

Cordelia summarized last night’s visit. ‘Grace needs that skin, or she will be forced to use her power on us. Even if our plan has its risks, the risk of doing nothing is falling under the spell of a siren.’

‘I thought you said she was a selkie,’ Will said.

‘Something in between, I think,’ Cordelia said. ‘She is a selkie, but she has the voice of a siren. Something about myths being muddled. I don’t know, I can’t say I have much experience with the lovely ladies of the sea. That’s what she called herself, by the way.’

Lucie had to admit Grace was indeed quite lovely.

Will sighed. ‘I guess you’re right that someone has to go. I’d do it myself, but there must be a reason she asked for Cordelia specifically and I don’t have any weapons. But I do want you to be back by dinner. Now hurry before Tessa, Gideon or Sophie learns of your plans.’ A playful smile appeared on her father’s lips. ‘And if anyone asks, this conversation never happened.’

Lucie quickly put on some walking shoes, heart beating fast until the four of them were out of sight and she was sure her mother couldn’t stop them anymore. Her father might be lenient when it came to recklessness, but her mother was not.

‘If anyone gets mad at us, I’m definitely blaming your father,’ Alastair announced.

‘That’s not fair,’ Lucie protested. ‘He covered for us.’

‘Let’s just focus on our mission,’ Thomas offered. ‘Yesterday, we took this path and it took us to the ruins.’

She followed Thomas and Alastair, who remembered how they’d come upon the ruins yesterday. It was a nice route, Lucie had to admit that, with a small pond on the side. In the end, after a long walk by Lucie’s standards, they exited the woods back where Lucie had entered to follow Tatiana, at the side of the village.

Lucie frowned. ‘Are you sure that was the right route?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t see any ruins.’

‘Perhaps the entrance is somewhere different today,’ Thomas suggested. ‘Maybe we should go back and try another path.’

After trying several paths and walking for hours, Lucie was getting tired. She wasn’t used to taking walks this long like Thomas and Alastair were and she was pretty sure she had blisters on both feet. Determined not to complain, she trailed behind the two boys, who kept exchanging longing stares. They really were adorable together. Thomas at some point took Alastair’s hand in his, which caused Alastair to stop in his tracks. Lucie nearly bumped into him.

‘Why isn’t this working?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Well, yesterday was the first time we found the ruins,’ Thomas said. ‘Before that, the forest was normal. Apart from some gnomes, things like that. Nothing unusual, at least. Perhaps today, the gateway isn’t there. Or perhaps there’s another trick to reaching it.’

‘Is there anything we did different yesterday?’ Alastair wondered.

‘We didn’t intend to find the land in between,’ Thomas said. ‘What if we cannot find it now that we’re actively looking?’

‘Then how would Tatiana find it?’ Alastair asked. ‘If that’s where she hid Grace’ skin, she can’t have stumbled on the ruins by accident like we did.’

‘Could be part of the deal she made, her learning how to come there,’ Lucie said. ‘Is there anything else you did differently?’

‘We were there earlier,’ Alastair added. ‘Thomas decided to sleep in today, whereas yesterday he and I went into the woods early in the morning.’

‘I think I was on my way there when I followed Tatiana,’ Lucie added. ‘When I returned, Cordelia said I was gone for an hour when it didn’t feel that way, just like you were gone for a whole day.’

‘I’m not sure stalking Tatiana until we can follow her there is such a good idea,’ Alastair said. ‘Perhaps we should try it again tomorrow morning.’

They tried again the next morning, and then in the evening for a short walk, but no result. She had patched up her feet with blister band aids from her mother’s first aid kit and kept going, even if her feet were still hurting and it was getting worse. It wasn’t the time, it turned out, and Lucie started to get frustrated. Grace hadn’t come back, and how were they supposed to get her skin if they couldn’t get back into the land in between?

The third morning, after another fruitless attempt to find the land in between, her mother was waiting for them in the hallway when they returned to the house.

‘Where have you been all morning?’ she scolded.

Lucie realized none of them had a good excuse for this morning. Most of the time, no one had noticed them return, and they had been ‘reading’ the whole time in their bedrooms. At least for Thomas and Alastair, it was believable that they’d want to spend time together in a bedroom “reading” any time of the day. She looked around to see if anyone would come up with something. At least Cordelia was a decent liar. But no one offered a believable excuse and Lucie had no inspiration.

‘We were looking for a way back into the land in between,’ Lucie said, deciding not to reveal her father’s role in their adventures. ‘But we couldn’t find it. So no harm done, we weren’t in danger and the only injuries sustained are my blisters.’

Her mother sighed. ‘You’re just like your father, Lucie. But I’d hoped some of you had more sense.’

Her mother looked at Alastair, her expression stern. ‘I thought you could be a voice of reason among them, Alastair. I don’t understand why you’d do something so reckless. Promise me you won’t go into the woods again.’

Lucie agreed that out of the four of them, Alastair probably had the most common sense, but it was almost painful to see Alastair respond. Lucie knew her mother often came across as harsher than she meant, but Alastair probably didn’t. His face went blank, he retreated back into his shell. Lucie might not have noticed anything was wrong if Cordelia had not looked so concerned.

‘I’m sorry to have disappointed you, dr. Gray,’ he said and before anyone else could say anything, Alastair disappeared inside, presumably to his bedroom.

Her mother had a PhD and did all sorts of medical research, Lucie knew she liked it when people called her by her title, but at the same time she’d hoped Alastair was close enough to her parents to call them by their first names.

Thomas and Cordelia also made their way inside before her mother could get angry with them too, Lucie remaining behind.

‘It was for Thomas,’ Lucie said. ‘We needed to find the place in between again. We needed to find Grace’ selkie skin or else Tatiana will force Grace to enchant us with her voice.’

Tessa sighed, putting her hand on Lucie’s shoulder. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Lucie? We could have gone in your place.’

Lucie figured she shouldn’t tell her mother her father had encouraged her to go.

‘I didn’t want you to put yourself in danger,’ Lucie said. ‘Cordelia has cortana, Alastair has his memory, so they had to go. I think you’ve upset Alastair, I better go check if he’s alright.’

Tessa sighed. ‘No, I will check on him. You’re right, I was too harsh on him. I didn’t consider… Never mind, I’ll go. But don’t think you’re out of trouble, young lady. You’re not leaving the house until otherwise specified.’

Lucie groaned and went inside, taking off her shoes and replacing the patches on her blisters. She had a pair of fit flops she could still wear, and Lucie decided that even if those shoes weren’t the most suitable for the forest, she would wear them for their next walk. If she was ever allowed to leave the house again, that was.

She wasn’t sure where Cordelia or Thomas had gone, upstairs to find Alastair? Perhaps she should join them, but her father found her first.

‘Tessa caught you,’ he concluded, sitting down next to her.

Lucie made a face. ‘Now I’m not allowed to leave the house.’

‘I’ll talk to her,’ her father promised. ‘Have you found anything yet?’

‘No,’ Lucie said. ‘I don’t understand why. Thomas and Alastair one day walked into the land in between on accident, but now we can’t find it and it’s frustrating and my feet hurt and these blisters are bursting open.’ She paused. ‘Did you see where Thomas and Cordelia went?’

‘Upstairs,’ Will said. ‘I’m thinking they’re talking to Alastair. He seemed rather upset. Is everything alright with him?’

Lucie sighed. ‘I think it’s something mom said. She didn’t mean to hurt him, but because he’s the oldest out of the four of us and definitely the one with the most common sense, she said that she’d expected more from him.’

She couldn’t explain it exactly, she didn’t always understand what upset Alastair. But she suspected Alastair felt like he didn’t deserve to be here, or that her parents liking him was very conditional. Perhaps in Alastair’s mind, all love was conditional, and any mistake he made meant he’d lose someone’s love. Lucie was trying to understand what was going on in his head. As a writer, she should be able to understand how people thought and why they did what they did. As a friend, she should be able to offer support. She wasn’t sure she was doing a good job with either.

‘I imagine that’s difficult for him to hear,’ Will said. He sighed. ‘This is all my fault. I’ll talk to your mother, and tell her I encouraged you to go.’

‘Mom will be very mad with you,’ Lucie said.

‘Now she’s angry with you, and I deserve it more,’ Will said. A playful smile lit up his face. ‘Besides, you’re not little princess Lucinda who needs to be locked in a tower, that’s for sure. What’s life without a little risk?’

Lucie wondered if he’d feel the same way after facing her mother.

She went outside into the garden on her fit flops to feel the sun on her skin after reapplying sun screen. The weather was nice today, not too hot, a soft breeze against her cheek, and only a few clouds in the air. That could change any moment though, Scotland was known for is changeable weather. A good atmosphere for a nice romantic scene, or bonding between friends or family. Or just fun scenes that might not need to be in the book but balanced out the dark ones. Lucie felt a book should be balanced in that sense. While she loved drama and darkness, she did not like gritty stories where everything was dark and terrible. She liked to balance out the darkness with a sweet romance or gentle characters still remaining kind and hopeful in the worst circumstances. Or characters who might have turned bitter, but were trying to be better. Thomas had a bit of a weakness for those, which totally wasn’t because that archetype resembled Alastair.

The garden still counted as the house, right? She suspected Thomas and Cordelia were both still with Alastair and she didn’t think it would be a good idea to join them. She didn’t know Alastair as well as Cordelia did, she feared she’d only say the wrong thing. Besides, Alastair didn’t seem to like people taking care of him or fussing over him, Cordelia had told her she sometimes had to force him to let her protect him for once. Lucie feared her mother’s comment had reinforced some deeply held belief of his that he was worthless, even if she had never intended to make him feel that way.

She wondered how she’d never seen something was not right at the Carstairs home. Cordelia hadn’t either, but she remembered how when she was young, Cordelia would sometimes come to her for sleepovers, whereas Cordelia’s parents had rarely invited her over at their house. Of course, when she was little Lucie would get homesick and preferred having sleep overs at her own house anyway, so it had never bothered her.

And when Lucie was little, her father would always come sing her a Welsh lullaby. He was Welsh through his father, whereas the house here in Scotland had been in her grandmother’s family for some time. He was a horrible singer, and it was hilarious how he kept trying and did not care what people thought. It was sweet and Lucie had always felt safe and protected when her father came to tuck her in and sing his horrible songs. Cordelia had told her it was usually Alastair who sang her good night songs and tucked her in. That had made sense too. Alastair had a beautiful voice after all, and who wouldn’t want to listen to him sing? Back then, Alastair had seemed much older and wiser than the two of them, but really, he’d been a child too.

