#in which people dig up bones and sell them to rich people who keep them in their homes

[thelaurenshippen]

huge news: paleontologists reporting new dinosaur and they've named it after loki

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

lucky again - a close reading

this one digs deep my friends!!! join in for some good old heartache of which you can’t tell if it feels good or not ! sponsored by: home - one direction

faith in the future, track 4

LYRIC ANALYSIS

You give and give until it’s gone away Just tell yourself you’ve got another day

// "when you give so much and it's not enough", don't let it break your heart // "there are problems in this empty bottle but we drained all that", angels fly

WE HAVE TIME - recurring in this song, but also. alotofotherplaces // "time takes time to heal it," dlibyh // "time for us is never over", the greatest // "so one more night i'm gonna choose", face the music // "let's buy some time", face the music // "just have patience, it's not how you spend the time it's if you waste it", all this time // "the love it takes is worth it all this time", all this time // "maybe if you'd taken more time", headline // "sit down in the space and time", she is beauty // "i'm on my way with some time to borrow", angels fly // "and time can always heal ya, If you let it make its way into your bones", holding on to heartache

You’ve lived that life you just don’t see it yet I see how hard you’ve worked to be yourself

imposter syndrome - result of all of those voices constantly trying to mess with your brain and your idea of you - theme of being hard on yourself // hs1, walls

you have to work hard just to be yourself in a world that limits people like them

"you've lived that life" then in the context of the next line: you are living an authentic life, true to who you are. you don't need to prove it to anyone and you don't need to be out to have lived that life

If you believe that guy is superman There selling tickets at the cinema Whatever gets you through the darkest night Just find the light out In the madness Hold tight

general interpretation: "if you think that dude there is superman, if you look up to him, see him as an example, that's fine, really, bc it helps you get through hard times. i won't judge your way to cope."

and then we dig into the layers: (good post by @bluewinnerangel as well with more diggings)

just some guy. he's playing the role of superman, trying to sell tickets to his movie so he earns money with the job he's done

he's def not superman bc his main objective is to get rich doing those superhero movies

cinema as the grand symbol of playing pretend: that guy pretends he's all that but he's really just a regular ol dude. commonpeoplejustactlikeyoureoneofus

cinema/playing pretend seen as the best way to get through the madness/darkness of life

then a lil deeperdeeper into the larryverse layers: "that guy" is making you believe he's this amazing dude, helping you, he's selling tickets at the cinema, he's getting you out there and getting you on the big screen. but yeah idk i buy his sales pitch

DARK <> LIGHT: recurring images - dark as a symbol for depression, pain, tough times in life. losing your way, being lost to yourself -> metaphor of being lost in the dark "through the darkest night" // through the dark // "i was stumbling looking in the dark with an empty heart" "when you're lost, i'll find a way, i'll be your light", home (this is just. louis in short. louis in summary. yeah. this whole album and shit and. underlying message is. this. home. ye !) // all the lights couldn't put out the dark running through my heart", lights up // "you showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days", matilda // "back dancing in the dark", the greatest // "because we faded into darkness" "that keeps me drifting back to darkness", holding on to heartache

"the light out" in this verse meaning hope - in whatever way possible, hold on (don’t think about frozen 2′s ‘the next right thing’ don’t do it)

"hold tight" // just hold on

Cos i’m a hard  Man to lose But I figured it out  Then made my way back  To a life I would choose We were lucky once I could be lucky again

i'm a hard man hehe

i figured out how to lose myself, but i found my way back - the advice i'm giving you now is what i've had to follow myself in my life // "i've woken up from my sleep", bigger than me

"i'm a hard man to lose" - listener expects this is directed to "you", that it's hard for "you" to lose him. but the expectation is subverted by "i figured it out" -> double (possible) meaning of i figured out how to make you lose me. i figured out how to push myself away so far you had to let go // too young, walls, habit

LIFE central theme on fitf - what is a full life? seems to be a lot on louis's mind "back to a life i would choose" - i lost my way but found my way back, because this life isn't one i stumbled in my chance, it's one i actively want and choose // walls (album) -> connects to "you've lived that life" as something he's had to tell himself too in connection to his career: this is the career i choose, not just keep doing because i don't have a choice/alternative. i know who i am and i know what i want to do in life, i'm not just living blindly stumbling through the dark

-> career angle adds up to the "we" vs "i" pronouns there: "we were lucky once", as in together with one direction we got really lucky with our careers -> i could be lucky again

// "i roll and I roll 'til i change my luck", fireproof

Before the world it got so serious Before the time it got away from us I’d meet you at the favourite subway stop We’d grab some food and meet the lads for one

serious world, serious life, responsibilities getting in the way of himself/themselves, their relationship - lost sight of the simple things in life -> bringing that back into focus is a big thing on fitf as well as harry's house

+ focus on friendship making a life flourish, feel real

If you believe that guy is superman...

Cos i’m a hard  Man to lose But I figured it out  Then made my way back  To a life I would choose We were lucky once could be lucky again

we -> i: underlines again his focus on himself, on how he found his way back to his core, his desires and dreams -> adds to career angle: group -> solo

possible interpretation of 2nd chorus can also be: we were lucky once, we could be lucky again - no strict exclusion of "we" - aren't we all always part of larger entities anyway? + stricter about 1d: the band could be great again someday

I’m a hard man to find But you figured it out  And I love you for that Look back  On a time I was lucky once,  I could be lucky again

more directed to “you” than to himself, although that meaning still adds up imo

he was lost in the dark and “you” found him / they were both lost in the dark and “you” found him -> he was the light in the darkness

“that guy” playing superman is long forgotten - “you” also found their way to what’s really important in life, and knows that the best way to get through the dark is together, following love

SYNTHESIS

In a first layer of this song, it’s about Louis and his relationship with his career. Especially thanks to the ‘superman’ line, a dude just making money, finding ways to success through fame and money. He’s talking to “you”, but he might as well be talking in the mirror. On Faith in the Future it is a common theme that the advice Louis is giving is as much to someone else as to himself. He’s gone through a lot of ups and downs in terms of his career, obviously closely related to his personal life and identity, so it’s all intertwined, and this song reflects that. He’s lost his way, then found it again. He’s been at the bottom, felt like he gave it his all with nothing to show for it. Most of all: he’s kept trying, trying, trying. Giving it another day. He finds his current reality complicated and hard, and sometimes he looks back to earlier, simpler times with a bit of nostalgia, or even melancholy. But he figured out where his priorities lay, where his heart is, and knows a little better how to listen to it now. Fame and money are not the main objectives, and achieving those alone doesn’t mean success (anymore). He doesn’t look up to that guy/superman. And a good work-life balance, as literal that sounds, is translated into Louis’s work. All of these emotions, that he’s been applying to his own life, is something he then directs to “you” in this song, which I think is equally valid. His “you” has the same struggles, the same identity <> career hurdles they have to get through. So, Louis is holding out the palm of his hand.

The twist in the song, in the last chorus, is what really makes this song special and what makes that deep, personal connection between who he is and what he does even clearer. Who he loves and what he does individually are so deeply related that he can’t see success in one area without the other. Being lost to himself is just as lost as being lost to his “you”. He found his way back to himself - and this is where I fucking love this song - when “you” also found him. It’s not even clear anymore who got lost first, who lost who, when he lost himself or the other, or “you” lost him, because it doesn’t even matter. Who’s counting, when in the end you’re both found?

So, the luck involved here, that could reflect on his career going well, is supported by the chosen path to love and self, his heart where “you” and he are nestled in the core. The foundations are stable, so now we can grow again.

bc their art is at its best when they’re together bc together they’re the greatest and when they’re true to themselves they’re true to love and then the art just fucking follows

listening to: too young, dlibyh, satellite, keep driving, through the dark, fireproof, home

[ssvgawara]

Haikyuu boys and some oddly specific crime they’d commit

a/n: I come back and the first thing I write is a shitpost!! enjoy </3 tw for drugs, murder, alcohol and general crime committing xoxo

Karasuno

Daichi- he’s a cop sorry that’s all there is to it man

Suga- Suga has multiple charges of 1st-degree murder against him but they can’t seem to find his identity so he continues committing murder and will continue until he gets caught or ends up murdering enough people to be put in a position of power

Asahi- everyone is probably like “Oh Asahi is innocent” NO. He has learned that his slightly scary face will let him get away with a lot, he is buying alcohol illegally because he looks old enough to, and he’s buying so much other shit and just getting away with it

Nishinoya- This man gives fucking pimp vibes I can just see him in the big leopard print fur coat with a pretty girl in his lap and he calls himself big poppa but no one else will

Tanaka- Drug dealer vibes, probably runs an entire fucking drug ring with his sister and not just a Lil weed these mfkas have the hard shit too like you could probably buy meth from them, he’s not using it but it’s good business

Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita- They literally rob a bank they have an entire scheme and get away with multiple bank robberies and this goes on for MONTHS

Kageyama- We know he’s volleyball smart but otherwise he’s so mfing stupid and I love him for it but he is a chronic shoplifter. Just picks something up and takes it, has walked out of a store without paying for an entire bed set once and got away with it somehow so idk props to him

Hinata- He is the little guy in any heist situation, he fits anywhere so he can sneak in and out the best, he gave himself the stupid ass code name tiny giant but everyone goes with it because somehow he is the best

Tsukishima- armed robbery, but he doesn’t have a gun just a knife like he’s tall and as an attitude, a knife will get him whatever he needs he doesn’t need the gun

Yamaguchi- He runs a catfishing scheme where he pretends to be a naive girl, scams old men out of their money, and then ghosts them and I think it’s what he deserves let him carry on especially because no one would believe it’s him. Also not really like a crime crime but still a crime in a way

Kiyoko- She kills men and I know it, Queen Kiyoko ending the patriarchy one shitty man at a time like she only kills men who deserve it bc some have rights.

Yachi- She’s too anxious to commit an in-person crime so she does a lot of cybercrime, hacking government databases and releasing info to the people, truly the anonymous we deserve

Saeko- She’s running that drug ring with Tanaka, and she loves it because there’s a thrill to it even though yknow she’s dealing literal meth but like its fine plus she loves rocking people’s shit when they get too handsy, which bring me to my next point underground MMA Saeko, like the illegal one with no rules yeah <3

Ukai- this man probably sells all kinda shit to minors that he shouldn’t he is so unbothered a 7-year-old could probably walk in ask for a pack of camels and get them and leave before he noticed what was going on.

Takeda- Did y’all see how scared Hinata was when Takeda gave him that lecture? This dude could kidnap someone and scare them into giving all the information he needed, a legend truly

Aoba Johsai

Oikawa- took steroids one time. And of course in sports, that’s not allowed. But he only did it once and regretted it for months afterward. Never told anyone and was just relieved he didn’t have to piss in a cup and have someone find out.

Matsukawa- Without hesitation, I know this man takes dead people’s bones and sells them on the internet. Has dubbed himself the bone man and he feels so much power when someone buys a femur or sumn. It’s kinda funny honestly he has a hoard of bones to sell, his fave is the pelvis.

Hanamaki- He’s in between jobs because he stole money from his last job, like he said he was sorry he just needed a little extra for gas but was sad to find out that’s a literal crime and he was laundering money.

Iwaizumi- he’s a street racer, like the fast and furious style and it’s so sexy of him like late-night races ugh to be in an expensive fast car with him where he has one hand on my thigh okay that’s enough of that.

Kunimi- Look me in the eye and tell me he does not do drugs. He does and if you don’t believe me you are wrong and I will fight you on this one. 

Kyotani- If there is a crime he will commit it for fun. Like he will do it with no hesitation. He has a record longer than twilight and I’m not sure how he is not in prison actually nvm he escaped and is  a wanted criminal lol

Shiritorizawa

Ushijima- Assault, he just reeks of getting into bar fights when he’s absolutely wasted. Like he most likely didn’t start it but he will be finishing it

Tendou- grave robbing, he just goes into the cemetery picked the oldest plots, and gets to digging. Has made thousands on dead people jewelry and probably won’t get caught, like besides the groundskeeper there’s no security he will never stop.

Semi- he breaks copyright laws on the daily. He’s sampling music in his all the time but he’s doing it so sneakily it’s fine its what deserves stream his band on Spotify right now,

Shirabu- His bangs are criminal enough. No, but he has stolen drugs from the hospital before he just wanted to try the Xanax, and yeah he could just write himself a prescription for it nut like it’s so easy to just go get some and no report it so that’s what he did.

Goshiki- y’all want me to say arson don’t you?? Fine. He commits arson multiple times and kills 7 people with fire before getting arrested and he doesn’t even feel bad so in prison he probably fucking runs a gang he is crazy.

Nekoma

Kuroo- he is a capitalist and class traitor and that’s crime enough I don’t care is he’s attractive or rich, He commits crimes daily by just existing but I still love him anyway.

Kai- Could not commit a crime he just wants to garden and live his life. Jk there’s at minimum one body in that garden let him kill a man he deserves it just let him have one dead body

Yaku- he keyed someone’s car once just because they pissed him off. Was it kuroo? Yes. But that’s fine because he also keyed Lev’s car but blamed lev for keying kuroo’s and Kuroo for keying Lev’s. He just wants to watch the world burn.

Kenma- cyberbullying but man he is mean. Like no bars held we will dig into every insecurity he can and that shit hurts and he doesn’t even feel bad about it he will just be as mean as he can if you’re not careful

Lev- his crime is being tall and dumb also doesn’t understand the economy and prints counterfeit money because why can’t we print more money? The government should get on that.

Inuoka- He released all the animals from a zoo, like snuck in one night and just let them all free, I’m surprised the tiger didn’t eat him but hey the animals are free, there’s still some missing uh oh he’s very proud of himself for it. After the rush, he starts sneaking into shelters and freeing all the dogs and cats

Yamamoto and Fukunaga- Have egged a house before, it was Kuroo’s he deserves all this bullying and you can’t stop me.

Date Tech

Aone- Criminal Conspiracy, sure he had an entire foolproof plan to get away with the perfect crime but someone found out, and now his plans are ruined, damn </3 and no one ever suspects the quiet guy either.

Futakuchi- Having a prostitute, he just wanted some company like mans is lonely so he paid a girl to just spend a Lil time with him it’s all good.

Fukurodani

Bokuto- I know we all haha funny laugh at tax evader bokuto and sure maybe he evades his taxes but he’s also committed vehicular manslaughter, he cannot drive and has killed someone with his car maybe even multiple someones but he always drives off in a panic because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Akaashi- Hasn’t actively committed a crime but has been an accomplice in every vehicular manslaughter Bokuto has committed why the fuck does he keep letting bokuto drive? He really needs to stop that.

Konoha- A master scammer he is so convincing everyone gives him money even if they’re a little sus because he’s just that good each scheme is so convincing.

Inarizaki

Kita- He grows weed, you can’t tell me those rice fields are just for rice he’s got all this space he is growing marijuana and selling it, let him do it I want him to be my plug.

Atsumu- "What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany's at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No, I go for the chandelier. It's priceless. As I'm taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It's her father's business. She's Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning, the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico, but I go to Canada. I don't trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later, I get a postcard. I have a son and he's the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting. I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris by the Trocadero. She's been waiting for me all these years. She's never taken another lover. I don't care. I don't show up. I go to Berlin. That's where I stashed the chandelier."

Osamu- resisting arrest. He just said no and ran. Granted he shouldn’t have punched the cop in the first place to have to be arrested but like that’s not the point here.

Aran- accidental child abandonment, like he just forgot he was babysitting and left the kid alone for like a day. He felt terrible but he still forgot the kid and now is fearful of parenthood

Suna- owns an illegal weapon, like he just never registered it and keeps it around and would use it if needed Suna please just point the weapon at me maybe

Others

Terushima- Graffiti, he loves painting on the walls of buildings and tagging them, has so much spraypaint and his day isn’t complete if he doesn’t tag at least one building or train car.

Daishou- Public intoxication- he got a little too fucked up and stripped on the street he will forever have to live with everyone knowing he has an ass tattoo like damn bruh

Sakusa- Perjury he simply wanted to get out of court so he said some shit so he could leave granted he lied under oath but whatever, did they ever find out? No, so he’s fine and he’d do it again if it meant he could leave faster. Like sure he was a witness to a murder but bruh he pretends he does not see.

Hoshihumi- driving without a license he simply thought you didn’t need one because why do you need a piece of plastic to say you can drive a car like??? Just know how to drive it.

[aboveallarescuer]

A cheatsheet of Dany's political actions in ADWD

I think this might come in handy for Dany fans. I've analyzed most of these before here and here.

A shout-out to @rainhadaenerys for helping me with this list.

ADWD Daenerys I

Dany finds out that her first Unsullied, Stalwart Shield, was murdered by the Sons. She refuses to forget his name, gives him a proper burial, promises to pay a lot for whoever gives information about his murderer, sends men to the Temple of the Graces to ask if any man with a sword wound came (because Stalwart Shield's killers swarmed him and he probably wounded some of them), asks butchers and herdsmen about who had been gelding goats recently (because Stalwart Shield's killers forced the genitals of a goat down his throat), forbids other soldiers from patroling at night and names a company of freedmen after him. She won't punish the nobles indiscriminately, however (so she follows Reznak's advice rather than the Shavepate's, even if she doesn't like him).

Dany considers banning the tokar, but ultimately relents and uses it herself.

Dany says no to helping Cleon in Astapor against Yunkai (despite regretting that she wasn't more ruthless against the latter).

Dany closes the fighting pits and, despite knowing that she needs Hizdahr's support, refuses to reopen them for moral reasons.

Dany is angry that the slavers "hire[d] the [freedmen] back as servants at wages so meagre that most could scarce afford to eat" and that "those too old or young to be of use had been cast into the street, along with the infirm and the crippled". Then, they hypocritically went to complain about "how the dragon queen had filled their noble city with hordes of unwashed beggars, thieves and whores".

Dany weighs on her suitors, but doesn't take any real measures to choose a husband for now.

Dany sends her khalasar to subdue the hinterlands, where "thousands of slaves still toiled on vast estates in the hills, growing wheat and olives, herding sheep and goats, and mining salt and copper". (In Dany V, we'll be told that they succeeded)

Dany sends Daario to convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes and bring grains down the river or over the hills at need. 

Dany gives the freedmen and the noblemen equal attention at court. 

Former slaver Grazdan (a relative of the Green Grace) says that six young girls owed him gold because they learned their craft from an old weaver who was his slave. Dany denies him the request and, instead, orders him to buy the young girls a new loom for forgetting the old woman's name. 

A freedmen asks for a noble to be gelded for raping his wife back when she was his bed slave and to receive a purse of gold for having to take care of the noble's child. Dany grants him the gold, but not the gelding (because it would establish a precedent where other masters would have to be punished for their crimes, which would go against her blanket). 

A nobleborn boy asks her to kill the slaves who revolted against his family by killing his father and elder brother and raping his mother before killing her and who are now living in his house. Dany denies him the request because it would go against her blanket. 

A rich woman (who lost her husband and sons during the sack) asks for her house (which she left in fear for her safety), clothes and jewels back, for they are now all in possession of former bed slaves who turned the house into a brothel. Dany allows her to have her jewels, but gives the house and the clothes to the former bed slaves because of her sympathy for them.

ADWD Daenerys II 

Dany initially asks the Shavepate to question the wineseller and his daughters sweetly, but later she allows him to torture them in order to find who killed Missandei's brother, Rylona Rhee and seven other freedmen in one night. 

Dany also asks for the Shavepate to create a new watch and imposes a blood tax on the slavers to compensate for the deaths of the freedmen and pay the soldiers she'll employ.

Dany keeps two children from each pyramid as hostages. 

Dany still says no to the reopening of the fighting pits, though she feels more reluctant after hearing what the pit fighters want. 

Reznak says that the freedmen were disrespecting the traditions of the guilds for "carving stone and laying bricks" for a cheap price and calling themselves "journeymen" or "masters" and that the guilds ask for her to "uphold their ancient rights and customs". Dany grants that only the guild members can be named "journeymen" or "masters", but that the guilds will have to give the freedmen the opportunity to become members too. She also allows the freedmen to continue to carve stone or lay bricks cheaply because they are hungry, though they won't use those titles anymore. 

Dany chooses to pay Hazzea's father the blood price; she sets it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. She also lays her bones to rest in the Temple of the Graces, orders a hundred candles in her memory each day and night and promises to pay for her children "each year upon her nameday" so they "shall not want" too. She asks him not to tell anyone that Drogon was involved, though.

Dany chains her dragons.

ADWD Daenerys III 

Dany considers the possibility of leaving for Westeros with the thirteen ships that Xaro offered her, but she ultimately gives up.  

Dany organizes the freedmen of fighting age into companies (Mother's Men, Stalwart Shields, Free Brothers). 

Dany tries to sell Meereen's salt, copper and wine for Xaro.

Dany sends envoys to Tolos and Mantarys in an attempt to make alliances against Yunkai, but is told by Xaro that the two joined the latter (and later Qarth also will). 

Dany still denies help to Astapor because, if she gives them part of her forces, there won't be enough men to defend Meereen. 

Dany is replanting olive trees. 

