#stake fortune fighters

[z2z-gaming-and-random-art-ai]

Console Fighting Games of 2003 - Compilation Part 6

Compilation of Fighting games released on consoles in 2003, this compilation is part 6 of 6 and features Tao Feng Fist of the Lotus, The King of Fighters 2003, Virtua Fighter 4 Evolution, War of the Monsters and World Fighting.

Part 6 also included an Honourable Mentions section which features Bloody Roar Extreme for the Xbox, Stake Fortune Fighters for the Xbox and Ultimate Fighting Championship Tapout 2 also for the Xbox

0. Intro 00:00 1. Tao Feng Fist of the Lotus 00:15 2. The King of Fighters 2003 09:12 3. Virtua Fighter 4 Evolution 17:36 4. War of the Monsters 29:00 5. World Fighting 35:51 6. Honourable Mentions 45:55 7. Outro 46:55

For Other Compilation videos check out this playlist https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFJOZYl1h1CEjFei9KXJ8xDIChQB8WLJd

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Roulette 

The unscrupulous gambling maven known as Roulette was a greedy entrepreneur who would stop at nothing to make a profit.  She earned a fortune in the casino industry, used to finance a more high-stakes venture called ‘Meta-Brawl.’  This entailed super-powered individuals battling one another in no-holds-barred cage-matches while patrons paid huge sums to watch and gamble on the outcomes.

Many of Roulette’s combatants were super villains, such as Evil Star and The Atomic Skull, yet she made much more money when she could get a super hero to participate.  Roulette struck gold when she was able to coerce the Justice Leaguer, Wildcat, into being a contender.  Wildcat had once been a prize fighter.  As one of the oldest members of the League, however, he was relegated to being a trainer and rarely assigned field missions.  It fostered something of a midlife crisis and Roulette was more than happy to oblige in Wildcat's need to prove he still had it.  

Although Wildcat reigned as the undisputed champ of Meta-Brawl, his protégé, The Black Canary, was concerned it was all going to end in tragedy.  Aided by Green Arrow, Black Canary was able to convince Wildcat to give up Meta-Brawl and Roulette’s entire operation was taken down.  

When Grodd formed the Legion of Doom, Roulette suddenly found herself with a dearth of villainous participants for her new venue.  She, Lex Luthor and Sonar concocted a scheme to create ‘Glamor Slam,’ wherein they utilized mind-control technology to force the female members of the Justice League to fight one another in exclusive and highly lucrative matches.  

The Huntress investigated the matter and was ultimately able to bring the whole operation down, freeing the various Leaguers who had been mind controlled.  Roulette and Sonar were sent to prison and ‘Meta-Brawl’ seemed to be shut down once and for all.  

Actress Virginia Madsen provided the voice for Roulette, with the conniving villainess first appearing in the first episode of the second season of Justice League Unlimited, ‘The Cat and the Canary.’  

[arendaes]

I FINISHED IT

Thoughts below cut because of spoilers. I'll get this over with first though - I didn't hate it, in fact right now it's sitting at a solid 7/10. Warning that this got long because as I said...I got a lot to say.

Biggest takeaway is it gets MUCH better in the last act of game. The writing in the beginning was rough but I definitely thought it was worth sticking it out for.

The main plot is...not great. It suffers from the same thing Inquisition did, which is that two out of our three main villains are just mid. Mid writing, mid combat, mid designs (ok Ghilan'nain was decent but Elgar'nan? Bleh.) It made the stakes easy to forget and not care about. I do like how one plotline was handled, though, which I'll get to in a minute (you know who it is.)

The companions took a moment to grow on me, but they did grow on me. By the end I did really care about all of them. Davrin, Emmrich, and Neve are probably my top three, but due to certain choices I made in the endgame, both Harding and Bellara are up there too.

Like I said the last act was the best - the conclusion of all the companions' personal quests were satisfying (to varying degrees), and certain choices in the endgame gutted me in the best possible way.

Which brings me to Solas - maybe hot take, but I thoroughly enjoyed him as a villain. Scenes with him were definitely some of the high points of the game, and that ending.

"I am a fool...who has finally met his match" I am rattling at the bars of my cage. This is absolutely what I was hoping for.

Leading us to Rook. I loved Chiara, she felt alive in a way my Inquisitors never really have. Are there a few things I'm headcanoning differently? Yes. But overall she's only beaten by my Warden for favorite Dragon Age PC.

The factions were a mixed bag. I loved the Mourn Watch, especially as a Mourn Watch Rook. The Grey Wardens were also amazing - I loved all the content with them. The Shadow Dragons were also cool; I'm always down for freedom fighters, and I loved seeing Dorian and Maevaris. Veil Jumpers and Lords of Fortune didn't leave much of an impression on me, and I share a lot of other people's grievances about the Crows.

Now, what they did to Dragon Age's lore is where my opinion sours a bit. To me, it definitely feels like a soft reset for the setting - they've wrapped up all these loose ends in the worst possible way they could have. Having everything relate back to the Evanuris was a mistake, imo, and things like the Blight and the Titans, as well Andrastism (which took a MAJOR backseat in this game omg) should've remained their own thing. To say nothing of them deciding to have southern Thedas decimated by the Blight off-screen. Right now I'm wondering what else there is for these games to even be about now, and that post-credits scene did not exactly spark hope.

One thing that deserves its own bullet point - Bioware continues to absolutely fumble the Qunari. At this point I don't know if they even know how to write them without being cartoonishly problematic about it. Whoever thought the Antaam were a good idea - especially those designs - need to be hit over the head. Proverbially, of course.

OH! I don't think the Inquisitor was necessary either. We don't need to see our previous character each game. If there's another Dragon Age game, please let Rook stay home. They deserve to retire after this.

When it comes to things like combat and puzzles, I'm definitely not the person to look to for complex critique. I enjoyed them, but I also acknowledge that those mechanics did seem simple and repetitive. I'll definitely take turn-based, tactical combat any day of the week, but I had fun with what it was.

Speaking of mechanics, I do want to call out a couple smaller things I think the game did well. I liked the wardrobe and transmog system - though, as always, the clothes and armors could've used improvement. I also loved that it was so easy to respec and try out new builds. And the inventory system! Absolutely loved that I don't have to shift through a bunch of junk to find things my OC and companions could use - having items set to Rook or a particular companion and finding upgrades to them is definitely a great way to handle it.

The levels were big and beautiful, but I kept getting turned around, and the map markers ranged from "generally helpful" to "how the hell do I get over there?"

I enjoyed the art style, personally, I don't have any real gripes with it.

Anyways, like I said, overall I give it a 7 out of 10. Sure, once the "just finished the game" high wears off I might lower it to a 6/10, but I don't see it going lower. There was ultimately more I enjoyed then didn't. And now I'll be daydreaming about Chiara and Davrin living happily ever after, going on adventures with their griffon son.

[deconstructthesoup]

The Voices in the Slay The Princess D&D AU:

The Voices are the so-called worshipers of The Narrator and are, in the eyes of the Vessels, the villains that they need to defeat. In reality, however, they are their own party, and are under the assumption that the Vessels are the ones they need to take down. As the story goes on, the Voices slowly realize that they are being tricked, and they'll have to work with the Vessels in order to defeat The Narrator for once and for all, restoring choice and free will and reuniting the creators of the world.

The Hero is an aarakocra Oath of the Ancients paladin, and is the unofficial leader of the group. He was tasked with bringing the Voices together, and while the allure of a quest is hard to resist, he's hesitant to fully believe The Narrator, even as the god assures him that sacrificing the Vessels is the only way to save the world. Still, he's forbidden from interacting with the Vessels himself, leaving that job to his fellow adventurers...

The Broken is a kenku Light Domain cleric, and is a loyal and unwavering servant of The Apotheosis. He was raised in the church all his life, and has instilled in him a strong belief that he will always be lesser. He considers it his duty to always serve, and to obey without question... though, his lack of a spine makes it very easy for him to surrender in fights, hence why his encounter with The Tower left him with a ton of broken bones and her barely scathed. He's an excellent healer, though.

The Stubborn is a red dragonborn Path of the Totem Warrior barbarian, and was a famed prizefighter before he wound up going too far and accidentally murdered his opponent. Undeterred, he continues to search for a good fight, and he leapt at the chance to be the one to take down The Adversary herself. His dream is to one day become a champion of The Eye of the Needle, a great honor among dragonborn.

The Cold is a drow Shadow Magic sorcerer and an Assassin rogue, who views the world through a dull lens of nihilism and only cares about getting his next job. However, he can become so focused on the job at hand that he loses sight of the reason why he's doing it to begin with, which is why he killed The Spectre instead of taking her prisoner---hey, she was going to die anyway, why not get the job done quicker? He doesn't even care that he nearly ruined everything, and when they discover she came back as a ghost... that's lucky, at least.

The Paranoid is a human Biomancer artificer, who would be a well-known and renowned scientist if he wasn't an anxiety-ridden recluse. This partially stems from the fact that someone close to him stole his research and passed it off to someone else, and when he became unsuccessful in discovering who it was, he shut everyone out and resigned himself to a life spent alone, sleeping with one eye open. While he's growing closer with his new companions, The Nightmare haunts his dreams ever since he tried and failed to stake her through the heart---and he doesn't think that The Narrator can be trusted...

The Opportunist is a tiefling College of Eloquence bard and a Mastermind rogue, and is a very accomplished grifter who can swindle, charm, and flirt his way out of any situation. After a job went wrong and he lost all of the fortune he'd gained, however, he became desperate for a new fix---and he got it in the form of The Narrator's task. Bad luck that he wound up trying to catch the girl who was the hardest to fool, but he's never met a person who he couldn't charm.

The Skeptic is a warforged Inquisitor rogue and a Gunslinger fighter, and is a well-known detective who lives off of one thing and one thing only: to uncover truth. Needless to say, he doesn't trust The Narrator at all, but he can't resist the allure of a mystery that needs to be solved---and after The Prisoner evaded him so skillfully, he's all the more intrigued. He's not easily fooled, after all, and there's definitely more to this than their mysterious benefactor is letting on...

The Smitten is a half-elf College of Valor bard and the second son of a lord, which means that he got all the privilege, prestige, and pompous attitude of a noble with none of the responsibilities. He is, however, desperate to be known for anything other than his heritage, so when he's given the chance to go on an epic quest, he gladly takes it---until he realizes that his quest involves capturing and sacrificing the most beautiful maiden he has ever seen. Undeterred, he rides with his newfound companions in hopes of steering their quest in a new direction.

The Hunted is a harengon Gloomstalker ranger and a Beast warlock, who made a pact with The Den long ago so he could never be her prey. He travels with The Smitten due to The Narrator knowing full well that he could never complete his task alone... and also because, well, Smitty's target has a big fucking panther guarding her. He's one of the most street-smart members of the party, even though his nerves tend to rival those of Paranoid.

The Cheated is a goblin Way of Long Death monk, who in his youth was given the ability to be able to survive just about anything. Unfortunately, he soon discovered that that so-called "blessing" was a curse, as it led to him constantly getting thrown into horrible situations due to him probably being able to make it out unscathed. He's pretty bitter and irritated most of the time, and he has zero patience for anyone's bullshit. Needless to say, he's not happy that he got saddled with trying to take down Miss Knife Clown.

And last but certainly not least, The Contrarian is an owlin Wild Magic sorcerer, a traveling jester who cheerfully wanders the world looking to spread happiness and a little bit of chaos. He's only doing this because he's a good friend of Hero's, and he thinks that The Narrator's full of shit. Of course, his experience with The Stranger was, well, not what he expected, what with them not remembering who they were and immediately shifting back and forth into forms that they thought would scare him off... so, he's a little bit confused as to what to do next.

That's all I got for now... uh, send me asks if you wanna know more? I have thoughts!

[jojotier]

for just my own lil reference:

June: tallman adventurer, currently MIA and presumed dead. Actually [REDACTED]

Rose: half-elf mage, currently MIA and presumed dead. Actually [REDACTED]

Dave: half dwarf fighter, MIA and presumed dead. Actually [REDACTED]

Jade: beastman ranger, MIA and presumed dead. Actually [REDACTED]

Kanaya: elf scholar. about to enter the dungeon.

Porrim: elf court magician. currently still in the west.

Dolorosa: elf previous-court magician and previous director of the canaries. Exiled from the western lands and currently MIA.

Karkat: half-half-foot party leader. currently on Skaia. his tallman half makes him exactly one inch taller than most other half-foots.

Kankri: half-foot 'rescue' in elven lands. Currently living with Porrim, having been sired by the Sufferer before his escape.

Sufferer: half-foot magician. Previously under the Dolorosa's care but managed to convince her to allow him to run to Skaia when the elven authorities began to suspect his true magic capability. Deceased

Terezi: half-foot fighter. Keeps accidentally convincing their coworkers that she and Karkat are divorced despite never marrying

Latula: half-foot spirit-wrangler. Came to Skaia with her little sister to find fortune but ended up doing something more low-stakes on the surface for some gnome ranchers.