And Cordelia had regularly had to cancel plans because her father was sick and she couldn’t leave him. Lucie had understood, although the disappointment never quite faded. But when Lucie’s father was sick, he might whine and moan like a typical man flu patient and complain that he needed uncle Jem’s care and support, but he would never have asked Lucie to choose taking care of him over spending time with the few friends she had.

None of those things had struck her as odd in childhood, but now she was thinking maybe they should have. Maybe someone should have seen something was not right at the Carstairs house. Perhaps then Alastair wouldn’t be in so much pain now.

‘Lucie!’

Lucie looked up, but didn’t see anyone calling out her name. Nor did she recognize the voice. It was a smooth, feminine voice.

‘Over here!’ the voice hissed and Lucie followed the sound to the trees and recognized Grace.

‘What are you doing here?’ Lucie asked.

‘Tatiana left me alone. She didn’t realize I had enough free will left to come here.’

‘I’m sorry, we don’t have your skin yet,’ Lucie said.

Grace rolled her eyes. ‘I know. I’ve seen you walk in the woods once or twice. Honestly, that was embarrassing.’

Lucie frowned. ‘How so?’

‘You never even opened the gateway,’ Grace said.

‘How are we supposed to do that? We’re not Tatiana!’ Lucie exclaimed. ‘And Alastair and Thomas entered the land in between by accident.’

‘It sucks people in sometimes,’ Grace said. ‘But rarely by accident. Alastair was targeted when he and Thomas came there, Tatiana found out he has a memory ability and she thinks he’s a threat to her plans. I think she’s scared her brother will remember something. That’s why the werewolf was after him.’

Lucie frowned. ‘They know about that?’

‘Yes. But they do not yet know about you,’ Grace said. ‘I figured it out when I realized you could see Jesse. You better get my skin back before she realizes what you are. She’ll want you dead for sure.’

‘What I am?’ Lucie asked.

‘You have power, Lucie,’ Grace said. ‘You’re a witch.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Lucie said. ‘I just see ghosts. That’s all.’

‘I know you see ghosts. You talked to Jesse. Do you have any idea how rare that ability is?’

‘I’ve never met anyone else who could do it.’

‘Exactly!’ Grace exclaimed. ‘You have no idea what you’re capable of. You can open a gateway into the land in between. And even more important, if you find yourself trapped you can open the way back.’

‘How do you know?’ Lucie asked.

‘Because I have heard legends of one other person like you. A witch who was born centuries ago. She wasn’t like other humans who used magic, she used dark magic, but hadn’t acquired it through a deal and there was no price to pay to something powerful. As a little girl, all she knew was she saw ghosts. And when ghosts stayed around her, they became stronger. But she learnt there was much more she could do and grew stronger. She learnt to open those gateways and use them as a weapon, she learnt to control the dead.’

Lucie was horrified. She could do such things? ‘What happened to her?’

‘As a woman of her time, and an odd one at that, she was treated badly of course. At some point she snapped and became a dangerous, evil witch. Who can blame her, honestly. She was defeated by the ancestor of the Carstairs, the one who carries cortana. Before he could deliver the killing blow, she jumped into the sea and drowned herself. She lost her dark magic, but came back to life as a daughter of the sea, a mermaid. She repented, changed, and lived her life peacefully in the sea. That is how we know her story.’

Lucie frowned. ‘I don’t want to be an evil witch,’ she said.

Grace’s grey eyes were cold and void of emotion. ‘Then don’t be. Just because magic is dark doesn’t mean it’s evil. Be a good witch or a neutral one or whatever you want to be. But you can’t change that you are a witch, and I need you to find my skin. You, the bearer of cortana, and the one with the memory. Without you it can’t be done. But you need to know what you can do, you need to open a gateway.’

‘How?’ Lucie asked.

‘It’s your power, not mine,’ Grace said. ‘Go figure it out. I need to get back before Tatiana realizes I am missing. They say when the witch wanted something, all she had to do was ask. So be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.’

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 17

Preview AND the real deal in one day? I’m on a roll 😎 But in all seriousness: super happy I could share this (more or less) on time with everyone! I’ve started working on a side project I’ll share more about tomorrow so I’m still figuring out my writing schedule. Also promise I’ll respond to all asks this week as well! As always, feel free to check out this chapter on AO3 and know that I adore all kudos, comments, asks, etc. You all make this journey such a gift ❤️

These days, things somehow felt slow and exciting at the same time — it was odd. There was so much at stake and all of it lay within the borders of Republic City. In a few weeks time, Kuvira’s spirit cannon would reach completion and the army would be on its way to claim all that remained to consecrate the Empire.

Although you still find yourself caught up the more bureaucratic aspects of the work — paperwork, meetings, more paperwork — it feels like you can almost touch the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Nothing else slows down but everyone appears to hold a collective breath as Baatar works on the final touches of the machine.

Today in particular, you decide to take a trip to engineering. Kuvira is nowhere to be found so you assume she’s off in some pressing meeting with her sergeants. Perhaps strategizing for the City’s response and especially the Avatar’s. Given the scope of the army’s proposed attack, you can’t possibly imagine anyone, not even Korra, withstanding such magnitude of force.

You feel a slight twinge in your chest at the thought of what lies ahead. You think of Bolin, Varrick, and Zhu Li. You wonder whether Raiko will willingly submit to Kuvira and spare the damages that will transpire if he doesn’t.

But at this point, you know better than that. If the United Republic had wanted to end things peacefully, Kuvira would have already reached an accord with them. It was clear no one was willing to budge so you could only hope that the damages would be as minimal as possible.

You stroll into the warehouse, following the sharp sounds of electricity and metal clanking together. A number of privates salute you as you walk past and you offer them reassuring smiles. “At ease, privates,” you chuckle. Despite how much time has passed, you’ll never grow accustomed to the way people interact with you for being both Kuvira’s significant other and a critical role in her Inner Circle.

Baatar recognizes your voice and he looks down from the platform several feet above you. He calls your name excitedly and you can’t help but grin. Admittedly you’ve never been too fond of the man (even back in Zaofu) but you would be wrong to deny all of the incredible work he’s put into bringing the army this far along. Plus, he’s done his best to get on your good side once it became clear his chances with Kuvira were effectively eliminated.

“How’re things going up there?” you call out.

“They’re going,” Baatar responds, somewhat disillusioned. Your brow furrows together and you cross your arms.

“What’s the matter? You don’t sound too pleased,” you remark.

“I can’t seem to make the connection between the cannon and the suit’s body...each piece functions properly on its own but the wiring simply won’t synthesize everything together,” he explains.

“Hm...I’m not sure how much help I could be but could I come check it out at least? If anything it���ll be a good way for me to admire all your handiwork,” you say.

Baatar smiles halfheartedly and sighs. “I suppose. Perhaps there’s something you might notice that I haven’t been able to. Five straight hours can do that to someone,” he admits, leaning over to press the yellow button that unfolds a metal staircase.

Once it lands on the floor with a soft clink, you leap onto it and head up until you’re within an arm’s length from Baatar. Being much closer to him you can see the lines of exhaustion etched below his eyes. His hair is gelled down neatly, though some strands of it fall along his temples where it sticks to a thin film of perspiration.

“Baatar...have you seriously been working on this for five hours straight?” you ask.

He appears confused by the question and purses his lips. “Of course I have. What else would I be working on?” he replies.

“I understand but...you should take a break soon. At least a half hour or something,” you recommend. He vehemently shakes his head in protest.

“Absolutely not. Kuvira wouldn’t allow it and with good reason. Every moment wasted on anything other than this machine is more time lost to take Republic City for the Empire. I will not be the reason everything we’ve worked for is lost,” he states.

You stay quiet, watching him worriedly before you release a soft sigh. You always knew Baatar to be...a deeply passionate man since joining Kuvira. From what you had pieced together during your conversations with her, you learned that he grew up in his father’s shadow. He was always praised as the mirror image of the older Baatar, with an aptitude for design and engineering.

When he joined Kuvira, it was probably the first time in his life that something was entirely his own. Not an addition to his father’s work, not a continuation of everything so many people expected of him. What he created was novel, powerful, and completely his own.

Understandably, he had grown so invested in this final display of his autonomy and innovation that any potential threat to it was unfathomable.

“It’s alright, I understand,” you reassure him, stepping forward and tentatively resting your hand on his forearm. You feel him tense beneath you and you wish he hadn’t because now it feels even more awkward. You’ve never felt the urge to offer him any sort of comfort until now but then he relaxes and you can slide your hand away without feeling too uncomfortable.

“So!” you exclaim, hoping to break the odd tension. “You said you were having trouble connecting the cannon to the rest of the suit?”

“Indeed,” Baatar sighs. He peers into gaping machinery, sifting through thick cords of wiring and metal. “I’ve checked for any and all missing pieces and there isn’t a single thing out of place. I wonder if you’d be able to see anything I might be missing.”

You chew on your lower lip, growing nervous at the prospect of going anywhere near the obviously complicated technology. The chances of you damaging anything are close to none...though they aren’t quite zero.

Nevertheless, you lean forward just an inch to gaze upon the convoluted maze coiled within the massive platinum encasements. None of it makes sense to you and you feel foolish even bothering to check.

Even so, you angle your hand forward and throw Bataar a questioning look. He nods and you start carefully pushing aside the cords in hopes of seeing, well, something.

At the exact moment you feel an indentation in one of the metal fibers, you hear the echo of footsteps below and the sound of Kuvira’s voice. You mean to pull away in excitement but the hem of your sleeve gets caught.

Grumbling, you manage to pull it away but not before feeling a sensation pulse through your body that’s lightning hot and stinging all the same. The pain concentrates in your arm for a split second and your eyes are forced closed.

The only thing you’re aware of is the muffled sound of shouting around you beneath your own screaming before your head crashes against something cold and hard and your vision fades into complete darkness.

---

“This could have been so much worse, Baatar. Do you have any idea how much worse this could have been?”

The voice sounds distant, almost warped, as if it were coming from another room. Wait...are you in a room? It feels still and quiet so you assume you are.

Your eyes are sealed shut and it feels like your brain is trying to push out of your skull. When you try to twitch your fingers, a searing pain shoots up your left arm and a pained sound gets caught in your throat.

Okay. So no moving yet.

You inhale slowly and wince at the sharp ache in your ribs and your chest. Other than that, nothing hurts too bad if you stay relatively still so you focus on maintaining a careful breath.

As you start to grow accustomed to the aches and pains, you let your eyelids flutter open. Well, flutter almost seems too glamorous to describe the heavy feeling when you peel them apart. It feels like you’ve had them shut for weeks.

You try not to move your head around too much as you scan your surroundings, realizing you’re back in the tent you share with Kuvira. The lanterns have been blown out so you assume it’s nighttime until you hear the voices again.