Xaro tells Dany that a former merchant who dealt in rare spices and choice wines ended up working to dig a ditch to bring water from the river to the fields and to plant beans. (The man, however, was a merchant who most likely lost his slaves, couldn't leave the city because he was unable to trade his goods and then had to find work. The available work was to dig ditches to plant beans and reform the city's economy.) 

Dany chooses many freedmen to be advisors in her council.

ADWD Daenerys IV

Despite the Shavepate's wishes, Dany refuses to kill the child hostages in response to the Sons' ongoing attacks.

After making several questions to Hizdahr (and after he emphasizes that Yunkai has a lot of support to fight against her), Dany says she'll marry Hizdahr as long as he's able to maintain peace in Meereen for ninety days. She previously had objections to the Green Grace's advice about whether it would be beneficial and considers what both Reznak and the Shavepate would think after she makes her choice. She also distrusts Hizdahr, the Green Grace and Reznak. 

Dany considers making a peace agreement with Yunkai, though she's unsatisfied with the other freedmen in the other cities potentially being enslaved again. 

Dany reiterates that she can't go to Westeros until she heals Meereen.

ADWD Daenerys V 

Dany doesn't allow the Shavepate to continue his tortures because she realizes that they are unreliable. Unlike him, she thinks that there isn't a single overlord working against her because "[her] enemies are legion". She also believes that Hizdahr convinced them to stop the killings either through bribery or because of news of their marriage. 

Dany "has planted beans and grapes and wheats" and will soon have the friendship of the hinterlands (which is bringing crops to the city) and Lhazar. 

Dany finds out that Astapor has fallen into the hands of the Yunkish and that the bloody flux has spread in Astapor. She is given more details by refugees of what exactly happened and regrets not having helped the Astapor (even if her military strength wasn't large enough to help). 

Dany considers waging war against Yunkai (which Barristan thinks she should, while the Shavepate advises her not to do so), but she doesn't have enough men to do that and to protect Meereen at the same time, so she gives up on the option. 

Dany orders Ben and his Second Sons to scout the Yunkish forces. She also grants Ben's request for provisions, fresh horses, bags of gold and gems (which he made because he intends to betray her) and asks Reznak to close the gates and double the number of soldiers keeping watch upon the walls. 

Dany decides that she needs Hizdahr's support to gain the Meereenese nobles' help and protect the city from Yunkai. 

Dany sets up a camp for the Astapori refugees "beside the river, west of the city". She tries to separate the healthy from the sick, but that meant separating family members. That is ultimately for naught, since the ones who were only sick at first died and the ones who were healthy got sick.

ADWD Daenerys VI  

Dany sends "healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barbersurgeons" to the Astapori refugees, but they got sick as well. She commanded them to dig ditches to defecate, but they started to do it where they slept because they were too weak to stand up and defecate there. She sent the food that she could, but "every day there were more of them and less food to give them". Even sending food was becoming hard, since some soldiers were becoming sick and others attacked on the way back to the city. This leads Dany to bring the food herself, even while knowing all of the risks that doing so would entail. She wants to show her people that "their Mother cares". She also considers sharing the food equally twice. She baths an old man herself even while knowing all of the risks, she burns the dead corpses (which could have transmitted the disease) herself, she "shames all of them into helping her" to take care of people who she had no allegiance to and would receive no benefit from helping. 

Dany agrees to marry by Ghiscari rites and use a "white tokar fringed with baby pearls", but she won't allow her womb to be examined by Hizdahr's mother and sisters nor will she wash Hizdahr's feet if he won't wash hers first. 

Dany says that Hizdahr can reopen the fighting pits after their wedding and that she wants no part of it.

Dany begrudgingly agrees to Yunkai's terms of peace. She's okay with paying "gold and gemstones", but she's still not content with having to see slavery being reinstalled and being told not to interfere. She also needs to follow through with her marriage so that the slavers will believe in her. 

Dany finds out that Brown Ben betrayed her, so she decides to gather food to sustain the Meereenese citizens, keep all of her forces inside and close the gates with the Astapori refugees starving outside the city.

ADWD Daenerys VII 

The Yunkai'i are besieging Meereen and building catapults, scorpions and tall trebuchets in case they need to attack. 

The freedmen continue to be mistreated in "palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs". 

Dany stopped holding court due to being disillusioned by the negative repercussions of her actions.

Quentyn offers himself as a husband to Dany in return for Dorne's support so that they can honor the secret part originally made to marry Viserys and Arianne. Dany refuses him and goes through with her marriage because of her people; in order to protect them, she needs Hizdahr's support immediately, while Quentyn only has two men.

ADWD Daenerys VIII  

The Yunkai'i have men of the free companies, two iron legions of New Ghis and two Ghiscari legions by their side. 

Dany has to accept the Yunkish lords bringing slaves to serve them and to be sold in a market outside the city as one of the conditions of the peace agreement. 

After Hizdahr is crowned, the Shavepate is removed from command of the Brazen Beasts (which is another concession that Dany made in the name of peace).

Dany orders the food that would normally be thrown away to be given to the poor. 

Dany orders Barristan to set Pretty Meris free so that she can send her offer to the Tattered Prince. She wants to sound out the Windblown, the Long Lances and the Company of the Cat.

Dany shows Quentyn her dragons and tells him that "[her] marriage need not be the end of all [his] hopes" because "the dragon has three heads".

ADWD Daenerys IX 

Dany is willing to pay gold for the Windblown's support, but the Tattered Prince wants more than that; he also asks her to give him Pentos when she marches for Westeros. She denies his request out of consideration for Illyrio. 

After a freedman collapses while carrying a palanquin, Dany orders him to be taken off the street and be given food and water. She also notes that, even after freeing the slaves, their work (in this case, carrying the palanquin) is still just as hard.

Dany makes restrictions to lessen the harshness towards the participants: only freedmen can join the duels (only those who "freely consented to risk their lives for gold and honor"); children are not allowed to participate and only certain criminals (murderers, rapers and those who persist in slavery, not thieves or debtors) would be sentenced to fight; women, comic combats between cripples, dwarfs and crones and beasts are still allowed to fight; the carcasses of bears and bulls are used to feed the hungry at the Gates of Fate.

Freedmen are being slaughtered to amuse the noblemen in the pits. 

Dany takes off her flopping ears.

ADWD Daenerys X 

Dany explicitly rejects the peace.

[divinaes-bookofsecrets]

can i get a spirit guide reading too? ): ive been dying to find my own..♎

Hi 👋 hello there pleased to meet you ♎

×JaxDessa×IS YOUR SPIRIT GUIDE CURRENTLY🐠🌏🐚

She is female inter-terrestrial Female-Sea Creature who visits middle Earth and thats about as close as she gets to you personal space other than being able to e a essence that communicates or manipulates your current or future circumstances.

As an etheric being, Mermaid is “out of time” even as magic. She can teach you to walk through different worlds safely. There are spaces and places where all time swirls together, opening infinite possibilities.

If Mermaid Spirit had a mantra, it would be “go with the flow.” Give yourself to the ebb and flow of Mermaid’s ties. This provides you with adaptability akin to how water takes on the shape of its container.

Lightworkers, such as myself, 🌐🐚🐠 believe that Mermaids may have come originally from Atlantis as shapeshifters. Afterward, they moved into the Etheric realm; this is the place wherein we can connect with them and learn their wisdom. Mermaid Medicine supports environmental health and the kingdom of the sea. If you are doing workings for the Earth, they are excellent helpmates.

Like the creature of myths, Mermaid Totems are drawn to water. The ocean, in particular, has healing and energizing qualities to it. The Mermaid Mage often works exclusively with the Water Element; and Jaxdessa is no different she happens to be an elite member of the aquatic Water Mystics in her colony in the ethereal realm of existence....

This Mer-Woman has been with you since your birth and will likely be with you until the END of time; but first let's dive fins deep into her bio and see what she's in your life for?

🦋🌏🦋Being female, the symbolism and meaning of the Mermaid ties to the Sacred Feminine, specifically Goddesses like Venus who rules love, and the Sea Goddesses like Calypso. This is not a woman who can be tamed. The fierce individuality among Mermaids is well known – so much so that they may resist settling down in any one spot. Here Mermaid Spirit appears linked heavily to uniqueness and non-conformity.

Are you looking for a way to express yourself? Trying to find clarity in love matters? Mermaid as a Spirit, Totem, and Power Animal can help! Mermaid teaches to find balance between the heart and mind! Delve deeply in Mermaid symbolism and meaning to find out how this animal spirit guide can aid, inspire, and balance you!

Mermaid Symbolism & Meaning

The myths of Mermaids (and mermen) are enchanting. The rich voice of the Mermaid calls out to us with symbolism and meaning that clarifies the role this Fantasy Spirit Guide plays in our lives. Many stories of the Mermaid tell of enticing beauty, raw sensuality, and humans who succumb to their haunting songs; in this, we see where Mermaid becomes an emblem of balancing our heart and head. We need to think clearly even in matters of love and lust. Additionally, there are times in our lives where its ok to dance to a different, magical tune. Individuality and non-conformity are definitely traits of the Mermaid.

Mermaid Omens: Mermaids seem to be fairly lucky in that, if in a generous mind, they might grant a wish. Having said that, sailors consider them a foreboding sign that the proverbial ship may never reach land again.

Etymology: Mermaid comes from the 14th century term mermayde, meaning Maid of the Sea. The Old English word was similar – merwif, or Water Witch.

Being female, the symbolism and meaning of the Mermaid ties to the Sacred Feminine, specifically Goddesses like Venus who rules love, and the Sea Goddesses like Calypso. This is not a woman who can be tamed. The fierce individuality among Mermaids is well known – so much so that they may resist settling down in any one spot. Here Mermaid Spirit appears linked heavily to uniqueness and non-conformity.

Reach out to Mermaid as a Power Animal any time you work with the element of water in ritual, meditations or magic. There are other goals for which Mermaid can help. When you need inspiration, particularly in song, she can release your self-consciousness, so you really sing from your heart. Regarding sexuality, she removes inhibitions that hold you back from true pleasure.

Mermaid represents transition and transmutation. When you face unique changes in your life, she can help steady the waters around you.

Finally, call to Mermaid when you struggle with your emotions or when your intuition seems to have dried up. Mermaid medicine heals broken hearts and discouragement, then goes on supporting your intuitive self so you can avoid the chaos.

Mermaid as a Celtic Animal Symbol

Celtic Tradition has a long-standing relationship with magical water creatures. Sprites and nymphs often lived nearby sacred falls and wells. The Mermaid, however, lives in the sea. In this culture, the symbolism and meaning of Mermaid is that of the feminine element of the Universe. It is powerful and mysterious. The image of the double-tailed Mermaid adorns many churches represents the ultimate Celtic goddess, Sheela-Na-Gig.

Native American Mermaid Symbolic Meanings

One story from the Mi’kmaq tribe tells of a bird who discovers a pond with five lovely women therein. He noted that they didn’t really look totally human, having silvery scaled skin and hair of seaweed. They adorned themselves with gifts of the sea, and the bottom half of their body was that of a fish.

The Passamaquoddy tales recount the story of how two girls became Mermaids (HeNwas). They went swimming in an area prohibited by their parents. They came to a spot where they were surrounded in slime. Their legs became snakes, their hair black and wearing silver bands on their arms and neck.

Sekani legend talks of the marriage between a human and a Mermaid. By the first winter, the Mermaid yearned for her ocean home. She begged for freedom. It wasn’t until the second winter, however, that the man complied so she could hunt for him. Each day she returned dutifully with food. They became happy and had seven children. After the last child, winter returned, and the man sadly broke a hole in the ice so she could return. When she began swimming, she realized her children could not follow her. She tried to work a spell, placing water on their lips and telling them to follow her. Sadly they drown and were never seen again.

Mermaid Dreams

Mermaids in dreams almost always represent femininity with all its lovely attributes. These dreams often reveal clues to your feminine side. This can be a happy omen unless you fear the emotions and insights Mermaid brings.

A Mermaid swimming in water may represent a girth of emotions that threaten to overwhelm. You feel as if you are going under and giving in to the pressures around. Find your life vest and get some help and support.

Far Eastern Mermaid Symbolic Meanings

There are numerous stories of Mermaids in China. Literature depicts her as similar to western Mermaids with the ability to cry pearls, shapeshift, foretell the future and craft magical items.

One story tells of a Mermaid who asked to stay with a human family for many days so she could weave and sell her cloth. In thanks for the human’s hospitality, she cried a container full of pearls and gave it to the family.

Mermaid Symbolic Meanings Key

Adaptability

Awareness

Discretion

Divination

Emotions

Innocence

Non-conformity

Psychic Aptitude

Shapeshifting

Uniqueness

Artists frequently depict Mermaids with a fish bone comb; this illustration came about due to sailors’ beliefs. If you had fish bones on board a ship, one could know what type of weather was coming through divination and take control of a storm to calm the winds. Another tool of the Mermaid is a mirror. This object has long been used for magic as a “looking glass” much like a crystal ball. Mirrors represent the moon and the intuitive self. Wrap these tools into a medicine bag, and you have future-telling abilities, far sight, sensitivity, and psychic aptitude.

WHAT DO MERMAIDS LOOK LIKE ?🧜‍♀️ 🧜‍♀️

Traditional Mermaids have the upper body of a woman and the lower body of a fish. Images of Mermaids appear as early as ancient Babylon. Sailors considered images of Mermaids as a good luck charm, which is why figureheads were carved with Her image.

Being tied to the Water Element, Mermaid may take on the meaning of a source of life, cleansing, and renewal. Water can also be a fierce foe, with crashing waves that threaten to take us under into the unknown. The ancients found themselves inexplicably attracted to the Mermaid, while also being frightened of their powers.

These “Angels of the Sea” appear most frequently at dawn and dusk. These are “in between” times when the veil between worlds grows thin. Some say they only show themselves to people who have pure hearts, giving he Mermaid the symbolism of discretion and awareness.

WHAT DOES JAXDESSA LOOK LIKE?

Here....She is .. 🧜‍♀️ 7:47 PM(look up the numerology or 747 and 757 , 759)

Those are your times you'll be likely to sense her close to you...

When Jaxdessa swims with you, she brings you into the realm of Water, which also speaks of our emotions. You will be challenged to dig deep inside yourself to understand your fears and scars fully. Only by so doing can you truly heal. Throughout this journey, Jaxdessa offers love and support.The Mermaid animal spirit may also bear a message about reconnecting with your inner child and nature. The innocence and joy of the child dances with the beauty of the world. There is a richness in this relationship building process, and Mermaid is your guide...

When working with your Mermaid guide, it is essential that you remain true to yourself: She will not condone facades. Keep it real and be ready to swim.

Those born with Mermaid imprinted on their soul feel at one with nature. They see the wonders of the world with an appreciative eye, but also know that there is much more going on behind the proverbial curtain. The Mermaid constantly interacts and exchanges various feelings with others including joy, peace, and liveliness. The Mermaid’s language of love is an affirmation.

Greed doesn’t really measure in the mind of the Mermaid. They do not seek to possess others, but rather walk with them in mutual goals and dreams. The Mermaid’s inner child is strong and very active.

More...SpiritGuide bio

The Mermaid person has intense psychic abilities. You see spirits, fairies, Devas, Angels, and other Fantasy creatures easily. Some of the gifts you may have include clairvoyance and hypnotic allure

The Mermaid is an amazing empath, but this can also be her undoing. She feels everything. A crowded room can become totally overwhelming. Thankfully with time and practice, she can learn to detach from others feelings and consider them much as one might watch a movie. This protects the Mermaid from psychic overload and burnout. ((YOU MORE THAN LIKELY CSN RELATE TO THIS AND MOST OF THE MERMAID QUALITIES BECAUSE YOU ARE HER SHE IS YOU;; DO YOU SEE THESE SIMILARITIES YET?))

💘 💜 💛 💚 🧡 💘

Regarding relationships JaxDessa people may not settle down, but they certainly enjoy a good lover. There is raw, unbridled sexuality here that begs for attention. Because they are very private people, however, some of these desires go unfulfilled.

Spirit Guides 3 Messages for me today (current date Jan 11th 2021)

First message: #1

ANGEL NUMBER 833

Number 833 is a blend of the vibrations and energies of number 8 and number 3, with number 3 appearing twice, amplifying its influences of 3, and relating the the Master Number 33. Number 8 relates to self-confidence and personal authority, discernment, higher wisdom, achievement and successes, practicality, consideration, giving and receiving, and serving humanity. Number 8 is also the number of karma; the Universal Spiritual Law of Cause and Effect. Number 3 is the number of affability, enthusiasm, assistance and encouragement, communication and self-expression, growth, expansion and the principles of increase, manifesting, broad-minded thinking, talents and skills, and the energies of the Ascended Masters. Master Number 33 (the Master Teacher) relates to the attributes of the ‘healer’, compassion, blessings, the teacher of teachers, inspiration, honesty, discipline, bravery and courage.

Angel Number 833 is a powerful message and sign that you are being fully supported, surrounded and supported by your Spirit Guides ...It indicates that you are successfully manifesting prosperity and abundance in your life by the positive choices you have made and are currently making. Put your personal attributes and talents to good use and be open to receiving your well-earned rewards and blessings. Trust that all is going to Divine plan.  

Angel Number 833 brings a powerful message of love and support, encouragement and guidance, and your SpiritGuide(s) ask that you maintain a positive attitude and outlook to continue manifesting positive abundance into your life. Remember that what you put out to the Universe comes back to you, so ensure that you use your personal power and talents in a positive manner, always.

Angel Number 833 tells you to take ownership of your own life and discover your dreams. Use your personal creativity in constructive and productive ways, and put your skills and talents to work to achieve your heart’s desires. You get what you expect so make sure you radiate positive energies and expect the highest and best in return. Trust that you will find success in your chosen endeavours.

  

Number 833 relates to number 5 (8+3+3=14, 1+4=5) and Angel Number 5.

Now look up # 5 see what it is ? Thats your next mission .🧜‍♀️.

Second Message : WHAT I NEED TO HEAR RIGHT THIS MOMENT ...

If you were to bite into a piece of cake and think it's awful because of certain flavors or a lack of some ingredient, it would not be pleasant in the moment. Even so, the experience could be beneficial to you later on. Suppose you wanted to bake a special cake for someone. The experience you had with the unappetizing cake might inspire you to do things differently. Every bad experience has an upside, Dear Jaxdessas darling, even if it doesn't seem so in the moment. Remember that today if something doesn't seem ideal.

Third Message: 🌟 ⭐ 💫 🌠 🌃 ✨ 🌟 ♎ January 11 - January 17

A project that is in the final stage of development could get a really big boost this week, dear Jaxdessas darling. This may come out of left field, and the help you need may come from someone you least expected and perhaps you don't even like, but don't cut off your nose to spite your face. This is essential assistance, and you should be grateful for it. Success is possible with a work- or money-related venture that didn't seem to be going very well all that long ago. This is due to your persistence and your optimistic attitude, so let this be a lesson for future endeavors. Some venture that you have put a lot of time and energy into may wind up hitting a brick wall very soon. You may want to proceed anyway, and you may want to figure out how many ways there are to get over the wall that stands between you and success. But before you invest that time, think about whether this will be worth the effort in the end. There could be something else coming along that could take its place, and that could be easier and more rewarding in the end.

&&&

A creak you hear in the dark could be the settling of an old house, or it could be a burglar creeping on the stairs. Loud voices you hear coming in through the windows could be your neighbors arguing, or it could be those same neighbors sharing good news. The lamp going out on your nightstand could be a sign that electricity has shut down, or it could mean you need a new bulb. There is often more than one way to interpret something, and usually there's nothing to worry about. Remember that today, Taurus, if you are tempted to follow worrisome thoughts. It's more likely there's nothing to worry about.

FINAL THOUGHTS?.. THE WISE ADVICE FROM YOUR MYSTIC MERMAID 🧜‍♀️

Step 1) Define Your Core Values

Know what is most important to you by determining your values for your professional and personal life.

These are the principles that are the foundation for your priorities, choices, actions, and behaviors.

You can start by looking at this list of values.

Step 2: Practice the habits.

Pick one or two from this list of positive character traits above to practice for several weeks.

Write down the actions you want to take or the behaviors you define that reflect this trait, and implement them in your daily life and interactions.

Wear a rubber band on your wrist or create other reminders to help you practice these good qualities.

Step 3: Find people with good character.

Surround yourself with people who reflect the character traits you want to embrace.

They will inspire and motivate you to build these traits in yourself.

Try to avoid people who have a weak character and make bad decisions.

Step 5: Take some risks.

Start taking small actions toward a goal or value that involves some level of risk.

When you face the possibility of failure and challenge yourself toward success, you become mentally and emotionally stronger and more committed to your principles.

Step 6: Stretch yourself.

Create high standards and big goals for yourself.

Expect the best of yourself and constantly work toward that, even though you will have setbacks and occasional failures.

Every stretch builds your confidence and knowledge that your positive character traits are getting stronger.

Step 7: Commit to self-improvement.

Realize that building your character is a life-long endeavor.

It is something that is practiced both in the minutiae and the defining moments of your life.

There will be times you step up to the character traits you embrace and other times you falter.