Redglare: half-foot fighter, now deceased. Kept surviving being bait to the point where she just started enforcing shit. Sent money to Latula until the day it suddenly stopped.

Vriska: tallman bandit/fighter; like 1 crime away from being banished to the dungeon anyway. Grew up with Terezi.

Aranea: tallman scholar; entered the dungeon to study the ruins. Once Vriska turned 16, entered the dungeon and never returned. Presumed dead.

Marquise: tallman pirate, a notorious killer and very dead.

Tavros: gnome animal-tamer, coming from the aforementioned gnome ranchers. Accompanied by a spirit bull when out of his wheelchair.

Rufioh: gnome wanderer. After dumping Tavros off on Skaia went to travel the world; occasionally pops back in to give a thumbs up and a promise that he'll totally take Tavros next time. Honest!

The Summoner: Gnome adventurer. Stopped exploring the dungeon abruptly and disappeared.

Aradia: tallman exorcist. Arrived from the east some time ago with Equius and Nepeta in tow.

Damara: tallman magician. Still in the Wa and exchanging sporadic letters with her sister; currently in hiding.

The Handmaid: tallman former-enforcer. Disappeared, with whereabouts unknown.

Equius: ogre tank and petty noble. Actually from the house which had employed the Megidos; fled to Skaia with Aradia and Nepeta to help protect them.

Horrus: ogre metallurgist. currently in hiding among dwarves due to the forbidden nature of dwarven technology; leaving house Zahhak more or less gone, as he was meant to be its head.

Darkleer: ogre archer, deceased. Allied himself with the Condesce as she used Skaia as a homebase to try and overthrow the Queen of the Elves.

Nepeta: cat-beastman hunter. Fled to Skaia as house Zahhak began to collapse to keep Aradia and Equius safe. Doesn't know her family due to being taken from them by force by the Condesce.

Meulin: half-half-foot bard. Currently traveling the world alongside Kurloz in search of her missing sister.

Disciple: tallman acolyte. Outlived the Sufferer and, after the taking of her youngest, disappeared.

Sollux: gnome mage skilled in elvish magic. The spirits hate him and he hates them back.

Mituna: gnome jack-of-all-trades; spirits fucking Love Him and make up the majority of his caretakers. He does odd jobs around Skaia but maintains a healthy distance from the mouth of the dungeon.

Psiionic: gnome mage. Currently MIA.

Gamzee: kobold bard and berserker. A skilled scout with the ability to smell magic itself and Karkat's closest childhood friend.

Kurloz: kobold cleric. Halfway around the world traveling with Meulin; doesn't even know he's got a brother but has a feeling that he'll find something he's been missing.

GHB: kobold berserker. Allied himself with the Condesce to help extend his lifespan; ended up acting more as her attack dog. Dead.

Eridan: elf beastman. Woke up in the same pool in the dungeon that Feferi woke up in. Unsure of his lineage so he overcompensates for it; a terrible singer and, accidentally, an execellent anti-mermaid charm

Cronus: a failed experiment.

Dualscar: half-elf ranger. Allied himself with the Condesce in her developing coup. Dead.

Feferi: elf beastman. Woke up in a pool of water in the dungeon with no memory of beforehand. Maintained the mermaid's ability to charm with a song, making her an excellent magician.

Meenah: a failed experiment.

Condesce: elf magician. She entered the dungeon to carry out her magic experiments and to find the wellspring of Skaia; a would-be dungeon lord. Currently [REDACTED]

Wayward Vagabond: Dersite half-foot rebel. Raised up the Dersite rebellion in an attempt to overthrow the Black Queen. Presumed dead.

Peregrine Mendicant: Prospitian dwarven courier. Trusted by the White Queen to find the source of the new prophetic nightmares and the founder of the nightingales. Presumed dead.

Aimless Renegade: Dersite dwarven machinist. A maker of the now forbidden technology he was developing called: guns. Presumed dead.

White Queen: Dwarven Queen of Prospit. Presumed dead.

Writ Keeper: Dwarven King of Prospit. Presumed dead.

Black Queen/Sn0wman: Tallman Queen of Derse. Presumed dead.

Jack Noir/Spades: Kobold Dersite enforcer, previously just a petty bureaucrat. Presumed dead.

Diamonds Droog: Half-elf mage; mostly just uses spatial and teleportation magic. Presumed dead.

Clubs Deuce: Gnome. Loves making spirits explode. Presumed dead.

Hearts Boxcar: Dersite Orc berserker working with the rest of the Midnight Crew. Presumed dead.

Ms. Paint: Orc painter. A delight on every level. Presumed dead.

The Felt: (collectively) turned into [REDACTED]

[Note: All canonical carpacians and leprechauns are subjected to REDACTED at the hands of the dungeon lord.]

Serenity: Serenity.

Bro: tallman deadbeat. Died of natural caused under Dave's care.

Mom: elf magician. Ran away from the elven lands so she could find better food and booze.

Dad: tallman baker. Mourning the loss of his daughter and mother.

Grandpa: Jake.

Nanna: Jane.

Alpha Bro: A long exiled dwarf that has made his fortune as a playwright.

Alpha Rose: A long exiled elf that has made her fortune committing crimes against the elven government.

Grandma: If Jade survives.

'Poppop': Now Mawmaw, if June survives.

Dirk: dwarf fighter. Alive but without desire.

Hal: born of the last desire Dirk had upon returning to the surface; a small golem with a piece of Dirk's spirit forcibly shoved in.

Jane: tallman fighter, MIA and presumed dead. [REDACTED]

Roxy: elf magician, MIA and presumed dead. [REDACTED]

Jake: tallman knight, MIA and presumed dead. [REDACTED]

Calliope and Caliborn: [REDACTED]

[rafent]

Sara has never really been one to prey upon the misfortune of others or prod at wounds outside of her responsibility as a healer to inspect them. Not intentionally anyways. Every smile she grants is a genuine article, every bubble of laughter risen within her chest authentic as humanly possible. So she does not approach the Professor to render any judgment regarding his presence, only peers at him in silent recognition.

Her eyes pass him over just once and even those seconds are enough confirm the severity of his injuries. Which do not strike her as worth concern. He'd been sturdy, built like a fortress in his draconic form, wavering only in spirit when they ascended the steps of a twisting tower of trials. Sara knew that this was little more than a minor setback for the both of them. Had the stakes been higher, Rafal could have leveled Gronder Field to smoke and ash.

But the Battle of Eagle and Lion was not a true battle, just the phantom of a bygone era, as if humans needed an excuse to bruise and bloody.

"Which house do you believe will crawl its way to victory?" she poses, head poised to the side. It isn't because she cares about the outcome, but an opportunity to probe a mind that still perplexes her at times might be worthwhile.

Eyes were felt to bore into the dragon moments before perception, prickling by unseen sensation like ticks hooking beneath his scales. A small, silvery girl they belonged to; familiar and known to a name. He blinked at her, taken aback through the raising of a brow, and even then smoothly recovered. Lacking in greeting and ceremony, pared and trimmed of the superfluous fat that attached itself to others, Sara aligned herself with a forward nature not unlike Nel's. Rafal did not precisely dislike this about her.

He grunted, acknowledged and greeted the girl in the same breath - honored that convivial human custom for the both of them.

"So you are here as well, Sara." Her timing in that was even particularly fortunate; had she approached him closer to the inception of his own arrival, the attitude to greet her would have been considerably different. Likewise, though a roaring dichotomy, he indulged her agreeably with a scoff: "I do not care for the outcome of this competition. Such a consideration is worth its weight in gold, which is precisely none. But, if you must ask, the answer is obvious."

Obvious, at least, so far as it concerned Rafal. The deer had trounced him solidly, it was Rafal that the eagles had lost, and as for the lions. . .a third party little seen, albeit not totally invisible to the watchful Fell Dragon who discerned more than he freely let on. Arms curved across his chest in a neat fold, confident, unwavering, as if he could not be wrong.

"The victory of a house will be determined by its strongest fighters. In that regard, the Divine One is on this battlefield. He is a powerful dragon. So long as he remains among the lions, there will be no easy victory to be had for others." Downy locks swayed on a self-possessed nod. He did not mention the aspect of his latent predilection and neither did he realize it. Anyone who defeated the Fell Heir was a thousand times over proven of their strength and who alone had that honor?

[daydreamerdrew]

I don't think that the Link at the end of BOTW is necessarily materially better equipped to defeat Ganon than he was in his first life, despite the new experience of having gone through the shrines. the environment that he was in from the start facilitated the practice of the skills he needed; he was allowed/forced to be on the 'correct' course from a very young age. during the time of the game the shrines provided a new structure for him, that is notably just sort of there and can be participated in at his leisure to the ultimate completion of his choosing, to grow and practice various skills and accumulate what it is that the spirit orbs provide, which he needed in order to be able to wield the Master Sword again, and which is not something he needed in order to claim the Master Sword in his first life

as Zelda explains when she's watching him practice sword-fighting in the rain when there's nobody around but them:

"Your path seems to mirror your father's. You've dedicated yourself to becoming a knight, as well. Your commitment to the training necessary to fulfill your goal is really quite admirable. I see now why you would be the chosen one. What if… one day… you realized you just weren't meant to be a fighter. Yet the only thing people ever said… was that you were born a family of the royal guard and so no matter what you thought, you had to become a knight. If that was the only thing you were ever told… I wonder, then… would you have chosen a different path?"

we've seen what Link is like when he's outside of that environment, for the most part. he's told he's a hero and is tasked with saving Zelda, but then the way that plays out gives him a lot of freedom. it's notable the ease with which Link travels around the world, as no one attempts to follow him around to help him out or to make sure he's on the right track. he's not reliant on anyone else, so he's not beholden to anyone else. he's not under anyone's command, so he's free to accept quests to help anyone that he wants, and he does choose to help a lot of people. the Link in the main game of BOTW is a fighter, but he's not a knight.

pre-Calamity Link was fortunate enough that what he needed to do, be a fighter, lined up with what he was expected to do in the position that he was born in, but that doesn't mean that he was without problems. as Mipha explains in her diary about what Link was like prior to claiming the Master Sword and so before he had the expectation of being the hero of legend:

"One of them was a Hylian child of only about four years of age. His name was Link. He made quite a first impression. He was curious and full of energy, with a ready smile. Are all Hylian children that way? One thing that surely sets him apart is his swordsmanship, which I hear is exceptional. He has even bested adults. He must be somewhat reckless, however, as he was covered in bruises."

And then later:

"Link came to visit the domain. It feels like forever since he was here last. He no longer resembles the child I first met. He is now an accomplished knight and keeper of the sword that seals the darkness. I am so proud. However… He hardly speaks anymore, and smiles even more rarely. He is still the kind soul I knew, but something has changed."

This change is elaborated upon in Zelda's diary:

"When I finally got around to asking why he's so quiet all the time, I could tell it was difficult for him to say. But he did. With so much at stake, and so many eyes upon him, he feels it necessary to stay strong and silently bear any burden. A feeling I know all too well… For him, it has caused him to stop outwardly expressing his thoughts and feelings."

the environment that Link was in was deeply damaging to him, but it wasn't damaging in a way that prevented him from fulfilling his prophesized destiny. but the person that he is during the main game of BOTW, when most people he meets don't understand the stakes he's working with and so don't place all that pressure on him, is a lot more at peace. he can casually be blunt, make jokes, have fun, etc.

in contrast to Link's upbringing, Zelda's environment goes from her father framing it as, sometime before Zelda's mother died, which happened when she was six:

"Zelda's eyes lit up like a wildfire when I told her about the relics… I must admit, she has a knack for research."

to:

"The reason her sacred powers still won't awaken is because she's spending all her efforts playing at being a scholar!"

that Zelda was neglecting prayer in favor of study is obviously untrue. it's emphasized repeatedly the amount of time that Zelda dedicated, and ultimately wasted, over the years of her life to prayer. and within that the time she carved out for study was ultimately limited and minimal, despite the fact that that's what she was longing for, what she felt drawn to

my thinking has been that Link and Zelda were both naturally the people that they needed to be in order to fight the Calamity, but Zelda was prevented from being that person. her problem was never her lack of commitment, it was that she was not allowed to do the work she was best suited for, and her commitment to prayer as the path to unlock her powers was itself a hinderance as it was never going to lead anywhere and she would have been better off more boldly rebelling and escaping the environment that she was in

even so, in that hypothetical scenario in which Zelda was supported in the way that she needed to be in order to unlock her powers sooner than she did, she wouldn't necessarily have lived a largely happy life, even if the end result in how things went down with the Calamity was a lot better, because she would still be in the damaging environment of everybody knowing about the impeding apocalypse and that she was part of their only hope of survival

[dailyanarchistposts]

Individuals who resist, the importance of a defence that is also attack

Fortunately, there are also individuals who, freed from the shackles of compliance, rebel against the presumed inevitability of the choices of power and oppose themselves to devastation in a direct unmediated way that there cannot but be when the stakes are the destruction of the world around us (be it a forest, a mountain or whatever). Refusing to submit to the dictates of capital, whoever opposes the devastation to some extent also plays a hand in attack, showing that you can fight, that the famous grain of sand really can jam the machine, and that if you consider something important, you carry it through to the end.