“Kuvira, I apologize profusely for my lapse in judgement. I should have known better than to—”

“You’re right. You should have known better and you didn’t. Baatar, I expect nothing but the utmost professionalism from you and now is not the time to make such potentially fatal errors.”

Though you can’t see anything, you clearly envision what poor Baatar’s face must look like: crumpled in defeat and tight with regret. You want to get up and reassure him you’re okay, though you aren’t really sure what happened in the first place.

Instead, you clear your throat and before you can even open your mouth, Kuvira’s voice whispers something rushedly before she bends the door open and steps inside. You expect to see Baatar join her but she enters alone, sliding it shut and preventing anyone else from entering.

“You’re awake,” Kuvira sighs, rushing over to you and kneeling at your side. Her hands hover over your arm, unsure, and it catches you off guard. Kuvira’s self-assurance rarely falters — when it does, it’s a cause for concern.

“I am,” you affirm, attempting a soft grin before you try to push yourself up. As your left arm protests in agony, you realize it’s been bandaged with multiple layers of thick gauze. Kuvira notices your confused expression and her face grows grim.

“What happened?” you ask. Kuvira stares at your arm for a few moments in thick silence, almost as if her capacity to speak had been plucked from her throat the instant you broached the subject.

“There was a damaged piece of armored cable,” she eventually says. “Between the wiring and what little spirit energy was being transmitted from the suit’s core, it was exposed enough to deliver a shock that knocked you out for hours.”

Ah. So that explained the bandaged arm and why everything else seared in a dull, muted ache.

“Hours? That’s better than what I thought,” you joked. “I could’ve sworn I was out for weeks!” You attempt to laugh but Kuvira finally looks up at you and her expression is so grave it effectively shuts down whatever attempt you make to lighten the situation.

“You could have been,” she hisses. “Had you gotten any closer to that damaged material who knows what could have—I don’t know what I—”

“Kuvira,” you interrupt. Her eyes slide shut and she grips the bedsheet tight, closing her fist over the material with a force that would break anything else if it were more solid. You manage to lift yourself up with your good arm and once you’re upright, you press your palm against her cheek.

“I’m okay, really I am,” you reassure her. “It’s probably just some bruising here and there. Plus my arm will be good in no time, you’ll see.”

“I know that, it’s just…” Kuvira’s voice trails off for a few moments before she can continue. She swallows hard and exhales shakily. “I walked in exactly as it happened and...it looked like you were gone. I heard you scream and when you went quiet, your body hit the ground and I could’ve sworn you...you weren’t there anymore.”

“I’m here now, Kuvira,” you murmur, dragging your thumb over her cheekbone in that way she loves but has never actually verbalized. You maintain a slow pace until you feel Kuvira melt into your touch, her features softening.

“I’m right here with you, alright?” you tell her. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m going to be okay and I promise I’ll be more careful. Now why don’t we go on a walk and maybe grab some tea?”

“No,” Kuvira responds quickly. “You stay here and I’ll bring you whatever you need. Besides, it’s late and you should be resting anyway. We’ll spend the night in the tent and see how you’re feeling tomorrow. Just...wait here.”

She leans forward to press her lips against your temple, staying there for a moment, confirming to herself that you’re really alive, and then breaks away with a reluctant stride. You sigh but smile inwardly, leaning back and hoping you get better soon so Kuvira will feel more at ease.

---

True to form, you recover within the span of a few days from the worst of it all. You take it easy in the days immediately succeeding the accident, even finding some spare time to meet with Baatar and assure him there’s no bad blood. He can’t find it in himself to accept forgiveness, though frankly you don’t blame any of it on him. You make it a point to eat the occasional meal with him when time permits...something you never envisioned doing mere months ago.

Character development indeed.

Though your arm takes longer to heal, you get back to work within three days time, albeit with slightly less mobility. Nevertheless, you approach your assignments with the same level of attention and detail as you would any other time.

However, the one thing that remains the same is Kuvira’s unwillingness to stay away from you for longer than thirty minute intervals.

Ever since the accident, she stays by your side almost nonstop except when she’s called away for business that doesn’t involve you. A hand on your waist when you lift yourself off a chair, her arms circling you as you get out of bed, her fingers guiding you towards an exit when there are too many people nearby.

Today, you’re filing away the last of the latest shipment updates from Yi. You sigh and Kuvira looks up from across the room. “Are you alright? Are you in pain?” she asks worriedly.

You bite your lip with hopes that it’ll stop you from rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “I’m fine, Kuvira,” you respond. “Head’s just feeling loaded from all these files. I think I’m going to close out for the day.”

“Of course. Let me take you to our quarters,” Kuvira replies, shoving away whatever she was working on and making her way towards you. She offers you her hand which you take, not without some exasperation.

“I can get there on my own, you know,” you remind her, hoping you don’t come off as too abrasive. Luckily it seems to go over her head because Kuvira is too preoccupied with making sure your knee doesn’t smash against the desk or that the wall doesn’t touch any other part of your body.

“Of course I know that but I won’t let you,” Kuvira says simply. And with that, she guides you back to the tent with one arm wrapped around your waist, her hand digging softly into your side. The guards look on with a mix of sympathetic glances and the occasional teasing grin. You grimace in response and do your best to ignore them, affronted that they’ve become so bold.

You reach the tent and you aren’t sure what look Kuvira gives the guards because they quickly scramble away (or as good as one can scramble in a bulky mech suit) so she can bend the door open. She steps in first, letting you lean on her arm to lift you up the two steps.

“Here, let’s get you into bed,” she murmurs, leading you towards the mattress and releasing your hand as you sit down.

“Kuvira…” You start to say but something in her face makes you stop. You’re tempted to tell her to ease up, that you’re fine and she’s worrying over nothing but you remind yourself what you would’ve felt in her place. You’ve seen Kuvira come close to death too many times and the thought nearly destroyed you.

So you keep quiet because you know she’s not actually being domineering. You hold her hand between both of yours and bring it to your lips, sliding the glove off so you can press your mouth against her bare skin.

“Don’t leave, Kuvira,” you murmur. “Can you...can you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Kuvira whispers, her face losing some of its tension as she sits to your side. She watches you intently and you can’t tell what she’s looking for. Perhaps some indication of pain? Discomfort?

The tent is quiet for some time and when Kuvira breaks the silence her voice is unusually hesitant. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable lately,” she sighs. You look at her and her expression is unreadable.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I’m afraid I’ve been rather...overbearing for the past few days. I know you’d never say it outright but I imagine it’s been difficult for you to deal with,” she explains. “I hope you understand why I’ve done it though.”

She adds that last sentence almost as if to reassure herself that her behavior is warranted which, frankly, it absolutely is and it pains you to think she doesn’t believe that.

You press closer to her until your thighs touch, lifting your hand to tilt her face towards yours and cupping your fingers around her jaw.

“Of course I understand, Kuvira. It’s absolutely fine. I can’t expect you to recover from something so frightening in such a short amount of time. I’m sorry if I gave the impression that you had to,” you apologize.

Kuvira exhales sharply and her lips curl into a faint smile. “Never. If anything you’ve been extremely patient for someone who’s had their partner doting on them for almost every waking hour,” she chuckles.

You grin and lean forward until the tip of your nose brushes against Kuvira’s. “Well I can’t say it hasn’t been kind of sweet having the Great Uniter at my beck and call,” you respond slyly.

“But don’t you always?” Kuvira asks, closing the gap between your faces just enough for her lips to nearly graze over your own.

“I suppose you’d think so,” you giggle. “Clearly you’ve been more...zealous as of late, haven’t you?”

Kuvira hums while she slides the other glove off her hand, lifting her fingers until they wrap around the back of your neck. The caress of warm skin produces a thrill that courses all the way down your spine. “May I kiss you?” she whispers and her breath tickles the skin below your ear.

“Please,” you respond, bridging the space that separates you and finally bringing her supple mouth against yours. The kiss is tentative and chaste, so similar to the ones you would share in the early days of your relationship. Kuvira’s hand stays still on your skin, mirroring the carefulness of her mouth, so evidently displaying her anxiety of moving too abruptly for fear of harming you in some way.

So you decide to encourage her further, parting your lips and letting the tip of your tongue playfully brush against hers. Kuvira gasps and jerks backward, her face already tinted a lovely shade of red. It’s an unusual look for her but one that you relish for its rarity.

“What’s the matter? Too much?” you ask. The inquiry comes out sounding much more playful than you’d intended.

“I, um. I guess I didn’t expect that. I thought you would want to take things slow for now,” she elaborates. Kuvira is normally so composed, hyper-aware of every sound and movement she makes especially when she’s being closely observed, which is why you’re pleasantly surprised to see the way her throat clenches as she swallows.

“I’ll take things slow if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, Kuvira?” you ask innocently, lifting your eyebrows and removing your hands from her body. “Do you just want me to kiss you nice and slow...not deeper and harder until you feel your heart pounding against your chest? Not until you start kissing my neck and moving your hand lower and lower...just enough to feel how wet—”

Much to your delight, you’re swiftly cut off when Kuvira seals her mouth over yours again, the force of it strong enough to push you back an inch. You make a pleased sound in your throat and finally throw your arms around her neck, readjusting until you can swing your legs over her thighs and rest upon her lap.

Kuvira’s hands drift mindlessly over your sides, not quite touching but not too far off either. You grow exasperated so you tug on them and wrap them around your hips, grinding downwards so she can feel the growing heat between your legs. How desperately you’ve wanted this for days now.

She moans softly against your mouth and her patience wears thin within moments. Between the havoc you wreak on her lips and the canting motion of your body against her thighs, she eventually cradles you against her arm before placing you onto the mattress on your back.

You gasp in pleasant surprise once she hovers over you. She carries her weight with even greater caution, overly cognizant of potentially pressing down too hard and hurting you.

“What happened to taking it slow?” you tease breathlessly, hovering your fingers over the metal plates on her shoulder. She notices right away and knocks them off with quick work of her hands. They’re tossed onto the ground with a resounding clash.

“I think you should be asking yourself that question,” she responds, leaning down until her lips dance across your neck. “What was that you were mentioning earlier?” she whispers against you, dragging her tongue along the skin that isn’t covered by your uniform.

Your body instantly arches upward, feeling Kuvira’s breasts press against your chest. Between the accident and how busy everything already was before that, it had been weeks since you’ve been with her like this.

Therefore it’s no surprise that your body responds accordingly.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft on me,” Kuvira says, pushing away the collar of your uniform and carefully sinking her teeth into the flesh at the base of your neck. You’re at a total loss for words, the sounds and syllables dissipating with each brush of Kuvira’s mouth on your body.