Thank You for taking the time to meet your Spirit Guide today have a nice day 😊 ✨ 💛 ☺ 💗

[bluejaywriter]

Anyway, here’s my How To Fix WW84 in 42 scenes (or less) list:

BTW, this is a very long post. It is a whole movie :P

1. Delete the first scene with the Amazons and have the opening credits be over the 80s montage. I KNOW, but trust me.

2. Mall robbery scene goes normally, but like... less clunky. And there’s a bop playing in the background because it’s the 80s.

3. When Diana comes back, she’s wearing her armor underneath her jacket; have a shot of her hanging it up in her closet, and pieces of the Golden Armor are displayed nearby. She has dinner by herself, and looks lonely. 

4. Diana meets Barbara, and it’s the same, but if she needs something “human”, how about she walks with a cane instead of being clumsy in heels because it may be 1984, but it’s also 2020 :P (also Rucka’s Rebirth run literally has her walking with a cane??) And a girlfriend

5. They bond over the FBI artifacts from the mall robbery, Barbara’s studying something that will be important on an expedition later (a map?), but it’s not like. Placement. It’s just buried in the list of things they’re looking at. Also Barbara is smart and also knows Latin and Diana is impressed.

6. They go to dinner (and there’s a bop playing in the background) and Barbara asks what made her get into archeology, and Diana is vague, and Diana asks what made her get into archeology, and Barbara is also vague, but says she’s always loved ancient civilizations and things. No one asks about anyone’s love life. :P

7. Diana walks Barbara home. Diana asks if she’s in pain (the cane), and she says no, and then it’s never mentioned again because it’s 2020. Also there are no drunk creeps, and no amiable homeless black guys, because… euuuurgh.

8. There’s a scene with another version of the map (or not a map), and a faceless somebody having a vague, Villainy conversation about it (and not Dr. Poison faceless, just... we don’t see their face, lol).

9. Barbara gets to work early and finds out she has to give a tour to Maxwell “The Oil Guy” Lord. This scene goes as normal, and he insists they both come tonight to the gala he’s hosting for the museum at his house. Diana thinks galas are stupid, but she plays along because she wants to keep Barbara away from Max she can tell Barbara wants to go she wants to protect Barbara.

10. Insert artistic shots of Diana’s office here. Basically ancient artifact porn. Show us the cool stuff, God.

11. Diana looks irritated/confused about something and is flipping through books (although computers did exist in 1984, right? Right?). Barbara comes in asking if Diana wants to go shopping for the gala, and Diana asks if she still has the FBI artifacts, and Barbara says yeah, why. Diana says she just wants to check something later, then they go shoe shoppingggggg

12. Diana does all the things the store attendant does. Dialogue, facial expressions, everything. Harold they’re lesbi—

13. Barbara asks if she wants to share a cab to the party, but Diana has to put out a wildfire or something, and says she’ll meet her there.

14. Action scene fire-putting out that somehow relates to a moment later in the movie. Diana can’t save a cat stuck in a tree

15. There’s a shot of Diana stepping out of the burning forest and looking out over the sea, and there are burning embers falling around her, and the sun is setting, and it’s beautiful dammit. And then she remembers she has a date, and she smells like a wildfire, and the music comes in because this was the best scene in the real movie.

15. Gala scene. Entrances and music are perfect, change nothing except man creeps are like… more subtle? And more insidious/Mr. Nice Guy, sure. Diana finds Barbara Ann, and she mentions that she hasn’t drunk/partied like this since college, because she’s a confident woman who can drink, dammit.

16. Pedro Pascal invites Barbara up for a drink, and Diana is prepared to come along uninvited, but there’s an invite for her, too.

17. The three main actors from this movie actually get to hang out together and bond like atoms because they have serious chemistry. Max is a bit of a douche at first, but he relaxes after a bit of goofing off. Diana asks him about the pictures on the wall of his son, and he says he’s the smartest boy in his school, and his goal every day is to make his son proud of him. Barbara Ann (who is slightly drunk) mentions that her father didn’t want her to become a scientist, and they swap horrible Dad stories for 45 seconds. 

18. Diana’s Horrible Dad Story: “My mother never told me his name.”

19. Pedro Pascal mentions that he’s putting together a team for a dig (Apparently they dug up some stuff while he was looking for oil) and he wants Barbara Ann to lead the expedition. 

20. Barbara Ann wants Diana in her team don’t we all. Pedro Pascal pretends to be surprised and delighted by this idea. There’s a shot of his happy face disappearing once the girls leave.

21. Diana goes to find the FBI artifact she’d been wondering about (it’s after the gala, so it’s dark in the museum), and it’s gone.

22. They fly to the dig, and everyone has their passports, and Kristen Wiig does not reprise her Bridesmaids airplane scene, but she can mention that it was nice of Max Lord to put them in first class. It’s also the 80s, so flying looks like whatever flying looked like in the 80s (more leg room? :P) Also, there’s a bop playing in the flying montage. 

23. They get to the dig (in a helicopter), and a bunch of diverse people introduce themselves, because we have to have diversity somewhere in here, it’s 2020.

24. Barbara Ann gets to work, and Diana goes exploring because she’s the main character and doesn’t need to work. She sees a temple/palace further up the island, and it looks like there’s smoke coming out of the courtyard, but she’s called back for dinner before she can go see. The other people tell her the building is abandoned.

25. Diana goes later that night to see, and it is abandoned and there’s lots of animal bones lying around and weird symbols on the walls and it’s creepy AF. But there are other things (pottery?) that remind her of Themyscira, and there’s a flash of a memory from an Amazon feast, and she sees Antiope laughing with a group of Amazons because we need a Robin Wright cameo, and then a hard cut to—

26. Barbara Ann comes to find Diana sitting on the edge of the cliff looking over the ocean, and she asks if she’s jetlagged too, and she says no, just homesick. She tells Barbara Ann that she grew up on an island, and after she left, she spent years trying to move on and assimilate into the new world, but she kept finding things that reminded her of her homeland, and she finally accepted that she should be proud of who she is and where she’s from. Barbara Ann says she should never be ashamed of her true self and then they kiss

27. In the morning, there’s a dig montage, and a bop playing in the background. Diana pretends that heavy things are heavy. They find Diana’s golden helmet and other scraps of the golden armor and a bunch of other stuff so then it’s not conspicuous, and then there’s a tsunami/hurricane, and the rest of the crew dies or evacuates or something. It’s dramatic, and Diana and Barbara almost drown, except Diana is Wonder Woman. 

28. The two of them end up heading up to the abandoned building for shelter, and it looks sturdy, and the animal bones are gone, which is weird, but it’s dry, so Diana tells Barbara Ann to sleep while she takes the first watch. Barbara Ann says this isn’t the worst night she’s spent on the job.

29. Diana falls asleep and has a dream of this building in its heyday, and there’s an Amazon feast, and Diana wanders through the dream looking sad, and Hippolyta stands up to give a toast and is shouting about their guest of honor, the Princess from—

30. And then Diana wakes up, Barbara Ann is gone, and it’s full daylight, and there’s no sign of the storm or their camp. Diana hears a sound and goes to investigate likes she’s in a horror movie or something, and it takes her to stairs that lead underground, and she realizes that the tunnels match the map from the FBI (this is too convenient, but whatever, this is the first draft okay :P).

31. Maxwell Lord is sitting on a folding chair (or a couch!) in the cave at the end of the tunnel, and he’s surrounded by animals in cages. Diana recognizes some of the animals from the bones she saw earlier, because why not. He says that he brought Diana and Barbara Ann here to settle some old scores. Diana thinks for a minute that he’s Ares or something, and he says not MY old scores. 

32. And then Diana is attacked by a Cheetah (why not), and she’s not wearing her armor, but she can fight in her indiana jones outfit, and it’s kind of a lame fight (dark, realistic, no slow-mo), and she re-cages the animal pretty easily, and THEN she’s surrounded by the blurriness like she’s dreaming (bad, but it’s the first draft, okay), and Eva Green’s voice says some villainy things about is this how she treats her friends and she’s just like her mother—

33. And then Diana realizes that Barbara Ann is the Cheetah, and there’s a montage of her falling into Circe’s trap and being turned into a Cheetah, and then a scene of Pedro Pascal’s son being kidnapped while they’re on rich people vacation and being turned into a gerbil, and transformations of a bunch of explorers and warriors from over the years getting turned into animals (including Asteria), and then a scene of Circe being banished from the Amazons and not being allowed to return to (old) Themyscira.

34. Circe isn’t actually in the tunnel, but in the fog sequence, she talks to Diana through a mirror and occasionally morphs into Diana’s reflection, because she’s magic, and that’s creepy.

35. After the fog is over, and Diana’s wearing the Golden Armor because we need to sell toys, and then there’s ACTUAL fight with Cheetah, and a bop (Sebastian Böhm’s “Sweet Dreams are Made of This”) is playing in the background, and this time there are actual stakes because Diana doesn’t want to hurt her. And it’s like, the Cheetah and Wonder Woman fight from Rucka’s run, okay. Cheetah says this is her true self and to leave her alone, and Diana says no, this isn’t you.

36. Diana breaks Circe’s curse with true love’s kiss. Diana breaks Circe’s the curse with the lasso and a speech about love, and it turns out the Cheetah form is held back by the lasso, so Diana lets her keep it. 

37. Pedro Pascal gets his son back and it actually makes sense for him to run out from the bushes. He apparently doesn’t remember anything about Circe.

38. A helicopter comes to get them, and Diana is uneasy, because there’s a third movie, but she leaves and there’s a bop playing, because this is the end of the second movie.

39. Diana adds the helmet and the rest of the armor to her collection in her closet. 

40. Barbara Ann now has to tell the truth all the time because she’s wearing the lasso all the time. This is terrible, but the movie plays it off as amusing. 

41. Diana promises to find help for Barbara Ann, and they kiss

42. I guess the mid credits scene with Asteria can still happen. She could clean up after herself though, lol. A possible end credits scene is Diana finding the lasso on her work desk and Barbara Ann’s desk cleared out, but that’s kind of a bitter ending, and the lesbian ending is nicer.

In the third movie, Diana tries to find Themyscira and Circe is the main villain and maybe Cheetah comes back. Boom.

[recurring-polynya]

I know I missed Renji's birthday but if you ever have time, I would absolutely love to see anything about Renji and Orihime's friendship. I always headcanon him as her no.1 weird bakery experiment supporter, but really anything would be great! They just seem like they would be each other's go-to supports and I would love to see your take on them!

Anon, I have no excuse for why this took so long! RenHime BroTP is one of my very favorite things, but I managed to draw a huge blank on this and then I went through two concepts that didn’t work before I managed to hit on one that did. (Also, I did write two other Renji & Orihime stories in the Time of Many Drabbles, one where they make a cake and one where they act out Orihime’s fanfic)

Anyway, I love the Advance Team Arc, please enjoy this Advance Team Arc story about Renji and Orihime trying to cheer Rukia up by going thrifting, ft. the all-time greatest Renji clothing item.

👖   🧥   💀

Orihime was headed outside for lunch, thinking longingly about her curry tuna fish sandwich, when a low, gravelly voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Oi, Inoue. You gotta moment?”

Abarai was leaning up against the wall of the school, his eyes scanning the school yard like he was waiting for a brawl to break out. Abarai reminded Orihime a lot of a guy in a prison movie. Not the guy that masterminded the prison break, but the guy who had the whole prison figured out and knew how to get illicit goods and would help the main guy escape even though they were sort of frenemies. Orihime found him a little bit scary, but in a cool way. They probably didn’t have motorcycles in Soul Society, but if they did, Orihime would bet money that Abarai would ride one.

“Sure!” she announced eagerly, and followed in his shadow as he silently rounded the corner of the building. He moved very quietly for such a big person, unlike Ichigo and Chad, who crashed and thumped wherever they went, especially when they went somewhere together.

“I gotta problem and I’m hopin’ you’ll be able to help me out a little.” Abarai shifted his shoulders a little, obviously uncomfortable in his school uniform.

Orihime knew all about the stresses of the undercover lifestyle. Clearly, he needed someone for an inside job, someone who knew all the subtleties of living a normal human existence. Fortunately for him, Orihime had been a normal human almost her entire life. “How can I be of assistance, Lieutenant Abarai?” she barked.

Abarai blinked at her. “Er. It’s not really mission-related. I need, um, some advice, I guess.”

Orihime set her jaw and tightened her fists. “I am short on life experience, but I have read many magazines. Ask me anything.”

Abarai waved his hands. “No! No! Look, you’re friends with Rukia, right?”

“Yes!” Orihime agreed. That was an easy one.

Abarai nodded quickly, happy to have found some firm footing at last. “The thing is, she’s been taking Ichigo’s vanishing act kinda hard.”

Orihime gave a tiny nod, her fingernails digging into her palms. The truth was, there was a dull, Ichigo-sized ache in her own heart, as well. She couldn’t stop wondering where he was and what he was up to and if he was getting good hearty lunches. She imagined it must be a thousand times worse for Rukia who had come all the way from Soul Society to just to see him.

“She gets real crabby when she’s worried,” Abarai continued on, continuing to scan the grounds, presumably for lurking Rukias. “She’s been getting on me for not having enough spare clothes for my gigai. I wouldn’t usually let her boss me around like this, but I thought it would make her feel better so I told her we could go, ah, shopping.”

“Oh, that’s so nice!” cried Orihime.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a prince. But here’s the thing: Even though Captain Hitsugaya outranks me, I am technically the mission manager, which means I’m in charge of the budget, and I’d really, really like to come out in the black. Matsumoto already conned me out of a significant portion of the petty cash. I don’t think Rukia has a real good handle on human money and I sure as hell don’t. I told Rukia that we should ask one of her friends to come along and she said she’d ask you, and I just was hoping you could help me keep things, y’know, frugal, without making a big deal about it.”

Abarai looked a little sheepish even asking. Orihime remembered the size of Rukia’s house back in Soul Society, the beautiful kimono she had worn once she was no longer a criminal. Orihime knew all about having friends who had more money than you. Her resolve hardened and slammed her fist into her open palm. “A strict budget is no reason not to look your best!” she announced. “You have come to the right person, Lieutenant Abarai! I, Inoue Orihime, Thrifting Champion of Karakura, will help you out!”

Abarai’s face washed over with relief, followed very quickly by confusion. “The what champion?” he echoed.

👖   🧥   💀

“You are a saint, Orihime!” Rukia declared as they marched down the street, arm in arm, Renji trailing grumpily a few paces behind, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “A gem! I offered to borrow something from Ichigo’s father for him, but this ingrate was having none of it.”

There was some low-pitched muttering from behind them.

Orihime was trying to picture Renji in the pink, ruffled tuxedo shirt Dr. Kurosaki had worn under his lab coat the last time he set Tatsuki’s sprained ankle. “I don’t think Dr. Kurosaki’s style would be quite right for him,” she suggested diplomatically. “I… guess… he’s supposed to be a teenager?”

Rukia heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re correct, as usual.” She craned her head back over her shoulder for a moment. “You owe Orihime an ice cream for this, Lieutenant Hopeless!” She swung her head forward again with a huff. Renji shot Orihime a wink.

Orihime couldn’t quite figure out Rukia and Renji’s exact relationship. Rukia has described Renji as “her friend.” On one hand, she hadn’t said about the shinigami from Ten or Eleven. On the other, she called Renji a lot of rude names and harangued him a lot. Renji had seemed pretty concerned about Rukia when he had pulled Orihime aside that afternoon, but now he was all slouches and scrunchy eyebrows. He reminded Orihime of Ichigo.

Oh! Maybe there was something to that! Maybe Renji was being a grouch on purpose so that Rukia could yell at him and feel like she was yelling at Ichigo. Wow! That was some master-level friendship. Orihime wondered if she should be taking notes.

“Ah, here we are!” she exclaimed, pointing at a little, tucked away shop front.

“What sort of shop is this?” Rukia frowned, examining the cluttered store window.

“It’s a thrift store,” Orihime explained. “People sell old, but well-made clothes to the shop, and they resell them for much cheaper than new clothes. Sometimes you can find really neat vintage, designer things that a rich person only wore a few times and decided they didn’t want. Uryuu likes to look for really ugly things made from nice fabrics and then re-tailor them. I have to modify a lot of my clothes, too, because of-- well, you know.” She gestured vaguely at her chest.

“What a brilliant idea!” Rukia proclaimed. “That’s so practical! Renji, isn’t Orihime a genius?”

“I didn’t come up with the idea,” Orihime mumbled self-consciously.

“Maybe you should open a shop to sell off your brother’s spare kimono,” Renji suggested airily. He was definitely baiting Rukia now, Orihime could see it when she watched for it.

“I should!” Rukia declared, closing her eyes haughtily. “People would probably pay twice just because he wore them!”

Renji just snorted.

👖   🧥   💀

“How about these?” Rukia asked, holding up a pair of jeans. “They look like the kind Ichigo wears.”

Orihime pulled her head out of the rack of pants she was sorting through, and Renji’s head popped up from the next aisle. “Hmm,” she said, tapping her finger on her lips. She knew what she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to make Renji feel self-conscious by talking about his body and also, she didn’t want to make it obvious how much time she’d spent looking at Kurosaki’s butt. “Those are skinny jeans. Abarai is a lot, um, more muscular? than Kurosaki-kun? He would do better with a straight leg cut, I think.” She wished Uryuu were here. She didn’t know that much about men’s clothes, but she had heard him say that once while lamenting Chad’s tragic commitment to bootleg cuts.

Apparently, Rukia had no such qualms about Renji’s positive body image. “Hear that, Thunder Thighs? This is where all those squats get you.”

If this bothered Renji, he didn’t let it show. “My thighs are majestic, Rukia. Some people enjoy a guy with a little meat on his bones, for your information.”

Rukia laughed then, a sharp, amused guffaw, almost a cackle. Orihime looked up suddenly. She was sure she’d heard Rukia laugh before, but it had been a high-pitched giggle, a girlish titter. There was a gleam in the shorter woman’s eyes, and at first, Orihime thought she was being mean to Abarai, but when she glanced at him, his eyes were twinkling and he had a slight smile on his face.

Orihime got the sudden sense that she was interrupting something, although she wasn’t sure how you could interrupt someone making fun of someone else. She ducked her head and focused on rifling through the rack of pants in front of her. “How about these?” she asked, holding up a likely candidate.

“Those look pretty worn out,” Renji frowned.

“They’re distressed, Renji,” Rukia explained pompously. “It’s human fashion. They come that way. It presents the illusion of leading a rough and tough, adventurous lifestyle, even for fancy boys like you.”

“Rukia,” Renji scolded her. “Members of the Sixth Company do not walk around with their knees on display, for anyone to see.”

Rukia snorted, and Orihime suspected they were making yet another inside joke. “How’s he gonna find out? And if he does, you can just tell him you fell down the stairs, he would definitely believe that.”

“Er, here’s another pair without any holes,” Orihime offered. “They’re black.” Uryuu also had a lot of opinions on black jeans, but she was pretty sure Renji could pull them off.

“Thank you, Inoue,” Renji said, extra-graciously, reaching over the rack to accept them.

“You better try them both on!” Rukia yelled in her bossy voice. “I demand to see the forbidden knees!”

“Whatever, you’ve seen ‘em, before,” Renji muttered, but he was still smiling.

👖   🧥   💀

“Hey, Inoue!”

Orihime ducked past a rack of sweatervests, to where Renji was contemplating a leather jacket.

“Do humans still wear stuff like this? I know they were pretty popular a few decades ago.”

“Oh, yes,” Orihime agreed. “It’s a timeless look.”

Renji looked mildly shocked, but happy.

“That’s a really nice one,” Orihime added. “You should try it on.”

Renji didn’t seem like he needed a lot of encouragement to slip it over his shoulders. “I had a roommate who had one of these,” he admitted. “They look pretty dumb over a shihakushou, but Iba has never once let looking like a moron slow him down.” He grinned. “I was jealous as hell of it.”

Orihime clapped her hands. “Oh, Abarai, it looks so good on you!” It wasn’t even an exaggeration. It was black, a classic motorcycle cut, and it fit him perfectly. Orihime amended her mental movie casting of Renji: in a jacket like that, he could definitely be the protagonist of an American motorcycle movie, flicking cigarettes into the gutter and leaving a broken-hearted girl pining after him after he got run out of town for Raising Too Much Hell.

“Is it expensive?” Renji asked, holding out the sleeve with the price tag. “I don’t know what a jacket is supposed to cost.”

“It’s a very practical wardrobe staple,” Orihime advised. “Especially this time of year. It’s just starting to be jacket weather, and this will carry you through until winter, unless we have an especially cold one.” She checked the tag. “Leather jackets aren’t cheap, but this is a very good value. If you can afford it, I think it’s worth it.”

“I think I can make it work,” Renji murmured, obviously doing a bit of mental math.

“Hey, Abarai,” Orihime said, leaning forward, and keeping her voice low.

“Eh?”

“Is it going the way you planned? Do you think we’re cheering Rukia up?”

Renji opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I think we at least took her mind off him for a bit. What do you think?”

Orihime contemplated. “She seems like she’s having a good time. I think she liked looking at your butt when you were trying on pants.” Renji raised a skeptical eyebrow. To be fair, Abarai had a very nice butt. Orihime was pretty sure she still preferred Kurosaki’s butt, but it hadn’t exactly been a trial. “On the other hand, she does yell at you a lot,” Orihime said quickly. “She’s very difficult to read.”