The repression of dissent in defence of the interests of power is obviously strong in such cases, and as I write, I can only think of Remi [ed. – see Radical Scavengers Come Out of the Woodwork], the French fighter killed by the police of the transalpine government while he was opposing the construction of a mega dam at Testet, which was to serve to feed crops of GM maize, but military repression is not the only one where whoever does not bow down faces massacre.

In addition to the social rejection created around the "violent" ones that protect trees there is also often the open hostility of the drawing room environmentalists who, in those meagre defences, see on the one hand their chatter render sterile and outdated, displayed in all their superficial useless by concrete acts of resistance (to paraphrase an old song, the truth hurts...); and on the other, being, as written above, only users of power, see most of the assumptions on which they base their certainties being challenged: certainties of slaves, that’s true, but certainties nevertheless and therefore to be defended.

The tragedy of the battle, the impossibility of mediation between the two parties, means that the fighters of the earth are hopelessly alone with those in affinity with them, except in rare cases where their paths and actions meet and establish a dialectic with other realities that, at that moment, decide (more or less instrumentally) to embrace some type of practices.

But the radical defence of the wild not only runs the risk of being crushed by military repression, in some cases it also runs the more devious one of being reabsorbed into the concertive logic of power when its action binds itself to that of other actors who may share the stage with them but have substantially different objectives and not only: the loss of autonomy, and therefore radicality, is a danger that also lurks behind concepts like the quantitative myth of the struggle, that is the mythicization of the mass as an insurgent/revolutionary actor.

Where the battle for the earth becomes a search for consensus, the revolt against devastation becomes politics, and politics is nothing but conciliation and compromise, concepts that should burn along with the machinery with which they want to devastate the earth, not go out the door and come back through the window of hysteria of participation.

We certainly do not want to relegate those fighting for the earth to cosmic solitude, but also we do not want such important issues to be substantially sacrificed or even watered down by bourgeois concepts like mass and majority, moreover – if we really want to think in such terms – we cannot know, as if it were evident, whether a bulldozer that burns has less impact than the "popular" struggle than a march of 60,000 people that takes place while the trees fall... In this perspective, the best thing would be to continue straight along the road of direct defence of the wild, not disdaining also to reason with others on the basis of affinity (which is much more dynamic and interesting than speeches aimed at creating movements of "a thousand souls"), in which, it having become less to their sensitivity to swallow their frustration, are generally precisely those who from the barricades glimpse a radically new world.

[1] Capital has realised the potential of these practices, so that the same corporations recover their own products to be “thrown away" and then readjust them – the term used is "recondition them" – and sell them at "second hand" prices.

[2] ed. – Henry David Thoreau, influential early (Euro-)American naturalist. In his later years, he moved away from his earlier pacifism with his statements in support of a group of slavery-abolitionists (Thoreau himself participated in the 'Underground Railroad' for fugitive slaves) who seized a federal armoury in 1859 to arm a slave revolt before being overwhelmed in battle 36 hours later, preceding the American Civil War.

[3] ed. – A 'protected' national park in northwestern Tuscany, where the mountains are blown apart for marble quarrying for industrial manufacturing – ending up in household abrasives, soap, and tubes of toothpaste – polluting the air and waterways.

[grandarbitermiracle]

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[elsternwick-rp]

“Gracious friend, you have been chosen to visit our lovely city… come to Wondrous Elsternwick, near the nexus point of the multiverse!”

No matter who, what, where, or when you are in the wider multiverse, you have received a fine written letter, inviting you to take a vacation to Elsternwick, a beautiful riverside town!

In this amazing place, Magic and technology have come together to make all sorts of fantastic inventions, and its proximity to the “Nexus Point” has caused all sorts of strange things to pop up in the nearby forest… you can choose to help with the research of these anomalies, go on adventures unrelated to them, go on your own journey to understand the strange things that populate these lands, seek your own fortune, or simply unwind in the beautiful town of Elsternwick as a place to relax! You’re free to leave and return home at any time as well, no strings attached!

The town is always changing with the seasons, and its many events, given all the strange things that can happen with the multiverse!

Given their pride, they have invited everyone, even rough types and villains are allowed in town! So long as they behave, of course...

Elsternwick is a Discord RP server, we allow all sorts of fun plots & events to happen, and there are many interesting places to visit and explore!  All the while you’ll be having your own kind of unique happenings with your character, be they an original character, a fan character for something already else set up, or a canon character!

We’re a group that focuses on the lighter aspects of roleplaying (as well as crossovers), the fun and adventure that can come about from unique interactions in a wondrous setting, while also allowing for the potential of some more serious plots, and allowing you take your own pace in both reply speed and plot progression! We are also very laid back, chill, and friendly to practically everyone!

Some other features include…

Canon characters,Original Characters & Fan Characters, and maybe even some self-inserts (if done well) accepted!

PG-13 Group!

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Get your muse a job! Elsternwick is always hiring with many jobs, some simple, some complicated, and some inspired by places from across the many different universes! You can do these to help inspire threads, get rewards for your muses, or simply add flavor to other RPs!

“Dungeon Runs” of varying flavors semi-regularly, have your character investigate the mysterious ruins for the thrill of combat and loot! You never know what might be lurking down there!

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Dedicated dice rolling bot allows for combat with some stakes, and outcomes one might not expect! (Dice aren’t used for every action!)

Not a fighter? No problem! There’s plenty of odd jobs around the city waiting for you! You could also always help with puzzles and negotiations!

All formats of Roleplaying Accepted! (Text/Script, Paragraph, even long form!)

Many types of plots & developments accepted, be it fun and carefree, or serious with some high stakes behind it!

New areas and locations being added constantly, some depending on characters coming in, and some being “unlocked” for completing events!

Buildings and new locations are added semi-regularly, and sometimes depend on player input and choices, be careful, you could help or hinder all player characters present!

Laid back environment with friendly people, while also allowing a wide variety of developments and changes!

Meet tons of new, friendly, and creative people!

Spectating is an option as well if you simply want to take a peek before joining

Plenty of options for OoC chatter and bonding!

Home | Navigation | About Us/Premise | Rules | Master List |

(New Promo post with slight updates!)

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 8

(Ch. 7), (Ch. 6), (Ch. 5) (Ch. 4), (Ch. 3), (Ch. 2), (Ch. 1)

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: Alix (Codename: Juliette) and Nixon (Codename: Édouard) hunt for a Gestapo informer masquerading as a Resistance fighter. Will they sniff out the rat in time or will the collaborator complete their objective of seeing the Carentan faction eliminated? WARNINGS: The usual war + espionage stuff Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere

Contemporary: June 10th, 1944. Saint-Hilaire-Petitville, France.

Alix had seriously underestimated the amount of waiting around that came with being an OSS operative.

“Thérèse, this is Juliette,” she stated for the third time into the handheld transceiver, doing her best to enunciate clearly so her French wouldn’t be scrambled by the radio. “Do you read me? Verify status. Over.”

Silence.

Alix chewed on her bottom lip nervously. It didn’t usually take this long to clear a dead drop and lateness in espionage never boded well. 

The Resistance fighter in question, codenamed Thérèse, was a new trigger but she had been trained well by the group, especially on such short notice. After a string of recent arrests, she was the only member of the on-the-ground surveillance team left.

Fortunately, the trigger position wasn’t too difficult: scope out potential sabotage locations, report on potential targets, and pick up any info that was dropped off in locations near her designated watch zone. Thérèse was a “pavement artist”– it was her job to blend in with the scenery and she was damn good at it. 

While she waited for their contact to answer, Alix took the opportunity to subtly survey the flat and its occupants from the cluttered desk. Resting an elbow on top of one of Henri's many medical textbooks, she leaned her head on her hand as she quietly took note of the scene.

Everyone was spread out across the small bedroom, each of the Resistance members staking an unspoken claim to their particular section.

Their 20 year old courier, codenamed Camille, was stretched out on the far side of the bed, dozing off after 48 hours straight of helping Alix organize supplies for the front lines. For someone perpetually in motion, seeing her nearly still was as jarring and unnatural as a blizzard in the middle of summer. 

Pacing by the boarded-up window like a restless ghost was Henri who had been thrust into the position of impromptu leader out of necessity. The quick work of the informer– whoever he or she was– had resulted in the recent capture and arrest of four founding members just the week before Alix's arrival, crippling the faction's leadership and momentarily disrupting their operations.

 After the arrest of the former leader, a Jewish teenager from Coutances codenamed Toulouse, Henri had seniority so despite his initial reluctance to take the spotlight, he did eventually assume the role.

He was a pre-med student who had just turned 21 but carried himself with the solemnity of a man twice his age. He never complained but the ever-present dark circles under his eyes had become so deep as of late that they had begun to look like bruises.

Their resident bombmaker (or “Bang-Bang Boy” as the guys at HQ jokingly referred to them) was a schoolboy of about 16, codenamed Edgar, who was sitting in the chair opposite Alix, leafing through the latest issue of Défense de la France, a popular underground newspaper the Resistance had been distributing.

Gaunt with a lank flap of ash-blond hair and a sickly, almost anemic pallor, it was easy to see why no one would suspect him of being a saboteur for the Resistance– he looked as though a sudden breeze might strike him dead. 

Jean-Pierre, their bagman, sat cross-legged on the closest side of the bed, lazily whistling the best part of "Sing Sing Sing" as he checked his watch again for the millionth time.

A fisherman’s son from Calais who had fled to Carentan at 19 after his family were killed, he was one of the newer Resistance members but also one of the most effective. Jean-Pierre had a sort of breezy charm about him which was a necessity for a bag-man. It allowed him to quickly ingratiate himself with the local authorities, bribing them for information and in many cases, for their silence as well.

Despite his generally easy-going nature, JP could be brash at times; he and Alix had quickly bonded over their shared tendency toward recklessness and a passion for Benny Goodman records.

Like her, he also wanted to be as involved in every mission he could. If he wasn't in the field bribing officials, he was helping to plan operations, forge documents, mark maps, whatever was needed. Having been rejected by the French army for having severe asthma, JP told her he was sick of feeling helpless, a feeling Alix knew all too well.

Sitting around, waiting for her targets to arrive in the Kill Zone made her feel helpless too. It’d already been almost a week since D-Day and she had yet to go on a single assassination operation.

Instead, she was relegated to planning acts of sabotage and organizing supplies for the front lines, a fact that was eating away at her like a poison.

All the smatterings of gunfire in the distance, the explosions and the roar of tanks nearby, all the screaming and crying and bleeding and dying, and she wasn’t doing a damn thing to stop it.

Her boyfriend, her best friends, and thousands of others were out there risking their lives and she was stuck inside with a radio and a map. It was beyond maddening. 

In selling out four founding members of the Carentan Resistance just a week shy of Alix's arrival, the Gestapo's mole --whoever he or she was-- had essentially upended every pre-planned operation in the OSS playbook and made it virtually impossible for her to do her job as planned.

She couldn't complete her assassination ops without Resistance support and her contact -- who she'd spent months building a cover and rapport with through correspondence-- had already been arrested and was most likely enduring unimaginable horrors at the hands of the Gestapo. He was French, Jewish, and a Resistance leader: there was no way the Nazis would interrogate him without employing incomprehensible methods of torture designed to maximize his pain, regardless of what he said or did.

Alix felt her throat beginning to burn at the thought of her ally's suffering and she squeezed her eyes shut before any tears could surface.

Whenever I find the mole who sold him out, she vowed silently as she clenched her fist and tried to steady her breathing. I'm going to rip them limb from limb.

Suddenly, the transceiver on the desk crackled to life again and her eyes shot open.

“Juliette, this is Thérèse. Drop cleared. Dry-cleaning now. Out.” 

From the window, Henri exhaled audibly, his shoulders relaxing in his relief. 

One part complete.

"Took her long enough," Camille mumbled without even opening her eyes.

"See, what did I tell you?" Jean-Pierre prodded as he fiddled with the much-larger radio set Alix had brought them earlier in the week. "Thérèse was being followed. Why else would she be trying to evade a tail after the pick-up?"  

“Gee, I don’t know,” Camille muttered bitterly, sitting up with her back against the wooden headboard. “Maybe because she’s lying?” 

"Here we go again," Alix grumbled and Henri just sighed.

Camille's outbursts didn't usually end well.