“Because that would be such a shame. I do love it when you make me work for it,” she sighs. Her hands, firm yet careful nonetheless, drift downwards until one rests over your hip. Even through the layers of fabric, her touch produces a sensation like fire that spreads from the point of contact all the way to each bit of muscle and nerve.

“But you also love it when I’m completely at your mercy, don’t you?” you shoot back, rather proud that your voice isn’t as weak as you expected it to be. Kuvira cocks an eyebrow and removes her mouth from your neck. You mourn the loss momentarily but keep going.

“You can’t deny it, Kuvira,” you continue, your eyes widening with glee. “I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you have me all tied up, completely and utterly at your disposal for whatever you desire. Haven’t you missed that? The way I’m completely helpless when you bind me up and all I can do is wait to see what you’ll do next.”

“It sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for some time,” Kuvira exhales, already short of breath.

“Oh I certainly have. And given how you can barely get through an entire sentence without gasping for air, I’d say you’re quite a fan of the prospect yourself,” you murmur.

“Are you sure? You’re not in any pain at all? I don’t want to hurt you,” Kuvira says quietly, the lustful look on her face morphing into one of concern.

You nod assuredly and shyly press your lips to hers again. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. We’ve got our word, remember? I’ll let you know if I need you to stop.”

Kuvira nods against your touch and moves her hand to the back of your neck once more, this time undoing the buttons that hold the article together and lifting your arms to pull it away. The fabric bunches up around your bandaged forearm and though the gauze isn’t as thick anymore, it’s enough to make you both pause.

You bite back the laughter flooding your mouth and Kuvira looks vaguely irritated. Nevertheless, she approaches the minor hiccup with her usual, unhurried maneuvers until it slides away and you’re only covered by a soft undershirt.

The scars beneath the gauze start throbbing a bit but you manage to keep the worst at bay. It’s nothing too bad — nothing worth paying much attention to.

Kuvira spends the next few moments showering kisses, bites, and caresses over every inch of skin she can reach with her mouth. She takes you apart with slow and intentional movements until all you can do is lay frenzied with desire beneath her ministrations and attempt to hold back the pathetically desperate sounds that fall from your lips.

She begins to lift up the undershirt until it glides over and off your head and falls to the ground, along with the growing heap of Kuvira’s clothes mixed with your own. She keeps your arms high above your head, sliding her fingers over your skin and pauses. When she stops, you realize your eyes have been shut so you snap them open and look down at her impatiently.

“Don’t you worry...I’ve got exactly what you’ve been waiting for,” she murmurs. Kuvira lifts her hands and starts to coil her fingers. You hear the sharp sound of metal sliding against metal and then you see two silver strips emerging from her abandoned uniform. They float menacingly above your bodies, gradually curling into crescent shapes that hover over your wrists.

“I think it’s about time,” Kuvira whispers. Not a moment is wasted between the time she utters those words and the sensation of frigid metal clasping around your wrists, pulling your arms together and holding you down tight.

You’re met with an immediate burst of exhilaration and you ride it for about five seconds before it’s overridden with a growing feeling of discomfort that spreads under your bandages. You do your best to ignore it and instead focus on Kuvira moving downwards until she reaches the hem of your trousers.

“Now let’s see just how much you’ve wanted this,” she purrs against your hip, clipping her teeth over the edge of the fabric and using it to guide her hands as they slide it off. She’s soon met with the throbbing heat nestled between your thighs and you sigh in shameless pleasure.

As delicious as it feels, the pain in your arm only intensifies with each passing moment. You attempt to zero in on Kuvira’s mouth brushing against your bare hip, your thigh, the feeling of her lips hovering over the wet fabric of your underwear. It becomes overwhelming — the tension of wanting more but feeling your arm quiver with increasing pain.

“May I?” Kuvira asks, hooking her finger over the thin fabric and hinting at tearing it off. You murmur a quivering “yes” and hope she can’t sense the discomfort in your voice. She promptly removes them, dragging them down your legs and pressing her face against the crease where your hip meets your thigh.

It’s such an unbearable union of tender and carnal that it makes your body jerk hard against the restraints. The material digs into your injury just enough to make you cry out in distress.

“Silver, Kuvira! Silver,” you grunt through gritted teeth. Kuvira immediately breaks away and bends the metal strips off from your arms. They land on the floor with a harsh sound that makes you flinch.

“What do you need? What should I do?” she asks calmly. It would almost startle you how quickly she manages to shift tonalities but right now, it brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

“My arm...it-it stings,” you mumble, carrying it down until it rests on your abdomen. “I just need a second. Maybe that healing salve?”

“Of course. Stay still, alright? I’ve kept it in my desk,” Kuvira reassures, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead and leaping off the bed. She throws a spare bed sheet over her body as she strides across the room, shuffling through a drawer until she finds the salve and a sealed green pouch.

She kneels on the bed and slides her arm around your bare back to help lift you up with little pressure. Once you’re upright, she gingerly takes your injured arm between her hands and begins to unfold the gauze.

The skin that emerges is marred with a thin layer of scarred flesh, much less angry than how it appeared just last week. Kuvira uncovers the glass jar and scoops a portion of the salve onto two fingers that she presses against the wound.

It feels awful at first, almost exacerbating the pain, but it gradually melts into a refreshing coolness that numbs the discomfort. You hiss a bit at the beginning and Kuvira lifts her hand away.

“Is it too much?” she murmurs. “I’m not pressing down too hard, am I?”

You shake your head adamantly. “No, not at all,” you respond. “You’re totally fine. Just stung at first. It feels good now, I promise.”

Kuvira nods in understanding, rubbing the last of the substance onto your skin and pulling open the small pouch. She pulls out a long strip of gauze that she untangles and starts folding over your arm, sealing the salve’s properties against the scars.

She moves smoothly, indicative of one who has done this many times before. You wonder how often she had tended to others’ wounds as a guard in Zaofu.

“You’re all set,” she affirms once she ties it all together. She rests her hand over her handiwork, stroking her thumb over the material and looking up at you concernedly. “What else do you need?”

“I hate to say it but I think you were right,” you chuckle. “I think...I just want to sleep now. Do you, uh...do you mind, er—holding me?”

Kuvira’s face brightens even in the darkness of the tent and she nods, guiding your bodies back down to the bed so she can curl her body around yours, mindful of where your injured arm rests. Your legs tangle with hers as Kuvira tugs a thick blanket over your shoulders, bringing you closer to her chest until your forehead touches her collarbone.

The silence is comfortable, soothing. Exactly what you need. But you can’t shake the slight degree of embarrassment that clings to your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Kuvira murmurs. “I know you want to...and I understand. I won’t scold you for it but just know you don’t have to. I’m glad you told me. That’s what we do, right? Honesty.”

You nod against her and swallow. “You’re right...I appreciate it,” you respond. And though you don’t exchange any more words for what remains of the evening before you fall asleep, you lose yourself in the calming silence that follows. Kuvira’s hands float up and down your back and your shoulders, guiding you into a dreamless sleep that welcomes you with warmth and safety.

[batterycityghoul]

Wolves Are Coming For Me (Eric Northman/Reader)

Summary: “You had always preferred your solitude and a week away from the bullshit that had plagued your life lately seemed almost too good to be true.  And that's exactly what it turned out to be.” 

Word Count: 1.7k

Author’s Note: This is kind of sad, but I prompted this to myself off my Halloween Prompt List. So, I used ‘alone in a cabin in the woods and there are strange noises outside’ from the scenario list and ‘”don’t open the door”’ from the dialogue list. Part of my True Blood ‘verse in which reader is the middle Stackhouse child. 

Masterlist / Until We Meet Again / This House Is Falling Apart

After Bon Temps was terrorized by a vampire-hating serial killer and a delusional maenad, you were more than ready to get away for a while.  

You were still reeling from not only your grandmother's death, but Godric's as well. It felt like you were losing people left and right and even though your agent understood, you were still fast approaching a deadline with very little to show for it.  

Jason had balked at the idea of you spending a week by yourself in a cabin in the woods, but Sookie had wished you luck. She knew just how hard you had taken Godric's death and after getting rid of the maenad, you were looking forward to trying to process at least a tiny bit of your grief during your self-appointed isolation.  

The only people who knew about your plans were Jason, Sookie, Tara, and Sam. You had asked Tara and Sam to keep an eye on your brother and sister for you while you were gone. Both of them had a horrible penchant for landing themselves right into the middle of whatever shit was going on, whether in Bon Temps or in Dallas, so you had left Sam and Tara with explicit instructions to call you if they seemed like they were going to make another dumbass mistake that would prompt another supernatural problem.  

Your agent had been nearly overjoyed that you were attempting to finish your book. She had practically offered to pay the rental fee for the cabin herself, but you had turned her down.  

You felt an odd sense of excitement while you were buying enough supplies to last you a week. You had always preferred your solitude and a week away from the bullshit that had plagued your life lately seemed almost too good to be true.  

And that's exactly what it turned out to be.  

The first night in the cabin passed with hardly any disturbances. If you noticed an odd sound outside, then you were going to chalk it up to the wind. You could hear the howling echoes of it as you tried to force yourself to go to sleep. You shivered at the sound of it carrying through the house, prompting you to pull the comforter tighter around you as if fighting off a chill.  

The next day, you thought a walk through the surrounding woods would be nice and peaceful. You were suffering from an annoying bout of writer's block and needed to get out of your own head for a while. Enjoying a bit of fresh air and sunlight filtered through the trees sounded like exactly what you needed.  

You only made it a few steps into the woods before you noticed something smeared on one of the tree trunks. You frowned at it, a sinking feeling in your gut that told you instinctively what it was as you got closer to the tree.  

It was blood.  

And it looked fresh.  

You stumbled back a few steps, quickly looking around when a creeping paranoia set in that had you convinced that you were no longer alone. When you didn't spot anyone, you backed up towards the cabin.  

You couldn't help but hope that it didn't mean anything. Maybe a wounded deer had stumbled past the cabin last night and leaned against the tree.  

Even as you thought it, you couldn't help but think it sounded like total bullshit.  

You spent the rest of the day in the cabin, checking that all of the windows were locked as well as the doors. You never heard anything that would suggest you should pack up and leave, but you couldn't shake off the thought that you should go ahead and do it anyway.  

That night, you heard more of the mournful howling of the wind and the rustle of the trees as they shook and swayed outside. You had trouble sleeping, so you were curled up in an armchair in the living room, the fireplace lending you a warmth that did nothing to fend off the chilling effects of the sounds outside.  

You were just starting to doze off, your head cocked back at an awkward angle, when you heard the unmistakable sound of claws raking over the front door. You jumped, turning in the chair to watch the door. When no other sounds reached you, you started to slowly relax back into the chair. You were just beginning to think that you had completely made it up, an auditory hallucination that only happened because you were half-asleep, when you saw a shadow move past the window.  