“Yeah, I know. It takes some practice,” Renji replied. “And she hasn’t been yelling at me. You haven’t begun to see Rukia yelling at me.” He rubbed his chin. “I think we’re doing a good job. Thanks, Inoue! I couldn’t have pulled this off on my own.”

Orihime blushed. “Oh, I haven’t really done anything!”

“I think you und--”

Orihime never found out what Renji was going to say, because Rukia came skidding into the coat aisle. She was wearing a denim vest, a feather boa, and a cowboy hat, and clutching something in her hands. “Hey! Hey, Renji! Renji, I just fou...nd…” She trailed off as her eyes scanned Abarai up and down, lingering on the leather jacket. Her mouth dropped open a little.

Orihime’s eyes darted to Renji, who looked paralyzed by this development. His hand went to his hair self-consciously, his fingers getting caught in his bandana awkwardly.

If Orihime had felt like a third wheel up until this point, she realized that sometimes bicycles can be very hard to ride if you aren’t used to them, and third wheels are helpful when you’re in danger of tipping over and crashing. “Rukia, look at the jacket Renji found! He’s being waffley! Help me convince him to get it!”

Rukia came back to herself suddenly. “It fits you perfectly, you fool! Listen to Orihime.”

“I dunno,” Renji drawled, having pulled his act together as well. “It’s kinda expensive.” He started to grab another coat off the rack. It was tweed and had elbow patches. “Might keep looking for a bit.”

“No!” Rukia commanded, and Renji’s hand reflexively dropped the hanger like he’d just touched something hot. Rukia cleared her throat self-consciously. “Speaking of things that are non-negotiable, look what I found for you!!” With a flourish, she unfurled the bundle in her hands, which happened to be a t-shirt.

At first, Orihime had no idea what she was looking at. Obviously, it was a t-shirt. If she had to guess, it had been printed by a garage band full of teens that played a lot of covers and had to bum rides to their gigs. There was a drippy looking skull and some words in English. It was objectively terrible. But in a charming way.

“I love it!” Renji shouted, with far too much enthusiasm. “I don’t read English very well, though, what does it say?”

“I don’t either,” Rukia admitted. “I think this says ‘red’, though.”

“It says ‘red pineapple,’” Orihime supplied. They had just finished the unit on fruits and vegetables in English class. She had gotten a 100 on the test.

Renji and Rukia both burst into gales of laughter.

“How much is it?” Renji wheezed. “I’ll pay a million kan for it.”

“They use yen here, you buffoon,” Rukia gasped. “It’s got an orange sticker, what does that mean?”

“That means it’s on special clearance,” Orihime explained, scanning the chart hung on the wall. “100 yen.”

“Ha, ha, that’s cheap! It’s mine!”

“You were skeptical,” Rukia lectured, wagging a finger, “But I told you, didn’t I, Renji? Orihime knows what she’s doing.”

Renji wiped a tear away from his eye. “Double ice cream for Orihime,” he agreed. “What would we do without her?”

Orihime’s face felt very hot. She waved her hands frantically. “Really, I didn’t--!”

“Also, remind me what ice cream is again.”

“You dummy!”

Orihime stopped protesting. Anyone who didn’t know what ice cream was definitely needed her help.

[sepublic]

Xian Characters, Features, and Landmarks (Pt. 2)

Karzahni- Karzahni is a delusional, questionably-sane despot in the Voymari District. A crimelord, he has –in addition to traditional thugs- amassed an army of orphans to do his bidding. He sends them out every day and night, scouring the streets of Voymari for small scrapes of riches and anything else of value that they report to him; Orphans who bring back better things get higher status, more food, comfortable rooms, and so forth.

           Of course, many other crimelords mock Karzahni for resorting to children, but nevertheless he is terrifying in his own right. Karzahni himself also has a penchant for ‘rebuilding’ people, taking them apart, modifying them, and grating mechanical limbs and masks and so forth. Many of his victims include people who have angered him, or just the general unfortunate homeless Xian; Regardless, Karzahni has modified many, turning them into horrific, shambling abominations with unusual proportions, too frail to be alive while also partially-mechanical.

           The sick tyrant enjoys this- He likes to build and craft, even if his materials are the bodies of people. Alas, he is somewhat frustrated by his inability to truly ‘fix’ someone, because to Karzahni he is doing a service, or at least trying to, by ‘repairing’ Xians he and others deem faulty. He tends to take his frustrations out not only on his twisted creations, but his own underlings and orphans as well. If in a particularly bad mood, he’ll tear apart a creation down to their most base parts, and/or feed them to his Manutri Penguins, which he has conditioned to be only carnivorous.

           The terror does not stop there, either- Karzahni possesses an uncanny ability to inflict powerful illusions on others, showing them ‘alternate timelines’, or so he claims, of things that could’ve happened to them; If something in their past, or another’s, turned out differently. Many times he has used this ability to torment and traumatize others, but Karzahni has also used this power to comfort himself with alternate timelines of victory, grandeur, and success of himself.

Because he dives so frequently into the subject of alternate timelines and what could have been, he is often dissatisfied and bitter over his lot- Not only that, but he occasionally has issues remembering what is or isn’t real, and will have to be reminded that what happened in one vision didn’t happen in real life. Sometimes he’ll randomly start talking to someone else that isn’t there, as if interacting with an alternate timeline; It is disconcerting to watch. Additionally, Karzahni uses his power to create simulations and predictions of events as he attempts to figure out the most optimal decision or strategy for himself. The exact accuracy of these predictions are questionable and seem to be somewhat rooted in the data he is aware of.

Karzahni wears unusual, green-and-violet armor. He has a mask that is a patchwork of various other elements, and he wields chains in combat that can lash around foes and rise to burning temperatures, searing through opponents. He has an unusual amount of strength and durability for Xian- Apparently, he has modified himself in the past as well. Even if one were to break through Karzahni’s powerful, demoralizing illusions, the tyrant himself is still a dangerous enemy to fight.

Whenua and Tehutti- These two roommates have a thankless, low-paying job as minimum-wage librarians and occasional tutors. Despite their poor wages and lack of appreciation for their work, these two have a vested passion for history and are eager to share their knowledge with others. With no prompting or personal gain beyond the satisfaction and triumph of it all, these two have pooled their lifetime’s earnings and savings towards expanding their simultaneous home/book store to include a ‘Xian Museum of History’, for any and all who are interested! No cost is required to enter and enjoy their exhibits, but unfortunately no one seems to be interested either…

Rorze- The warden of The Archives, Rorze is an Archives Vahki with the latest, most advanced AI programming in order to achieve maximum efficiency. Although all other Archives Vahki are specially designed to prevent any level of free will whatsoever, Rorze was ultimately granted the ability of sapient thought in order to enhance his leadership abilities and control over the Archives’ security. He constantly supervises every single step of each procedure, while inspecting all possible inches of his facility. Rorze has dedicated his entire existence to maintaining the Archives and protecting whatever is within- It was all he was made for, after all.

           Throughout the years, Rorze has subjected himself to new patches to ensure that his programming is completely immune to computer viruses, hacking, and other forms of tampering. After each update is installed, past memories and data are transferred to the new ‘brain’. Whether or not each version of Rorze is truly the same person is up for debate, but Rorze himself does not care. As far as he’s concerned, he has no allegiances or loyalty to anyone, and acts as a neutral party whose sole concern is preserving objects and even living creatures within the Archives. Because of his robotic, single-minded dedication towards his task, Rorze will do anything to accomplish his goals, so long as he is permitted; He is still technically beholden to The Powers That Be and those that he serves.

Idris- A grumpy, surly overseer, Idris was placed in charge of a field of Airweed and its workers after the past overseer and his hired guns mysteriously died, obviously killed by The Beast. Hired specifically for her apathy on the subject, Idris doesn’t particularly care that other workers are at risk of being devoured by The Beast each day they work; Xia’s harsh climate for workers has taught her to be similarly callous. Still, when three masked strangers appear, offering to help find and kill The Beast –and for free no less!- she can’t help but take the offer. Even if their help is on the condition that Idris herself attend the mission…

Fero- Amongst the Bone Hunter clans, one is led by the persistent, vindictive Fero. Fero is the leader of his clan for obvious reasons- He is a skilled, cold fighter who knows when to cut his losses, when to retreat, and when to strike suddenly from the cover of the sands, or the darkness of night. Like any successful Bone Hunter, Fero is a patient individual, and he has led countless raids on villages, caravans, and so forth. His clan has amassed a wide variety of goods and weaponry to sell, alongside prisoners to keep or sell off as slaves.

           Fero knows that he is human, just like anyone else, but he manages to get around this by being an incredibly stealthy and skilled hunter. He is an intelligent strategist, knowing exactly how to track footprints in the sand, find resources, or take advantage of the environment to swiftly ambush enemies. He has led various guerilla attacks on past opponents and emerged in victory in the process, and is experienced in the realm of survival in any circumstance. Fero himself wields a hand-held rail gun, and rides atop his personal Rock Steed Skirmix, with rider and steed having known each other their entire lives. Skirmix is fiercely loyal to Fero, and would die for him- And should he die, Skirmix intends to go down alongside him. Skirmix is intelligent and understands Fero’s harsh orders well.

Berix- Travelling across the arid sands of the Baran Desert are Water Merchants, who will sell precious stores of water or replenish them to thirsty travelers. Among them is Berix, a heavily-cloaked, hooded figure who keeps himself cool with mechanisms and air-conditioning units underneath his pack. Despite Berix’s rough, coarse demeanor and voice, he is still trustworthy; He is a man of his word and will not try to scam or take advantage of his customers.

Berix is also a scavenger and collector, and with his supply of water is able to make extended trips out into the desert, hoping to dig up neat artifacts to keep. One can barter for water by trading him a unique item of some sort. Berix owns quite the collection of knick-knacks, some gathered from corpses, or found in the sand, or sold to him; Others bought directly from the market. There is some suspicion towards him having killed or robbed for his collection, but he maintains that he is totally innocent.

Berix wields a sword for self-defense, one that has an edge etched with carvings in the shape of sharp waves. It is a keepsake from the past, one of the first things he found in the desert, and an item he treasures and cherishes. In addition, he also has a shield that doubles as a wide, double-edged sword.

Perditus- Perditus is a frequent champion of Zakaz’s brutal races, riding his own Thornatus V9 into victory. Amongst its modifications are an Exsidian front, an improved engine, a rail-gun, and a few Force Blasters. Outside of his races, Perditus will frequently ride across Zakaz’s deserts, and will offer rides; For a price, of course. The longer the trip, the higher the pay. For someone of his title, he is of course a skilled and quick-thinking driver, able to outmaneuver bandits and Bone Hunters on the fly.

           Perditus himself is a mysterious figure, often wearing a racing helmet that obscures his face. There is even a bit of a rumor going about that he is a serial killer, but nobody can know for sure. Outside of his Thornatus, Perditus keeps a rapier on himself for personal defense.

Sahmad- Riding across Zakaz atop his chariot, pulled by a Spikit steed is Sahmad; A ruthless, nihilistic bandit, smuggler, and poacher. Armed with a powerful whip, as well as a rail gun merged with a blade, Sahmad has made a living not only robbing helpless travelers, but also hunting and selling even endangered species- Attached to the back of his chariot is a wheeled cage that he keeps animals in. Poached animals are kept in line with brutal whip-cracks as Sahmad gathers them, before eventually selling them off. On the side, he helps carry cargo of questionable legality across the Baran Desert.

           Supposedly, Sahmad was once a member of the decimated Iron Tribe- Apparently, members of the Iron Tribe one day found themselves unable to dream when asleep. This predicament began to spread amongst others, with those afflicted soon going mad as they could not sleep; Rest had no effect on their addled minds, which became unable to recover and sort through the events of each day. Victims of the ‘Dreaming Plague’ eventually could not fall asleep, and died of exhaustion.

           Naturally, neighbors of the Iron Tribe reacted in fear, and worked to shun the group. It eventually got so bad that the Vahki, normally scarce in Zakaz, were called in to quarantine and contain the entire tribe. Sahmad escaped the quarantine, traumatized after seeing his loved ones die, and became an outcast- Others in Zakaz feared he had the Dreaming Plague and would spread it to them. As a result of his trauma, Sahmad has become an embittered, nihilistic individual who sometimes wonders if his cruel crimes are his attempts to lash out at the world that had forsaken him and his people so?

Telluris- A mad, brilliant inventor, Telluris was also another survivor of the Iron Tribe after the Dreaming Plague wiped it out; Although he and Sahmad didn’t really know each other back then, nor do they interact much in general. Still, a general kinship between the two is still there, as they both share the same trauma and have also been shunned by Xia for their association with the Dreaming Plague. Once, Telluris partnered up with Sahmad, believing that if they colored their armor a dark-blue, people wouldn’t recognize them…

           It didn’t work out, and his armor has remained a rusted-orange since. Yet despite his eccentricities, Telluris is nevertheless a brilliant engineer. On his own, he scavenged parts for and created the Skopio-XV1, a massive four-legged mech with treads built into its limbs. The Skopio has a ‘stinger tail’ equipped with powerful cannons and other weaponry, such as a targeting rail gun and Force Blasters. Telluris himself rides on the back of his Skopio, and has grafted mechanical bits into the back of his head that let himself plug cables leading into his Skopio, enabling a more accurate and precise control over it.

           Perhaps to get back at the world that hurt him –or just because- he rampages frequently around Zakaz, attacking villages, settlements, bandits; Anyone that comes across his path. His Skopio-XV1 is unmatched in firepower, and can even fold up to assume a faster vehicle mode as well. Telluris is paranoid, believing everyone has it out for him, and aims to take over all of Zakaz with his personal weapon. Thankfully, his own madness inhibits his effectiveness- If Telluris were fully sane, he likely would’ve taken over Zakaz by now. One has to wonder if he didn’t totally avoid the Dreaming Plague…

           Between the occasional rampage, Telluris will suddenly calm down and become peaceful in order to visit markets to buy parts and tools from. He has a hidden garage where he performs maintence on Skopio, which he seems to treat as a living creature and beloved pet of his, often talking to it. Damage against Skopio is a personal affront to Telluris, who believes that people are hurting his precious creature, and he will retaliate tenfold for such an action. Between his sudden mood swings and genuine brilliance, Telluris is a dangerous, volatile character that is hard to predict.

Tuma- Once a slave, this towering titan of a Xian has risen to fame and glory as an esteemed Glatorian. Operating in the Baran desert, Tuma is intimately aware of his place and status in society, and knows that the villages of Zakaz see gladiators like him as nothing more than a tool to use; And he is familiar with indignity and dehumanization of slavery as well. Initially a slave-fighter, Tuma earned his freedom after winning countless battles with his unusually potent strength and huge frame.

           Now an independent master of himself, Tuma has become dissatisfied with his lot in society, and still feels like a puppet. To remedy this, he has begun to make recent alliances, hoping to establish a ‘Glatorian Monopoly’ of sorts; Him and other like-minded Glatorian have begun to make deals with one another, purposely losing fights, or choosing jobs, according to the needs of one another. Members of this ‘ring’ of individuals will make alliances, giving out recommendations to one another, and helping to recruit new fighters and training them.

           With his lieutenants Stronius and Branar, Tuma hopes to control the gladiator system that many villages in the Baran desert rely on. Ideally, his network of gladiators will collaborate and coordinate with one another, scheming to lose or win matches with each other, reject offers and services unless at a proper price, strike for better conditions, etc. With Tuma at the top of this Glatorian Monopoly, Tuma hopes to rule the Baran desert by proxy of having control over its gladiator matches, which decide the majority of its political decisions and conflicts. With his wealth as a champion, Tuma has also set up betting offices, and employed his fellow Glatorian, whom he essentially commands, into collecting on debts, as well as accepting matches that he deems beneficial, and in general swaying the events of the arena as he pleases.

           A Glatorian strike and unionization is much-welcomed, and needed. Many gladiators have benefitted from what Tuma has brought about, and the concerns that some villages have on Tuma are not exactly out of the goodness of their hearts, or for the safety of society. Still, Tuma must not let the power and greed get to his head… It seems that gladiators who refuse to join his alliance tend to get bullied into submission, or find themselves out of a job as other members of the network will take job openings and positions from them. Tuma must beware becoming the tyrant that his masters were, and continue providing power to his fellow gladiators instead of oppressing them as well.

           Born with unusual genetics, Tuma towers over most and wears black-and-green armor while wielding a massive sword, shield, and additional blades on his back in combat. Even though he is older than most gladiators, he retains his peak strength, height, and stamina, and stories of this ‘titan’ have spread across Zakaz. Some have interest over the secrets of Tuma’s body…

As a result, groups in the past have attempted to kidnap Tuma for their own gains. Tuma has resisted such efforts naturally, and is used to Exo-Toa Baterra being sent in to spy on him and his actions. Tuma is not open about his Glatorian network, and the Baterra have been sent to keep an eye on him. Unsurprisingly, this kind of surveillance has made Tuma somewhat paranoid, but rightfully so, and he remains sharp-minded as ever to avoid any mistakes.

Metus- A silver-tongued businessman and merchant, Metus has since become a recruiter in the Baran desert. He works to spot out potential fighters and introduce them to the gladiator system, as well as recommend combatants amongst villages, settle disputes, and so forth. Metus has a good eye and nose for potential, able to scout out a potential Glatorian amongst a group, and grant them the funding, investment, and support they need to reach success.

           Metus himself was once a trader in the northern-kingdom of Iconox, only to lose everything within the crossfire of a war he wanted no part in. He does whatever it takes to survive, and will gladly sell out anyone else. He is untrustworthy, and while his recommendations are often good, he has also been caught giving villages poor fighters or else granting dishonest advice. On the side, he makes sure to place his bets well and carefully, and has amassed some wealth as a result.

Metus hopes to get in on Tuma’s planned network of Glatorian and gather a share of the riches, yet is also reporting intel and data to Baterra spies as well. Tuma doesn’t trust him of course, but Metus is insistent on getting a hand on the stocks and treasure; He aims to one day become rich enough to truly leave Zakaz behind, perhaps starting his own business in Stelt…

Surel- An aged veteran from the same conflict that robbed Metus of his livelihood, Surel was left wounded and dying on a blood-stained battlefield. But amidst the White Quartz Mountains, she found salvation in a pack of Iron Wolves that tended to her need, helping protect Surel and bringing her food as she recovered.

           Now, Surel is a leader of this Iron Wolf pack, and leads them on hunts in the White Quartz Mountains, off the fringes of the kingdom of Iconox. She is mostly crippled from age and old wounds, and walks with a limp and walking stick; But armed with a dagger, she can be lethally fast, taking down and gutting an enemy in seconds. She knows how to conserve and utilize her strength well, and with her pack of Iron Wolves by her side, Surel is a lethal opponent and not one to cross. She has no interest in Zakaz’s politics- She has long ago rejected the battlefield she almost died in, and now intends only to live a life of hunts alongside her trusted Iron Wolves.

The Sisters- A cult of powerful telepaths and mind-readers, this all-female (trans-inclusive!) coven of ‘witches’ lives in a desolate forest, somewhere along the borders of Zakaz. They worship a deity named Annona, and their exact intentions and plots are unknown. They prefer to live to themselves, occasionally venturing out in their forest for supplies, and have used their mental abilities in the past to place others beneath their thrall- Such unfortunate victims are not only robbed and used as proxies to gather more materials, but are occasionally even harvested for their body parts.

           The Sisters perform many unusual, arcane rituals. It is unknown to outsiders what they have planned, but evidently they seek to one day find Annona, whom they attribute the cause of their powers to. Attempts to infiltrate the group and learn their secrets have failed; They can sense intent and faultiness, and even Exo-Toa Baterra have been caught by them. Rumor has it that they can even perform magic, and the gladiator Tuma has an unknown connection to them that he’d rather not talk about. Things are apparently uncomfortable between him and The Sisters…

The Kraahl- In the darkness of night, people have spotted them- Darkened, cloaked figures who can be sighted briefly, only to suddenly blip out of existence as if they were never there to begin with. The Kraahl, as they are known, have been known to access areas under heavy fortification, somehow teleporting across massive distances with no one able to catch them. The Kraahl are cryptids in Zakaz, and known to occasionally appear to gather resources for themselves. Attempts to plant cameras and trackers on the things they steal have failed, with signals abruptly ending entirely once the Kraahl disappear. Where are these mysterious people going? Where do they come from? How do they have their power? Attempts to understand and decipher their strange, teleporting abilities have failed.

[itsafanficthing]

The Paper Boy

Note: This came out of a picture of Sam Heughan filming/ recording (??) for his podcast Clanlands. @balfeheughlywed posted about it and about a paperboy au, and somehow this came out. If I get inspired I will write more. But for now there is this. Un-beta'ed and barely spellchecked.

You can also read it on A03 Here

Jamie Fraser had been running his paper route for nearly six months. He was good at it. He knew the streets, knew the shortcuts to take on his second-hand bike and thanks to all the peddling, his calves were coming along quite nicely thank you very much.

He’d grown up in the area, and knew it like the back of his hand. So when he’d asked for a job from Murtagh Fitzgibbons, the grumpy old man that ran the newsagency, he knew he’d get the job. It probably helped that Murtagh was also his godfather but who was counting nepotism on a simple paper route.