"And why would she be lying, Camille?" Jean-Pierre asked in a monotonous voice of exaggerated tolerance, his expression pinched. “Do remind us. I don't think you've said it in the last 30 minutes."

"Don't patronize me, JP, you know why!" Camille's voice rose to a fever pitch. "It's because she's the fucking mole!"

Alix's eyebrows shot up to the ceiling and in front of her, Edgar slammed his newspaper shut so quickly that the front page ripped. 

“She’s my sister," he retorted incredulously. "She's not the mole!” 

“And how would you know, little one?” Camille shot back, her green eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Perhaps it’s you!” 

“We’re twins!” Edgar burst out with a surprising amount of aggression given his frail appearance, his French coming out so quickly that Alix could barely understand him. “We share everything! I would know if she was!”

“Camille,” Alix said measuredly, trying her best to be diplomatic. “We know how much Toulouse meant to you, but-” 

"You don't know anything, Juliette," Camille snapped, rounding on her. "You have barely been here a week! How do we even know we can trust you?! Toulouse trusted you and now he's-"  

The words died in her throat.

Alix clenched her jaw, forcing down her rising rage.

Camille's running on 48 hours of no sleep, she reminded herself, lighting a cigarette to help cool her down.

And her boyfriend is probably being brutalized right now, if he's not already dead, because he was betrayed by someone he knew. She's just looking for someone to blame. How would you feel if you lost Joe like that?

"You've seen my bona fides," she stated tersely after taking a long drag. "You've seen every document. You've spoken to my case officer. You've read the letters-- seen the code. You know I'm clean." 

"Jules has no reason to lie," JP chimed in, aiming a nod of support to Alix. "She has no motive." 

"Thank you-" Alix said with a small huff of irritation and a There-You-Have-It gesture but JP wasn't done.

"But you know who does…?" 

He swiveled his head toward Henri with an accusatory glare. 

It was an allegation so audacious that it took a second for it to fully set in. 

"Me?" Henri took a step back, brown eyes wide. "You must be joking!"

But no one was laughing.  

"You did say your parents were Party members once…" Edgar mused, suddenly eyeing their leader with a newfound suspicion.

"I've never hidden that," the older boy replied evenly, meeting his gaze with a calm defiance. "I despise them and everything they stand for. That’s no secret.”

“Why're you always shortchanging me then?” Jean-Pierre demanded as he got to his feet. 

Henri’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

"What on Earth are you on about?" 

"Oh don't play stupid, Henri," Jean-Pierre scoffed, crossing his arms contemptuously. "It doesn't suit you." 

"If you have something to say, then say it," Henri challenged, nearly bellowing. It was the loudest Alix had ever heard him speak and she jumped at the sound.

"Very well," Jean-Pierre sighed, sounding almost reluctant as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.  

"I've tried to cover for you this long because I like you, Henri, but you leave me no choice. You barely give me enough money for me to do my job! How am I supposed to bribe officials for valuable intel with barely enough money to feed a rat?"

"If there's not much, it's because we don't have a lot left after expenses," Henri contested angrily. "Sabotage materials aren't cheap, you know!" 

"Or you're skimming off the top," Jean-Pierre prodded, giving his nose a quick scratch.

"My God," Henri marveled with a hollow laugh. "All my money goes to the Resistance or to my studies! If I was stealing from our funds, do you honestly think I would still be living in a place like this?" 

He gestured to the tiny run-down flat they were in and Alix certainly saw his point.

With its yellowing wallpaper already dog-eared and peeling, the ever-present drip…drip…drip of the faucet, and the faint smell of mildew, she couldn't imagine living in a place like that unless it was an absolute necessity but Jean-Pierre clearly wasn't convinced.

"Perhaps it's not even about the money," he posited, his startlingly gray eyes blazing. "Perhaps it's just about sabotaging us so you can help out your degenerate parents!" 

"You take that back," Henri growled but with a shout of "Traitor", Jean-Pierre swung at the older boy, leading to an immediate scuffle on the carpet. 

Alix swore in French and stubbed her cigarette out quickly before springing into action.

Apparently today, "aiding the Resistance" meant keeping the members from killing each other.

Edgar didn't move from his chair, busying himself with a homemade pencil fuse instead, while Alix and Camille rushed to separate the two boys. 

Camille grabbed a panting Henri by the back of his heavy wool sweater and hauled him off of his assailant just as Alix managed to drag JP to his feet and wrench his arms behind his back, effectively restraining him despite his irate protestations. 

The agent was about to cuss them both soundly for engaging in such idiocy without a speck of proof, when a loud clatter down the hall quieted her instantly.

Instinct took over and before she knew it, she was standing in the bedroom doorway, revolver at the ready with Jean-Pierre behind her, his own handgun loaded as well.

While the pair waited with bated breath, Henri scrambled to disassemble the larger clandestine radio, Camille raced to stash the smaller handheld one, and Edgar began shoving as many contraband newspapers under the chair cushion and mattress as he could.

With a silent signal to JP, Alix crept soundlessly out the door and he followed in her footsteps down the hall, when they both lowered their weapons with a collective sigh of relief. 

It was Thérèse, still clad in her school clothes: a rumpled wool sweater too large for her frame, loafers, and a gingham skirt, making her look even younger than her 16 years. 

She never gets to be a child, Alix thought sadly as the girl gave them a small wave. Now she’s a soldier. 

“Good to see you, Thérèse,” Jean-Pierre proclaimed with a wide smile as the three headed back into the cramped bedroom of Henri’s tiny flat.

Once they entered again and locked the door, Edgar rushed to embrace his twin sister, the two chattering back and forth in rapid-fire French.

“You had us worried,” Henri chided the girl gently as she took a seat. “Was there something wrong with the initial drop?” 

Thérèse shook her head emphatically, causing the black ribbon to slowly slip out of her hair. 

“Not at all,” she replied as she turned the ribbon over in her hand. “The drop itself was fine but there was a point when I suspected I was being tailed. So I dry-cleaned for a little bit. You know, to keep from being spotted.” 

She and Alix exchanged furtive giggles.

It was a common joke in the intelligence community because trying to lose someone following you was known as “dry-cleaning”.

Lewis Nixon had taught the joke to Alix during her training as a way to remember the term and when Alix first arrived at the Resistance, she had taught it to Thérèse as well because she was on the main surveillance team. 

“Who did you think was tailing you?” Alix asked, sobering quickly.

Enemy intelligence already had one mole in the Carentan faction of the Resistance. If they were starting to pick out Resistance members on the street too, their jobs had just become a lot more dangerous.

 Thérèse shrugged before delicately nudging her wire-rimmed spectacles further up her nose. 

“I’m not sure exactly,” she divulged as she began to gingerly remove a lengthy strip of paper that had been carefully concealed inside the ribbon. “Perhaps it was just me being paranoid but I felt as though I was being watched so I took precautions, just to be sure.” 

Once she had removed the hidden note, she passed it over to Alix who squinted at it. It was badly crumpled, the creases so deep that she had to iron it out on her leg to be able to make out the writing on it, which was in script so cramped that it took her multiple tries to figure out what it said. 

Goddamn it, Nix, she scolded him in her head, making a mental note to repeat it later over the radio when they next had contact. Your handwriting is atrocious. Didn’t they ever teach you to write legibly at Yale?

She skipped to the postscript first. He had promised to keep her updated...

“DJS all accounted for. You’re welcome.” 

Don, Joe, and Skip were safe. Thank God.

“It’s from Édouard,” she announced to the rest of the group as she scanned the document for the actual contents.

Nixon’s codename was the French version of Edward, a not-so-subtle reference to the famous Edward Teach also known as Blackbeard. 

Very clever, Lieutenant, she thought, inwardly rolling her eyes.

“It looks like the Oberleutnant is arriving early,” she summarized.

“He’ll be passing through here in the next couple days on the way to Carentan. We should be able to catch him by nightfall the night after next, if all goes according to plan." 

But of course, things never did. 

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Contemporary: June 12th, 1944. Saint-Hilaire-Petitville, France.

“Édouard, this is Juliette. We have a visual. Requesting permission to engage. Over.” 

Alix drummed her fingers impatiently against her thigh as she awaited her handler’s response.

Any day now, Nix. 

Peering through the stained curtains, she had a perfect view of her target: Oberleutnant Walter Hahn, who was chatting idly to a couple soldiers across the way, blissfully unaware that he was being watched by a team of Resistance assassins.

All Alix had to do was slip out the door, "accidentally" bump into Hahn as he made his exit, flirt a little bit, get him alone, and then it was going to be auf wiedersehen and good riddance to the Nazi bastard. 

Technically, Hahn wasn't supposed to be her problem until that night but it appeared that he and his men had arrived even further ahead of schedule than planned.

And who was Alix to question fate?  

It would be dangerous, no doubt. They would be in broad daylight and Alix’s training specified that she was to wait until nightfall, when her identity was easier to conceal.

But she was restless, growing more and more frustrated with her own inaction as the days went by. She was tired of planning, of smuggling supplies, of being safe while her loved ones were out there somewhere, fighting and dying. Like a tiger trapped in a cage, she wanted out. She wanted to do something. She wanted to help.

But she also knew that it only took one person in the immediate area remembering her face or clothing to have the entire Gestapo out looking for her. But she wanted to help! And besides, such a risky mission might take the mole, whoever he or she was, by surprise. 

“Édouard, this is Juliette,” she repeated, overenunciating her French to be sure she’d be understood. “We have a visual. Repeat: We have a visual. Requesting permission to engage. Over.”

She didn’t have to wait long that time.

Nixon’s response was swift and predictable.

“Negative, Jules. Too risky. Over.” 

Alix sighed in frustration, the crackles echoing across the line. 

"Apologies," Henri said with a sympathetic shrug. "But you heard the man." 

By the mirror, Camille stopped brushing her short-cropped brown hair to check her watch. 

"It won't be that much longer," she assured Alix. "Only a couple more hours." 

"By then it could be too late," Jean-Pierre countered, echoing Alix's own thoughts. "They could've moved on to Carentan. She should go now." 

Henri balked at the suggestion.

"And risk exposing the whole operation, are you mad?!"

"It is a gamble," Jean-Pierre conceded. "But it could pay off." 

"Or, most likely, it could blow up in our faces and get us all killed." Camille shook her head.

"I vote no, and I know Edgar and Thérèse would say the same if they were not blowing up bridges right now.”

“If Toulouse were here-” JP countered but Camille cut him off instantly.

“Well he isn’t!” Her voice quavered and Alix instantly averted her gaze. 

Her stomach flip-flopped with anxiety; she felt like she was intruding on a private moment of grief. She’d never been fortunate enough to meet Toulouse personally before his arrest but from their written correspondence in the weeks before her arrival, he’d seemed like an unusually bright and courageous person and she had looked forward to working with him. 

It felt strange in a way, to grieve the loss of a person she’d never officially met. A part of her felt like she didn’t have a right to feel sorrow over it. After all, she didn’t even know his real name and he hadn’t known hers.

Toulouse was to be her main contact in France; they had been tasked by the OSS to establish a trail of fake correspondence before her arrival, knowing without a doubt that all postcards and letters would be monitored by the Nazi authorities. Since the Nazi takeover, identification and alibis were meticulously investigated so every cover had to be a deep one.

 

“Dear Jules,” one of her favorite letters read.

“Mother is pleased to hear you may come to visit us! She's already planning a party of sorts– you know how she is. My girlfriend is very much looking forward to your arrival too! She's been very curious to meet my favourite cousin! Also, she's quite the musician and is dying to hear you play something when you arrive! Perhaps some Rachmaninoff– I’ve always been partial to Piano Concerto No. 2, myself. We are in desperate need of some music here. Regardless, I’m certain you two will get along wonderfully. I hope to propose to her soon, whenever this damn war (and more importantly, her father) will let me. I had hoped her little brother Gilles would be able to meet you as planned but he and some of his schoolmates have recently fallen ill and some are already in hospital. Hopefully it doesn't come to that for him or I fear we all may catch it. Anyway, I’ve got to be off now. Shabbos preparations wait for no one! 

All the best, 

Your favourite (and only) cousin, 

Toulouse 

PS. Enclosed is a photograph of Voltaire, who also sends his best (and a hairball, for good measure)."

A seemingly innocuous letter, just two cousins conversing about an upcoming family get-together. 

Certainly not an OSS agent and her Resistance contact discussing an upcoming sabotage attempt, the arrest of a Resistance member, a request for a clandestine radio to send further reports, and that the leader suspected more arrests might follow.

But despite every line being coded, Toulouse had still managed to slip some of his sunny personality in-between. He reminded Alix a lot of Skip in that way: ever an optimist, even in the darkest of times. She wished she could've had the chance to introduce the two. She knew they would've been good friends.

The best covers were made of partial truths and their faked correspondences had been no different. The photo of Voltaire, Toulouse's pensive-looking Persian cat, had been real as were his feelings for Camille. 