You held your breath, your fingers blindly seeking your phone where it was resting on your lap, as you carefully watched the window for another hint that someone was out on the porch. Your first instinct was to call Godric. He would have been the first to assure you that everything would be fine before either coming to your rescue or dispatching someone else to do it. Probably Isabel, you couldn't help but think.  

But Godric was dead and no longer playing the role of your protector and friend. You weren't going to call Sookie or Jason or any other humans. You couldn't get them tangled up in whatever this was.  

You weren't going to involve Sam and you sure as hell wouldn't call Bill Compton. Where Bill Compton went, Sookie followed. You also weren't entirely fond of the vampire, so you definitely didn't want to rely on him for help.  

That really only left you with one option.  

You chanced a glance at the phone Eric had gifted to you after yours was destroyed in Dallas. He had made sure to program his number into it, bestowing himself the honor of first place on your speed dial. He claimed it was in honor of Godric’s memory that he extended his protection to you as well, but you couldn’t help but hope that maybe Eric liked you more than he let on.  

You weren't really sure what you had with Eric. You seemed to be stuck in the awkward and confusing dance of a potential relationship with him. Your relationship had only strengthened in Godric's absence, especially after you comforted him the morning Godric met the sun, but he had yet to make a move and you weren't sure if you were supposed to.  

You chose his name from your list of contacts while you forced yourself to take a deep, shuddering breath.  

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Stackhouse," Eric drawled when he answered.  

You weren't even going to think too much about how just the sound of his voice was enough to make your fingers unclench from where they had been digging into the arm of the chair.  

"Something's wrong," you told him, attempting to keep just how spooked you were out of your voice.  

There was a brief silence before Eric spoke. "Where are you?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but you were cut off by the sound of a long, wavering howl.  

"Where. Are. You?" Eric repeated, his tone suggesting that he had heard the howl and it wasn't anything as simple as the wind.  

You managed to tell him where you were, your eyes tracking the movement of another shadow as it passed the front window.  

“Don’t open the door for anyone but me,” Eric demanded, his tone brooking no argument.  

"Hurry," you whispered before you ended the call. Your heart was racing so fast that for one dizzying moment, you felt like you might pass out.  

You weren't sure why you were so terrified of some odd noises and unexplained shadows. You had faced vampires hellbent on killing you and a serial killer and a megalomaniac of a church leader and a maenad of all things. You had gone up against unimaginable horrors within the past year, so why did you feel like your heart was going to give out from the strain it was currently under as you listened to the creaking of the porch steps as they protested the weight of someone walking up them?  

It was because you were alone. You had no one to protect and no one to protect you in that moment. If someone managed to force themselves into the cabin with you, then you could only rely on yourself to get through whatever hell waited for you on the other side of the door. If Eric came just a moment too late to find your body, torn open and bloody, then it would be because you hadn’t been able to save yourself.  

And that in itself was terrifying.  

You clutched your phone tight to your chest as you forced yourself to get out of the chair. You backed up a few steps from the door, prepared to run if the door was kicked in.  

You heard the eerie sound of nails running over the front door again before a pained yelp rang out. There was a sharp thud as something was dropped on the porch before silence fell.  

You were just about to bolt for the back door when someone rapped on the front door three times.  

"It's me," you heard Eric call.  

You hesitated for only a moment before you rushed to the door and unlocked it. You threw it open, letting out a sigh of relief when you saw Eric standing there. You had the inane urge to pull him into a hug, and your arms were already moving to embrace him, when you were brought short by the sight of the dead, naked guy just a couple of feet away.  

"Who the fuck is that?" You couldn't help but ask as you took a startled step away from the body. "And why isn't he wearing anything?"

Eric sighed before he turned away from you. He crouched down to inspect the body, his touch careful as he rolled the guy over and studied him. You weren't sure what he was looking for, but after a few moments, he seemed to find it. You noticed his shoulders draw tight before he stood up again.  

You could tell from the careful way he was trying to keep his expression blank that something was definitely wrong. It wasn't until he spoke that you began to realize just how fucked up the situation really was.  

"What did Godric tell you about werewolves?"

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps - Volume 8 “War”

Hello, everyone! Story time.

Yesterday food was delivered for my two idiot dogs (they’re thrilled about it) but, because it was delivered by Fed Ex, shenanigans were bound to ensue. These particular shenanigans involved realizing that the food had not been left at the front door like tracking said it had. Instead, it was down the very long driveway by the mailbox. Specifically, it was on a low wall beside the mailbox, currently inaccessible due to a mound of plowed snow.

Now, how the delivery guy managed to get it there I’ll never know, but given that our postal system is currently killing itself to get us our Amazon orders for Christmas, I shrugged, let it go, and resigned myself to lifting an 18 pound bag plus box over that snow without dying. Which meant that in reality I just dragged it, uncaring what bumps the bag might accumulate along the way. What are the dogs gonna do? Complain about presentation?

Snow successfully circumvented; I was home free!

… until I was lifting the box into the car, hit a patch of black ice, and was suddenly looking up at the sky, my right hip and leg screaming.

I’m fine. Bruised, but fine. It’s 2020. Did I expect to not fall? C’mon, Clyde. Be sensible.

The reason I'm telling you all this is because falling on ice at 10:00pm with an oversized bag of dog food was less painful than watching this episode. 

I jest... but only a little. To be fair to RWBY, it admittedly wasn't painful in any new way. Everything that's a problem this week has been a problem for years now: confusing motivations, changing semblances, unpersuasive character beats, etc. So in some ways this episode — especially as a hiatus episode — is rather underwhelming. I expected RWBY to do something big before taking six weeks off, but this episode simply set the (unstable) stage for what's to come. With the exception of Ren, nothing changed this episode, which makes for a rather "Okay..." note to end on. It's not inherently bad, it's just a bit of a letdown after hyping ourselves up over the expectation that something even crazier than grimm soup will happen. Which, to again be fair, is on us as opposed to the writers. But that feeling of, "If this was last week, what in the world will we get right before an unpredicted hiatus?" was palpable. Turns out the answer was, "A pretty tame episode." 

As always though, let's start at the beginning. This episode is titled "War" — straight to the point — and it's actually a little shorter than our last three episodes, adding to that "Okay..." feeling overall. We open on the outskirts of Atlas, amidst what appears to be a wheat field, or something similar. Upon reflection, it makes sense that the bubbled city would be able to grow things not normally growable in the tundra. This might also explain Cinder's strange beginning. Perhaps her orphanage existed on these rural outskirts and then she was brought into the city proper? We'll probably never know for sure, but at least this is a simpler answer than, "The Madame went off to an entirely different Kingdom to secure her child slave." Occam's Razor and all that.

Ironwood's army has assembled to hold off Salem's army. Wow, aren't we glad Ironwood invested in thousands of trained professionals rather than a handful of independent fighters? Seriously though, this is now a battle of numbers. May says later in the episode that Ironwood's forces are doing their best to assist Atlas, so they should go help Mantle... but that help only exists because years ago he recognized that the tiny class sizes of the Academies, this 

wasn't going to be enough if grimm attacks suddenly increased. Sure enough, now they're in a situation where Ironwood needs even more men to keep up with Salem's creation magic. The fact that he has any at all is crucial to what little hope is left. How do Jaune, Yang, and Ren think they're going to get the time to look for Oscar without everyone dying while they're gone? Because Ironwood's army is keeping the attack at bay. I love how the story keeps angling for the "Military people are evil" message while actively showing us how much a military is needed in this world. If Ironwood had been a generic Good Guy who dismantled his armed forces because others wanted to ignore that they've always been at war against objectively evil creatures — both the grimm and Salem — then there would have been nothing to hold Salem off until small team rescue/bomb plans could be implemented. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. As usual. The army is on the front lines and one guy is scared enough that he's shaking. Can't say I blame him. As always, RWBY functions best when it leans towards horror, with skeletons rising alongside the normal grimm and intense music playing to convey the stakes. Ironwood watches the onslaught and immediately calls for a civilian evacuation into the subway system. Get people below ground, behind a few, defendable entrances, rather than wandering about the city where land or sky grimm can pick them off easy-peasy. Makes sense. Yet I'm already seeing fans make snide comments about how Ironwood is "still running," which just demonstrates how many viewers take the emotions of the show at face value — who is Good and who is Bad — rather than considering the situation and deciding for themselves. What's far more egregious than viewers enjoying a story however they'd like on a Saturday before the holiday though (seriously, my salt aside, no one has to enjoy RWBY any one way) is that RT again tries to paint Ironwood as crazy when he's... just not? Beyond the choice to animate him with scary expressions 

once he gives the order the soldier starts to say, "But sir — " and Ironwood yells for him to obey right now. The scene makes it look like Ironwood is doing something shady again. Here's this goon balking at the order, but we're not told why. What's bad about getting the people to (relative) safety? Why is this order treated like something to question at all? We're not told and, from what we do know, it's not something that would be questioned, so unless we learn something new post-hiatus, that line exists only to make Ironwood look bad. It's a (nonsensical) excuse to have another ally turning against him (slightly) and to give Ironwood the chance to look scary and violent again. Nevermind that his city is under attack and if a subordinate started questioning a completely sensible and time-sensitive order? I might yell too. 

So we're off to a great start. The above looks particularly stupid given that we immediately see the flying grimm arriving in a populated area, terrifying all the civilians there. Everyone bolts for the subway and we cut away from a man trying desperately to reach his daughter, unsure if either of them survive. But people want Ironwood to not use what few resources he has? See, this is why generic messages like, "You have to stand your ground" don't work. Sometimes there are situations where you should run and that doesn't automatically equal being a coward. It means you're smart enough to take the actions necessary to save as many lives as possible. 

Later on we'll have a similar issue with the message, "You have to trust people" when my darling Oscar briefly loses his mind.  

Now though, we see that the "fugitives" Yang, Jaune, and Ren have been taken into custody. Of course they have. Look, when the preview dropped yesterday I saw a number of takes along the lines of, "How dare the Ace Ops do this. They need to put aside their differences until the attack is over!" but no, they really don't, because it's no longer their responsibility to extend trust towards this group. Especially when doing so, to their mind, has a high chance of making a horrific situation that much worse. What are they going to do if, in the middle of a Salem attack, the kids they decided to trust betray them, attack them, and leave them knocked out somewhere while the world burns? 

...Oh wait, they already did that. 