It wasn’t a busy route. Only a few older residents of Broch Mordha liked their paper delivered by hand rather than reading the news online like the rest of the modern world. Things always did move slower in this village. “Tradition” they called it. “Because if they didn’t follow the towns traditions, then who would?” That’s what they always said. Jamie figured it was about time for some new traditions but he didn’t dare say that out loud to anyone. He was only 16. He wasn’t meant to have an opinion yet. Not one that would be listened to anyway.

Everyone always knew each other’s business in his village. He often wondered if that was part of the tradition of the town- knowing everyone else’s news. It seemed like the adults only told each other everyone else’s news, nobody ever had news of their own.

“Did you hear that McNully’ tractor broke last week?”

“I heard that Daniel Abels’ was selling the back half of his lot. Canna keep up with the maintenance.”

“Sally Finley got into a bit of strife last week, word is she’s been seeing Arnold Erwin and Johnathon Lackie on the side. Old Arnold was’na to pleased when he got home that night, I can tell ye.”

It was a wonder they even needed the newspaper with the amount of gossip that went on in the town.

Though, it gave Jamie a job and “some responsibility, which was sorely needed” as his older sister Jenny told him, not to mention it was nice to have a little change in his pocket at the end of the day.

“Ye shorted me a paper this morning,” Jamie said as he entered the rundown newsagents to see his godfather reading the paper behind the counter. “I did’na have Walter Stuart’s paper. Now I have to go all the way back out.”

“Ye dinna need to be delivering the paper to Walter’s house anymore,” Murtagh replied gruffly as Jamie picked up a fresh copy ready to deliver.

“Did he cancel?” He asked as he dropped it back onto the pile.

“Somethin’ like that. He died yesterday morn.”

Murtagh didn’t meant to be brusque, it was just how everything came out. Murtagh’s general opinion on life was “if it can be said in five words, say it in one”. Jamie found it endearing, other people called it rude.

“He died?” Jamie repeated in surprise

“Aye. Heart attack.”

“Jesus,” Jamie said under his breath before clearing his throat at the look at he his godfather was giving him. “Well, that’s a shame. He lived alone didn’t he?”

“Aye,” Murtagh grunted- never one to get involved in anyone else’s business.

“Wonder what will happen to his place now.”

“Probably go on the market.” Murtagh shrugged before raising the paper and continuing to read, a clear indication that the conversation was closed.

Jamie bid his godfather farewell picked up his bike and rode home, his mind firmly set on what would become of Walter Stuart’s house.

—

It wasn’t on his route anymore but Jamie couldn’t help riding past Walter Stuart’s house, just to see what would become of it.

The town has been abuzz with the news of his death and a funeral was promptly organised. The older women of the village, like squawking hens, immediately came together to theorise about old Walters death.

“Heard he died in the bath, imagine that, paramedics coming to rescue ye in the altogether.”

“I heard he choked on a chicken bone, was blue in the face when they finally got to him.”

“He had a heart attack,” the wise voice of Douglas McKenzie said over all the chatter, “he was nearing 90, it’s no’ a surprise.”

One day a “For Sale” sign went up as Jamie rode past the house. Who would ever choose to move to his small town, Jamie couldn’t think, but a little over a week later a bright red “SOLD” sign was pasted across the front.

Probably another old hen coming for retirement, or an old man looking for a peaceful village in which he could live out his remaining years in solitude- like Walter.

Two weeks after the “SOLD” sign appeared, so did two large moving vans. Jamie stayed to watch a while as the removalists carried in various pieces of furniture. Eventually one of them yelled at Jamie to either “help out or scram” and he peddled away quickly.

Jamie didn’t see any movement in Walter Stuart’s house for another month after the removalists has left. He thought it was strange that someone would move all their possessions into a house, and then not turn up to live there.

Of course, the village gossip’s were having a field day guessing what it could mean.

“Who moves all their furniture but does’na live there?”

“I heard it was some rich philanthropist that wanted a house in the country. He’ll probably only be here once a week.”

“Where did you hear that Dottie? Why would someone buy a house out here? A house that someone died in no less?”

“That’s just what I heard,” Dottie replied defensively.

—

Four months after Walters funeral, the moving trucks had arrived and left and the house sat vacant with no sign of life coming or going, a light was turned on in the hallway, followed by one in the kitchen and then what everyone assumed was the lounge room. It seemed that Walter Stuart’s house had at last received its tenants.

Nobody saw them arrive, there were no new cars on the street, it was as if they had suddenly appeared.

—

Jamie was well into his job as the paperboy now. A few more houses had been added to his route and the village gossip’s (mostly older women) loved to stall him when he delivered his papers to find out any information about their neighbours, especially about those that had moved into Walter Stuart’s house.

No one had seen hide nor hair of them since they had moved in. The lights went on and off and there was the sound of laughter occasionally through an open window, but still nobody in Broch Mordha knew what the new tenants looked like.

—

Jamie had been just as curious as everyone else and stopping by the house on his morning drop off has become second nature to him. It wasn’t that he was trying to see through the curtains, or spy on them for the benefit of the villagers; it was simply curiosity.

He was sure that he had heard a young girls laughter at some point as he rode past and he was curious to know who it belonged to.

—

“Laoghaire, get back inside and make yer bed.” The shrill voice of Mrs MacKenzie sounded from inside the house as Jamie stopped to dig the paper from his satchel.

“Hi Jamie,” the shy high-pitched voice of Laoghaire made him look up in surprise as she bobbed up from behind her fence.

“Alright Laoghaire.”

He saw her blush a deep red as he said hello and he handed her a newspaper. Girls were confusing, she was two years his junior and seemed to be out front every morning ready to take the paper from him.

“Have ye had a busy mornin’?” She asked eagerly.

“I suppose. As busy as any other,” he replied as he steadied his bike again. “See ye later then.”

“Bye Jamie,” she called sweetly as he rode off, he turned to look to see that she was blushing again as she waved him off.

Girls were weird, Jamie thought as he heard Laoghaire’s mother call out her name again, with more impatience.

—-

Once again Jamie stopped by Walter Stuart’s house. His paper route now completed. His satchel empty. It was a habit now; to park across the street, under the shade of a huge tree and watch the house for a minute or two. Jamie dismounted from his bike and took the time to stretch out his arms and legs. It wasn’t backbreaking work but it’s wasn’t exactly a walk in the park either. His body had become accustomed to the ride, and even with the new routes he’d picked up it wasn’t difficult so much as slightly tiring. Some days more than others.

As he bent to try and (unsuccessfully) touch his toes he heard the front door open of Walter Stuart’s house and a young feminine voice call out to someone inside.

“I’ll be back soon, Lamb, I just need to get out of the house for a while.”

Jamie jolted upright so quickly in his surprise that someone was coming out of the house that he lost his balance and fell backward onto his bike with an almighty crash.

The air was forced from Jamie’s lungs as he fell and his shin was throbbing something fierce as he tried to disentangle himself from his bike and bag.

“Are you alright?” A voice from somewhere beside him asked, it was soft, gentle and oh so very, very English.

“I’m...” Jamie turned to look at whoever had asked the question and felt his words catch in his throat.

She was gorgeous, stunning, like the sun had come out from behind the clouds on a rainy day and everything was brighter than before.

“You’ve cut your leg. Hold on a moment.” The girl turned away from him and pulled something out of a bag Jamie didn’t realise she was holding.

Jamie couldn’t look away from her. He still was lying awkwardly on the body of his bike, the pedal digging painfully into his lower back, his satchel somehow twisted around his feet but he couldn’t move. He’d never really thought of any girl as beautiful before.

Sure they were hot and there were a few that did funny things to his insides and one particular part of his anatomy. (A lesson his father had given him at the age of twelve that they had both blushed furiously through and then promptly never spoken of again.)

But this girl was something else. Jamie didn’t even know her name but he was convinced he was in love with her.

“This is it lad. You’ll marry this lass one day.” It was a stupid thought but it was the only clear thing that was running through his head at that moment.

That was of course until she applied pressure to his shin and he yelped in pain.

“Sorry,” she said sounding not even remotely sorry at all. “It’s bleeding quite a lot. Though, shins have a tendency to do that. Much like head wounds. Always bleed much worse than the actual injury. Stay still. I need to check how bad it is.”

She spoke rapidly and Jamie found it was all he could to listen to her talk, study the way that her mouth sounded out the words and the way her curly hair fluttered in the breeze.

“Not nearly as bad as I thought. No stitches needed but you did give yourself a bloody good scrape. Any other injuries, or is it just the leg?”

She looked up at him then and Jamie felt like he’d received another punch to his gut as he looked into her eyes. The colour of whiskey; intelligence of a hawk, and the cunningness of a panther, her eyes were the windows to her mind and he could see that hers were moving quickly over his face.

“Just the leg I think, though the longer I lie on my bike like this, the more I think my ars- my back may need tending to,” Jamie replied, thrilled that he had managed to string together a full sentence and annoyed at himself that he’d nearly asked her to inspect his arse.

“Right yes, of course. I’m Claire by the way,” she said nimbly stepping backwards from him, giving him room to extract himself from his bike and bag.

“Jamie,” he answered as he righted himself. His shin was still bleeding fairly profusely and he could feel the trickle of liquid make its way down into his socks.

“You’d better come inside. Get a plaster on that.” Claire didn’t wait for his response and turned on her heel and headed back towards Walter Stuart’s house.

—

“I’m back,” Claire called out to the seemingly empty house as Jamie followed her through nervously.

Walter Stuart’s house. He’d never been in Walter Stuart’s house. He looked into the living room and felt a shudder as it ran through him, wondering if that was where the old man had died.

“That was quick, Bumblebee.” An older man appeared from the kitchen, a pink flowery apron tied around his waist. “And you’ve brought back someone.”

“Lamb this is Jamie. Jamie this is Lamb,” Claire introduced quickly. “Are there plasters in the bathroom?” Without waiting for an answer Claire bounded off leaving Jamie standing somewhat awkwardly in front of the man Claire had just introduced.

“Jamie is it?” Lamb clarified as Jamie nodded shyly. “Well come in and have a seat. Nasty gash you’ve given yourself there.” Lamb looked down at his leg briefly and without waiting for Jamie to respond, he turned and went back to the kitchen assuming Jamie would follow- which he did.

—

“So Jamie. You’re a local then?” Lamb asked as he went back to whatever he was stirring, which seemed to be a rather large vessel of concrete.

“Ay- Yes sir I am,” Jamie replied politely, now holding the handkerchief that Claire had given him against his leg, trying to staunch the bleeding from his shin as he sat in a chair near a very small dining table.

“No need to call me sir, son. Professor Beauchamp will be just fine.”

“Oh,” Jamie mumbled awkwardly, “so-sorry I didn’t know.”

“I’m joking lad, Lamb is fine. So Jamie, how did you sustain such a ghastly injury?” Lamb said all this very quickly with an odd chuckle that make Jamie question how much of what he had said was actually a joke and what was so funny about it.

“Oh,” Jamie shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn’t very well say that it was the shock of someone actually exiting Walter Stuart’s house that made him fall over in surprise. More-so he then couldn’t say that it was Lamb’s very attractive daughter that had made him lose all sense of rational thought as she sat by him and helped him with his leg.

“I run the paper route in the town and I’d just stopped to take a break and... fell over,” he finished somewhat lamely as Lamb looked over and studied him carefully.

“A paper route? Fascinating.” Lamb looked back to whatever he was stirring and Jamie swallowed heavily. Fascinating wasn’t exactly something that Jamie would use to describe his paper route... or anything in the village for that matter.

“I...err, suppose so,” Jamie replied awkwardly. If any of the old women in town heard that Jamie had met the mysterious residents of Walter Stuart’s house, and furthermore been inside and heaven-forbid have a conversation with them, well Jamie would be the talk of the town.

Lamb seemed to lose himself in whatever he was creating in his kitchen and Jamie couldn’t think of anything further to say to engage the man in conversation, so he sat quietly waiting for Claire, the girl that he had just met (and promptly fallen in love with) to return.

“Well I think that this is just about ready,” Lamb announced in triumph, turning away from the concrete looking substance and donning two industrial strength gloves from the bench beside him. “Be a lad and open that door for me?” Lamb indicated the door leading to the back garden and Jamie jumped up (wincing at the pressure on his shin as he moved) and opened the door as Lamb carried the mysterious concoction outside.

Jamie stood watching as Lamb poured, what he was now sure was concrete, into a perfectly squared off area of the garden with a heaving grunt.

“Found them!” Claire’s voice from behind Jamie made him swing around in surprise. She had tied her hair back now, though there were some loose curls already springing forth around her face.

“Honestly, he leaves things in the oddest places sometimes. You’d think that they would be a bathroom cupboard. But no. They were in his sock drawer. Because where else would you look for a plaster but your sock drawer?” Claire spoke quickly and Jamie found himself nodding dumbly at her.

Christ. She was gorgeous. Jamie felt his cock twitch as she turned away from him and beckoned him to sit down in the chair he had just vacated to help Lamb with the door.

Jamie followed obediently and sat where she indicated.

“I also brought some disinfectant, not bleach, medical stuff. Just to clean it out. It might sting,” Claire explained as she swiped the gash with some brown antiseptic liquid. It stung but Jamie made sure to school his features so that he didn’t flinch.

Claire gave a knowing smile as she cleaned the gash, as if she had seen his thigh clench with the sting but she didn’t say anything.

“Hmm,” She hummed as she applied pressure to his still bleeding shin.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked, purposefully avoiding looking where her nimble fingers were touching his calf.

“Well I have a plaster here, which is fine, it’s just that... well, your leg is quite hairy isn’t it?”

Jamie glanced down to see the blonde hairs on his legs, some coated and pasted down with his blood.

“Aye, I suppose,” he tried to shrug nonchalantly.

“It’s just that the adhesive will hurt quite a bit when you have to take the plaster off again. A waxing of sorts,” Claire explained, before biting her bottom lip as she thought.

“Ye want to shave my leg?” Jamie asked in surprise. “Chris- we’ve just met and ye want to shave ma leg?”

“I was just thinking about when you have to pull the plaster off. It will hurt a hell of a lot more,” Claire said patiently.

“Ye are not shavin’ my leg, Sassenach,” Jamie replied stubbornly.

“Sassenach?” Claire quirked an eyebrow at him, “never been called that before.”

“There’s a first for everything,” Jamie grimaced as Claire lifted the cotton ball with the stinging antiseptic from his leg. “And tha’ does’na include shaving ma leg. Just put the plaster on and be done with it. I’ll deal with ripping it off later”

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Claire snorted with laughter as she applied the large bandage to his shin. Jamie could feel the adhesive already pulling at the hair but he nodded anyway, as if wasn’t a bother.

“Aye- Yes. My sister says my head is harder than rocks; either stubborn or being hit over the head, I’m the same.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Claire smiled as she cleaned up the rubbish.

“Thank ye for yer help. I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a bother. I’ve seen you riding around the streets a few times. You deliver the papers?” Claire asked as she washed her hands and moved to the open door where they could hear Lamb humming to himself.

“I’m going out again,” she called out the door, and without waiting for a response led Jamie back out of the house.

“So the paper. You deliver it?” She asked again as they walked back to Jamie abandoned bike.

“Aye, I mean yes. Just a small route, mind, few of the elderly folk that dinna like to go out too much.”

“Do you have anyone on our street?” Claire asked with her hands on her hips as Jamie picked up his bike and slung his bag across his body.

“Not here, no, but Mrs Duncan round the corner, the Mackenzie’s back a street, the Wakefield’s and Mohr’s,” Jamie pointed back the way he’d come. “Oh and the Randall’s, but they’re a few streets away from here I suppose.”

“But none on this street?” She clarified as Jamie started to wheel his bike in the direction of his own house, Claire keeping pace with him.

“No, not on this street.”

“Hmmph.” Claire made an unimpressed sound and crossed her arms across her chest.

“What?” Jamie asked in confusion.

“So why do you come onto our street, stop under that tree and stare at my house?” Claire asked forcefully.

Jamie felt himself blush as he shook his head. “I just stop to take a break after peddling round all morning. The tree’s got good shade and I canna help it if yer house is across from it.”

Claire didn’t say anything further and Jamie found himself babbling to her to fill the silence.

“It gets hot most mornings. It’s a good place to stop a’fore I have to ride back home and start my chores. I did’na even realise that someone lived in the house till ye came out of it.”

“Is that so?” Claire asked, clearly disbelieving him.

“Aye, why? What did ye think? That I was stalking ye?” Jamie’s voice sounded rough and he knew it was because it was a half truth. He wasn’t stalking perhaps. He was just curious about the residents of Walter Stuart’s house.

“Not exactly no. But you do stop there an awful lot and stare at the house,” Claire said somewhat sheepishly.

“Maybe I should be worried about you stalking me, watching me come and go like that,” Jamie said sarcastically, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Well there’s only so much you can do from within the house without going insane, so you start looking out,” Claire answered quietly, almost in embarrassment.

“Why did’na ye go out before?”

“Reasons.” Claire answered shortly, promptly shutting down Jamie’s line of questions.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “So where were ye headed to before ye came to patch me up?”

“Nowhere really. Just wanted to get out of the house. Explore the area that I’m supposed to be living in,” Claire said with a shrug.

“Do ye want a tour?” Jamie asked a little too enthusiastically. Anything to spend more time with Claire- he would do it. They would probably attend the same school when the break was over, but the more he could get to know her now, the better.

“Is there even enough to look at for a tour?” Claire asked skeptically.

“When ye ken where to go,” Jamie answered smugly and turned left down the next street without waiting to see if she followed- which she did.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Fulcrum

They say that the old crone on the hill is a witch, and hides her devil’s bite under her hair. They say that she steals life from the town and sickens the fields with her evil. They say that the reason there’s no gate in her fence is because it’s not a fence for her house; it’s a fence of holly wood with silver nails, built to keep her in. And they say that if you cross that fence uninvited, you don’t come back out – or at least, not all of you does. In payment of your trespass, you leave something behind.

“I heard,” my friend Samael whispered to me as we picked the midsummer apples, “that she steals babies’ hair and spins it into thread that takes away their life force. Then she trades the thread to rich foreigners for food and luxuries. You’d better keep an eye on your sister.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I sniffed. “Somebody’s been making a fool of you.”

“No, really! How else would she stay alive, up there all alone? She can’t be growing enough food for herself, and what about when she gets sick, or needs firewood? She never comes to town!”

“If she never comes to town,” Marcus pointed out, “how would she get the babies’ hair? Think, Samael. Everyone knows she curses the town with the smoke from her chimney, and the curses will get you if you don’t say your prayers to protect yourself.”

“You’re both wrong,” I said. “I heard that she sneaks into town in the dead of night and trades secrets for her goods, because the holy sunlight burns her during the day.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Samael said. “If sunlight burns her, why has her house got windows? Huh? And who’s selling to her? She’s not buying tools off my dad!”

“She’s an old woman! How often would she need to buy tools?”

“Hey, you two?” Marcus held out an apple. “Look at this.” He split it with his hands, and we stared.

The entire core was a black, slimy mess. Once it was opened, the smell of rot was unmistakeable.

I split the apple in my hands. Rotten.

“Get your papa,” I told Marcus.

An inspection was called. Three quarters of the harvest was infected. The rest looked clean, but there could be no chances taken with the rot. There would be no apples this year.

The apples were an important part of our food supply, especially with most of last year’s wheat harvest taken by the beetles, but we had enough stores to last until the new wheat came in. We were a very resilient town, and had always taken care to store well.

It would be a lean year, though.

It was decided that we children would finish harvesting the apples, then in autumn compost them on the wheat fields over the river, where they could not re-infect the orchard while they broke down. The next year, the apple blossoms would be trimmed before they could develop – two years without apples – and that should remove the blight’s hold. Chasing thoughts of fresh apple pie from my mind, I returned to the harvest.

“She did this,” Samael grumbled. “Beetles, then apple blight? That’s not normal bad luck.”

“I have an idea,” Marcus said.

And that’s how the three of us ended up lugging sacks of rotten apples up the hill at sunset.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked.

“The holly and silver fence will hold her in,” Samael said.

“No, she can get out at night,” Marcus insisted. “She comes into town when the sun’s down to – ”

“This was your idea, Marcus!”

“I know. I’m just saying.”

The sacks were heavy. It was fully dark by the time we made it to the crone’s hut. Moonlight gleamed off the ungated fence, the clay roof, the overgrown garden.

Marcus reached into his sack, grabbed an apple, and hurled it at the hut. It splattered against the wall, smearing foul-smelling rot everywhere. Samael’s apple followed, smacking onto the roof. I pulled one out of my bag and took aim.

“Why hello, children.”

A shape I’d taken to be a particularly sickly tree in the woman’s garden stepped forward. The two boys screamed and bolted. I tried to follow, but I couldn’t move. Why couldn’t I move? I stood there, willing myself to back away from the witch coming closer, but every muscle was stiff as death. She came right up to the fence.

“Oh, how kind! You’ve brought me some old apples to fertilise my garden? It’s lovely when people think to help each other. I certainly have some vegetables that could use a bit of fertiliser. Do lift the bags over the fence, would you? I’m afraid my old bones just aren’t up to the task any more.”