According to Thérèse, when Pascal's flat was raided and the arrests had been made, Toulouse had actually been carrying the engagement ring he'd hoped to give Camille in his pocket. 

Alix couldn't even begin to fathom the agony that Camille must live with every day knowing how close the pair of them had been to happiness. If God forbid that ever happened to her and Joe, Alix knew she would lose her mind. 

“Toulouse isn’t here,” Camille repeated, clasping her trembling hands in her lap in a futile attempt to still them. “The Gestapo have him. So it doesn’t matter what he would’ve done.”  

No one spoke for a moment, her words hanging in the air like a death knell, before Henri broke the silence in his usual understated way.

"Well as leader, my say is final and I say you’re waiting until nightfall. Sorry, Jules."

With that, he turned back to his work, manning the larger radio and quickly tapping out signals as Camille scribbled down codes via headset, monitoring the progress of nearby skirmishes. 

“You don’t have to listen to them, you know,” Jean-Pierre whispered out of the corner of his mouth as he began measuring out the coordinates on his end of the map spread out in front of them. “You work with us, not for us, yes? You don’t take orders from them.”

Alix checked her notes before stretching an arm out halfway on her side of the map and deftly marking the coordinates of another supply drop zone.

“I know," she acknowledged as she returned to her notes.

 "But I'm required to take orders from my handler and he said to wait too.”

Jean-Pierre barked a low laugh. 

“Perhaps it is different with you Americans but in France, we do not need nursemaids to look after our operatives. We have common sense." 

“Oh fuck off," Alix quipped as she reached around him to steal a pushpin from his pile. “Maybe Édouard is right in this case, okay?” 

Jean-Pierre made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

It took all of Alix’s self-control not to elbow him in the ribcage.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

About thirty minutes went by uneventfully before JP set his pencil down.

"Finally," he remarked with a dramatic wipe of his brow. "All finished."

He took a surreptitious glance at his watch which Alix thought was unusual but she dismissed it.

"Now if you all will excuse me, I'm going to grab a glass of water. I'm parched."

Henri nodded in the direction of the kitchen, hardly looking up from his work.

"You know where everything is."

"Don't get lost," Alix joked and JP flashed her a quick grin.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Gesturing to a sheet of paper by his side of the map, he noted, "By the way, Jules, could you be a lamb and double-check my coordinates while I'm gone? The notes are over there. Wouldn't want any supplies getting misplaced on my account."

After the door closed behind him, Alix reached over to pick up the sheet of paper, a frown appearing on her face as she tried in vain to make out the slightly-smudged numbering.

She squinted, held it up to the light, and even turned it upside down for a new angle but to no avail. It still looked like chicken-scratch. It wasn’t worse than Nixon’s cramped script, which nearly had letters written on top of each other at some points, but it certainly came close. 

After a final, futile attempt, Alix resignedly glanced over to the desk in the corner where Camille and Henri were hunched, still working with the larger radio.

There was nothing she hated more than admitting she couldn’t do something but she had work to do. 

"Camille, can you come look at this real quick?" she asked, swallowing her pride and holding up the paper for her to inspect. "I can't make heads or tails of this line." 

The French girl let out a reluctant sigh, as though helping Alix was the world’s biggest inconvenience, but she still put down the headset and got up, with the air of a martyr. Just as she reached the table, Alix passed the paper over to her, accidentally knocking a pen to the floor with her sleeve. 

This is why they should let me wear civvies in my off-time too, she thought in annoyance as she rolled up the sleeves of her uniform. These uniforms are just too damn big.

She had just crouched to retrieve the pen when all of a sudden, the window shattered and Camille came crashing down onto the carpet beside her, green eyes wide with shock.

Clutching a hand to her chest, scarlet was starting to stain her shirt, pouring like paint through her fingers and Alix felt her own blood run cold. Leaping into action, she began to stifle the bleeding as best she could with her hands as a scream of warning ripped from her throat to the others: 

"Sniper!"

[bluelightning16]

I saw your twst devil town au and now I'm interested in it. Is it possible to provide more information on what it is about?

Of course! I'm so glad to hear that you're interested :)

I'm in the very, very, very slow process of drawing and writing more for this AU, but I'll explain a bit about the setting and character backstories here. Fair warning, there's some dark content ahead.

Basically, the citizens of Devil Town have been there for longer than they can remember and have nearly no recollection of their lives before “the fall.” For some, namely the younger cast (i.e. Silver, Sebek, Riddle, etc.), this world is all they've ever known since birth, but for others like Lilia and Malleus, their instincts are screaming that things around town seem awfully off... after a certain point, the people don't age, and neighbors are always disappearing under mysterious circumstances, despite the lack of an exit. But that's nowhere near the worst of it: the “curse” of Devil Town is truly their greatest enemy here.

As people have discovered, the residents who've been around the longest have started to show more... otherworldly features. And with these physical anomalies come even more horrifying effects—memory gaps, cannibalistic urges, hallucinations, general loss of sanity, and, eventually, complete demonization. Most people end up killing themselves off before they can get to that final stage, but our Diasomnia boys aren't quite ready to give up yet. Along with the other struggling fighters, it's become a race against time to find either a cure or the exit... or the immune.

While there isn't much (or any) scientific evidence to back this up, many believe that ingesting a part of the immune can grant them immunity as well. As a result, hunts for those with the “blessing” have become extremely common, and even one accusation of possessing it could spell your demise.  Recently, there has been a rise in the number of people who actually have the power to sniff out the immune—researchers attribute this to one of the more positive outcomes of the curse, brought about with age.  Fortunately, three lucky boys have managed to escape detection thus far: Silver, Kalim, and Rook.

Silver is five when he’s found on the side of the road by Lilia and Malleus, having been inexplicably abandoned by his parents three days prior.  They take him in, albeit somewhat hesitantly, recognizing his condition right away.  Together, the trio travels as far as they can within the bounds of Devil Town—which apparently isn’t truly a single town after all, but rather many spaced far apart within the same, confined area.  Later on, they encounter Sebek, who’s recently run away from home, and their found family grows... as do the mysteries.

Silver is sixteen when a so-called “Savior” arrives in town.  As per usual, they can’t recall how on earth they got there in the first place, but this time, the rest of their memories are completely in tact.  They are also rumored to be able to lessen the power of the curse with their touch alone.  Regardless of how true the gossip is, Lilia and Malleus believe them to be the missing piece to this whole puzzle, and Silver agrees... though he too has some personal stakes in the matter.  At this point in time, he has started to show some unusual symptoms of narcolepsy, which he prays the Savior can cure.

—Unfortunately for all of them, there’s nothing that Devil Town won’t ruin.

...This actually got kind of long, whoops. I hope that clarified some things for you, instead of just being one repetitive and confusing mess...! I'll definitely go more in-depth as I produce more content, so hopefully this is sufficient for now ^^

[candyvenombites]

Snakolyte Oc Symbols

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(From Top Left to Bottom Right)

Taybon Goldenblade (He/Him): An upbeat and energetic fighter. He has trained many Snakolyte soldiers. He is also the proud husband of Quellington Morebara

Flority Applecrack (She/Her): A beautiful yet greedy model. She has stolen plenty of things from photoshoots and will do anything for her fame and fortune.

Jewel Bloodtea (She/Her): A confident witch that loves shiny objects. Escape being burned at the stake for her crimes.

Inkma Venustrap (They/Them): An unstable toxicologist. They enjoy their job a little too much

Zenvallia Pepperluck (She/Her): A business woman and gambling queen. Joined the Snakolytes to provide for her daughter

Soratune Bluestitch (He/Him): A perfectionist fashion designer with a lot of pride. He’s always trying to keep up w perfect imagine

Roxren (She/Her): An orphan with a ton of energy. She’s normally the one to get information out of people with her cruel methods of torture.

Vorvox Buttonmash (He/Him): An elite gamer and hacker. Only got into the Snakolytes because of his parents.

Quellington Morebara (They/Them): A quiet and serious Botanist. Their bitter and cruel attitude is balanced out by their loving husband.

Mirro Shatterscreen (All pronouns): A judgmental and sarcastic psychologist. Often experiments with fear. Helps Roxren with torture

Ceclair (All pronouns): A young thief in debt. They often do spy jobs despite her young age.

Deltamore Lace (He/Him): An old yet kind photographer. He loves taking pictures of flowers and water the most. He is the oldest one of the Snakolytes

Gothotea Weblore (She/Her): A gloomy poet and artist. You rarely see her smile, almost as rare as seeing her without her parasol.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I might go more in depth to these characters later. If you’d like to hear more just let me know!

💕🍬Stay Sweet🍬💕

[candychronicles]

bodyguard // s. todoroki

A/N: my take on the rockstar/band/performer au for bnharem! i’m not a big fan of au’s normally but this one was a lot of fun to write! todoroki is definitely ooc in this one but i took a lot of liberties with his character in order to better fit the au storyline.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,091

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, gore, fighting, death, oral sex (f!receiving)

SYNOPSIS: you were in it for the money, he was an unhinged popstar. how could you two ever possibly get along?

want to read more rocking stories? click HERE !

the days at work were tiring, the nights even longer, but the pay was good and it was always satisfying to make a grown man cry as you knocked him to his knees and manhandled him away from your client.

Todoroki Shouto, one of the elite, the famed, the rich, and absolutely fucking annoying. sure, he was hot (anyone with an eye could see that) but he was just like everyone else in his industry: a cocky bastard. you didn’t mind his lifestyle too much except when it interfered with his job, like having to pry off whiny people who clung to him like their life depended on it, and for some, it probably did.

his biggest claim to fame was being in a now wildly famous band, namely the main singer. he was charming with a sultry voice and a personality that oozed confidence but he wasn’t always that way. in fact, he was originally a shy, anxiety ridden teen when he first joined, not sure how to use his voice or deal with people coming up to him in the streets. the life he lived was sheltered before that, training under his dad to take over the family business, but when sweet, innocent Todoroki confessed that he much rather be artsy and sing at the age of sixteen, things quickly changed for him. his father, Todoroki Enji, tried to convince him otherwise, told him that he didn’t know how the real world worked and that he would never be successful, but Shouto wouldn’t budge and eventually Enji caved in, or so it seemed.

Enji immediately enrolled Shouto in lessons, instructing him to shape up or ship out. if he couldn’t become successful in the industry, he would take over his father’s business instead, but that didn’t happen. Shouto excelled in lessons, blowing his instructors away with his timbre and control. he was a natural, and frankly, good enough to be a star. they weren’t so concerned with his stoic yet endearing personality. they had broken enough pop stars, molded them to be perfect model citizens, so what was one more?

the plan backfired immensely. as Shouto’s talent grew, Enji seeked out the biggest in the game, convincing them to give his son a chance at stardom. while reluctant, the board agreed, not wanting to piss off one of the most powerful men in Japan but were thoroughly surprised at the fact that his kid didn’t suck at all. in fact, he was actually good, really, really good.

they signed him immediately, whisking him away into the life of fame and fortune at the young age of seventeen. his range, the slight rasp to his tone and the ability to reach into somebody's soul and pluck the very feelings they try to hide so deeply from it’s depths pushed him towards the life of a rockstar. the freedom he had never been able to experience living at home pushed him over the edge and spiraled him out of control.

Todoroki drank, smoked, and fucked his way through cities big and small, getting himself into a lot of trouble along the way. the behavior went on for years, only getting worse as time went on. nobody seemed to be able to get control over the boy with the pretty hair and wild scar. after almost killing several women and one of his bandmates in a drunk driving accident, his team, label, and most importantly his father had enough.

the conversation between the two did not go well. Shouto was now an adult, legally free and clear from his father’s power. he had his own money, enough to live comfortably for awhile, even if he dropped the band, and all of the repressed rage, longing and anger that was pent up from his childhood. he was not stopping his lifestyle for anyone. that was, until you came along.

you were always a scrapper, getting yourself in trouble more times than you could count. it was just in your nature to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves and you spent many days on the playground beating up the bullies who picked on the sweet girl braiding flowers into her hair, or the boy who liked to play with baby dolls instead of trucks.

as you got older, your fights got fewer and farther in between, at least when it came to the public.

when you turned sixteen and kicked some kid who was trying to look up your skirt so hard in the chin that he saw stars, you were approached by a few men who slid you a card and told you if you wanted to make money fighting, come meet them.

you were a dumb kid and instead of running in the opposite direction and telling the police, you showed up at the seemingly dingy door behind the alley of a fairly run down ramen restaurant. knocking on the door and rocking back on your heels, you waited to see what would happen. it took a few seconds before a panel slid open, allowing you to see nothing but someone’s eyes peering at you in the mid-afternoon sun. hesitantly, you raised the business card in your hand, showing it to the person and jumping in surprise as the panel slammed shut and the door creaked open, inviting you in.

you nodded your head politely at who you realized was a rather bulky, burly man, before a woman dressed in a silky black dress plucked the card delicately from your hand and led you through the hallway. when she opened the door, you were taken aback by the scene.

people of all shapes and sizes stood cheering as two rather muscular men fought in an arena across the room. spit and blood flew across the floor as the two pummeled each other over and over again before one tapped out, the other man raising his fist in the air in victory. you stood, gaze fixed on the scene in front of you, blood racing at the thought of you being in the ring.

“addicting, isn’t it?” the woman whispered in your ear, a knowing smile on her face before she gently took you by the sleeve and guided you away from the screams and shouts into a private room that was much quieter.

you sat down in front of a man who was rather tall and thin, graying hair across his head and a clean shaven face.

“so, i heard you’re a good fighter. how good do you think you are?”

“uh-” you stuttered, not sure how to respond, “i think i can kick someone’s ass if i have a reason to.”

“is money a good enough reason for you?”

“money is a nice reward, yeah, yeah it is,” you confirmed, not pondering the question over for a second.

“good, you start on Saturday. come in comfy clothes that you won’t mind getting sweaty and dirty in. you’re my new ace, a secret weapon. give it six months time and you’ll be defeating guys like that out there in seconds.”

and defeat you did. over and over again, men, women, anyone who thought they were better than you were defeated by your own fists. you worked hard and then some, through literal sweat, blood and tears, to reach the status of champion of the underworld by the age of eighteen.

you were a wild card, unpredictable in your stature. you didn’t have hulking muscles and a sturdy frame, but what you did have was speed, the element of surprise, and the ability to calculate in a split second, all of which allowed you to defeat your enemies time and time again. this relative victory didn’t come without your share of sacrifices: hiding the bruises, blackened eyes and bloody lips from your family as you trained relentlessly, having to figure out a way to manage the steady flow of income that started coming your way as you fought in your first official matches, defeat after defeat as you trained, chipping a tooth and having it promptly filled in like nothing happened, having to learn how to disarm and fire a gun, work with knives and most importantly, losing a bit of your empathy along the way.

it came as no surprise when people who were much more powerful and much, much richer started taking an interest in you, placing large bets upon your head at some of the higher staked matches, a feat you worked your way up to after many years. you never failed to disappoint, knowing that these fights were the ones that mattered the most, the ones that brought you, and your boss, the biggest pools of money.

it was at one of these fights on a dreary, rainy night that you met Todoroki Enji, a hulking man that failed to intimidate you. you were used to people his size and bigger thinking he could take advantage of someone like you and it only made you chuckle thinking of how easy it would be to have him on his knees in seconds.

“i’ve made a proposal to your boss that he couldn’t refuse. he said he couldn’t and wouldn’t force you to do anything, but since you’re quite motivated by money, i think you’ll be intrigued by my offer,” he started, sitting down next to you in one of the VIP booths, sliding his business card on the table with a sly smile.

you were interested and entertained him, listening to him ramble about his shitty kid and his bad behavior. amused, you sipped on your drink as you absorbed his rants and whines about the negative reputation his kid was creating for himself, how he abused his freedom and power to the fullest extent and how his life was spiraling out of control.

“what does this have to do with me, exactly?” you finally questioned, setting your drink down and turning to face him, eyes met squarely with his own.

“i’d like to hire you to be his personal bodyguard.”

“sounds like he needs a babysitter, not a bodyguard,” you retorted, getting ready to stand up and move away from this blathering idiot.

when he spit out a number so outrageous, however, you sat back down, now thoroughly intrigued by the situation at hand. satisfied that he had your full attention, he went into details, laying down a fairly thin stack of papers in front of you as you listened to every detail.

“so let me get this straight. i’m to be his personal bodyguard, keep his shitty behavior a little more under control, whip him up into shape sort of situation. that’s it? and i’ll get paid that much for being a glorified babysitter?”

“you will have to protect him, of course. there are some crazy fans out there that climb windows, seduce themselves into his bed, stalk him, chase him down, but i don’t think it’s anything that, with your expertise, you can’t handle.”

you continued to ponder the situation before gesturing him to continue with his story. he rambled for another moment or two before picking up the papers and going over them with you: standard non-disclosure agreements, a detailed list of your job description and a contract agreement that he was subleasing you through your boss.

after a few minutes of reading the contracts over and discussing them with your boss, you agreed to the scenario, locking yourself into what would be a rather entertaining six months.

the first time you met Todoroki, he instantly tried to hit on you, but when his hand lowered down to grab your ass, you had him on his knees with his left hand behind his back before he could even blink. after that encounter, your conversations were curt. he knew what you were here for and he wasn’t about to let you get his way.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be so relaxed about the whole situation. he still drank, still partied, fucked almost whatever girl or guy he wanted, but anytime things got too out of hand, you stepped in, firm but gentle, guiding the crying groupies out of his bedroom after their time was over, driving him every time he got too drunk, cutting him off from any supplies when he was getting out of hand and most importantly, keeping him safe during his travels.

he never realized how much danger he was always in until you mitigated the problems with ease. he just assumed that being assaulted on the daily was something that came with being in the public until you broke some robbers finger when they tried to swipe the wallet out of his own back pocket. after that, he almost clung to you like a koala on a tree anytime he was out in public. you provided stability in a time where he was drowning in his own worries.

that didn’t mean he was ever nice to you though. in reality, he was actually sometimes meaner to you, the simple fact that some girl could be stronger than him set him off, always feeling on edge around you. you weren’t necessarily quiet, offering up any and all small bits and pieces about yourself that he ever wanted to know, but he never really knew you: not your last name, where you were from, if you had any siblings, parents, where you went to school, what your job was, who you were on the inside. it bugged him like crazy to know what your favorite color was and that you liked cheese on your ramen but not anything important, anything he wanted to know.

you liked to keep it that way, however, and would stay as friendly yet aloof as possible. this was a job to you, a job that would set you up easy for awhile and gave you a break from fighting for the most part. you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you liked the man more than you would’ve expected. you felt the way he clung to you as fans swarmed him, the way he always looked to you in reassurance as you walked the streets at night, hearing his sobs in the shower, sobs that were so broken and confused. it showed to you a side of him that was vulnerable, that showed emotion.

he broke down towards the end of your stay, realizing a little too late how much easier it was for you to do your job when he was cooperative and nice. in fact, he began to be more open about enjoying your company and spending time with you. it made it harder for you to continue with your job knowing you were falling for the pretty rich boy, for the man you were hired to protect, for the man who looked at you like you could do no wrong but vehemently would deny it. you began enjoying the little moments with him, the stolen glances, the laughing. you didn’t know what changed in him but you were glad he was someone you could get along with. underneath that crazy exterior, he was just a guy who wanted a friend.

your six months came up relatively quickly. it sucked that your cushy job living in five star hotels, eating decadent meals and working out in state of the art facilities would be over soon but you felt yourself getting lazy, weak and losing your rather sharp edge. it was time to get back into the grind and despite your heart panging at the fact that you would leave the pretty boy with the angry and sad heart behind, you were ready to go.

your last night of work consisted of the final show in Tokyo. tens of thousands of guests were set to attend what would be the bands biggest concert ever. you were calm, cool and collected as always, but the singer, not so much.

he spent the day pacing back and forth, warming up his vocals, hydrating himself, stretching and generally doing his best to calm his nerves.

in a rare act of affection, you reached out to grab your hand with his own, looking him dead in the eye and telling him that this night would be one he would remember forever; and you were right, just not for the way either of you thought.

the show went amazing, the crowd loud and receptive, the choreography flawless, the singing perfect. Todoroki ran off stage with the biggest smile he had ever seen and in his own rare display of affection, twirled you around with ease, adrenaline still pumping through his system.

you congratulated him on the great show and waited patiently for him to remove all the makeup and his costume. he emerged a little while later, hair flat against his head, wet from the shower, sweatpants and an inconspicuous gray hoodie donning his body. you bid a pleasant farewell to his bandmates before escorting him back to the car. he had requested that you drive him back to the hotel and spend one final night in the comfortable hotel beds before you headed back to your hometown.

when you arrived, however, things felt quiet, a little too quiet, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“Shouto, you need to get into the driver’s seat right now, turn on the car and lock it. do not let me in until i tell you to. do not get out of the car, okay?”

he began to question you but before he had a chance to argue, you were pushing him out of the way as a knife sliced towards him, figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows.

one, two, three, four.

you counted out the four assailants as you shoved Shouto against the car, prompting him to unlock and scramble in through the back seat. only when you heard the click of the lock did you breathe a sigh of relief and begin your attack.

the first man with the knife was tall and lanky, using his height to his advantage, trying to overwhelm you, but with a quick kick to the back of his kneecaps, he went tumbling onto his knees. now shorter than you, you were able to control him by grabbing onto the top of his head and slamming it into the ground, effectively knocking him out.

one, two, three.

the next man thought his muscles would save the day, but his size lacked any true speed, and you were able to land fingers to his eyes, a punch square to his nose. a quick chokehold and he was knocked out against the concrete as well.

one, two.

they both came at once, knives flailing in the air as they sliced your way. one managed to gouge out a chunk of flesh in your arm but you paid no mind, too focused on the task at hand as you grabbed the knife with your hand and used the other arm to knock into their elbow, making them loosen their grip enough to let go of the blade that you then embedded into their shoulder. the other assailant took your distraction to swing the knife your way and as you were trying to dodge the serrated edge, used their other fist to swing up into your chin. you felt your teeth chatter against each other, blood mixing with saliva as you bit your tongue. spitting, you slammed your hand down against their wrist, grabbing the knife with your hand and yanking, not caring that it sliced into your palm as you flipped the weapon around to shove it into their abdomen.

with both men distracted, you slammed your fist against the car door, telling Shouto to quickly unlock it so you could get in. when you heard the telltale click, you instantly dove into the backseat, yelling at him to lock it and drive as fast as he could back to the hotel. he did as he was told with an eerie calmness to him, backing out and around the attackers that were attempting to survey the damage that had been dealt to them.

once you had made the relatively quick trip back to the hotel, you hurriedly jumped out of the car, telling Shouto to carry his own bags so you could be on alert if anything were to happen, scanning each and every corner for a possible other attack. thankfully, everything was safe as you made your way into his hotel room.

you dropped him off quietly, not even attempting to walk into his room, but only fifteen minutes had passed before he was knocking on your door, a first aid kit he had gotten from the front desk securely tucked under his arm.

you let him in without a word, locking the door behind you and turning to face him. before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he had dragged you into your rather grandiose bathroom, sitting you on the steps leading up to the jacuzzi tub and pulling out the contents of the kit onto the floor.

he began by assessing the damage to your wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping both your hand and arm rather efficiently.

“i had to wrap a lot of my own wounds as well as my siblings. dear old dad let the temper get the best of him sometimes and it wasn’t always so pretty,” he explained, teeth clenching together in an attempt to remain calm.

“thanks for this. i’m sure they’ll heal just fine,” you replied, not wanting to put him in a situation where he had to talk about his troubling past.

“you could’ve died protecting me today, you know?”

“that’s my job Todoroki. i was hired to protect you, i protected you, and i’m fine, thank you very much. this is not my first fight and it definitely won’t be my last.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the marble floor in front of you, holding your wounded hand in his own, tracing the fabric that surrounded your palm.

“i recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. it was a company car, one of my dad’s cars to be precise. i know they can seem relatively inconspicuous but i memorized every car my dad ever had, big or small. it was definitely his car.”

you mulled over his words for a moment before sighing yourself, slumping against the stairs as your head rested against the rim of the tub.

“your dad sent those men, huh? that’s why you were so eerily calm driving away. you knew you weren’t really in any danger, that those men were secretly there to kill me,” you finally concluded, anger boiling deep within the pit of your stomach.

“yeah, i think they were. i don’t think dad is too fond of the fact that you and i got close. i-i like you a lot more than i let on, i’ve told him so. i thought that would make him happy, knowing i have someone in my life that i could rely on and trust, but he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control you after these six months were up, think he wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“wouldn’t be the first time i’ve had a hit out on my head. this one, however, is probably going to be a lot tricker to deal with.”

Shouto sunk deeper into himself, body shaking with rage as he saw the fight flash in his head over and over again.

“i’m going to protect you. if you want to, that is. i’ll sign you on as my own bodyguard, however much money you want. i’ll be by your side always, make sure that nobody tries to kill you, tries to hurt you like that again.”

“i can fend for myself Todoroki.”

“it’s Shouto. and why won’t you let anyone else take care of you? listen, i know i’ve been kind of an ass but i thought we were at least friends, and yet i know nothing about you. i know your favorite color, your favorite animal, that you like sunsets and the rain and snuggling under comfy sheets at the end of the day, that your eyes sparkle when you get a chance to fight but secretly crave peace and comfort, but i don’t know who you are. your name, your story, why you’re really here.”

you heaved as you sat back up, staring him straight in the eye to find no malice, no anger, only confusion, empathy and maybe even a bit of longing. so you told him, you told him everything: who you were, what you were, where you grew up, about your childhood dog and all the scraps you had as a kid, how two strange men in suits approached you and groomed you to fight at the age of sixteen, how it was the only thing you knew how to do, the only thing you were good at, how you scared yourself sometimes because you enjoyed the pain that came with the fights. he sat there watching, eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed every word you said, every bit of pain and anxiety, of longing for someone to love and understand you, of not having to fight all the time, of wanting to be vulnerable for once.

“let me take care of you,” he declared, standing up and outstretching his hand towards you, helping you up from the cool tile, hand coming to rest behind your head once you had steadied yourself.

he leaned forward, unsure and hesitant, before placing his lips against your own, soft and gentle, tasting of mint chapstick and coffee. you were unsure of yourself, awkward, full of aches and pains, wanting so badly to let go but never wanting to get hurt.

“it’s okay, you’re safe with me. let me take care of you, please.”

that was all it took for you to open up, looping your arms around his neck as he led you back to the bedroom, careful to not run you into anything. your knees hit the back of the bed and you reflexively tensed up, like a deer in headlights.

he shushed you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, heeding the bandage and wound underneath. you laid back after that, body attempting to relax as his hands ran themselves soothingly over your body, across your breasts, the flesh of your stomach, your thighs, the corded muscles in your calves, slipping your shoes off, your socks, kissing every inch of your body along the way, making sure you were comfortable. you shimmied out of your pants, your tight shirt, bra, underwear, finally bare for him to see, scars, bruises, all the imperfections of your life.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, taking his time to kiss every single blemish and scar that you had, wanting you to feel his dedication.

after what felt like hours of soft kisses, his thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing in quick and precise circles, fingers gently parting your folds to press into your body, back arching at the feeling of him already.

“it’s all about you tonight, okay? just relax, let me show you how much i appreciate you.”

and appreciate you he did. he dropped to his knees, nose nuzzling into your pubic bone as he kitten licked your clit once, twice, three times, testing your reaction. you whined and squirmed at the feeling, already overwhelmed by his fingers lazily dragging in and out of you. you wanted, needed more, but Todoroki wouldn’t hear any of that. you deserved to be treated right, treated gently tonight, to allow your worries to melt away, if only for a few moments.

his fingers began picking up pace, pistoning in and out of you, his fingers curling in all the right spots, fists clenched into the downy comforter as you attempted to ground yourself from the overwhelming situation. his tongue worked against your clit, changing speed and pressure, trying to find what was the right combination to set you off, watching your every move intently as you squirmed around on the bed. before he even got a chance to get into a routine, you were already cumming over his fingers, creamy liquid coating the digits.

he hummed in contentment, pulling his fingers out to lick up the syrup, you watching with your pupils blown wide.

you went to sit up, body aching from the adrenaline of the fight, but he pushed you back down into the plush bed, tutting as he settled his head against your thigh, kissing, sucking and biting along the plump flesh, leaving little marks only he would know about.

his tongue began lapping at your clit again, this time harsher, more in tune with what your body wanted. you clenched your legs around his head, fisting his hair with your good hand as you tried to ground yourself yet again to reality. his velvety tongue felt like heaven against your body, coaxing moans and sighs out of your mouth. you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight truck, tingles running up your spine. you tried to push his head away but he only held your body down, a frighteningly feral look on his face as he continued to lap against your clit, unrelenting in his pursuit to pull orgasm after orgasm from you.

after, two, three, four more highs, you couldn’t tell where one began and one ended, he was finally satisfied, pulling his face away, chin glistening in the dim light. your eyes were teary and red, overwhelmed by everything he had put you through. you had never been more satisfied in your life, and by the look on Shouto’s face, he knew it too.

your eyelids began to droop and your body relaxed into the mattress as you came back down into reality. Shouto shuffled around the room before settling you into your bed, tucking the sheets around your body and propping your head against your pillow.

he was enamored by your, by your story, how you opened up so willingly to him after tonight. nothing would get in between you two now. he was just starting to truly know you, know the real you, and nothing was going to stop him from wooing you until you were his, not even his father., and if her life was ever threatened again by him, well, Shouto would just have to kill Todoroki Enji.

[mavda]

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 |  Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) | Ch.7(2) | Ch.7(3) |

Ch.7: Of burdens and duties (4)

Naruto tries to look like he is not bored out of his mind. But they sure are testing his patience. To go see a lord he already forgot his name when he’s free, to consider sponsoring a new trade route Naruto had already discarded with the council, to lend his power to suppress an uprising someplace he didn’t care to remember. 

    His father’s hand touching his shoulder almost made him whine in relief. 

    “I’m afraid I need Lord Naruto for a while, if you’ll excuse me.” His father actually looks apologetic, and Naruto almost wants to congratulate him for being such a good actor. Do whatever you need to do, just get me out of here, he thinks.

    And although the lords and ladies surrounding Naruto complain and whine about his father taking him, Minato takes him away amids excuses and apologetic glances everyone else buys. 

    They are out of earshot when Naruto sighs and thanks his father for his timing, “I was dying of boredom.”

    His father snickers, “Thought it was time for you to get stressed out.”

    “Hinata?”

    “With Lord Gaara.”

    Naruto raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t press further. He’s going to her right now to make sure she’s all right anyway. 

    There are some people who look at him and make as if getting closer, but Naruto raises a hand in apology and keeps on walking. He has already spent a good amount of time with them, let him leave, jeez. 

    Temari is the first one to notice him, and she gives him a nod before moving her body to give him a clearer view. Sai is looking around, sitting right beside Hinata. She is sitting straight, all poise and elegance, and her attention is on Gaara, who’s talking and moving his fingers as if counting.

    He comes closer, keeping his eyes on her. Kankuro turns then, Sai glances over him and Gaara raises his head as he realizes his siblings’ attention is elsewhere. Then Hinata looks away from Gaara, follows his line of sight and looks at him. 

    Her shoulders drop in relief, her eyes widen and Naruto has to stop himself from gathering her up in his arms and crushing her against him. Sai stands up the moment he’s close enough and Naruto sits beside her. She stays unmoving and Naruto searches for her hands before bringing it to his thigh. Hinata gives him a small smile and as he rubs circles over her skin she squeezes back.

    Gaara resumes his talking when Hinata looks back at him. 

    “So,” he continues, “only in attendance today are the One-Tail, the Five-Tail, Six-Tail and the Nine-Tail.” His fingers come down as he remembers. “The Four-Tail is allegedly dying-”

    “Which him not coming today kind of fans the flames of that rumor,” Kankuro shrugs and Temari nods along. 

    “And reports have been coming in that the Two-Tail has been sealed already but they are giving time to their Beast Tamer to acclimate.” 

    Hinata frowns, “T-the others… w-where are the o-other B-beasts?”

    “In the wild,” chimes in Naruto, “being restrained by the clans who want a claim on them.”

    “W-who?”

    Naruto shrugs, “We can’t know unless someone comes forward and claims their stake, but so far no one has done so. We don’t know where they are either.” His tone is matter of fact and his stance tells Hinata he doesn’t mind the situation one bit. 

    She keeps her worries to herself. If it’s not enough to worry a Beast Tamer, then surely they were unfounded. But Naruto presses on her hand, grabbing her attention.

    “Anything else?”

    “Ah, w-well. Isn’t it d-d-angerous?” 

    “Oh, well, if the Beasts were roaming freely then sure, and we Beast Tamers would have to step up and contain it. But since they are out there doing nothing, it’s better for us not to waste resources on that. They are being taken care of, and eventually a new Beast Tamer will appear.”

    “H-have you h-had to?”

    Naruto cocks his head to the side in confusion.

    “T-take care of a w-wild B-beast.”

    “Oh, no,” he says, “not in our generation. That kind of thing happened like three generations prior, when we were starting to seal them in ourselves.”

    Hinata nods, as now everything starts to come together with the knowledge she had of Beast Tamers before becoming the wife of one. Before the Beasts were sealed in humans the clans either drew them off into the wild and far away from them or tried to seal them in places. A mountain, a cave, a forest. Only when they started sealing them within themselves to draw from their power did the Beast Tamers came into reality.

Hinata wonders, steals a glance at Naruto  who is starting a conversation with Lord Gaara. Would it be so bad to let the Nine-Tail out into the wild again? Tied to a forest far away from everyone? That way Naruto…

    He brings her out of her thoughts as he scoots closer to her and lays their intertwined hands over her thigh now, Hinata feels herself blushing and notices immediately the mischievous smirk on Naruto’s face. 

    He is enjoying this.

⁂⁂⁂

Hinata spends the rest of the day by Naruto's side. Like his father did before, when people don't accept Naruto's hand wave and leave, he walks to them, away from the group and comes back immediately after. 

Lord Gaara and his entourage left a while ago, as soon as the demonstrations started. Each Beast Tamer sits in a specified area around the arena, at the highest part of the structure, in order of the number of tails of their respective Beasts. Lord Naruto sits at one of the edges and Lord Gaara is right in front of his line of sight. 

Naruto relaxes the moment the show starts, and it's obvious why. The area the Beast Tamers sit at is off-limits to anyone but the people sanctioned by them, and a quick glance around tells Hinata that the Beast Tamers only keep their guards and a selected handful of other people. Many of the lords Naruto talked with before were not in here and new faces were presented before Hinata with a whole new attitude. 

These people he liked, she realized, and by the way they conducted themselves the feeling was mutual. 

Most of the lords and ladies that came to Naruto before sit under them, in the next level. Still substantially high up, but incapable of bothering the Beast Tamers. Not that they seem to mind, as they are now enthralled in the fights under them. With their hands intertwined and grabbing their clothes in suspense, Hinata sees some of them groaning in frustration while others clap in glee at the results. 

Naruto sits with his hand on her thigh, and he glances back at her every once in a while. Rubs his thumb over her clothes, offers drinks and food Hinata ends up refusing after a while. 

Sai sits right beside her, on her other side, and Sakura has come sit next to Naruto instead of Shino. They comment on the fights and some of the lords and ladies they met before and Sakura's laugh fills the room in intervals. 

Hinata snickers at some of their comments, harsh and way too honest, and whenever she sits there, confused since she's missing information, either Sakura or Naruto lean to her and add an explanation. 

There are few instances in which Hinata had the fortune of visiting a festival before. All of them under the eyes of the Hyuga. The places were beautiful and the people were happy and Hinata could only watch. Her stutter made her keep her mouth quiet and it meant she could never join in anything worth doing. 

Naruto presses his hand on her leg, inches closer to the edge of his seat as the fight reaches its climax. One of the fighters uses a flashy fire technique that engulfs half the arena and the people watching hold their breaths as they expect to see the opponent laying on the ground. But he's cocooned inside walls he raised from the ground, and he dashes forward immediately after. His enemy yields the moment he sees him running towards him. 

And Naruto laughs in joy. "Did you see that?" He asks, and Hinata can feel his eyes on her. She smiles and can't control the feeling that overcomes her as Naruto looks at her expecting a reaction. Whatever it may be. 

She takes her time, as usual, but she doesn't worry, because she knows he will wait. "Went all or n-nothing on that last one, d-didn't he?"

Naruto's energy is contagious, and Hinata can't remember a time in which she was so mesmerized in fighting before. He nods along and shrugs, "You always gotta keep your chakra supply in check."

"Like you've ever had to worry about that," jabs Sakura, and Naruto turns to her with mock hurt on his face. 

"I'll let you know I am very conscientious about my own chakra, thank you very much."

Lord Minato rarely comments and spends his time quiet and attentive behind his son, but this time he inches forward, right between Hinata and Naruto, and he says, "You are very welcome, son, thank you very much."

Naruto turns to him and looks as if he's been betrayed in the worst way possible. Sakura keeps on pestering him, now that Lord Minato has joined in, and Naruto waves them away frowning as if he's pissed, but he snickers the second after, and he can't help but laugh as he attempts to defend his position with weak arguments. 

Even Sai chimes in, and Hinata can feel herself relishing this ambience, this situation. She is enjoying herself. And she brings her hand to her mouth in an attempt to hide the laugh that threatens to spill forth. 

The tremor that rattles their room is enough for the conversation to die out immediately and for everyone to stand alert. Naruto grabs her arm and brings her closer to him. 

The sound comes to them from the farthest corner of the arena. The people standing in attention stare at the direction where the sound came from and Hinata can feel Naruto's hand trembling as they realize that it's-

"Gaara," Naruto whispers and he squints his eyes as if that's enough for him to be able to see between the people and the cloud of dirt that stands between them. 

"The structure gave away?" Ventures Sakura, and they all remain quiet, still ready for action, aware of their surroundings and everything around them. 

The screams are still far away, but it's enough for Naruto to grab Hinata and start walking away from the windows. His eyes still glued to the commotion, glancing around every now and then to make sure that whatever was there was not yet here. 

"An attack?" Lord Minato looks dumbfounded, and the lords and ladies inside the room whisper around them with the same tone. Nobody aside from Naruto and Sai have moved and it's clear nobody yet believes there is even a chance for an attack to be happening. 

"Everyone, gather your things, your guards and leave this place immediately." Naruto's voice resonates within the room, and he breaks the spell. Everyone begins to stand, looking more and more worried by the second. 

And then Gaara's One-Tail comes into view, and Naruto can feel a shiver run down his spine. "What the fuck…" 

The Beast roars to the sky. His weight is too much for the wood and metal structure under him, which is why every move he makes make the place collapse. The Beast's body is like a gigantic bear made out of sand, with purple linings running through its body like veins. His yellow eyes are surrounded by black and they lock on the people under him. 

Naruto has trouble breathing. He wishes to go and help, make Gaara regain control, but there are so many things yet he doesn't know. He can't put Hinata at risk due to his carelessness.

"I'm going to help," his father states and then runs towards the window. 

"Sakura!," Naruto shouts, trying to reign control of the situation and start giving the orders they desperately need. But Sakura is already on his father's heels.

Minato throws a kunai in front of him, breaking the glass before jumping out, with Sakura at his back. They disappear into the sea of people who have already started to leave the premises as fast as they can, making the dire situation even worse. Naruto follows his father’s back for a second before losing them completely. And then he turns around and brings Hinata to his side, his arm around her shoulders.

"We need to leave," he orders. Hinata trembles under him and his brain starts working with one goal in mind: getting her out of here.

"Shino, you guide us out of here. Sai, at my back." 

Shino's bugs are already buzzing and flying around them and he starts moving immediately after receiving the instruction. Naruto feels Sai glued to their backs and he allows himself a second of relief before moving. 

The people pile upon each other in a desperate attempt to escape, but it only makes it harder to do so. Naruto understands Shino's instructions without the need to voice it. He crouches, places his arm behind Hinata's legs and raises her into his arms.

She brings her arms around him as a reflex, her eyes wide and filled with worry.

"It's gonna be all right," he whispers against her head, "it's going to be all right. I got you."

They jump in between the people. Like many others lords and ladies are doing as well, being carried in the arms of the guards they brought. They keep away from each other, still too worried about the source of the attack. 

The One-Tail stops roaring and Naruto feels himself stand straighter. He knows this pattern. He looks at the monster and sees it breathing in.

"Take cover!!" He yells, hoping Shino and Sai hear him. He falls to the floor, covers Hinata with his body and raises his hand in front of him, letting the chakra of the Beast pour out. 

The One-Tail shoots out balls of pressured air to the people. In no order. The ground trembles, the arena starts falling apart wherever the attack touches and then it stops. 

Naruto lets his chakra die out and looks around. There are people splayed out in ways that no living being could withstand, and he brings Hinata closer to him. The arena still stands, but it's a matter of time before the One-Tail pounds it to the ground. 

"Shino! Sai!" 

Sai jumps next to him, with his scroll on his hand and a bleeding gash at the side of his head. Shino is nowhere to be found. "He'll find us," he tells Sai, who only nods before following again. Shino specializes in tracking, if anyone will be able to find them after being separated will be him… or so Naruto wants to believe. 

The screams and now wails of pain fill the air and Naruto feels his senses heightened due to the danger around them. Which is why he stops before the One-Tail even stops screaming. 

The Beast gives out an interrupted yell before disappearing under a flash of light. 

His father did it. 

He did it. 

Gaara is okay.

He doesn't realize he's trembling until Hinata brings her head out of his neck and he puts her on the ground, cups her cheek. His fingers can't stop spasming. "Are you hurt?"

Hinata shakes her head no and hugs him, rubbing her head against his chest. Naruto can't help the sigh of relief that leaves his body. 

He has to go check on Gaara. 

He reaches the ground with Hinata in his arms first. Whatever happened to Gaara can happen again and it's best for Hinata to get out of here. 

Sai will take her. Naruto looks around, hoping to see Shino or Sakura coming to him, but only the people jumping down from the stands are running around. The guards with their clients under their arms, looking around in search of danger while they move as fast as they can. There are whimpers and wails of agony around them, but the thunderous racket from before gave way to a sort of calm that only makes Naruto more nervous. 

His father must be with Gaara, tending to him. He will not come back until Gaara is fine, and he’s grateful for it. But that means that Sakura won’t leave his side either and if Shino doesn’t come back soon only Sai will be there to protect Hinata. And taking the current events into consideration, Naruto fails to feel comfortable without sending at least two guards with her. 

He takes too much time thinking. It’s the first thing that comes to mind as the tremors come back again and the noise escalates around them. It’s terrifying, the sight before him. Aside from Gaara’s, he has never seen another Beast on the loose. Wouldn’t even think he would ever do so in his lifetime. And yet…

The Five-Tails stands now before him, a horse-like Beast with white fur extending from its face to its five tails. The stands are already in shambles so the moment it appears, his hoofs start stomping in an attempt to stabilize itself. 

The wave of dust and air that moves to them leaves Naruto with no time at all, and his only reaction is to cocoon Hinata in his arms and throw himself to the ground, hoping no debris falls to them. 

The second the trembling settles they are running away. Naruto coughs as the particles latch to his lungs and he worries whether Hinata is having a hard time breathing as well, but he refuses to stop now. First they need to get out of here.

The dust makes everything harder to see and Sai tries his best to make a way for him to go through, moving people out of their way. They move faster than almost everyone on the ground and yet they are still inside when that distinct trembling happens again. 

Naruto knows what’s happening before he even turns around. Somehow, his senses catch onto his surroundings before his brain can have a chance. He puts Hinata on the ground, looks for her face.

There are tears going down her cheeks and he doesn’t know whether it’s because she’s scared or because the dirt around her is irritating her eyes. 

It doesn’t really matter.

He raises her head, cups her cheeks with his hands while his thumbs wipe her tears. She locks eyes with him, “Stay close to Sai.” 

Hinata frowns at him, confused, but  Naruto doesn’t have the time to explain, so he pushes her towards her guard, who is already right behind her.

Naruto smirks, he catches on quick. 

Sai, like never before, latches onto Hinata’s wrist and mid-section to keep her from moving, as she tries to reach for him. “My lord-” she calls, but Naruto walks backwards with growing intensity. 

He catches her struggling with Sai, who remains still as a statue. And as if on cue, the Six-Tails gurgles to the sky. Slimy and gooey, the slug-like Beast stands behind him too. Naruto can’t find any explanation for what’s happening. He just fears-

“Naruto!!” Hinata cries and Naruto can feel his heart squeezing. He forces himself to keep on walking. Not now. She has to leave and he has to put distance between them. 

Whatever is happening, it’s targeting Beast Tamers. And if there is any pattern to this.

-he fears he’s next.

[elevatorelevenhatesyou]

Final Fantasy 14 Part 20: Howling Eyesore

Time for Garuda. She is also a huge case of told not shown characterization.

We land in Garuda's little clearing and Brash goes in to confront her. Cif and Alf come in too despite neither of them being fighters as far as I know, not to mention they aren't immune to tempering. Worth noting that finally there’s a Duty that doesn’t bother trying to pretend it could possibly make any kind of sense that a bunch of other adventurers show up to help fight this boss. 

Apparently Garuda's got some kobolds and lizard men tied up here. Cid comments on that and wonders why. I too wonder that, still.

The very first shot that we ever get of Garuda in person is of her ass. How nice.

Alf stay focused. I guess he is at that age.

This scene plays out like Garuda is our archnemesis or something. She and Cid and Alf exchange a few hero vs villain lines, we're here to put a stop to your evil, mwahaha I will kill you a great deal, that sort of thing. Just before Cid and Alf go off to distract Garuda's Ixal warriors somehow, Alf gives Brash the sort of encouragement that might happen before a final boss or at least some form of really important climactic battle with really high stakes.

But like, they aren't, really, are they? This is literally the first time we've met Garuda. She hasn't done a damn thing this whole game. She's just been squatting up here threatening people like she's fuckin Stoop Kid. But even if we believe the hype that she's terrifying and way worse than Titan and Ifrit (who also never did anything, so that's not a high bar to clear), she's still just a primal with a bunch of beastmen. She'll be a problem, sure, and Ixal terrorism will certainly cost a lot of lives and resources, but it's not like she's going to destroy the Eorzean Alliance. She's probably not even tough enough to destroy Gridania by itself, and Gridania sucks.

So Brash kabedons Garuda, but Garuda doesn't die in the cutscene like the other two primals did. Instead she just goes all 'lol I'm fine actually, because I have the faith powers of these like five Ixal over there', so again the gameplay segment may as well not have happened. 

Garuda tries to temper Brash (but not Cid and Alf, fortunately, I guess she's a moron), but finds out she can't. 

Brash blasts Garuda with God magic, and the final chaos emerald comes out of Garuda's boobs, hooray.

now Brash has all six, what is the purpose of the chaos emeralds again

BUT THEN SUDDENLY GAIUS IS HERE.

Just, standing over to the side, by himself. I, what? What're you doing here, dude? How did you GET here? Why are you alone?

He doesn't seem to be here for any reason other than to shit talk Cid and Garuda. Some of her guys come at him and he shoots them all dead with a big arm cannon thing. Wish I had one of those.

In response to Gaelsar van Baelsar killing a few of her guys, she pokes her kobold and lizardman prisoners and they instantly summon Ifrit and Titan. Or, maybe she summoned Ifrit and Titan through them? I don't know. 

Yeah boom, they’re both just here now. So, apparently summoning a primal is incredibly easy? Like you only need like three guys? Kinda thought it was harder? I guess she is a primal herself, and she's apparently supposed to be super strong, but like, does this mean it's really easy for primals to summon other primals? That sounds like a system that can be abused. Can Ifrit summon a bunch of other Ifrits, or can there only be one at a time? I mean there's this Summoner class who can make like little bits of Ifrit, and there are a whole bunch of Summoner players around, so like..?

Gaius Van Baius airlifts in his megazord like a giant baby being carried by mechastorks, and it promptly kills all three primals in one hit each. I do have to point out that it simply nonchalantly bitchslaps Ifrit and Titan, but the sexy girl primal gets a gruesome and brutal death by head chomping while she screams in terror. This feels fetishistic.

Gaius certainly seems to be getting off on it. His super weapon just came out of nowhere, kill-stole Garuda, and then stomped up the last two major bosses as well for good measure, and also it like absorbs all their souls or something. Oh hey but if there can only be one of each primal at a time, does that mean that the Garuda, Titan, and Ifrit problems are just completely solved now that Gaius's megazord just caught them all like pokemon?

So it's an effective way to instantly make it clear that the new bad guy is a bigger threat than the last ones I guess, but like come on, resurrecting the first two bosses just so it can kill them in one hit each? The way Ifrit and Titan are effortlessly brought back and then effortlessly killed just makes them both feel really insubstantial. It's kind of funny, actually, like that bit where the vampire keeps rising from the dead in the background and Doctor Orpheus just keeps shooting him with a laser to make him fall down again while still talking. To say nothing of how insubstantial this makes Brash look, since she's supposed to have had an at least sort of tough time dealing with these threats in the past.

That by itself isn't necessarily a bad thing, gotta make the villain look threatening of course, but the way it's handled here brings more to mind the feeling of Great, thanks, why the fuck did I even bother doing all that shit. In fact, why did I even bother doing all that shit with Garuda? Apparently she was doomed anyway. If we'd been like twenty minutes late getting that crystal thing attached to our ship, we would have gotten here just in time to watch Gaius and his megazord pissing off, leaving behind a Garuda shaped crater.

Really should have just pissed off home to hang out with Brash's squad ladies.

Oh and to top it all off, Labradoodle is here too, just chilling on top of one of the mechastorks which is actually a giant flying chess piece. He looks HILARIOUS. Look at this ridiculous dumbass.

Can I add this to the counter? Yeah I'm adding this to the counter. Brash is right there and Gaius talks directly to her and Labradoodle is just up there doing jack shit.

An Ascian Pisses Off Without Trying To Kill Brash With Lasers: 5

Gaius and his megazord leave, and Brash, Cid, and Alf also leave. I would normally bash Gaius for not destroying Brash here (I'm certainly still doing that for Labradoodle because he has plans that are different from Gaius's), but Gaius basically tells Brash to deliver the message that his super weapon is all powerful to the Alliance leaders, so okay.

I mean, she doesn't. The Alliance leaders still think we're all dead, because we still haven't told them about that for some reason. Oh yeah speaking of, guess killing Garuda to show the world the Scions were still kicking also just fell through, didn't it.

So, I guess the entire Garuda chapter was all for nothing.

Great. Can I go home?