See, the group broke trust first. Numerous times. The Ace Ops listened to Yang admit that she and Blake had betrayed Ironwood days ago. Then they watched Ruby betray him again by alerting the rest of the team, turning them against him. They swore they wouldn't attack, so Team RWBY attacked them first. They learn that Qrow had a hand in murdering their leader. They encounter the group again and Weiss gleefully asks if they want a second defeat. They watch Ruby tell the entire world to dismiss Ironwood because he’s the one who can’t be trusted. Outside of JYR not immediately attacking them when they arrived to help (something I praised them for), this group has never put their trust in the Ace Ops. So why do they — and we — expect the Ace Ops to do so now? Imagine for just a moment that it was reversed. We find out that someone betrayed the group for no good reason, set themselves against them, continued to do so as everything fell apart, told the rest of the world they’re the enemy, and then a close associate is involved in Ruby's murder. How many people would expect the group to just shrug all that off? Would they put their differences aside and embrace these people because blind trust is (supposedly) the right thing to do? Of course not! Yang would punch their lights out and everyone would cheer, but that's because they're the established heroes. Outside of that role, no one else is allowed to mistrust those who have proven themselves untrustworthy and take precautions against getting betrayed again. To say nothing of how these characters don’t have our meta perspective. Meaning, they live in a world where this trio is not a part of a protagonist group destined to remain a part of the plot because that’s how story conventions work. They’re three random teens who were promoted to huntsmen early. They’re three soldiers out of many who can, at any time, be taken out of the fight. No one on the Ace Ops is working under the belief that they “have” to be a part of this fight. From their in-world perspective, you could toss them in jail for the rest of the battle and that’s that. Outside of their fugitive status they are entirely unimportant. 

So yes, Jaune, Ren, and Yang are in handcuffs. They deserve to be. Don't worry though, they get out very soon. 

Yang makes a snide comment about Winter "Still just following orders" and honestly? I've lost the love I used to have for her as a character. Yang is just an exercise in frustration whenever she speaks now. Thus far she's blamed Ruby for everything that's gone wrong (ignoring her own choices there), did a 180 to yell at Ren for acknowledging how bad things are, worried nonsensically about Blake being disappointed in her even though Ruby is the one she fought with, and is now back to the "You just follow orders" shtick. Yang will label anything she personally doesn't like as evil order following, but conveniently ignores how following Ruby's orders helped get them into this mess, and how the one time she went AWOL made things even worse. These characters don't actually have  beliefs they stand behind, they just say whatever is currently necessary to make themselves look good, even if that contradicts previous statements or actions. 

She also gets mad at Vine for saying that grimm don't take prisoners, ignoring that she only found this out a few hours ago. No one in the group is equipped to navigate the emotional minefield that is this war because they can't even take two seconds to put themselves in another’s shoes. Weiss doesn't bother to consider Whitley's situation. Jaune points at the snow and gets frustrated that Harriet doesn't magically know there's grimm soup flowing nearby. Yang snaps at Vine for stating what she also knew to be a basic fact about grimm up until Oscar's kidnapping. It's all framed as, "How can you be this stupid?" rather than, "Oh yeah, these people haven't had the experiences I have. If I was randomly told this I'd doubt it too. I should try to explain this in a way that will make sense to them and increase my chances of being believed." 

This is the group who decided it was a good idea to tell the whole world about Salem and did it just as badly as I suspected they would. The story has shoved a delicate, information-based war into the hands of punch-happy teenagers and refuses to grapple with how that's a bad thing. 

Anyway, Ironwood comes on the radio to say that the whale is pretty indestructible on the outside, but it might be vulnerable from the inside, so let's get a bomb in there. Seems like a good enough plan as any, especially given that the grimm is currently on the very outskirts of the city, away from the civilians if/when it's blown up. What kind of bomb might this be though? 

Could it, perhaps, end up being a now severely damaged android who is based off of Pinocchio? 

Time will tell. For now, the group is quite obviously upset that Ironwood is planning a big BOOM while Oscar (and Ozpin! Tellingly, no one mentions Ozpin...) is still inside. Here's the thing: Both sides are right here. YJR are right to be worried about their friend, while the Ace Ops — who have no emotional ties to Oscar and, as just established, are questioning whether or not a grimm really kidnapped him — are right that they cannot prioritize a single life over the entirety of Atlas. They just can't! And any hero worth their salt is going to recognize this. You cannot knowingly sacrifice thousands of people (if not more) for one (admittedly awesome) farm boy. It would be a different situation if the people of Atlas volunteered to remain in danger to give Oscar a chance at escape, but that obviously isn't the situation here. If someone told me, "Sorry, Clyde, we can't get you out because the place you're in is super dangerous and attempting to extract you would likely cause the rescue party to die. Also, the longer we don't blow this location up the longer lots of other people die" I'd be like, "Fair enough. Have a nice life!" I mean, obviously anyone would be terrified and devastated by the news, but if you're still thinking straight and have even an ounce of compassion for others, you don't trade all those lives for your own. Spock does not open the door to flood the whole Enterprise with radiation!

And notably, neither does Kirk. Oscar isn't given the chance to sacrifice himself — ignoring his choice to try and undermine Salem's forces rather than escaping — so Jaune, Ren, and Yang are deciding that for him. Which, again, makes sense for them emotionally, but it's still a selfish choice. They're prioritizing their family over everyone else's. If someone ever told me they’d risked a whole city for my sake I’d be touched, but also pissed as hell. Because what were you thinking? 

Which is really my biggest issue with this divide. It would have been nice if the show had done more to make me believe these three are that ride and die for Oscar. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that they are and I'll take this characterization over the apathy we had in the past, but let's be real, it kind of came out of nowhere. The group as a whole pretty much ignored Oscar up until the movie invite and two of these characters — Yang and Jaune — have actively hurt him in the name of getting at Ozpin. Now suddenly they're willing to toss aside their huntsmen duties — protect the people — in order to save him? Nice sentiment, it's just that, as always, we have very little development for it, especially given the level of emotion shown. Particularly when it comes to Ren. The prospect of someone sacrificing Nora? I 100% believe that he draws a hard line and this kick-starts a change in his semblance. Ren is shown to be thinking about how he lost his teammate Pyrrha? Totally believe it! Someone is sacrificing the kid I'm not sure he's ever had a conversation with? That's less persuasive. At the very least, it would have been nice to have the trio grapple with whether they can or should prioritize Oscar over everyone else, rather than taking such a black and white stance of, "Of course taking the time to save this one guy while everyone else dies is worth it. You're evil for thinking otherwise." 

We even get a shot of Winter's hand shaking and clenching like Yang's used to, just to hammer home who the correct party is. 

While they begin this argument we cut to Salem who is literally conducting her grimm in their attack against Atlas. 

Very nice. I love when a villain has 

Emerald watches her, clearly freaked out, and then sneaks off to where Oscar is held. In the hallway she encounters one of the jellyfish grimm, so she casually makes it not see her until it has passed. 

Her semblance works on grimm, but not “real girl” androids? Okay. 

We all realize how crazy powerful Emerald is though, right? The stuff that she could do in a fight is staggering and I'll be forever salty that all she managed in the Penny battle was to create a couple different Cinders. Emerald, Marrow, Salem herself... RWBY has a real problem of having the antagonists conveniently not use the power at their disposal when the heroes need to win. 

So Emerald starts listening in on Ozpin's torture. We learn that Hazel was recruited when he tried to kill Salem numerous times and had to watch her keep reforming. Which, if I remember correctly, is a technique she used back when she and Ozma were playing at Gods. It worked and now Hazel believes that they "share a vision. She's going to create a new world order," one without Kingdoms or Huntsmen Academies. No, says Ozpin, she's going to divide humanity past reform, summon the Gods, and hopefully die when they take out all of Remnant. 

...My god, did we finally get Salem's motivations after seven years? 

Seriously though: seven years. It's way too late, especially when we now have so many questions attached to this supposed goal. If Salem always wanted to divide the world irrevocably, why didn't she attack, oh, say, a thousand years ago? Why has she kept to the sidelines until now? None of this answers why she held off until our simple soul was conveniently ready to fight her. We also have the issue of Salem's knowledge, or lack thereof. So she obviously knows about the Relics and that they'll summon the Gods, but not how to work them? How did that come about? Even Ozpin's motivations are murky now. He repeats Salem's curse word-for-word — though notably, minus the "You must learn the importance of life and death. Only then may you rest" part — yet unless Salem told him this herself when they first reunited — and we know they both hid things from the other — Ozpin could have only gotten this line from the lore episode, something he witnessed along with us just a few weeks/months back. So is he only now realizing that this is what Salem wants the Relics for? Might he be wrong? Or did he somehow figure this out lifetimes ago and we're just not told how? If this is the case, why haven’t Salem’s motivations come up before now? 

This sudden, "Oh yeah, she's always wanted to die" feels pretty tacked on. Like RT had Salem arrive last Volume because that's ~cool~ and then suddenly realized that they have to deal with her motivations now, so they hastily cobbled this together. But, as said at the start, this is entirely expected for RWBY nowadays. A problem to be sure, though one we've been putting up with for a couple of years now. 

During all this, Hazel shouts that this is what Ozpin deserves and the first word out of his mouth is, "Yes." 

But Oscar and the rest of Remnant don't deserve it, so make the right choice for them. How did RT think they were going to make this guy an antagonist? Ozpin has so much self-hatred and yet is still trying SO HARD that he makes Ruby Drinking Tea While The World Burns Rose look laughable. 

Oh yeah, we'll be getting to that scene in just a second, but for now I just want us all to appreciate Ozpin as a character, even if the story won't. 

....

.......

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

...Okay, moment done lol. Sorry, Oz, there's a lot to cover this episode. 

We cut to a semi-conscious Nora who asks Weiss, "Now what am I good for?" So that’s a double serving of oof. That's when Ruby arrives with fine china steaming with tea. Or coffee. Or hot chocolate. Whatever it is these girls are drinking. What comes next is accompanied by a strange kind of vindication for me. I mean, the fandom dragged me so hard for taking issue with their snuggly smiles during Ruby's message, yet now we literally have the girls sitting back in a mansion as everything goes to shit around them. I know the knee jerk reaction to this will be, "They have to watch over Nora" and “They deserve a break” but really? All three of them need to watch her? And a break during the height of the action? Blake says she hopes everyone else is okay, but who is actually out looking for information about the rest of their team? May. Who's going to do something to get Nora help? Whitley. These characters are so good at telling us they're the heroes while rarely ever displaying those traits. They all (somehow) saw the attack on Atlas and have the ability to get out there and defend people — the job they wanted — yet Ruby looks out the window and asks, "What can we even do?" while taking a long sip of tea. The people of Mantle are (supposedly) freezing to death, yet one of the few with aura, Weiss, sits by a roaring fire going, "Do we just wait for someone to come? If they even come.” I'm sorry, you didn't consider this before you told the whole world about Salem? No one questioned whether asking for potentially non-existent help was worth the risk and what they'd do if it never came? Or even just what they’d do in the meantime? I’m not saying the girls can’t have basic necessities like drinks, or that it can’t be done in style when that’s conveniently available. I’m saying them enjoying the food, warmth, and relative safety of the Schnee household (built on racism) while casually talking about what, if anything, they should do for the people dying outside looks a bit Not Good. "Should we wait for the fire department?" Asks the character as their kitchen burns, sitting beside a number of water buckets that could help slow things down. "If they even come," they sigh, taking another sip of tea. This is ridiculous! The city is currently under attack by the series' Big Bad and half our heroes are just sitting around, watching the evil lightning, wondering if they should try to do anything about it. 