Come on. I could run away. It shouldn’t be hard. The buys had managed it! Just turn and run!

“Oh, is it too heavy for you too, dear? Never mind; I have just the thing for that.” She picked up a long plank of wood and laid it over the fence, one end sticking up like a seesaw. “Do you know how to use a lever and fulcrum, dear? It’s very simple. Just put one of the sacks on the end there, would you?”

I found myself obeying. Was she doing something to me? Making me obey her with her evil magic?

“Now, the real secret of leverage is this – you have to put in as much effort as you’re going to get out.” She leaned down on her side of the plank, lifting my side (with the sack) up high. When it was low enough, she stood on her end, and reached to drag the sack down the plank towards her. “You get out what you put in, the trick is to direct it properly. See? Now the second bag.”

Soon, we had all three bags over the fence, and nothing horrible had happened to me. The old woman grinned. “Do come in for a cup of tea, dear.”

Finally, my legs let me back away. “It’s, uh, late. I should get going.”

“But you came all this way, bringing such a nice gift! It’s hardly going to get darker than it is already. Do come in and rest yourself and warm up a little.”

I knew the stories – cross the fence uninvited, and you don’t come out. But I was invited, wasn’t I? That meant it was safe, right?

Inside the cottage, the floors were swept and the table wiped, but cobwebs hung thick across the ceiling and a rat glowered at me from the corner. Things a frail old lady would have difficulty keeping up with, living on her own.

She put the kettle on and I found a broom to clear the cobwebs. The broom was old and falling apart; the table and chairs wobbled with loose joints. The only well-maintained item in the house was a spinning wheel in the corner, and its distaff, loaded with flax.

The tea was well steeped, but a little sour. The kettle needed cleaning.

The next day, after we finished harvesting the first of three apple orchards, I went to visit the crone with fresh nails for the chairs and vinegar for the kettle. She span flax in the corner, humming quietly to herself, and then we went outside together to dig rotten apples into the starving soil of the vegetable garden.

“Where do you get the flax?” I asked her as we worked.

“I buy it, like anybody else.”

“Where? You never come to the marketplace.”

The crone laughed. “There are many different types of trade in this world, my dear.”

The next day, I brought poison for the rats, and the crone span straw (she’d run out of flax) while I scrubbed the floor. I didn’t know that straw could even be spun, but under her fingers it twisted into a fine, supple cord. She caught me staring and wove the thread into a short length of ribbon, which she pressed into my hands. “A gift,” she said.

I thought of the old stories of princesses who wove straw into gold. I thought of the hour it had taken her to painstakingly weave the ribbon with stiff hands.

“I can’t,” I said.

So she tied it into her own hair and sent me home with vegetable stew for my mother, that she might make good milk for  my baby sister, who had a fever.

“You should be careful,” Marcus warned me as we started on the second orchard. “I bet she poisoned that stew.”

“Why would she poison anyone?”

“She’s right,” Samael said, “witches don’t need to use poison. They can curse people with sickness, just like she did to these apples.”

“She’s not a witch! She’s just an old lady with no one to help her. Maybe if you actually talked to her instead of spreading gossip, you’d learn something.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Like what herbs to add to a mother’s tea to protect her child from fever, which the crone showed me the next day. Like which cobwebs to leave undisturbed, because some spiders protected the house from other pests. Like how to grow enormous turnips, and how a frail old lady could use leverage to move quite heavy furniture.

“You have to put in the energy you want to get out,” she explained again as she used a wooden post to easily lift a heavy oak cabinet and sweep under it. “It’s all about directing that energy.”

The next day, she made a mistake in directing that energy. I arrived at the cottage to find her cradling a badly sprained wrist.

“You’re lucky it’s not broken,” I chided her as I wrapped it up. “At your age you need to be careful.”

“What a waste of luck,” was her rueful reply.

“You can’t waste luck.”

“My dear, when you get to my age, every breath you draw is lucky. You tend to get quite stingy with it.”

I put the kettle on and cleaned out the larder while the crone rested her hand. I missed the sound of her humming melody and the whirr of her spinning wheel that normally accompanied my indoor work.

The herbs worked on my sister. She grew strong and healthy and the days grew long and dry, and we finished the apple harvest and the men brought in the wheat, and the crone’s cottage was clean and in good repair. Her wrist healed, and soon I was pickling vegetables to the whir of her wheel and her melody.

And my sister fell ill again that very day.

Through the night, her little lungs coughed weakly and rasped as she breathed. And the rasp entered my dreams as the whirr of a spinning wheel.

“She’s going to kill your sister,” Samael told me.

“No,” I said. “We all get sick. And we all survive.”

We did. We were a resilient people; illness and misfortune had plagued our town for a hundred years, but we were strong and prepared and we always pulled through. My sister was strong, too. She would survive her cold. We would survive the lack of apples and the rapidly drying town. And a old woman taking to her spinning wheel being blamed for such misfortunes… well, that was just a story made up by silly children.

Still, I stopped visiting the crone. I was too busy, caring for my sister, and my mother who had caught her cold, and helping bring in the last of the wheat, and spinning new thread for my mother’s loom. Watching the crone had taught me to spin faster, smoother thread than ever before, and I caught myself humming her melody as I worked. I kept myself busy, and I told myself that that was why I stayed away. Until the morning I smelled the smoke.

The winds were hot and dry; the wildfire was distant, but moving quickly. While everyone got to work protecting the town, Marcus and Samael and I climbed the hill.

“It’s her spinning wheel,” I explained. “She calls misfortune down by spinning.”

“Then we destroy it,” Marcus said, drawing his father’s hammer from his belt.

The boy’s hesitated at the fence – they say that if you go in uninvited, you don’t come out – but I leapt over it, and they followed, not wanting to show more fear than a girl. I could hear her humming and spinning as the smell of smoke became stronger. I pushed through the door.

The house was once again cobwebbed and dusty in places difficult for an old woman to reach. But it was hard to see that, under the balls of thread littered about the floor. Every surface was piled in thread of every thickness and colour and material, from fine dark wool to rough bark. The crone stood from behind her wheel, and tossed a ball to me.

“Good. You’re here. Grab as much as you can, and take it down to the town. Boys, you look strong; I’m sure you can carry a lot.” She tossed a ball to Marcus, who dropped the hammer to catch it.

“Your thread?” I asked, baffled.

“Not mine. The town’s. I just wind it up and keep it safe.” She wound a length of freshly spun cord around my wrist, again and again. “”But now it is needed, and you must take it. Go!”

“What is – ”

“No time! Go!”

We scooped up armloads of thread and raced back down the hill, letting gravity and the weight of our loads speed us along. The smoke was thick enough to be visible, now, a haze on the horizon, and I felt the thread around my wrist burn, leaking something into me, as my feet missed every stick and stone and stumbling block and found the quickest path down the hill. Marcus stopped to toss balls of thread over trees and storage sheds where it hung like ropey cobwebs; Samael and I split up, heading for opposite ends of town.

The wind was the strongest I’d ever experienced. It snatched string from my arms, and I knew there was no time to stop to pick it up. I dashed to the river. At the edge of the nearly dry bed, most of the village stood, clubs and water buckets at the ready to try to stop the fire from spreading to the fields on the other side. Behind them, mothers lay their children in the shallow muddy stream that still flowed, a last-ditch effort if the fire couldn’t be held back.

“Take it!” I shouted, throwing balls of thread at them. “Take this, and hold onto it! Wind it around yourselves! It’ll protect you!”

It was a ridiculous claim. But the thread around my wrist burned, and they heard the urgency and certainty in my voice, and people took the string, handed it to each other, wound it around themselves and their children and their clubs, and behind me the wind picked up even more and pushed me over.

I took a club and took up a position on the line, but we all knew it was hopeless already. The scent of smoke carried a story; I smelled not just wood, but meat and grease and lanolin and a hint of alcohol… the stores, the sheep, perhaps even my friends… and then the hot air was burning my eyes and embers were raining down and the fierce flames were in front of us and there was no choice but to retreat, sprinting for the muddy water and flinging ourselves down.

I threw myself over my sister, holding her tiny face just above the water and using my body to shield her from the fire and debris raining over us. Something burned my arm; not the fire, but the cord wrapped around it, glowing brightly and disintegrating to dust and leaving the arm underneath unmarked despite the pain. The wool coccooning my sister glowed too, as bright as the fire; I had to look away, up into the sky, and saw burning leaves carry clear over the river to land on the other side among the wheat fields, where it burned through unharvested straw. And then it was gone, and as one, we stood, brushing away ash that had once been string. I checked my sister for injuries – none.  We walked back to town, putting out little fires with our clubs on the way.

The town was in surprisingly good shape. There was damage, of course, but the wind had pulled the fire through too fast to destroy everything. A lot of thatching needed repair, and we’d lost some of our stores, but enough had survived. The town would survive.

Everyone started cleaning up, and I climbed the hill to the old crone’s hut.

Most of the hut itself was intact, although the garden had been badly damaged. Part of the fence had burned away entirely, leaving a space just wide enough, perhaps, to install a gate.

Inside the house, not a ball of thread remained. Everything was coated in that strange ash, and I walked past the crone, sitting at her table, to fetch the broom. She didn’t look up at me. She didn’t move at all.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

She did not move. Did not breathe.

I closed her eyelids, took her hands to cross them over her chest. Something dropped into my hand from hers; a short length of ribbon. One I’d watched her weave months ago from straw. It looked a lot shorter now.

I tied it into my hair, and once again tallied my tasks. I would have to sit with her for the three nights’ vigil, because nobody else would. I would have to sell something to get two coppers for the gravedigger, because nobody else would. And I would have to help repair the town, help the wounded, tally our stores, do all of those little things that would tide us over between this disaster and the next. Resilient people like us have to be careful where we direct our energy. Today had been very lucky, and now we had little luck to spare; but it would not be long before the town would need to be lucky again. There was always another disaster.

The ribbon felt hot in my hair. It burned against my head, like something was boring into my skull. I ignored it.

I sat at the wheel, and started to spin.

-----------------

This story is set in the Curse Words universe: https://havenstory975986403.wordpress.com/

[thought-42]

Fictober day 2: That’s the easy part

Critical Role, 1351 words, ensemble, gen They make it out of Wildemount. They topple the Cerberus Assembly. Not with the drama or the fire and destruction that Caleb would like, but with the slow, inevitable landslide of political upheaval and the rattle of skeletons against closet doors. They make it out alive and intact and with no official prices on their heads. They make it out having spent their social and political capital in spectacular fashion, and with more people cursing their names than celebrating them, as the murky waters of gossip and misunderstanding and the feral terror of change swirl and eddy around the truth. They are not the monsters many would claim them to be, but nor are they without blame or beyond reproach. They never asked to be hero's. Actively rejected it over and over again, tore themselves free of the bonds of imperialism and nationalism with vicious glee, swore loyalty to truth and survival and vengeance and family and gods with no temples.

They make it out of Wildemount. Barely. That’s the easy part.

 Whitestone is cold and modern and fiercely defiant, but it's that same attitude that keeps the Mighty Nein at a metaphorical distance that keeps them safe from the political reach of the empire and Xhorhas alike.

"This is bringing up some disconcerting childhood memories," Caleb says, drawing the collar of his new coat high.

"You'd say that about literally anywhere with snow," Beau says.

Jester grins, boots crunching as she jogs alongside the wagon. "It's really different from home, but I like it!"

Molly's tail, hands, and horns are all wrapped in bright green knitwear, a rainbow of scarves layered over his coat and wrapped up around his face so only his eyes peer out. He's tucked into an uncharacteristically compact ball between Yasha and Essek in the back on the cart, and it would be adorable if everyone hadn't seen him shivering so hard after a nightmare that he could barely speak. The cold is a familiar companion for Caleb and a harmless playmate for Jester, but Mollymauk awoke in the cold and the dark and the dirt twice over and it will never let him forget how it feels to be a thing that thinks it should be dead.

Their apartments in Whitestone are centrally located, at least. It's a brisk jog for Beau to get to the newly established Cobalt Reserve each morning, and Jester (to her vocal relief) need only roll out of bed at the last possible moment to stumble her way across the road to the bakery in the early hours of the still-dark morning.

It's not the Xhorhaus, nor is it Caleb's magical creation, but it is safe and clean and dry and no one expects them to play hero or villain. They hadn't arrived hurting for gold, but the economy of Whitestone is startlingly booming, and the top floor of an old rooming house is the best they can do.

Caleb and Essek spend the first few days carefully considering the best method to open the space into something more welcoming to the Neins habituated appreciation of communal living. Three days in, Caduceus calls a flurry of insects to oh so gently soften the wooden walls, and Yasha uses her sword to knock them down. Fjord trudges up the stairway, shoulder slumped beneath the weight of another day of unsuccessful job hunting.

"You realize," he says, exhaustion dragging his words slow and resigned, "some of those walls were there for a reason."

"Huh," Caduceus says, after a long moment.

So the roof is probably going to collapse in on them all one day, which is something to look forward to.

Most of them arrive in the city on fake papers. Beau has no trouble-- there's a modern library failing rather spectacularly when they first arrive, and the cobalt Soul is delighted to expand beyond the tentative rebuilding in Westruun, particularly with a volunteer ready and pseudo-willing to head it up. Caleb, for all of his determination to leave his past behind him, is forced to admit that 'can perform and develop complex magic, and can extract information from challenging personalities' looks fucking excellent on paper; evil the Soltryce academy may be, but it's name still carries weight. Caleb doesn't discuss his work, but it pays well and he comes home with a bounce in his step and a gleam in his eye as often as he comes home unwilling to speak.

Veth and Yeza have little trouble finding work as alchemists, and Jester puts on her best dress and her best confident smile and walks into the best bakery in town, coming out not ten minutes later with a full time position. While there are those who will come just to stare at the tiefling decorating their cakes, she remains unapologetically thrilled with her choices.

The rest of them work when and where they can, Yasha and fjord mostly in construction or deliveries, Caduceus selling teas and flowers, Essek unofficially with Beau in the library. Mollymauk... struggles. He doesn't mention it to anyone, but there are only so many people interested in tattoo designs from a random stranger, or having their cards read in the marketplace, or sleeping with a tiefling for the fucking novelty. He's confident something will slip into place, but the liminal space between adventure and security is uncomfortable.

Yasha tries to grow flowers, but as they settle solidly into the deep chill of midwinter, with its endless nights and brief days of sharp, merciless sunlight, the cold slips through the floorboards and the windows and quite literally freezes the tiny shoots of new growth to death.

"The summer will be good for it," Caleb says, while Yasha carefully digs crackling brown husks out of the dirt and crushes them in her hand. "The days will be long."

Essek is pretending not to watch from across the room. There are no flowers in Xhorhas, and Caleb feels quite suddenly as if he is intruding on something sacred, a memorial he can neither understand nor appreciate.

A year later, ice and snow yet again thick on the ground while herbs hang in bundles from the rafters and Caduceus packs away seeds for the spring, Molly gives their Xhorhasians flowers. Lilacs that creep up the outside of Yasha's leg, their colour a shocking splash of joy against her skin. Iberis cascade across Essek's collarbone, delicate white and rich greens a reminder of growth and renewal.

For the first time, Caleb begins to truly collect a library of his own. Veth is a mother and a brilliant alchemist and the one does not negate the other; there is room inside of her for endless possibility. Luke grows older surrounded by love and wisdom and hands that will sneak him candy and books and knives and paint brushes at every turn.

Jester brings home loaves of hot bread and spun sugar sweets to pretty to eat, draws and sings and dances and if she reaches her hands out for a partner there will always be a pair of ink-stained, bruised knuckled hands in a blue robe, or calloused green palms and the faint smell of saltwater, purple skin and claws that match her own. And of course, delicate unblemished hands from beneath a green cloak, a sharp laugh turned kind only for her.

Mollymauk grows older and grows younger in increments, though he will never stop recklessly chasing experience and sensation and feeling in the same way he will never lose that inherent distrust of those who think they hold power over him.

Caduceus makes friends with a tree.

Fjord comes in the door far past the dinner hour, cold and aching down to his bones, steps in to the drafty chill of the main room where paint has spilled across the carpets and smoke still lingers in the air and every face in the room turns to smile a welcome, conversation and laughter and hot tea spiked with whisky drawing him in, welcome back, sit down, put your head on my shoulder and let your breath out. And he thinks, maybe this time he has brought his people home.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Bad Habits | Fostered Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

I feel like it’s been forever since my last writing update, but I’m back to spill the tea on Rewired’s 23rd chapter, Bad Habits. I feel like I’ve been writing this chapter for a millennium, though I think it’s actually only been around a month? It would’ve been completed sooner had it not been for school, but I’m happy to announce that your girl has been accepted into her top choice university and is officially slacking off from school starting now! (Just kidding but I will definitely be a lot more relaxed... I hope.)

I titled chapter 23 BAD HABITS, and oh is she filled with piping hot TEA.

BAD HABITS is split into four scenes:

Scene A: 

Reeve is chilling in a bathtub, smoking cheap cigarettes and drinking even cheaper margaritas. She feels like a queen, heH.

This is what I call a Classic Reeve Scene. She’s feeling superior, she doesn't think she’s better than you, she knows she is.

Scene B: 

Reeve reminiscing about her being a powerful almighty being the night before (in her eyes). If you remember my last Fostered chapter update for Younger, you would remember I mentioned intoxicated Reeve infiltrated Darren’s motel room at 2AM to make a case for why he should marry her. This is that scene as it goes wrong, lol cuz why would it not go wrong.

 TL;DR: Reeve has lost her bONKERs AND knows that if she can convince Darren (who is sort of NOTTT interested) to do anything with her, she is #Jesus << her words not mine

Scene C: 

We hop back into the fictive present where Reeve has finished her goddess bath, and is politely reminded by Foster that everyone is waiting for her outside and she’s taking forever to finish. Little does he know, she’s not planning to go outside to meet them because she’s going #Rogue, kids.

Foster says none of this, he’s more like: um soo so sorry but we outside haha okay!!

Scene D:

This is just the wrap up of the chapter where Reeve outlines where she feels she’s mentally at (she literally thinks she is a deity), and what she’s going to do. Instead of heading back home to Boston, she decides to hitchhike to New York City and con people for cashhh. Of course. 

This is the start of the end of the book! The plans are as follows (I hope they don’t change lols): Reeve hangs out in NYC for the moneyyy, heads back home, does some witchy shit, and vanishes because she’s powerful like that. 

This chapter was soooo fun to write. I originally didn't have this chapter in the book because I’d skipped so far in the future, Reeve had already gotten home. But, upon realizing this time jump was too large, I tracked back to the motel and wrote this bad boy. I think it’s definitely a chapter with attitude that most people would be turned off by (basically Reeve is cocky as fuhhh) but I dig it. She’s really embracing her inner Bitch, and I dig it.

The chapter title, BAD HABITS, sort of signifies all the things Reeve continues to do wrong but that she’s now accepted, like how someone would accept their bad habit of biting their nails (just me?). Reeve accepts that she is basically a bad habit, and is like: you know, I’m toxic but at least I’m POPPIN. I love her. This chapter makes Reeve feel like she is a magical being that can literally do anything, and shapes her attitude into the next book. 

Excerpts:

This is the opening paragraph of the chapter and basically sets the Mood for what the rest of this tragedy is going to be. Also we stan that bathtub aesthetic:

In the morning, I soak in the tub and sip on a margarita. I’m part demi-god, part tequila and lime. The tiles are dingy with mildew, and cracked along the spines, but their flower decals still make me feel rich. In my mind, they’ve been painted by a Slavic watercolorist, and imported to the US by ferry. Desperate college kids that laugh like Darren taking turns eating rocket pops and sticking them to the ceiling with grout. One of my last Egyptian cigarettes hangs limp, like a broken finger from my lips. Someone’s left a Playboy in the basket under the sink, and I page through it glumly, the naked women boring and unsexy to me. The bathroom’s wallpaper could be mouldy, but I call it vintage.   

The next excerpt I PG-ifyed so its meaning is slightly altered, but it mostly reads the same! Reeve is incredibly flawed when it comes to her views of other women, which you definitely see in this excerpt. She describes a hypothetical of what she believes will happen to Darren as he “grows up” and marries his (now ex) fiancée, Jo. Intoxicated Reeve has an infatuation with Darren, so is incredibly jealous that Jo was even good enough to catch his eye in the first place. Although she has never met Jo, she makes (v/ unfair) judgements about her: 

In New York, I’ll buy him designer cologne. He’ll feel so expensive, he’ll be tempted to sell himself just for the six-figure profit. Darren will grow up and get married to Jo, and have a child he’ll call Cassiopeia because Jo is probably a paranoid astrologer. She’s a trust fund baby, the woman who brings a clutch to a party and doesn’t know where to put it, undersexed, overdressed, going to church every Sunday at eleven in button-down coats that reach her wrists because she’s modest like that, praying grace before supper because she’s too orthodox not to. She’ll drag him to the confessional once a year, maybe twice, and there he’ll tell the priest about the woman on his ceiling, crumbling from the stucco. The woman stuck in his bathtub with a margarita, and an Egyptian cigarette, and a Playboy, and his dripping bottle of cologne. 

This is so subtle but my fave part of this ^^ excerpt is the fact that Reeve describes what will happen to Darren when he grows up as if ain’t grown already. That subtle jab got me SHOOK.

The next bit is some dialogue because I rarely share it and I dig Reeve + Darren’s dynamic here:

“Where are your cigarettes?” I asked, my hair tangled with vomit. I clarified, “You have a lighter. Only smokers carry lighters.”

“It’s for emergencies.”

“Bullshit. The gas is almost out.”

“I already told you. I don’t smoke.”

“I just want a cigarette. It’s not that complicated.”

“You bought a pack from the convenience store.”

“And I want one of yours.” 

(also the fact that only smokers carry lighters might be *fake news* but Reeve is really going for it today isn’t she.)

This is a prime example of my wild descriptions (I can’t just say something... not morbid???):

His lips bloody from where he’d chewed too hard. I drank it like venom, like on my obituary, I wanted it to say I’d been poisoned to death by his blood. I wanted to. He shrunk in on himself, his bones like tiny wired cages, and I propped onto my elbow. I thought, if I just wished long enough, I’d understand why he was crying. I would osmosis myself into him, and vomit the truth. 

cw: this next excerpt is a lil blasphemous and def doesn't reflect my beliefs, but in case it might offend, I’m leaving this warning here! 

Like an eight-year-old, he looked up at me in wonderment, and maybe to him, I was the prophet come to save him. Maybe I wore a gold halo, and a white dress, and I was ready to shove his head under the water and clean him. I really was God to him. The latest incarnation of Mother Mary. 

This is Reeve being wild--she has CLAIMED black magic folks:

I blew smoke in Darren’s face because I wanted to humiliate him. I wanted to bewitch him, and make him admit I wasn’t the performer of black magic, but the magic itself. I wanted to make him regret meeting Jo and repent for even thinking about marrying her. I wanted him to realize I was the only one meant for him. I was the only person that ever mattered.

More Reeve being wild:

I slipped Darren down my throat like he was the antidote to my afflictions, which was untrue, because I was in fact the antidote to his. 

And can you believe it! She keeps going (cw: again for blasphemous content)!

I wasn’t like the Messiah to him—I was the Messiah. I was his shaman, and high priestess, and Aphrodite, and enchantress, and woman all in one. His converter, his lover, his naked Greek statue a masterpiece in the centre of the mattress. I wore a halo and a white gown, and I was his God, yes, his fucking God. 

Then we dip into scene C. This is a bit longer so lol hope its not awful ahaaahha. Foster has *just* knocked on the bathroom door:

“You smell nice,” I tuck a glut of soaking hair behind my ear. He’s ironed his shirt on the pull out board. Its cotton singe-y and sharp, perfect ninety degree angles.

“We’ll be in the car.”

“I have some extra,” I lie. “The tequila, I mean. If you want a drink. A little margarita?”

“I already had breakfast,” he says. He leans back, and pretends not to analyze the contents of the bathroom. “Are you okay, Reeve?” He’s talking about the empty margarita glasses, the burnt out cigarettes, the Playboy, the soaked cologne bottle. 

“I didn’t know margaritas could be so good.”

“Do you want me to call your mom?”

“Why does everyone keep asking that? She’s a drunk.”

He nods, but keeps his place, arms crossed protectively. “Well, we’re in the car.”

As he’s pulling back, I jar the door open farther, and catch him by the wrist. He snaps back like the spring of a slinky. I’m an acid burn to him. My fingerprints individual irons running down the perfect creases of his shirt. I tuck my towel tighter around my chest, and lean against the door, letting it fall back with me. Steam and smoke spiral out into the room, the spirits of previous tenants being let out of their bottles like fucking genies.

“I want you to take care of yourself, Foster,” I say, rubbing my fingers against the wallpaper opposite the cabinet. He nurses his arm like my touch is the equivalent to a lightning bolt. “You’re a good person. There aren’t many good people anymore. That’s precious. You’re fucking precious.” 

This is a line I liked because yaaas she’s accepting her flawsss:

My tequila mouth will stay tequila’d and never get sober. 

And we hit scene D as it opens with:

After the bath water has drained and my hair has air dried, I crawl out of the bathroom window and head west to the freeway. It’s dizzily hot and equally humid, but I feel like I’m on vacation in Cancun, and not climbing uneven Cincinnati pavement. Soon, Izzy will start complaining about how long I’m taking and send Foster back out again, and he’ll miserably knock on the door. When I don’t answer, Darren will join him, then unlock it with his spare room key, and I won’t be there, not under the bed, not in the tub, not spewing from the sink, or caught in the tooth of the chipped up margarita glass. 

And lastly: 

He’ll find the note on the desk. Be back, baby. Darren, I have your money. –R. Two hundred from his wallet, slipped into the elastic of my bra. He’ll cuss, as if Darren cusses, and they’ll leave because they won’t find me. Izzy will call me a motherfucker because I’ve stolen her sunglasses, and I am, and I like them. I’m the millionaire’s mistress, the politician’s prostitute, the substitute teacher who the high school boys fantasize about. I’m the clairvoyant who overcharges middle-aged women to have their palms read. The A-List celebrity starring in cheap R-rated chick flicks, who drinks spiked Shirley Temples and dances to pirated CDs on foreign cruise ships. I brush my teeth with 24-karat gold, and eat cucumber tea sandwiches on verandas in Paris, and watch the Tour de France with my boyfriend-for-hire who gives me orange oil massages, tells me my shoulder blades look like wings, tells me I’m his fucking angel. 

Aaand that’s it for this wild chapter, lol. While bits of it gave me a hard time, I’m rather liking the overall tone/atmosphere, and I’ll definitely miss writing in the motel!

I hope to be back with another update soon!

--Rachel

[newsiepedia]

Where’s the Essay, Mod Strings: All the Songs in Newsies (2017) in Order of Boppability

18. The Bottom Line

Now, normally I like villain songs. They’re usually my favorite songs in any movie, and Be Prepared is one of my favorite songs ever. However, The Bottom Line lacks the oomph of other Disney songs. It’s far too low energy, and the instrumentals are unassuming. Most villain songs make me temporarily on board with a villain’s plan, like “YES! Let’s kill the king in front of his son! Let’s lock this woman in a tower and exploit her for eternal youth!”, but The Bottom Line just makes me go “yuck, a capitalist”.

Favorite line: None, they all suck

17. I Never Planned on You/ Don’t Come A Knockin’

This song makes Jack look like a total creep, and I don’t care for that one bit. It also sounds completely out of character- if Jack doesn’t care for moonlight and poetry, then what do you call his little rooftop duet with Crutchie? Besides that, its vague and repetitive. If this song was excluded, his and Kath’s romance would look infinitely more plausible. The Bowery beauties are nice, though.

Favorite line: “Turns out my beau is just some bum/ Turns out that love ain't blind, its dumb”

16. That’s Rich

Now, before you crucify me, here me out. I love Medda- she’s the best adult in the play by far, and she’s clearly very important. But her song is..... eh. My main bone to pick with it is that it’s outside of the plot- I think it could have done a lot more for her character if Medda’s song had something to do with the newsies. Besides that, I don’t really like the style.

Favorite Line: “Now, listen, sport/ This life's too short/ To waste it on you”

15. Something to Believe in

Look, it’s a sweet song and all, but the lyrics are all off. We know for a fact that Jack and Katherine had something to believe in before each other- Katherine had herself, and Jack had literally all the newsies. Besides, I don’t really like the tune or the instrumentals.

Favorite Line: “And if you're gone tomorrow/ What was ours still will be/ I have something to believe in/ Now that I know you believed in me”

14. Watch What Happens (Reprise)

I don’t particularly like Watch What Happens, but I dislike its reprise for one reason- “go and look it up the poor GUY’S head is spinning!” You people WILL NOT shut up about that line! There are so many other good lines in this song to fixate on, why that one? Besides, I don’t like how quickly Jack gets over Crutchie’s imprisonment.

Favorite Line: “And we’ll tell them straight on/ they let Crutchie go or they keep getting pounded”

13. Watch What Happens

As I said before, I like this song a little better than it’s reprise. The chorus and the last bit are quite nice, and I like how it shows Katherine warming up to the newsies. That being said, I don’t like the tune of the verses, which make it hard to listen to.

Favorite Line: “But all I know is nothing happens if you just give in/ It can’t be any worse than how it’s been”

12. Letter from the Refuge

I like Letter from the Refuge mostly because of how it shows Crutchie’s personality. How he tries to make the newsies feel better before thinking of himself, how he makes jokes to cheer himself up, how he lies right through his teeth, et cetera. Also, the part when he sounds like he’s about to cry always gets me.

Favorite Line: “The end/ Your friend/ ... your best friend/ ...... your... brother/ Crutchie”

11. King of New York

I’m gonna be real here- not a fan of the tap dancing. Like obviously its cool in the filmed musical, but in the audio recording it just sounds really weird. The verses are kinda bad, but Albert makes up for it by yelling “KNOBBIN’ WITH ALL THE MUCKETY MUCKS IM BLOWIN’ MY DOUGH AND GOIN’ DE-LUX” at the absolute top of his lungs.

Favorite Line: “Tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it/ But I was a star for one whole minute!”

10. Carrying the Banner

Ok, now we’re onto songs I actually like. Carrying the Banner has really good energy, and the tune is pretty good throughout. The constant breaks for characters to deliver lines is a little distracting, but at least it blessed us with the best line in all of newsies: “I don’t need the limp to sell papes, I got POISONALITY!”

Favorite Line: “We improves our circulation/ Walking ‘til we fall”

9. The Bottom Line (Reprise)

Now THIS is a villain song. It still doesn’t make me want to side with Pulitzer, but it does an excellent job of ramping up the tension. The Bottom Line (Reprise) takes Pulitzer from being a figure for teens to rebel against to a monster who hopefully only eats orphans figuratively (though now I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s literal).

Favorite Line: “Too bad you’ve no family/ but you can’t have mine”

8. Finale

Finale is a really sweet song. It nicely wraps up Jack’s character arc, and the part where Jack and Katherine kiss warms my cold, unfeeling heart a little. However, it does make it sound like Jack was only staying in New York for Katherine and Davey, which simply CAN’T be right- can it?

Favorite Line: “Don’t take much to be a dreamer/ all you do is close your eyes/ but some made up world is all you’ll ever see/ Now my eyes is finally open/ and my dreams, they’s average size/ but they don’t much matter if you ain’t with me”

7. Overture

The Overture always gets me lit for the musical. It features my favorite parts of my favorite songs, and provides a nice buffer between Finale and Santa Fe (Prologue) when I’m listening to Newsies on the train. It doesn’t have any lyrics, however, and I’m not a fan of that.

Favorite Line: There are no lines lol

6. Seize the Day

Mmm, I love me a good song about revolution! Seize the Day has an excellent tune, and really good lyrics. I don’t dig the tone shift, however- I think I’d like it more if the song was either slow and sweet or fast and angry, not both.

Favorite Line: “And say to the others/ who did not follow through/ you’re still our brothers/ and we will fight for you”

5. Santa Fe (Prologue)

There’s so much to talk about for this song. The melody is gorgeous- I think I like Jeremy Jordan’s more subdued vocals here. The lyrics are so sweet, and they really sell Jack and Crutchie’s friendship. And “watch me stand/ ...watch me run” is such a good line. 

Favorite Line: “Close your eyes/ come with me/ where it’s clean and green and pretty”

4. Brooklyn’s Here

I just love the energy of this song! Its a lot more violent than the rest of the striking songs, and I like that. Its also so dramatic? Spot knows the difference between a kid and a newsie: and its PRESENTATION!

Favorite Line: “Now them soakers is in for a soakin’/ What a sad way to end a career”

3. Santa Fe

This song just has so much emotion to it. Jeremy Jordan sings it so well, and the reuse of a song associated with Jack’s happy place in such a sad time hits hard. The addition of the bridge is also great, and gives even more opportunities for awesome melodies.

Favorite Line: “I need space/ and fresh air/ let them laugh in my face, I don’t care”

2. Once and for All

Oof, I love me some angry boys. This is the song that comes after a major turning point- the boys are a lot more serious, and there plan is much more concrete. There is a soft bit before, but it’s a lot shorter and it follows the same pattern as the rest of the song, so I can give it a pass. Also, the key change, godDAMN, I’m getting shivers just thinking about it!

Favorite Line: “In a few hours, by dawn’s early light/ we’ll be ready to fight us a war” (I love the allusion to the national anthem)

1. The World Will Know

Here it is, folks, my favorite song. The World Will Know is the most upbeat of the four strike songs, and I appreciate that. The tune is boppy, and Crutchie gets some rad lines. But what I like most about this song are the lyrics. They’re all really well crafted- simultaneously showing the newsies’ optimism and their determination to fight it out to the end. I had such a hard time choosing a favorite lyric because they’re all so good.

Favorite Line: “And the world will know/ we been keepin’ score/ Either they gives us our rights or we gives them a war”

[marjiandco]

Runaway

Marji wriggled like a caught fish as she tried to reach the rope taute against her right ankle. She spat her hair out of her mouth and shook her head to get a better look. How could she be so stupid? Not even her second day as a runaway and she’s swinging upside down at the ass end of some random sea cave. By the Navigator’s compass she should have...no, now's not the time. She had to cut herself loose before the blood fully rushes to her head. As if on queue brown spots appeared before her eyes.

She reached to her side and pulls out her long dagger from it’s sheathe. She put the blade between her teeth like her crewmembers used to do before a raid and tugged herself up by her pants leg. She grasped her bare ankle, but her clammy palms slipped. On instinct she dug her nails into her flesh to stop which made her yelp. She twisted her head to the side to avoid cutting her cheek as her blade fell from her mouth.

Great she thought to herself as she stared hard at her fallen dagger. The torches along the mossy walls bounced off of the metal, and for a moment, a shadow of  herself stared back at her. She stretched as far as she could, her free leg kicked wildly. As if it would make her long enough to reach the ground. She let out a frustrated sigh when she heard the sound of a scuff of a boot against rock. She froze, or at least she froze the best she could. The rope twine groaned as it slowly turned her in the air.

“Would you look at the little fish I caught in my nets.” A voice dripping in gold and honey came from behind.

Marji’s heart leapt into her throat as she turned her head towards the noise. Of all the people to have stumbled upon it had to be him. She whipped around, twisting until her abs ached from the stretch to see a long porcelain white tail and curved sickle horns; it’s the au ra captain of the Floating Coin. He grabbed her by the shoulders and had her face him fully. His eyes like hot coal glowering at her. She flinched back as his chains of silver and gold encircling his horns tickled her cheeks.

“Or is it kit? I never know with you miqo’te children.”

He had a toothy grin. Some of his teeth replaced with gold fangs as his blue tongue darting out to tickle his lips. “Now how did you manage to swim down here? Heard of my stash of delicacies perhaps?”

“Let me go.” Her voice stutters more than she wants, grabbing hold of his hands but his grip is tight against her shirt. Her heart hammers against her chest. Of course the first ‘bounty’ she hears about and it’s his. On her ship The Maiden she was never allowed on raids, but she’s heard the whispers and stories from her crew. The pirate who could elude The False Merchant and knows about Mamaci’s most guarded treasure. Marji felt heat rise in her cheeks at the last part, embarrassed to be considered some piece to be hidden away. It was part of why she wanted to run away and stand on her own, but now she wasn’t so sure. Not in this man’s hands.

He squinted at her, looking between her eyes. She closed her eyes. Maybe he hadn’t recognized her yet. “Eyes like gemstones….could you be?” there almost sounded like a laugh in the back of his throat.

Marji lets go of his arms and slaps him as hard as she could. He jumps back in shock, cradling his cheek. He doesn’t growl, or grimace at her; he smiles.

“Oh of course it’s you.” He cackled. It would sound friendly if his other hand wasn’t resting on his saber.  “Of all the people to stumble...and you just wander in. Tell me,” he stopped his snickering. His eyes bore into her. “How is my dear Merlona?”

Marji clenched her jaw and felt her bones pop as she lunged up her leg, scrambling to release herself from the rope near embedded into her leg. She feels his hands clench her shoulders, his well maintained blackened nails pulling her away and letting her drop and swing. She flung out her hands, reaching for anything that could stop her movements when he grabbed her by the back of her shirt and yanked her back. The sound of steel leaving its leather sheath and there’s a coldness at her throat. Sweat bled into her eyes. She’s been hanging upside down for so long that stars seemed to dance on top of his shoes.

“I don’t know who that is.” She panted.

He clicked his tongue and sliced against the rocky ground. She jumped at the sudden spark of metal tearing through the earth. “That was a pitiful lie. I’ll cut your jaw if you try it again. Though, I’m sure someone will pay beautifully even if you are slightly damaged. Anyone would for a piece of the False Merchant’s treasure.”

Marji recalled his own tales. The man who could sell anything and take anything. Who only cared for bigger and bigger rewards and could escape any trap set for him. A slippery character bathed in riches whose crew was fat with spoils. He was a terror on the high seas and no army ship much less a civilian one could withstand his crew. A man who never hides his presence as he picks the bones of ships.

She felt his sword fall from her neck and heard a strange ripping noise. All of the sudden she was on the ground. She lay there, trying to regain focus as the heat travelled away from her face.

“Maybe I’ll keep you for myself.” He says, gazing down at her with a mixture of curiosity and malice. “A trophy. Appropriate addition to my collection, wouldn’t you say?”

She rolled over to her hands and knees, shaking her head as she tried to stand and falls. She must have been up there longer than she thought. He walked around her and knelt down. He put two long fingers underneath her chin and gently lifted her up. There was something strange in his eyes, a memory that she was afraid to ask of him. “I know someone who would want to meet you.”

“Enough!” A booming woman’s voice echoed, the crack of crushed rock right after.

The corners of his mouth tugged back, all pretense of kindness vanishing like a diminished flame. The au ra took Marji up by the forearm, twisted it behind her back as he pulled his saber underneath her throat, pushing her close to his chest. His stolen baubles and stones pinched against her skin, and she could feel his jawline scales just above her ears. But she wasn’t afraid of him, she was afraid of the woman staring daggers across the cave. Mamaci is going to kill Marji if she lives.

“Let her go you swivin’ bastard of a lizard.” Mamaci growled.

She felt a rumbling chuckle as her captor raised his blade, tilting her head so far she had to stand on tiptoes to avoid being cut. Mamaci snarled, her grip tightening on her axe. The au ra’s heartbeat was steady, his hand almost loose against his weapon. Marji realized; he wasn’t scared of her, and Marji realized something was wrong. The cave of treasures that happened to have him; the torches still lit even though this place was supposed to be abandoned, how he recognized her so easily. It’s a trap. Mamaci must have read her face, as she took a step forward the man pulled her forearm upwards until she groaned in pain.

“Marji! Stop, let her go now or so help me-”

“Oh she’s too valuable for that. Not when she’s been so helpful as bait.” He leaned down and touched his horn against her head, a rough stroke against her scalp. He whispered low in her ear, making them flatten and her breath hitch. “Sorry about this darling.”

She felt the blade start to dig into her skin and she kicked back as hard as she could at the same time as Mamaci rushed forward, the swing of her axe pulling forward with the ferocity of her aether.

“Now!” Shouted the au ra, pulling his blade away and pushing Marji forward into Mamaci’s path, making them collide together as the lights extinguished in the cave. Marji’s arms shook as she grabbed her throat and Mamaci pulled her into a rough hug.

“Navigator guide me I thought-” But she was unable to finish her sentence. They were pulled apart, Marji by the ankles and Mamaci was left by herself. Marji couldn’t help it and let out a scream before she was thrown back into two burly people who roughly grabbed her by the arms and tied a dirty cloth around her mouth.

“Marji! Where are you?”

No one else could tell, but Marji heard the tremor in Mamaci’s voice.Marji sucked in air through her nose, trying to calm her hammering heart. She has to help Mamaci, somehow. She can’t be the damsel in distress. Not anymore. She shut her eyes and waited for a few seconds then opened them again. She may have a seeker’s name, but her body belonged to her keeper blood. She could see in the dark. Everything had a blue hue as she blinked slowly, realizing there was bioluminescent algae in the waters. The Au ra captain had glow in the dark tattoos drawn all over his body. He had removed his shirt, bones and a sharp skull littered all over his body.

She watched him tilt his head, listening with his horns. So that’s how they can hear. “Keep the girl restrained boys. Can’t have her interrupting.”

Marji groaned as the grips on her arms tightened. She spun her head, assessing the area. Men and women hid amongst the stalagmites and crevices of the cave, their clothes matched with the background. He knew who she was this whole time, just stalling until Mamaci came to rescue her. Her nostrils flared. She’s so stupid as to wander into the first trap she could, and her...her Mamaci could be killed because of it.

Marji, with a half baked plan, jumped up and stomped down on the toes of the man on her left. His grip loosened as he yowled, the other man turning to ask what was wrong. Marji flung her arm out of the ones grip and launched herself and felt the crack of teeth meeting at her head slammed into the jaw of the other. She ripped herself away with such ferocity that she fell backwards and rolled over. With her head clearing however she was able to regain herself and darted into an empty part of the cave. She ducked beneath a flattened boulder as one of them shot wildly with his gun. She shrunk and closed her eyes at the sudden bursts of light and waited for him to be stopped by angry crewmen.