"How did it all get like this?" Ruby asks her cup, ignoring the many steps she took to make things this bad. It continually boggles my mind that Ironwood is out here trying to keep people safe in the subway, coming up with a plan to blow up this whale, sending out an army to kill countless grimm... yet "What can we even do?" Ruby is supposed to be the hero here. You know, the one who has silver eyes and could one-shot huge numbers of Salem's army if she actually went out there and tried to help.  

Ironwood is taking action... and so is May. As said, she's the one out looking for info on their teammates and when she returns says that they should all get back down to Mantle. Why? Because, as mentioned earlier, Atlas at least has an army to help with things. Mantle only has them. 

Yet suddenly, Weiss doesn't want to leave. 

Where did this come from? They succeeded in their preferred plan of telling the world what's going on over Ren and Yang's plan of helping what people they could, and now they're looking for something to do. Why wouldn't they head back to help? (Especially now that the shields are down.) Weiss yells that there are people dying in Atlas too but, as established, Atlas has the army. And where was this concern when they refused to let Atlas leave? After a Volume and a half of pro-Mantle content, this seems to come out of nowhere. Worse, Weiss tries to guilt May by asking if she has family in Atlas, which leads to the reveal that she's trans. Her family rejected their daughter. 

I want to be clear that I'm very happy RT made this canon. For what she is — a side character we know incredibly little about — I really like May and the fact that they were clear in her identity rather than keeping it to twitter deserves recognition. Yet I'm not going to pretend that the reveal didn't leave a bit of a sour taste in my mouth, simply because we have this incredibly privileged cis girl, who knows a great deal about shitty families, hearing how horrible May's was and still trying to tell her she needs to suck it up and help Atlas over Mantle. When May angrily asks whose side she's on, Blake makes a comment about hearing that before, comparing her to Ironwood. May is painted as the misguided one here, but can you imagine if someone told Weiss to go help Jacques over her found family, Team RWBY, regardless of what he's done to her? The fandom would explode, and rightly so. There's something to be said for realism here, showing us Weiss and Blake's inability to see where May is coming from... but it doesn't feel like a commentary on that. It feels like another Penny situation: May is put in her place for being inconsiderate, even though this time it's her choosing to help people who are ALSO in danger over the people who represent family she's broken with. 

I wanted conflict this Volume and I absolutely got it, but damn if it isn’t badly thought out at times. 

Because rather than grappling with these personal motivations, Ruby brushes them aside by yelling, "There are no sides! We want to help everyone." 

Does that extend to Ironwood? Ruby's speeches started falling flat when she betrayed Ozpin, attacked Cordovin, betrayed Ironwood, attacked the Ace Ops... This girl does not want to "help everyone." She wants to help those who agree with her. 

Yet her rock solid optimism generates the question, “So how exactly do we get out of it?” which, as expected, Ruby has no answer to. The story keeps showing us how bad a leader Ruby has become, yet no one is actively responding to that. They kinda disagree about lying to Ironwood, but still go along with it. Yang kinda criticizes her sister, but that's then lost to general worry as they split (on Ruby's end, anyway). They want to know how she'll lead them next and are seemingly fine when Ruby continually says, "I don't know." At this point I'd be like, "Well... you didn't like May's plan of going back to Mantle, but apparently can't come up with a plan yourself... so I'm going to go with her." 

This is the same conflict we had last Volume: Ruby spoke optimistically about saving everyone, yet was unable to come up with a way to do that. Ironwood had a plan that, while horrific, might save a lot of lives. Yet Ruby is presented as the one to back. Now here she is, hours later, still unable to figure out a way to achieve her perfect outcome. Ruby wanting things to be a certain way is not going to make them so and I’m wondering when someone within the group is going to recognize and act on that. 

As Ruby fails to answer this crucial question, we pull back to see Whitley listening in at the door. 

Cutting back to Ozpin and Oscar, Hazel has listened to all this craziness about Gods, immortality, the destruction of Remnant... and literally goes, "Cool story, bro." 

Okay, he says "Nice story" but the emotion is the same. Which I'm really happy about! I mentioned in a recent post that, as far as we know, Hazel hasn't been told anything about the Gods up until now. What Ozpin is telling him sounds like gibberish at worst, incredibly hard to believe craziness at best. Now chuck in Mercury's point that as a tortured prisoner he'll say anything to get free, as well as the fact that this is Ozpin talking to Hazel... and I'm really glad Hazel just ignored his speech (for now at least). It wouldn't make sense otherwise. Granted, this means that the plan literally amounted to, “Let’s info dump a bunch of nonsense-sounding lore on our enemy in the hope that he’ll believe us and betray Salem.” It’s something to try, certainly, and it admittedly is a much better plan than what Oscar is about to cook up. 

So since Hazel won't listen to Ozpin, Oscar wants to try instead. Why did you two switch in the first place? It's really obvious that RT is having the characters do weird things in order to stretch out the plot. 

Either way, our farm boy is in control again. What new strategy will he try? 

"Her name is Jinn." 

This is BEYOND stupid. No, none of this "You have to trust people" nonsense. This is not “people,” this is Hazel. There is a Grand Canyon's width of difference between learning to trust your allies and blindly trusting an active villain who just rejected your "Please defect :(" speech. Even if we remove Hazel from the equation, this is still a monumentally foolish move. I mean, has Oscar considered where he is? This isn't some random warehouse he's been taken to, this is a semi-sentient grimm, a creature creating other creatures out of its ceiling

and whose doors automatically open when people need them to (Mercury). This is a living being created by and connected to Salem herself. How does Oscar know Salem can't hear everything he says? Or that the whale can't relay information to her? That the grimm in the walls won't pop out and run to their master? Or even that a normal person isn't listening in at the door — like Emerald is. If that had been Tyrian instead, that's it. They're done. Game over. 

Someone: "Wow. Salem got the Lamp and managed to ask where the Beacon Relic is. Since the school is still overrun by her army, she snatched it up quick, finished destroying Atlas, and is now on her way to Vacuo. She's nearly completed her plan in days! How did all this happen? 

Oscar: I, um... told her what she wanted to know?

Someone: You what?

Oscar: But not Salem! I just told Hazel! ... and then the information somehow got back to her. 

Someone: "Somehow?" You deliberately told one of Salem's henchmen this crucial piece of information, in a place where there was a good chance you would be overheard by conventional or magical means, and you're surprised that she "somehow" learned it and used that information to doom us all? 

Oscar: ...Yes? 

This is so staggeringly stupid it... well, it could only have been done by a kid. So at least that fits lol. Oscar, I love you, but Ozpin should have been screaming in horror the second those words left your mouth. Generations of precautions undone because a kid wants to believe the best of the guy currently pummeling him. Sweet, but stupid. I’m all for optimistic characters, they just can’t risk the whole world on that optimism. Oscar risking himself on the seemingly doomed plan to turn Hazel is one thing, Oscar risking all of Remnant on the seemingly doomed plan to turn Hazel is another thing entirely. 

Even though you know this is precisely how the story will go. Oscar willingly hands over Jinn's name to Salem's forces, but happily none of the THREE who hear about it will tell her. The story's unwillingness to follow through on consequences doesn't change what a bad move this was. I mean, Oscar himself accused Ironwood of playing into Salem's hands by disagreeing with them about how to not die, yet a few hours later he will willingly give Hazel the one piece of information Salem needs to move closer to world-wide destruction? That's uh... well, that's something. 

They should have just had the poor boy be tortured, spill the beans to make it stop, and start an arc of self-forgiveness. Oscar can be awesome without coming up with world-dooming plans. 

So yeah, Oscar is hoping that Hazel will use the Lamp himself and find out the truth. He wants Hazel to trust him and the man he despises most in the world enough to go against the immortal woman he's terrified of, get the Lamp away from her somehow to use for himself, wasting a once in a generation question to confirm all this, so that Salem will lose a guy with muscle who, to be frank, is absolute insignificant in the grand scheme of her power. Fantastic. 

As said, Emerald overhears all this and immediately runs to Mercury, who is less than convinced by her "Salem wants to destroy the world" talk. Just as he's expressing doubt, Tyrian appears to confirm that this is exactly what she wants to do — and he's loving it. 

“Of course she is! You’re surprised? Salem is destruction incarnate!” 

It's a legit point. Are our villains so dense they never considered that Salem might do something to the world they didn't like? It's like the group not thinking about how Salem is still around if Ozpin has been fighting her for a thousand years. RWBY continually gives the impression that these characters don't think about their situation past what they're doing at any given moment. 

Tyrian maintains his title as best villain though, simply because I understand what he's doing, why he's doing it, and he's so damn good at it. 

Also, can we appreciate Mercury's face here? 

Amazing. This is the kind of humor we should be getting in such a tragedy-laden Volume. 

The two of them, Tyrian and Mercury, head off to Vacuo for the Secret Mission, despite Mercury's newfound hesitation. I quite liked these quiet moments between him and Emerald. It has a very "Do what you've gotta do" vibe while showcasing their care for one another, something we haven't seen in a while. 

Back with the airship group. YJR are still horrified that Ironwood would blow up Oscar (even though he has no idea Oscar is there), begging the Ace Ops to give them "a chance to try to rescue him first.” Ren goes pretty hard on the "no one is replaceable" bit, which is frustrating not being what he’s saying is inaccurate (it’s not), but because that's not the issue here. The writing has Harriet start yelling about Marrow replacing her old teammate and Winter replacing Clover, but the question is not whether you'll just forget a teammate and move on with someone new, but whether you're willing to sacrifice them for the greater good. That's the stance: Should we sacrifice one life to save thousands? Will you, as a protector of the people, put those people before your own found family? Yet what RT has Harriet say is: Oscar is replaceable. Which obviously makes her come across as an ass. Like the random soldier questioning Ironwood — or making Elm about to punch a defenseless Ren in her anger — it exists solely to show how bad these character are... even as they say pretty persuasive things. 

The writing also continues to be confused about whether the Ace Ops are friends or not. Yang certainly didn't think so... up until she asks (rhetorically) whether Marrow would sacrifice himself for Elm, Harriet, and Vine. Since their introduction, the story has loudly insisted that the Ace Ops aren't friends... up until it's revealed ("revealed") that Harriet is actually gutted about Clover. So which is it? Are we supposed to believe that these are cold soldiers who only work together out of duty, or that they're a team who clearly love one another? I'd say that show has shown us the latter, but it doesn't seem to understand what point it's trying to make. Does this look like a soldier who doesn’t care? 

It’s especially weird when Ren again makes the claim that this is why they lost to Team RWBY. Because they're not a team.

...So is this why they did such a fantastic job fighting the geist, demonstrating such perfect teamwork that the group was open-mouthed impressed? Is this why they nearly took down a Maiden together? Is this why Ren, while furious at Yang and Jaune, was still able to work seamlessly with them to try and rescue Oscar? Do we think if Yang was suddenly beside Ruby again that the two would fail spectacularly in a fight because they had a minor disagreement? 

This is now the third time RT has tried to excuse nerfing the Ace Ops with, "They disagree about things and are thus not friends and thus can't fight well together" — despite all evidence to the contrary — and it's getting really old. 

At one point Harriet tells Ren, "I had you pegged as the most level-headed of the bunch, but I guess you’re just as naïve" which, ignoring her then random claim that people are replaceable, is correct. I also pegged Ren as the most level-headed of the bunch considering he was just yelling at Yang for how much damage they've caused, all the mistakes they've made, and that maybe — just maybe — they should have tried harder to work with Ironwood. Yet now here he is, in a position to start that process, and the Ren we got in the snow is simply gone. He's fully Team Yang and Jaune again, facing off against the evil Ace Ops. 

I knew this was going to happen, but it's still disappointing. The story gave Ren a great speech to appease those of us frustrated with the direction the story has taken... and now we’re back to ignoring that. Ren was told off for daring to question how great the group is, apparently thought it over in the snow, and is now of the opinion that yes, they are that great. People are going to die because of us? Who cares about that anymore! We will absolutely, single-handedly rescue Oscar and there's no reason why this might be a questionable choice when an entire city is on the line. Again, emotionally understandable (if we buy into the group suddenly loving Oscar this much), but it rings hollow right after making Ren the one person who was willing to look at the big picture. 

Good news though: Jaune got the braincell this week! He suggests that they go in to try and rescue Oscar/provide intel, but won't stop the Ace Ops from launching the bomb when necessary. 

See, this is heroic. This is what the group should have done during the Mantle conflict: Volunteering to take the personal risk of facing off against Salem while letting Atlas try to escape. Basically, not forcing everyone else to risk their lives for their pipe dream, which is what Ren and Yang want by rejecting the bomb entirely. Jaune recognizes here that they can't prioritize Oscar over an entire city, but also that they may still be able to save him before the bomb is complete and ready to go. So they compromise, with JYR the only ones at risk. 

Good job, Jaune! 

Winter agrees to this plan with a firm, "I outrank you" to Harriet. People are going to love that. 

Oh, but in his anger Ren's semblance suddenly changes. So we're back to the ridiculous. 

Truthfully, I like this direction. Granted, I would have liked some buildup to it, especially since this is the second time this Volume that RWBY has dropped a major semblance change on us, but the idea itself is really cool. Ren can now see emotions! Awesome! And I don't mean that sarcastically. I actually think that’s a neat extension of his original semblance. 

Too bad the story seems to think he's a mind reader. 

Seriously, take a look back at the dialogue. What Ren sees are confetti-like petals floating around a person, their color seeming to determine their emotional state. Red means Harriet is mad, blue is sadness for Marrow, etc. But what Ren ends up saying is a great deal closer to mind reading. Harriet is angry about Clover and is gutted at his loss. Marrow is questioning his place here and wants to leave. These aren't base emotions, they're targeted thoughts and feelings about situations not immediately apparent from the verbal conversation. “In fact, you don’t want to be a part of it at all anymore." How does Ren know that? They just gave him telepathy instead of the cool power with firm limitations that the imagery suggests. 

There are also some, uh... iffy implications in all this. For example, Ren allows Yang privacy by not reading her mind emotional state, but has no qualms about reading every one of the Ace Ops’. So privacy is only for the people you care about, huh? 

We could also say something about RT perpetuating unfortunate racial stereotypes: the two women of color are pure anger, the marginalized man is pure sadness, the Asian coded character is pure calm... and the white woman set to turn against the others gets a mix of all emotions. AKA, human complexity. 

To be clear, I don't think RT is doing this deliberately. Rather, they’re writers who have demonstrated time and time again that they don't have a good handle on depicting the sort of sensitive material that RWBY is infused with, and that extends to the mild, but still unfortunate, implications in scenes like this. Even if we ignore the iffy details — a benefit of the doubt that, at this point, many fans aren’t willing to grant — we're still left with the continuity errors. Visually, we're presented with a woman who is experiencing multiple emotions at once and is, therefore, torn. Yet Ren reads Winter definitively: "I know you [don't want this] either." It's yet another moment that makes me wonder how much communication there is between the writers and the animators, because too often the two seem to be at odds with each other. 

As the group prepares to go into the belly of the beast (literally!) we return to Ruby who is, once again, failing to make me believe she's this super compassionate person. 

“Wait! What about Qrow and Robyn? Maybe if we get them out of wherever they’re held—”

Please tell me I'm not the only one who took issue with this? Ruby doesn't express an ounce of worry for her uncle, not even when she learns he's been arrested, and the one time she brings him up it's in the context of what he can do for them in this fight? Ruby doesn't grapple with whether to rescue her uncle (personal desire), or get the message to the world (her version of the heroic action) and then realize that, now that her duty is done, she can finally turn to the more selfish act of helping her immediate family. Instead, Ruby seems perfectly happy to let Qrow stay in prison up until she's unsure what to do next and thinks that maybe he has the answer. Heaven forbid Ruby think about rescuing him because she loves him.

Sadly, this Ruby is long gone. 

In recent years she's expressed no gratitude for him saving her life, no respect for him as her teacher, demonstrated incredibly little compassion for his own struggles, and outright told him that if he wasn't going to listen to her then he doesn't need to be part of the team. Then he's arrested and she doesn't care until she deems him useful again. Like the fandom wondering where the sisterly bond between Ruby and Yang went, I'm likewise wondering where the bond between Ruby and Qrow went. 

May outright rejects this though, yelling that they still don't get it. “This is not a situation where everyone wins!" 

She tells the trio they have to choose for once: Are you going to help Mantle, or Atlas? 

...which means there's immediately a knock at the door, interrupting the moment where they have to decide. 

See, this is just like Ren. The story keeps giving us moments where characters speak absolute truth, dangling the potential for the group to grow from these realizations... only to pull back before it goes anywhere. Ren is once again aligned with Yang and Jaune in their desire to save Oscar. May's demand is interrupted by the plot. If means nothing to give us these moments unless the story acts on them. 

It's Klein at the door. Whitley called him to help with Nora because I guess he's a doctor now, as well as a butler? Fine. Let’s run with it. Weiss is super pleased to see him and hugs Whitley for the good deed. 

Why so shocked that Whitley would look out for another, Weiss? Could it be because he's had so little reason to be kind when everyone, including you, has treated him horribly? If Klein always had these medical skills — if you’ve grown up with a doctor — why didn’t you talk to your brother and ask if he knew how to contact him? And of course, she apologizes to Klein for her father’s actions, but not to Whitley for her own. Whitley's surprise isn't cute to me. 

Weiss stuck a weapon in his face, insulted him, sent him to his room like a toddler... and now is randomly hugging him because he did something she liked. The context of this scene doesn't paint Weiss in a good light. Like the rest of her friends, she only extends basic respect and kindness towards others when they're assisting her. Whitley was nothing to her until he suddenly proved himself useful. That's not cute sibling love, it's a love that's going to run out the moment Whitley puts a toe out of line, according to Weiss' unspoken list of what behavior keeps him in her good graces. 

I believe that Klein cares for Whitley because he greets him kindly and gives him that shoulder pat on the way up. Whitley didn't need to first prove himself to Klein somehow and Klein didn't start this interaction by shoving a gun in Whitley's face, just in case he wouldn't let him through the door. They feel more like family than this hug does. 

So yeah, Whitley and May have done more good this episode than our entire main cast. How about we just make this story about the side characters instead? 

We then hear a massive boom and the group runs out to find a crater. Penny has landed in front of the manor, which is pretty convenient considering we saw her pass out as she fell. 

She's somehow still in control despite the hack and apologizes to Ruby, then falls unconscious (again). 

And that's where we end! Definitely a cliffhanger, though a rather underwhelming one considering we already knew Penny was in serious trouble. As said at the start, this episode felt rather underwhelming to me, especially as a halfway point before a hiatus, and compared to some of the stuff we've seen previously. It's not bad per-se — especially if we ignore the issues that have been around for an age now, which is most of what this recap deals with — it's just not terribly exciting either. Everything of importance — Salem's attack, Oscar's rescue, Penny's demise, subordinates turning, Nora's condition, etc. — had already been established in previous episodes and very little of it moved forward. Ren's semblance is the only thing the episode gave us that we couldn't have (generically) guessed for ourselves between last Saturday and now. 

So yeah, underwhelmed is the mood of the day, with a hefty dose of salt for everything that continues to be a story-breaking problem in this show. I will say though that, as has become the trend for this Volume, all the establishing shots are gorgeous. RWBY is, at the very least, pretty to look at. 

As a final note, in lieu of the Bingo board (since, again, not a whole happens plot-wise) I want to point out something mentioned by a friend: how absolutely bonkers our timeline is now. We began the second day last episode with the sun rising (recall that Jaune had tried to sleep that night at the outpost. So it’s definitely sunrise as opposed to sunset).

And we re-confirm that it’s sunrise at the start of this episode.

Yet throughout the episode many of our shots take place at night (note the stars behind the trio).

These moments with Ruby can't take place in the past because they're talking about the attack, an attack that only happened after Jaune's group met up with the Ace Ops and the geyser attacked — during early morning. I doubt I'm supposed to believe that it has been another full day of Salem starting an attack, a full day for the group to fly to the whale, a full day for Penny to fall, a full day which would put us at the end of the Volume’s timeline at only the halfway point... so I think RT is just going for the aesthetic of night shots without thinking about what that does to the continuity. It's a mess. 

Not the highest praise to end on, but I’m working with what I’ve got lol. I feel as naïve as Oscar when I say that maybe Part II will be better. 

I will, of course, see you all in six weeks. Until then, I'll do my best to catch up on asks. Another doomed endeavor, but one can try!

A very Happy Holidays to all of you who celebrate and, as always, thanks so much for reading! 💜

[Ko-Fi]