Those two out of the way, she scanned the area and found Mamaci and the gold captain circling each other. He giving taunts, trying to goad her into attacking first in the dark. Marji was proud to know she was too smart for that; Mamaci wasn’t a fool. Beneath his feet, her dagger glowed blue from the algae in the area. A beacon for their escape. She crept forward, running whenever the two captain’s came to blows. After what felt like eons, she managed to grasp the handle and scramble back.

She thought for a moment, hoping for something cool to say.

“Hey! Shite for teeth!”

That wasn’t it but it did the trick. He turned, and she rushed forward and stabbed him in his sword wielding arm. Panic blossomed in her chest as blood spurt out of him so easily. It ran down her hands and the sight of it filled her with terror. Without a second thought she left her dagger embedded in him as he yowled in pain. She grabbed Mamci’s arms and tugged her back, trying to lead her through the darkness and far away from this danger.

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

Analyse of Daenerys’ chapter in “A Clash of Kings”

P. 388: “The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghoss. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father. But before she could do that she must conquer. → Forshadowing. (So take that Dumb & Dumber)

P. 527: “To go north (Jon?), you must journey south (dragonstone?). To reach the west (Westeros?), you must go east (Essos?). To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow (Asshai?=truth).” → ?

P. 529: “Sellswords have their uses,” Ser Jorah admitted, “but you will not win your father’s throne with sweepings from the Free Cities. Nothing knits a broken realm together so quick as an invading army on its soil.” (…) “You are a stranger who means to land on their shores with an army of outlanders who cannot even speak the Common Tongue. The lords of Westeros do no know you, and have every reason to fear and mistrust you. You must win them over before you sail. A few at least. → Foreshadowing?

The house of the Undying: P. 630: “By no means,” Pyat Pree said. “Leaving and coming, it is the same. Always up. Always the door to your right. Other doors may open to you. Within, you will see many things that disturb you. Visions of loveliness and visions of horror, wonders and terrors. Sights and sounds of days gone by and days to come and days that never were. Dwellers and servitors may speak to you as you go. Answer or ignore them as you choose, but enter no room until you reach the audience chamber.” (…) Shade of the evening, the wine of warlocks. “Take and drink,” urged Pyat Pree. “One draught will serve only to unstop your ears and dissolve the caul from off your eyes, so that you may hear and see the truths that will be laid before you.”

P. 631: “Not all the doors were closed. I will not look, Dany told herself, but the temptation was too strong. 1) In one room, a beautiful woman sprawled naked on the floor while four little men crawled over her. They had rattish pointed faces and tiny pink hands, like the servitor who had brought her the glass of shade. One was pumping between her thighs. Another savaged her breasts, worrying at the nipple with his wet red mouth, tearing and chewing. → Westeros against four kings (Balon Greyjoy, Robb Stark, Joffrey and Stannis Baratheon. =Present ⇒ P. 798, fulfilment of the prophecy: “The Seven Kingdoms have need of you. Robert the Usurper is dead, and the realm bleeds. When we set sail from Pentos there were four kings in the land, and no justice to be had.”

2) Further on she came upon a feast of corpses. Savagely slaughtered, the feasters lay strewn across overturned chairs and hacked trestle tables, asprawl in pools of congealing blood. Some had lost limbs, even heads. Severed hands clutched bloody cups, wooden spoons, roast fowl, heels of bread. In a throne above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and held a leg of lamb in one hand as a king might hold a sceptre, and his eyes followed Dany with mute appeal. → The red wedding = Future 3) She fled from him, but only as far as the next open door. I know this room, she thought. She remembered those great wooden beams and the carved animal faces that adorned them. And there outside the window, a lemon tree! The sight of it made her heart ache with longing. It is the house with the red door, the house in Braavos. No sooner had she thought it than old Ser Willem came into the room, leaning heavily on his stick. “Little princess, there you are,” he said in his gruff kind voice. “Come,” he said, “come to me, my lady, you’re home now, you’re safe now.” His big wrinkled hand reached for her, soft as old leather and Dany wanted to take it and hold it and kiss it, she wanted that as much as she had ever wanted everything. Her foot edged forward, and then she thoughts. He’s dead, he’s dead, the sweet old bear, he died a long time ago. She backed away and ran. → Visions of loveliness or Days that never were ?? 4) Finally, a great pair of bronze doors appeared to her left, grander than the rest. They swung open as she neared, and she had to stop and look. Beyond loomed a cavernous stone hall, the largest she had ever seen. The skulls of dead dragons looked down from its walls. Upon a towering barbed throne sat an old man in rich robes, an old man with dark eyes and long silver-grey hair. “Let him be king over charred bones and cooked meat,” he said to a man below him. “Let him be the kings of ashes.” Drogon shrieked, his claws digging through silk and skin, but the king on his throne never heard, and Dany moved on. → The red keep – the throne room with Aerys speaking of Rhaegar to Varys. = Past 5) Viserys, was her first thought the next time she paused, but a second glance told her otherwise. The man had her brother’s hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. “Aegon,” he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. “What better name for a king?” “Will you make a song for him?” the woman asked. “He has a song,” the man replied. “He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany’s, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. “There must be one more,” he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. “The dragon has three heads.” He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way. → Rhaegar and Elia Martell, or is it a foreshadowing of the Jon’s birth? And the foreshadowing of there relationship. Past and future?

P. 634: “Our little lives are no more than a flicker of a moth’s wing to them (the Undying Ones),” Dany said, remembering. → Can be applied to god.

P. 635: “…. Mother of dragons… came a voice, part whisper and part moan. … dragons… dragons… dragons… other voices echoed in the gloom. Some were male and some female. One spoke with the timber of a child. The floating heart pulsed from dimness to darkness. It was hard to summon the will to speak, to recall the words she had practiced so assiduously. “I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.” Do they hear me? Why don’t they move? She sat, folding her hands in her lap. “Grant me your counsel, and speak to me with the wisdom of those who have conquered death.” (…) P. 636: “I have come for the gift of truth,” Dany said. “In the long hall, the things I saw… were they true visions, or lies? Past things, or things to come? What did they mean?” … the shape of shadows…morrows not yet made… drink from the cup of ice…drink from the cup of fire… (Jon?) …mother of dragons…child of three… (Rhaegar, Viserys, Daenerys?) “Three?” She did not understand. …three heads has the dragon… (Daenerys, Jon and ?) the ghost chorus yammered inside her skull with never a lip moving, never a breath stirring the still blue air… mother of dragons… child of storm… (Daenerys?) The whispers became a swirling song… three fires must you light… one for life and one for death and one to love… (for her dragons, the slavers? And Jon?) Her own heart was beating in unison to the one that floated before her, blue and corrupt… three mounts must you ride… one to bed and one to dread and one to love…  (Khal Drogo, Drogon and Jon) The voices were growing louder, she realized, and it seemed her heart was slowing, and even her breath…three treasons will you know… once for blood and once for gold and once for love… (Viserys when he sell her, gold do we know yet? Jon for love?) (…) P. 637: “… help her… the whispers mocked… show her… Then phantoms shivered through the murk, images in indigo. - Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth. = Past. - A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. = Day that never was → about her son Rhaego. - Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman’s name. = Past → Rhaegar murmured Lyanna’s name. … mother of dragons, daughter of death… (Daenerys will brink chaos?) - Glowing like sunset, red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow. = Present → Stannis - A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering shadow fire. = Future → The fake Aegon? - From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire = Past → on Dragonstone with Melisandre? … mother of dragons, slayer of lies… (about Aegon and Stannis/Melisandre?) - Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. = Future → Westeros nights, near the Trident? - A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. = Future → Greyjoy? - A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. = Future → Lyanna regarding Jon? ...mother of dragons, bride of fire…. (her wedding with Jon)

Faster and faster the visions came, one after the other, until it seemed as if the very air had come alive. - Shadows whirled and danced inside a tent, boneless and terrible. = Past → The dark magic of Mirri Maz Duur? - A little girl ran barefoot toward a big house with a red door. = Past → Daenerys? - Mirri Maz Duur shrieked in the flames, a dragon bursting from her brow. = Past → The birth of the dragons. - Behind a silver horse the bloody corpse of a naked man bounced and dragged. = Past → the wine seller. - A white lion ran through grass taller than a man. = Past → The lion which was killed by Khal Drogo and offer to Dany. (or Jaime?) - Beneath the Mother of Mountains, a line of naked crones crept from a great lake and knelt shivering before her, their grey heads bowed. = Future → Daenerys faith of conquest. - Ten thousand slaves lifted bloodstained hands as she raced by on her silver, riding like the wind. “Mother!” they cried, “mother, mother!” They were reaching for her, touching her, tugging at her cloak, the hem of her skirt, her foot, her leg, her breast. They wanted her, needed her, the fire, the life and Dany gasped and opened her arms to give herself to them. = Future → The liberation of slavers.

What do you think?

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Folsom Prison Blues- Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,389

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, language, angst, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. If you’re a junkie for this sort of thing, then a tag list is the right thing for you! If you want to be a Queen, I’ll add you to that list too! Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

The next morning, the body was gone and Sam and Dean were out in the courtyard doing whatever it is they do. They better have been getting some work done. Because on your end, you were getting nothing done.

You needed to talk to them to see what they knew to understand how to help because right now, all this feels like is a death trap. You were expected to escape soon and if you couldn’t do that, then you didn’t know what was going to happen.

You were also in the courtyard, watching over them. You rolled your eyes when you saw Dean was playing cards with another inmate. You saw the stack of cigarettes next to Dean and you sighed. Dean didn’t even smoke. You caught the eye of Sam and he walked over to you, trying not to put any attention on him.

“Did you find anything?” You asked, looking at him.

“Yeah but I would really feel better if Dean was here.” He said lowly.

“Then go get him.” You said, looking at Sam. He nodded and left you, walking over to Dean. You saw them whisper arguing and then Dean’s eyes landed on you. He smirked softly and he nodded, gathering his cigarettes and walking over to you with his brother.

“Dean, you don’t even smoke.” You said, looking at him like he was crazy.

“Are you kidding me? This is the currency of the realm. Who knows when these will come I handy.” Dean said with a chuckle, putting them away.

“Please tell me you two found something. Henriksen came to Deaton’s office while I was there. Look, he suspects I am missing from the girls’ ward and there is only a matter of time before he digs into something that will get him hurt.” You said, ready to get out of here.

“Why couldn’t I be the cop?” Dean asked, checking you out. At any other time, you would be blushing like a schoolgirl but you were stressed out as fuck and you were only going to feel better when you were back in Baby and on the road again.

“Dean Winchester do not make me cuff you.” You threatened.

“Why did I find that hot?” He asked, winking at you. You were ready to throw his head but Sam interrupted you.

“Look, I got a lead of Moody.”

“So do we. He paid a little visit last night.” Dean said, being serious.

“What?” Sam asked, looking at you. You nodded but let Dean tell the story.

“Yeah, the clock stopped, the flickering lights and the cold spots. I mean, he did everything but yell boo.”

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“He walked right by me. Lucas, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. I mean, based on how the man was screaming, he didn’t deserve to go out like that. But, what did you find out on Moody?” Dean said.

“I think we might know where his remains are. Blood in his old cell.” Sam said, looking around to see if anyone was listening in. They weren’t. The only reason other cops weren’t on their shoulders were because Deacon was also out here and he was making sure you three got the chance to talk.

“Wait, blood? I thought it was a heart attack.” Dean asked.

“When I opened that cell, I didn’t see any blood.” You said.

“Yeah, I’m sure the dead body wasn’t a distraction either. Look, it was a heart attack but only after the guards beat the shit out him. I mean, apparently, there was so much blood, they had trouble mopping it out.” Sam said.

“Great, how are we going to get in?” Dean asked.

“I mean, I have the keys but I’m not sure Deacon can be my bodyguard forever here. I’m the newbie, people won’t let me on my own.” You said with a sigh.

“I have a plan.” Sam said suddenly.

“That’s the Sammy I know. Come on, man, you're like Clint Eastwood from Escape From Alcatraz.” Dean said with a smile.

“The problem is, even if we do find something, how are we going to burn it? We don’t have any accelerant.” You pointed out.

“It’s a good thing I'm like James Garner from The Great Escape,” Dean said, standing up and holding out two big handfuls of his cigarettes. “Hey fellas! Who’s ready to deal?” You sighed and hoped that he knew what he was doing.

“Just get it done. Okay?” You said, walking away from them. You hoped that Sam’s plan wasn’t going to land you in even more trouble than you were already in.

You knew of the plan and you hoped that this would work. You didn’t need to be caught for anything. You still had a lot to look forward in life. It was lunch time and Sam and Dean were doing their part while you were with Deacon, filling him in on everything.

“Okay, we gave them more than enough time for this. We should go.” You said, walking out of Deacon’s office with him.

“Did you guys find anything else?” Deacon asked. Good thing no one was here. Everyone was in the cafeteria.

“Yeah, Moody was beaten in his old cell. They say that there was so much blood, they had trouble getting it all out. If there are no bones to bury, then blood will be a reason to keep him here. Sam offered to go in there. All we need to do is help him get into the kitchen without letting anyone see.” You said, walking.

“Good, this is good. Then this will all be over?” He asked.

“That’s the hope.”

“Hope? You don’t think it will work?”

“Deacon, look, I can sense these kinds of things, to sugarcoat it. Trust me when I say that hopefully, it will work and we will be out of here in no time.” You said with a sigh, getting closer to the cafeteria. When you got closer to the door, you heard the commotion come from inside and you knew that your part was up.

You busted inside to see Dean and the very large prisoner, fighting. You looked at Sam who was waiting for the right moment. You nodded to him and got your act on, walking over to the two with Deacon and few other guards. You didn’t want to get your hands dirty so you let the guards, which was multiple ones, pull them apart.

You walked over to Dean, feeling as you could pay him back for putting you in jail, and grabbed his jaw in your hand, making him look at you.

“Wow, if we waited any longer, you might as well be dead. What a shame that would be.” You said, smirking slightly at him.

“You waited long enough.” Dean said. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you looked over to see Deacon there and he nodded at you. You let Dean’s jaw go and stepped back, watching what was about to happen.

You jumped slightly when Deacon shoved his baton in Dean’s stomach, making him double over in pain. Deacon grabbed the back of Dean’s head, his fingers grabbed at his hair and pulled it up.

“Do yourself a favor. Don't. Talk,” Deacon said to Dean, keeping eye contact even though he was talking to the guards now. “Take them both up to the infirmary.” The guards nodded and when Deacon let go of Dean, they took him and the large prisoner to the infirmary.

The guards took away the large prisoner and Dean. You sighed and watched after him until you couldn’t see him anymore.

“Was that necessary?” You asked Deacon when the drama died down.

“I need to sell it, right?” He asked, walking out of the cafeteria. You sighed and looked around, not seeing Sam. You just hoped nothing was wrong on his end.

“Wait, Deacon!” You rushed out of the cafeteria and stopped Deacon from going anywhere. “Can I check up on Sam? Dean should be fine in the infirmary.”

“Fine. Remember, you gotta sell it.” You nodded and walked away from him and to the cells where you found the dead prison inmate. You found Sam there just as he torched the room.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked as you walked to him. He relaxed when he saw it was you and nodded.

“Yeah, it should be fine now. What happened with Dean?”

“Got sent to the infirmary. He’s fine though.” You said with a sigh.

“So, Dean’s been talking to me…” Sam trailed off.

“About what? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine but he’s going to kill me if he knew I told you but you kind of scare him in that.” You busted out laughing at the thought of Dean being scared of something.

“Dean said that? Oh man, is that rich.” You laughed, wiping away the fake tears.

“Now go easy on him. You’re not really an authority type person, you know?”

“Hmm, maybe I should keep this and put it to good use. You think Deacon would let me keep the handcuffs?” You asked Sam, a smirk on your face.

“Okay, too much information.” Sam said shaking his head and leaving the hallway as the flames died down in the cell.

Another day, another death. The man that Dean was with, died last night and you knew that something supernatural must have happened. You didn’t get it, Sam burned the blood and it should be all over, right?

You, Sam, and Dean were in the yard outside, talking while the other inmates either smoked, gambled their cigarettes away or played some basketball.

“I don’t get it, Dean, Sam burned the blood. I was there.” You said.

“That’s because it wasn’t Moody. It was a nurse, well, it looked like a nurse.” Dean said.

“Wait, so this is the ghost of someone who worked here?” Sam asked. You looked over at Deacon who was eyeing you three while talking to another cop.

“I don’t know, I guess.” Dean said with a shrug.

“You know what, Dean, at this point, "I don't know" isn't working for me. See, uh, I thought we were done. I called Deacon. It's happening. We're getting out tonight.” Sam said.

“I hate to say it, Dean, but I’m with Sam on this one. We have to get out tonight.” You said lowly.

“Then we have to do quick research then.” Dean said with a shrug.

“How? I mean, maybe you haven’t noticed, we’re in jail.” Sam said, emphasizing on the word jail.

“I would ask Deacon but he hasn’t been here long enough to know who worked here before. Do you know someone who has been here that long?” You asked either brother.

“I do. Come on, I know where he is.” Sam said, walking away. You sighed and looked at Dean, stupid enough to follow this plan.

You had to get out tonight.

You made sure that no one was suspicious when you, Sam and Dean walked out of the courtyard and into the cafeteria where only one person was there, mopping the floor. You’ve heard Sam talk about him and only knew his name was Randall.

“Hey, Randall, you got a minute?” Sam asked. When Randal nodded, Sam continued. “You’ve been here a while, so you know about the nurses, right?”

“Ah, you want to know about the nurse? Now that’s a story to tell.” Randall said.

“Yeah.” You said.

“Why is she here?” You forgot momentarily that everyone besides Sam and Dean knew of you as the new cop and not a pretend one.

“She’s here to help, believe it or not.” Dean said. Randall looked at you and you gave him a small smile before holding your hands out.

“I’m not here to hurt you or ridicule you. Trust me, I’m just like you and these two.” You said, actually telling the truth but you knew he didn’t believe you fully.

“Alright, fine, why do you want to know?” Randall asked.

“Well, we got our reasons. But, uh... we'll make it worth your while,” Dean said, holding out a pack of cigarettes. Randall looked at them and he grabbed them, making it known he was going to talk.

“So, this nurse, she would have white hair and one screwed up eye. Is any of this ringing a bell?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I remember her.”

“You remember her name?” You asked.

“No, that’s still kind of fuzzy.” Randall said, looking at the cigarettes and then at Dean. You and Sam smiled in amusement, waiting for Dean to give them up.

“Dean, give it to him.” You whispered, hitting his shoulder lightly.

“I earned these.” Dean whispered argued. You and Sam gave him this ‘wtf’ look and Dean rolled his eyes. He handed Randall another pack and Randall smiled, ready to talk again.

“Glockner. Nurse Glockner. Nasty old bitch worked here in the '70s.”

“You knew her?” You asked.

“I met her once when I had to get a tetanus shot. She damn near jabbed the needle through the other side of my arm. At least I got out of there alive.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“I've heard these stories. I don't know if they were true. Cons love to talk, but we're all liars,” Randall said, only getting started. “But the stories were of guys that went up to the infirmary with a cold. Next thing you know, they're in a body bag. A whole rash of heart attacks: young guys and old guys.”

“Heart attacks?” You asked.

“Yeah. Story was Glockner had it out for cons and she did this, uh, Charles Bronson thing with a hypodermic. Anyway, that was the rumor but nobody ever proved anything.” Randall said with a shrug.

“Whatever happened to her?” You asked.

“I have no clue. I finished my time and left. The next time I landed back in here, she was gone.” You looked at Sam and Dean with a nod, knowing you wouldn’t get any more information out of them. Okay, so, you knew who was doing it but where was she buried. You had a clue about who to ask but you didn’t know how to contact her without it looking suspicious.

After all, she thought you were arrested.

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1@ginamsmith  @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose @cobrakai1967@essie1876 @wishedworld @crispychrissy @laqueus-ludovicus@nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel@potterhead1265 @starswirlblitz @untitled39887 @ta-n-ja @deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi @tahbehonest@stay-in–place @dreaminofdean @posiemax @donnaintx@mikey1822 @alexandriajanae4 @li-ssu @just-another-winchester @obsessivecompulsivespn@emoryhemsworth @newtospnfandom @mizzezm @goldenolaf25  @jessikared97 @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @charliebradbury1104  @queen-of-moons-peace-out-bitches @becs-bunker

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester@carribear31 @tacklesackles @oreosatmidnight @not-naturalfangirl @missselinakitty @iam-a-cutiepie  @kristendansmith@milo-winchester-4ever @jensenackesl @codyshany316@pheonyxstorm @helllonearth @juniorhuntersam @pouterpufftrain@ruprecht0420 @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @carriemichelle2012 @aubreystilinski

Series Rewrite Junkies:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal@deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging@notmoose45 @crowleysminion @mina22 @tahbehonest@hadleymcallister2177 @destielsangels @spnhybrid @oreosatmidnight @valerieshubin @seninjakitey@flyonlittlewinchester @aubreystilinski @rocketqueeens  @emilygracespellins @earthtokace

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing