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jackoshadows · 4 years ago

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While developing characters, writers use certain literary tools to add depth to these characters and advance the plot.

Literary Foils and Mirrors

This is arguably the simplest of the devices. Foil characters share few or no values or traits. Maybe one character is lazy and boring, and his best friend is energetic and a go-getter. These are foil characters. Put them together, and they’ll highlight each other’s strengths and weaknesses. The most common foil characters are the heroes and villains, who stand for different values and want to achieve separate goals.

Mirror characters are used for a similar purpose. They tend to share several qualities and are used to complement and highlight each other’s traits. Common mirror characters embark on parallel plots, sometimes to achieve a single goal, which tests them and highlights their traits in different ways.

Arya Stark and Sansa Stark for example are literary foils.

Arya was one of the first characters created. Sansa came about as a total opposite b/c too many of the Stark family members were getting along and familes aren’t like that. Thus, Sansa was created; he ended by saying they have deep issues to work out. - GRRM

GRRM SSM November 11, 2000

You may be as different as the sun and the moon - Ned Stark, AGoT

Foils have contrasting personalities, a different set of values and are often used to highlight a character’s particular qualities. Snobby Sansa is used to highlight Arya’s socializing with the smallfolk and non-conformist Arya is used to highlight that Sansa is a proper lady. Arya rushes to help the butcher’s boy, Sansa is more concerned for the prince.

And then we have the mirror characters who share similar traits and qualities, again used to highlight and complement our characters. They may have parallel plots, give hints and clues as to how one characters journey could end the same or be different to the other.

In ASoIaF, Arya Stark and Lyanna Stark are mirror characters, in that, the author is using a tertiary character like Lyanna to complement and give us more information about our main character Arya.

“Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her.”

“Lyanna was beautiful,” Arya said, startled. Everybody said so. It was not a thing that was ever said of Arya. - Arya, AGoT

So here the author gives us some information about how Arya might look in the future as well as demonstrates Arya’s low self-esteem with regards to her appearance.

Lyanna is used to highlight Arya’s interest in wielding a sword:

Beyond, in a clearing overlooking the river, they came upon a boy and a girl playing at knights. Their swords were wooden sticks, broom handles from the look of them, and they were rushing across the grass, swinging at each other lustily. "Arya?" she called out incredulously. Joffrey glanced from Arya to Sansa and back again. "Your sister?" She nodded, blushing. - Sansa, AGoT

Now two children danced across the gods wood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn’t be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. - Bran, ADwD

Bran sees a vision that parallels Arya/Mycah and even Arya/Bran with Lyanna and Benjen. Notice how Sansa is both incredulous and embarrassed at Arya dueling with Mycah - highlighting the differences between Arya and Sansa and at the same time paralleling Arya and Lyanna.

Horse riding.

You ride like a northman, milady,” Harwin said when he’d drawn them to a halt. “Your aunt was much the same. Lady Lyanna. But my father was master of horse, remember.” - Arya, AGoT

It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. - Arya, AGoT

Notice how Arya and Lyanna are paralleled to highlight that Arya is a good horse rider, like the Northerners. And again, notice the contrast to Sansa. One character is a mirror here and one character a foil.

And again, with the flowers:

Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. […] “I bring her flowers when I can,” he said. “Lyanna was … fond of flowers.” - Ned. AGoT

Then to Sansa she said, “When we were crossing the Neck, I counted thirty-six flowers I never saw before, and Mycah showed me a lizard-lion.” - Sansa, AGoT

One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. Sansa kept hoping he would tell Arya to behave herself and act like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, but he never did, he only hugged her and thanked her for the flowers. That just made her worse. - Sansa, AGoT

Text that is used to mirror Arya and Lyanna as liking flowers. We have Ned taking flowers to Lyanna and Arya bringing flowers to Ned. And again we have Sansa disparaging this. Mirrors and foils.

We have Arya and Lyanna stepping in to help people. Mirrors used to highlight Arya’s personality.

“Stop it!” Arya screamed. She grabbed up her fallen stick. Arya swung with both hands. There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince’s head - Sansa, AGoT

They shoved him down every time he tried to rise, and kicked him when he curled up on the ground. But then they heard a roar. ‘That’s my father’s man you’re kicking,’ howled the she-wolf.” The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. - Bran, ASoS

Arya and Lyanna step in to help their father’s men and people like Howland Reed and Mycah. Sansa stepped in to help her Lannister prince.

Lyanna is deemed wilful and wild and comparisons are made to Arya.

“She was,” Eddard Stark agreed, “beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time.” - Arya, AGoT

And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. - Jon, AGoT

“[…] This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience … at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up.” Arya, AGoT

So we get a warning for Arya that her predecessor with a similar personality had a tragic ending. Will Arya head down the same path or will she make different choices from her mirror character?

And then there is Arya’s relationship with Lyanna’s son Jon Snow. The fact that Arya, Jon and Lyanna all look the same - and have the Stark look.

I think the writing in the books makes it clear that Arya and Lyanna are literary mirrors and Arya/Lyanna are literary foils to Sansa.

In what way is Lyanna a mirror for Sansa? How does Lyanna in any way complement Sansa as a character? What information about Sansa do we get from the Lyanna call backs in the text? What can we glean about Sansa’s personality and how she would react from Lyanna’s traits? There is no information about any of this in the books.

Which is why it’s baffling when some sections of fandom keep talking about the many parallels between Sansa and Lyanna. There are no parallels here, none.

We first hear of Lyanna when Robert mentions that unlike his failed engagement to Ned’s sister, this time around, Ned’s daughter and Robert’s son can marry to unite house Baratheon and Stark. This is GRRM setting up the scenario to subvert tropes.

Readers expect that Lyanna is a Sansa like character but as we keep reading, it’s revealed that the daughter who is similar to Lyanna is Arya and not Sansa. Even Arya is surprised when Ned tells her that it is she who will have Lyanna’s beauty.

Lyanna and Robert do not get married because Lyanna went against the wishes of her family. Meanwhile Sansa wanted to marry Joffrey against the wishes of her father. Character foils. If anything the Robert/Lyanna and Joffrey/Sansa pairing demonstrates how much Sansa and Lyanna are as much foils as Sansa and Arya.

Lyanna could see through Robert, that not even his closest friend Ned could do. She was not taken in by appearances.

“Robert will never keep to one bed,” Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm’s End. “I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.” Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. “Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature.” Ned, AGoT

Unlike Sansa, she did not believe that fairy tales were real. She was not idealistic about love. Contrast her with Sansa - who continued to love her sweet, beautiful prince after seeing him sadistically maul another child and try to harm her sister and after her own father warns her that Joffrey was not good

At first she thought she hated him for what they’d done to Lady, but after Sansa had wept her eyes dry, she told herself that it had not been Joffrey’s doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya.She could not hate Joffrey tonight. He was too beautiful to hate - Sansa, AGoT

“Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted her his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.” - Sansa, ACoK

Much is made of Lyanna crying over Rhaegar’s song. As if this is a quality specific only to Sansa in ASoIaF. Cersei talks about how Rhaegar made her weep with his silvery harp. Arya likes songs and Arya cries. Arya and Sansa just like different songs and we have no idea what Rhaegar’s song was even about. Arya named her direwolf pup Nymeria from the songs.

Arya named hers after some old witch queen in the songs - Bran, AGoT

Arya wanted to become an outlaw like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs.

Tom and Hot Pie resumed their song on the other side of the brook, with the duck hanging from Lem’s belt beneath his yellow cloak. Somehow the singing made the miles seem shorter. - Arya, ASoS

Ygritte cries over songs about the last of the giants and Ygritte reminds Jon of Arya. Again, Ygritte and Arya are literary mirrors to remind Jon of his sister and highlight Arya’s personality and other characteristics.

She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore. - Jon, ASoS

"If you kill a man, and never meant', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? - Jon, ASoS

There were tears on Ygritte’s cheeks when the song ended. “Why are you weeping?” Jon asked. “It was only a song. There are hundreds of giants, I’ve just seen them.” “Oh, hundreds,” she said furiously. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.” - Jon, ASoS

Ygritte displays both grief and anger at the fate of the giants in the song - emotions that Arya often exhibits.

So GRRM compares two women who cry listening to songs with Arya in the text and yet the parallel here is somehow with Sansa?

Besides, let’s not forget Lyanna’s reaction to Benjen laughing at her crying:

The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle, but when her pup brother teased her for crying she poured wine over his head - Bran, ASoS

Who does this remind us of?

“You be quiet, stupid,” the girl (Lyanna) said, tossing her own branch aside. - Bran, ADwD

Who does this remind us of?

GRRM is deliberately writing in Lyanna Stark as a literary mirror to Arya Stark in the books. There are three possible reasons for this. One, to highlight and complement Arya’s personality and add depth to her character. Two, to highlight her strong connection to the North. And three, for a plot that he’s leading us towards, that will either parallel or connect to Lyanna’s story in some way.

GRRM sees no such need to connect Sansa and Lyanna because that is not Sansa’s story. Her similarities are with her mother Catelyn Stark. Her story has been revolving around Littlefinger for 5 books and Littlefinger is infatuated with her because she looks like Catelyn. The author has even talked about it.

My Littlefinger would have never turned Sansa over to Ramsay. Never. He’s obsessed with her. Half the time he thinks she’s the daughter he never had—that he wishes he had, if he’d married Catelyn. And half the time he thinks she is Catelyn, and he wants her for himself. He’s not going to give her to somebody who would do bad things to her. That’s going to be very different in the books. - GRRM

If there is an aunt that the character parallels, it is Lysa Arryn and not Lyanna Stark. Will Sansa fall to Littlefinger’s machinations and suffer the same fate as her mother and her aunt? Or will she forge a different path when facing same tests?

So why the obsession with Sansa and Lyanna parallels?

Sansa stans have this weird way of reading the text where everything is subconscious and not written on the page. This idea that what’s on page is not important but some sneaky, secretive subtext is what’s actually going foreshadow future events. So GRRM investing in Jon and Arya’s relationship in the text of the books means that Jon and Sansa are going to end up together. Or GRRM is making subconscious parallels between Lyanna and Sansa.

Sorry, but that’s not how GRRM writes. Everything that GRRM wants us to read and connect to is on the page.

“I’ve been planting all these clues that the butler did it, then you’re halfway through a series and suddenly thousands of people have figured out that the butler did it, and then you say the chambermaid did it? No, you can’t do that,” Martin reportedly said while addressing whether fan theories and online speculation influence his writing process for the “Song of Ice and Fire” series of novels on which HBO’s adaptation is based.

It’s easy to do things that are shocking or unexpected, but they have to grow out of characters. They have to grow out of situations. Otherwise, it’s just being shocking for being shocking. But this is something that seems very organic and natural, and I could see how it would happen.

Then there’s the misogyny. Beauty, songs, romance and love should only be associated with Sansa. Arranged marriages are only for Sansa, being used as a pawn for power is only Sansa. Only Sansa suffers the separation from family. Can’t associate any of that with Arya because she is ‘masculine’. Despite Catelyn arranging a marriage for Arya with a Frey and despite Ramsay marrying Arya to hold the North, only Sansa is the key to the North. Arya sees through Elmar Frey as easily as Lyanna sees through Robert Baratheon, but it’s only Sansa who is associated with an unwanted betrothal.

Every female character in this series has a betrothal plot, every female character is used as a pawn at one point - even Daenerys. We know nothing about Lyanna’s story - whether she was in love with Rhaegar, what she was doing in the Tower of Joy, why she eloped. We know nothing, just assumptions and headcanons. This is a character of whom we only get flashes here and there to add to Arya’s character for plot reasons and the mystery of Jon’s parentage.

In my opinion, this obsession that Sansa stans have with connecting the character to Lyanna arises from a need to prove Sansa’s Northern/Stark credentials. Sansa stans are fanatical about the North. Parallels to Catelyn and Lysa evoke Sansa’s Tully lineage rather than her Stark one and for people that are obsessed with the North, this will not do.

Unless it’s the idiotic Ned/Cat Jonsa parallels where they theorize that Jon is attracted to a girl who looks like the woman who emotionally abused him 😒. Of course, with the new batch of Sansa stans who ship Jonsa there is now an added reason for pushing the Lyanna-Sansa parallels as a connection they want for Jon and Sansa.

So, in the text of the story, the author writes Arya Stark and Lyanna Stark as mirrors and Arya Stark and Sansa Stark as foils. The author does not intend to have Lyanna and Sansa act as mirrors in my opinion. Rather, an examination of what little we know of Lyanna shows her to be a complete contrast to Sansa in all ways.

#Arya Stark #Lyanna Stark #Sansa Stark #GRRM #anti Sansa stans #fandom nonsense

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ironwoodprotectionsquad · 3 years ago

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So, let's do a headcount shall we. The strongest nation, Atlas, is gone. Entirely. Because Ruby threw tantrum. Mistral is gutted because Leo was a coward of the highest order, Vale is gutted because Cinder is a bitch, and Vacuo has been struggling since forever apparently. About to get way worse. Where is the hope? C'mon crwby! You were babbling about hope just a few volumes ago! Where is it now? Huh? Where did you put it?

Hope died with James honestly. This is not only the James lover in me talking (because let's be real the James lover in me is always talking). James's story is just so damn hopeless. We have a man who was suddenly thrown the weight of the world onto his shoulders and no one offered to help. When "help" finally arrived they caused more trouble then help. They lied to him, didn't give him critical information to help with his plan, they intentionally leaked classified information to a known thief, and then actively attacked the military because they didn't like his plan. We spent all of volume 7 watching James slowly crack under the pressures of trying to keep all of Remnant safe along with trying to reunite them. We see him being attacked on all fronts all the while desperately trying to keep on a brave face for everyone even when they where backstabbing him.

Then we see this man crash and burn and spiral out of control with even his closest allies turning on him and giving up on him before even trying to talk to him or bring him back from the edge. They just watch, condemn him for things that either he was told to do by the very people condemning him (fucking Winter) or blamed for shit he really couldn't control (Jacques squeezing Mantel because he's a selfish rich prick who wants to hoard his money). After being back stabbed and attacked by his allies in an ambush and then later left to die because no one bothered to tell him anything about the new plan he died broken and alone.

He was left to spiral out of control with the damn fucking heroes right their. They did nothing but for some reason the show wants us to believe they're heroes despite doing nothing heroic in volumes 7 or 8.

I didn't mean to ramble so much but....sorry yea this whole thing has me feeling a lot of emotions and I fucking hate it.

#Rwde #Rwby bashing #Rwby critical #rwby critique #james ironwood #ironwood protection squad #pro james ironwood #pro ironwood #general ironwood #general dadmiral #dadmiral ironwood

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rwby-necro-au-archive · 3 years ago

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Death does not do you and I part completely.

Summer has a special meeting with someone in particular.

Tick tick tick

The clocks second hand went, ticking by, counting each excruciating second that he sat in that goddamn chair.

How long had he even been sitting here? Hours? Days? Weeks? It felt like he hadn’t left his office.

Could you blame him though? It was only a few months ago that the terrifying head councilman of Vale had him pinned to a wall with an iron grip around his neck, choking out every last little bit of lifesaving air he needed in order to live.

He was too scared to leave the council building. So he stayed in his office, that now seemingly small and empty office, the one with gunmetal grey walls, giant crystal clear windows, and carpet more expensive than the man himself sitting in his equally expensive chair.

Ironwood felt like he was losing his mind. Between the constant childish insults of the anons, his inability to track a location on them, and the fact that there was a chance that the people he saw around Ozpin were those only he could see, he wanted to just close his eyes for a few days.

Sleep doesn’t come for the weary though, and he had work to do. Paperwork. Of course it’s paperwork, as if his eyes weren’t already failing him with the lack of sleep.

He sighed and began his work.

Summer floated gracefully through the building, passing by countless who she couldn’t care less about, she only had 1 person in mind.

The man himself, the man who shot her in cold blood. God, how long had it been? She had been 28 when it happened, Ozpin was only 5 years into his position as councilman.

8 years at least is what it had to have been.

8 years for Summer to finally level herself out to have this conversation.

She knew he didn’t deserve patience, but she also knew that screaming at the man wouldn’t do her any good either.

Finally, after what seemed like a short eternity, she arrived at the door. A silver plate screwed into the door stated “Ironwood” in cursive.

She fazed through the door, looking around the office before seeing the person she was looking for.

And there he was, bags under his eyes, working as always, he didn’t look a day over 25. Unsurprising considering he was revived by her.

She stood and waited silently for him to notice her presence.

Ironwood continued to slave away at the busywork, getting irritated with each passing second at the fact that he had to do this while so torturously tired. He noticed that someone was now in the room with him, but paid them no mind.

“Pursuer. Get out. I am not in mood for whatever you have to say.” He spoke through gritted teeth, irritated at the insistent presence.

Summer tilted her head “I never liked how you spoke to your subordinates. Especially your younger ones.” she spoke in a gentle tone.

Ironwood froze. Rapid fire thoughts shot through his mind all at once, all telling him there’s no way the voice he was hearing was correct.

He slowly looked up, horror splashing across his features once he had done so.

In front of him stood a desaturated, dead looking and glowing version of Summer Rose. Glowing white sclera’s without Iris’s or pupils looked back at him, and an all too familiar white glowing scar graced the center of the woman’s forehead. She wore the same white cloak she had worn before, along with the same black turtleneck and floor length skirt.

Summer laughed gently “What’s wrong general? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y-you’re supposed to be dead.”

“I am dead. You killed me, don’t you remember that silly?”

Ironwood sat there dumbfounded, fearful, and confused. She was dead, how was she here?

“What do you want with me?!” Ironwood demanded.

“Just to chat. I wanted to see how you’re doing after all this time. I’ve checked in with my family and friends, why wouldn’t I check in with you? Although….” She tapped a desaturated red finger to her chin.

“Although….?” He spoke nervously.

“Although….I’ve seen you around…”

“Y-you have?”

“Yes…..I saw every meeting you had with Ozzy, everytime you visited him and beacon, everytime he met you in Atlas. How sad that he had to put up with your poor treatment for that long. I’m surprised he didn’t snap sooner! Ozzy was never the kind of man to be patient like that.”

Ironwood gulped nervously. He was showing more of his fear than he’d like to, but at this point he didn’t care. “Really….?” Was Said barely about a whisper.

Summer crossed her arms and scolded the man in front of her like a child, “Mhm….and I saw you threaten my daughter. Now that wasn’t very nice, was it?”

“What are you trying to get at?”

Summer simply looked at him, silence the only thing coming from her.

“What are you getting at?!” He demanded.

She continued to stay silent, staring at him.

Ironwood slammed his hands down on the desk and gritted “Why. The hell. Are you here. To taunt me?! Make fun of me like a child?!”

Summer sighed and shook her head, refusing to speak still.

“TALK TO ME GODDAMNIT”

SMASH!

Ceramic echoed through the office as it hit the wall. Being thrown hard by ironwood in the direction of Summer.

“You can’t hurt me anymore. Don’t you know that?” She said quietly.

Ironwood gripped his head in his hands “SHUT UP!”

Summer kept her quiet tone, “I wouldn’t yell so loud. Your subordinates might hear you—“

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT WHAT THEY HEAR.”

“You seem to be the only thing I can rely on, did you know that?”

Ironwood’s gaze shot up to look at the woman, “what?”

“I can rely on you because you never change. You haven’t changed since the day I met you James. Perhaps that isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

“The fuck are you talking about?!”

“It’s why Ozpin is happy.”

“Huh?”

“Ozpin is happy because Ozpin knows how to change. He’s a tree that knows how to bend in the wind, a house that’s built to stand the tests and changes of the tide. He knows when change is needed. And although there have been many changes in his life, he appreciates them all.”

Ironwood didn’t have anything to say. He sat in his expensive chair, gripping his head in his hands, staring at the women in awe.

Summer looked sorrowfully at the man in front of her, “you, do not want to change though. A tree that doesn’t bend in the wind is a tree that will snap in half, and if there’s nobody to hear that snap and see it fall, but to only see it’s aftermath, was it ever a tree to begin with?”

“You and Ozpin will be written into history books for years to come. Ozpin will be seen as a man who despite everything being ripped from him as a child, pushed through to see the light in the world and help those less fortunate than himself. He will be seen as a hero. And you, will be seen as a man who got everything he wanted, and yet still took more from those who could never get what he took back. You will be seen as a Villain. A monster.”

Ironwood took his hands off his head and gripped his desk “No. I won’t. Atlas will write me into the history books as a hero. You’re wrong.”

“What good is a title of hero if it only serves to cover the misery that one man has caused? A false hero, is no hero at all. Humanity will always find the truth, it is in our very nature to do so.” Summer spoke.

“You’re wrong. I’ll prove you wrong. Referring back to your tree metaphor, I won’t snap in half.” Ironwood clutched the desk further, gritting his teeth.

“You will. In fact, it’s already started. There are many who will seek to be rid of you.”

“I already know about how the necromancers feel about me.”

“I’m not talking about the necromancers.”

“What?” Ironwood questioned.

Summer gave him a pitiful look and shook her head.

“ANSWER ME.” He screamed as he slammed his hands down on the desk.

Summer continued to stare sorrowfully at the man in front of her. Questioning if this was truly the man she feared so much beforehand.

He slammed his hands down on his desk again, harder, putting a crack in it “FUCKING ANSWER ME.”

She continued to stay quiet, as he continued to scream, eventually throwing things at her. None of which hitting her but rather phasing through her.

Summer turned her back to him before speaking barely above a whisper “you truly never change, James.” Before disappearing.

Ironwood stood there silently, contemplating what happened. Before he could calm down, his door was cracked open slightly.

“Sir, Are you alright?” Violet asked quietly.

“GET. OUT.” He screamed at her, slamming another fist down on his desk, putting a bigger crack in it.

She flinched before quickly closing the door and running down the hall.

Ironwood collapsed back into his expensive chair and put his head into his hands.

He sat there thinking for a while, tired, exhausted, and confused. He couldn’t even fathom what he just experienced.

Soon, he whispered something so quiet, only he, in his office, that now seemingly small and empty office, the one with gunmetal grey walls that were now dented from the objects he’d thrown, the one with crystal clear windows, and carpet more expensive than the man himself was.

“I’m losing my mind.”

#necromancer summer #summer rose #necromancer au ironwood

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good-rwbyaus · 4 years ago

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Unnamed Crack Time Travel Fic. Part 3 [first] [prev]

After Salem united all four relics, the gods descended and judged Humanity to be unworthy, obliterating all. Ruby desperately activates her Semblance to avoid the blow and, as a result, becomes only one of two people remaining in Remnant. Months later, the two employ a plan to travel back through time.

Chronic!Backstabber!Syndrome!Cinder, DoneWithEverything!Ruby, transcended!Ruby, crack time travel AU. - mod lilac

p.s this thing seriously needs a name.

Everything had been a blur after Ruby laid eyes on her Mom, her Mom that had been dead for a good part of her life suddenly here in the flesh. She was so out of it that she completely missed the part where Cinder convinced her Mom and the rest of her company to go back home - and that she’d take her to Patch for a check-up with a doctor.

How Cinder knew her Mom, Ruby didn’t know. Why her Mom trusted Cinder to any degree was also something that eluded her. Nothing was right in this universe - nothing at all.

After Ruby was absolutely sure that the rest of them were out of earshot, she turned around and hissed at Cinder, “What did you do?!”

“What do you mean?” Cinder tilted her head, confused and appearing slightly hurt, “Are you okay, Ruby? I know it can be a bit confusing when you have amnesia, but trust me when I say that I have your best interests at heart.”

Ruby paused at the concerned expression on Cinder’s face before shaking her head, “No. Sorry. I’m fine.” She turned around to face the forest path leading to Patch - and missed the bright ecstatic grin on Cinder’s face as she manifested a glass knife into her hands.

Cinder lifted up the knife silently. And with a single motion, she mercilessly stabbed down at her young charge’s back. Happiness lit Cinder’s eyes as the blade encountered no resistance - but she quickly paled as she noticed that she did not draw blood but a flurry of petals instead. The girl she just attacked just turned her head with a mildly annoyed look.

And then everything went topsy-turvy to Cinder as she was buffeted away by a gale of red petals.

“Best interests at heart, my cute ass!” Ruby crowed at Cinder triumphantly, “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist stabbing me in the back.”

Letting out a small pout, Cinder could only dematerialize her dagger in defeat. Her best shot after two years of planning and she blew it. “I can’t help it. It’s a nice back.”

Ruby rolled her eyes at Cinder’s reply. “Does stabbing people in the back really make you that happy? Can’t you try...to like not?”

“Yes it does,” she affirmed before shrugging, “As for your other question....why mess with what works?”

“Ugh. There’s no reasoning with you,” Ruby clicked her tongue, “Also, not that I’m complaining, but why’s my mom alive? And why does she trust you so much?”

“Well, that’s because I saved her life,” Cinder responded smugly, theatrically shifting her weight on the balls and heels of her feet and not giving any more information past that.

“...And how’d you do that?” Ruby had no choice but to play along.

“Oh you know. Salem bragged about how your mom was the prototype for those talking Grimm, so I asked how long ago she’d been experimenting. Put two-and-two together and knowing where Salem would be at that time, I managed to save your mom from certain death,” Cinder smugly said, tilting her nose high.

A moment of silence fell between them.

“...Thanks,” Ruby said with a soft smile, “I mean it.”

“And then when she was all grateful and saw me having Emerald and Mercury around, I told her that I always wanted to be a godmother,” Cinder continued proudly, “And she made me your godmother. And now I’m in charge of you brats’ training.”

“Wait. Why did you want to be a godm-” Ruby paused for a moment, eyes widening in disbelief. She stared dully at Cinder. “Did you seriously save my mom just so you could stab me in the back and call it training?”

“Nooooo...” Cinder said before crumpling under Ruby’s dubious gaze, “...yeessss?”

Ruby just facepalmed at the admission and groaned in frustration. The sky reacted to her displeasure, fluffy white clouds turning into a sinister gray. The faint rumble of thunder reminded Cinder that the small twelve-year old girl in front of her was still Remnant’s goddess, even if the events that led her there hadn’t quite happened yet.

“So...” Cinder hummed as she changed the subject, “you gonna go smite Salem right now or you gonna pretend to be a harmless 12 year old kid?”

“Well I was going to run away from home and look for Salem,” Ruby admitted, “Not that I can permanently destroy her with the power I currently have but I’d get some satisfaction beating her up after all the crap she’s put me through.” She rested her hands against the back of her head, “But you know, since you did save my mom, I would like to be a normal 12 year old kid for a while.”

“What?” Cinder said in surprise, “I thought you’d be all gung-ho about saving the world as fast as possible. You know, being the hero.”

“Eh, your perspective changes when the entire world starts hunting you and your team for a promise the Queen of All Grimm would never keep. And in the end, didn’t she destroy the world?” Ruby rolled her eyes, “I’ll save the world eventually, but it’s not them I’m doing it for. Besides with me around, no one’s gonna be able to hurt my friends and family.”

“Do I count as friends and family?”

“...Did you murder anyone you weren’t supposed to?”

“I murdered my abusive stepmother and stepsisters again. Which was just as satisfying as before, might I add. And I definitely remembered that I didn’t have my Maiden Powers while I was at it too,” Cinder lifted three fingers as she recalled, “And I st-”

“That’s suspiciously specific,” Ruby squinted her eyes.

“-abbed Rhodes just to say hi. And afterwards, I pi-”

“Who the heck is Rhodes?”

“-cked up the kids and hung around Solitas and Atlas. Pretended to be a researcher for a while and stole all of Watt’s future ideas and reported them as mine.”

“How’d you do that?”

“He was pretty whiny back then about how Ironwood ignored his genius. And very vocal about his ideas and why they were so genius, so I just “beat him” to his ideas.”

“So you stabbed him in the back for something he’ll do in the future?”

“Mad about it?” Cinder rose an eyebrow.

“After what he did to Penny. Not really,” Ruby laughed, “I’m just surprised you didn’t literally stab him in the back too.”

Cinder harumphed.

“I’m not stupid. Stabbing Watts in the heart of Atlas? Even with Emerald, I won’t be able to get away. Besides... I can’t get enough of that smarmy idiot being frustrated that a woman half his age is besting him in brains.”

“Because you’re stealing his ideas.”

“Well, maybe he should’ve been smart enough to prepare for the eventuality that someone would go back in time and screw him over,” Cinder said smugly.

Ruby shook her head as she was once again reminded that she was not going to beat Cinder in shamelessness.

“Any other changes?”

“Not really. I went to Vale. Saved your mom by making Salem have the mother of all temper tantrums. And then you regained your memory by getting hit in the face by Mercury’s boot. Nothing else really.”

“Glad you didn’t change that much then,” Ruby said as she let a breath of relief, pulling out her Scroll.

“Screwing over Watts took up a lot of my time. And then saving your mother. And then screwing over Watts,” Cinder said, “And still failing to properly stab you in the back.”

Ruby blinked as she looked over her Scroll.

“...Cinder?”

“Yeah?”

Ruby held the Scroll so that Cinder could see it. A video with the headline “The Grimm vs SDC: Theories as to why the Grimm are specifically targeting the company” is seen.

“This counts as nothing else?!” Ruby deadpanned.

#cinder fall #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #mod lilac #rwby #rwby fic #rwby au

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intheseautumnhands · 3 years ago

Note

Ooo, I love this writing ask! Notebook, smartphone and rolltop desk.

Yeah, I really like the list! It's so positive, and it's nice to reflect. ^^

notebook: What story/chapter/scene/line did you have the most fun writing this year?

It has not been posted and about 90% of what I had has been eaten, so who knows when I will get around to rewriting and posting it, but story, probably the OxBlades fic where Kasimir's actually a little younger than most of them, was 16 when Zillah debuted as a fighter, had a massive teenage puppy crush on her, and proceeds to desperately hope she does not recognize him from hanging around the ring when they meet up again as adults, also featuring bits of my headcanons and feelings about tiny Kasimir growing up amongst the criminal element of Volisport. It was just a lot of fun! It was a fic premise I sincerely doubt appeals to anyone else or lines up with anyone else's ideas of the character and I was having a blast writing it mostly for myself. Also slightly cockier teenage Kasimir was a lot of fun to try and write while still drawing a reflection that would be recognizable as his older self.

For things that got published, either the Umbrella Academy fic where they're all pirates and mostly supernatural creatures, because that was just a matter of putting Shipful of Monsters on repeat and going wild with that vibe, or the Ox fic for the prompt "to everybody's silent disappointment there are actually more than enough beds", because coming up with ways to destroy the beds in Necropolis-on-Sea was a lot of fun and it was nice to go back to three sentence fic stuff again, it had been a while.

smartphone: Favorite conversation or line of dialogue you wrote this year?

"Yeah, a whole two days ago! Today is a new day, Egbert, and you know what today needs?... It needs a chase, and I'm just the man to make it happen. For all of you. But also, for me."

I don't know if anyone else can hear this very clearly in Luke's voice but I absolutely could while writing it and it's one of the few times I really cracked myself up writing fic.

I also liked the very pointed horoscope in the TUA/Night Vale fic -- "Libra: Remember that we all make mistakes, that yours are miniscule compared to countless others, and that Intern Michael is perfectly fine, so there's no reason to stay away any longer. Also, the stars want you to know that they are so very, very proud of you. You're doing so well, Libra! So don't worry about the little stuff, okay?"

rolltop desk: How did you indulge yourself in your writing this year?

I think basically everything I wrote this year was self-indulgent! Writing every Kasimir ship I possibly can has definitely been a huge self-indulgence, of the "I want this, so I'm gonna make it happen" kind. Writing backstory for Sky from Mamma Mia was hugely self-indulgent as he's kind of accidentally become my favorite character over the years and I don't think anyone else cares! And everything I did for MerMay was very much a 'because I like it', but especially Ben/Siren!Allison. I have had a hugely self-indulgent fic year where most of what I've done has been for things I wanted to see more of in the world, or that I didn't think had much of an audience at all, and I am honestly greatly enjoying myself.

( year end writing asks )

#memething #by grace and grit

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une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir · 4 years ago

Text

Aegon VI Targaryen = Viserys

When she opened it, she found piles of the finest velvets and damasks the Free Cities could produce … and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloth, three huge eggs. (...) Another was pale cream streaked with gold.

Hypothesis: Aegon VI Targaryen = Viserion

“The cream-and-gold I call Viserion. Viserys was cruel and weak and frightened, yet he was my brother still. His dragon will do what he could not.”

What Viserys couldn’t do? Be crowned as the Kng of the Seven Kingdoms. In the show, Aegon VI does not exist. However, Cersei was crowned as the Queen of the “Seven Kingdoms and she employs the golden company. It is likely that Cersei’s story was based on Aegon’s.

Viserys was “crowned” though... a golden crown.

"You cannot touch me, I am the dragon, the dragon, and I will be crowned!"

Khal Drogo unfastened his belt. The medallions were pure gold, massive and ornate, each one as large as a man's hand. He shouted a command. Cook slaves pulled a heavy iron stew pot from the firepit, dumped the stew onto the ground, and returned the pot to the flames. Drogo tossed in the belt and watched without expression as the medallions turned red and began to lose their shape. She could see fires dancing in the onyx of his eyes. A slave handed him a pair of thick horsehair mittens, and he pulled them on, never so much as looking at the man.

Viserys began to scream the high, wordless scream of the coward facing death. He kicked and twisted, whimpered like a dog and wept like a child, but the Dothraki held him tight between them. (...)

When the gold was half-melted and starting to run, Drogo reached into the flames, snatched out the pot. "Crown!" he roared. "Here. A crown for Cart King!" And upended the pot over the head of the man who had been her brother.

The sound Viserys Targaryen made when that hideous iron helmet covered his face was like nothing human. His feet hammered a frantic beat against the dirt floor, slowed, stopped. Thick globs of molten gold dripped down onto his chest, setting the scarlet silk to smoldering … yet no drop of blood was spilled.

He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon.

Viserys is held down by the Dothraki preventing him from escape, while Drogo uphends the melted gold upon his head. Similarly, Cersei was held down in King’s Landing by the Dothraki preventing her from escape, while (Danerys upon) Drogon burned the castle upon her head.

Danerys usurps Viserys, despite him being the rightful king. More, she doesn’t believe Viserys is a true dragon because he was killed by fire. It’s safe to assume she’ll justify her actions the same for Aegon. He burns with the rest, he’s no true dragon either.

Its in the House of Undying prophecies as well...

three treasons will you know . . . once for blood and once for gold and once for love . . .(...) Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . .

There’s the gold and there’s the corpse... but also, a bride of fire.

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought.

Danerys turns King’s Landing into Aegon’s funeral pyre. Evil.

What else? All of Viserion’s mentions are listed below... and some of them fit what we saw in the show.

A Clash of Kings

“The cream-and-gold I call Viserion. Viserys was cruel and weak and frightened, yet he was my brother still. His dragon will do what he could not.” (ACOK ~ Danerys I)

As said, Aegon will be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms, doing what Viserys could not. If show!Cersei took over book!Aegon’s role... this fits.

How long the city had been deserted she could not know, but the white walls, so beautiful from afar, were cracked and crumbling when seen up close. Inside was a maze of narrow crooked alleys. The buildings pressed close, their facades blank, chalky, windowless. Everything was white, as if the people who lived here had known nothing of color. They rode past heaps of sun-washed rubble where houses had fallen in, and elsewhere saw the faded scars of fire. At a place where six alleys came together, Dany passed an empty marble plinth. Dothraki had visited this place before, it would seem. Perhaps even now the missing statue stood among the other stolen gods in Vaes Dothrak. She might have ridden past it a hundred times, never knowing. On her shoulder, Viserion hissed. (ACOK ~ Danerys I)

Vaes Tolorro, the city of bones , a city sacked by Dothraki and that they think is filled with ghosts. Six alleys coming together at an empty marble plinth. A city beautiful from afar, cracked and and crumbling up close. Similarly, King’s Landing, the city of ashes, after Danerys and the Dothraki are finished sacking it. Six dragon roads coming together at the capital. A city that Danerys believes to be beatiful from afar, but she’ll reduce to ruins once she comes close. Fits.

She wondered whether Aegon's Red Keep had a pool like this, and fragrant gardens full of lavender and mint. It must, surely. Viserys always said the Seven Kingdoms were more beautiful than any other place in the world. The thought of home disquieted her. If her sun-and-stars had lived, he would have led his khalasar across the poison water and swept away her enemies, but his strength had left the world. Her bloodriders remained, sworn to her for life and skilled in slaughter, but only in the ways of the horselords. The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. (ACOK ~ Danerys I)

Not even subtle... Fits..

[Robert Baratheon] sent me poisoned wine, yet I live and he is gone. "What was the manner of his death?" On her shoulder, pale Viserion flapped wings the color of cream, stirring the air. (ACOK ~ Danerys II)

In the show, Varys tried to poison Danerys because she’s crazy. In the books, Varys is #TeamAegon. It’s likely Varys will try to poison her on his behalf. Fits, though the motive will most likely be another.

Drogon was curled up beneath her arm, as hot as a stone that has soaked all day in the blazing sun. Rhaegal and Viserion were fighting over a scrap of meat, buffeting each other with their wings as smoke hissed from their nostrils. (ACOK ~ Danerys III)

Aegon and whoever stands in for Rhaegal (Jon), fighting over something. It’s likely they’ll fight over north / vale / riverlands. This happens while Drogon (Danerys) soaks beneath the sun (Slaver’s Bay, Volantis, you know the warm places, etc). Speculation for book only, most likely Jon and Aegon will naturally clash in TWOW / ADOS, while Danerys is terrorising beyond the narrow sea.

A STORM OF SWORDS

Rhaegal and Viserion were the size of small dogs, Drogon only a little larger, and any dog would have out-weighed them; they were all wings and neck and tail, lighter than they looked. And so Daenerys Targaryen must rely on wood and wind and canvas to bear her home. (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

Most likely, just an introduction. Could indicate Danerys’ forces will outmatch Jon and Aegon separately though. In the show, this fit for #TeamJon.

"Well, how long does a dragon live?" She looked up as Viserion swooped low over the ship, his wings beating slowly and stirring the limp sails. (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

A dragon lives until you kill them. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly.. Fits.

So I see. Dracarys?"

All three dragons turned their heads at the sound of that word, and Viserion let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a hasty step backward. Dany giggled. "Be careful with that word, ser, or they're like to singe your beard off. It means 'dragonfire' in High Valyrian. I wanted to choose a command that no one was like to utter by chance." (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

All three dragons are eager to fight. “three heads has the dragon”. The Dance of Dragons II.

"The warlocks in Qarth told you that you would be betrayed three times," the exile knight reminded her, as Viserion and Rhaegal began to snap and claw at each other. (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

Not even subtle. “three treasons will you know . . . once for blood and once for gold and once for love . . . (...) Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness.

Aegon and Jon, fighting over something. It’s likely they’ll fight as a north faction versus south faction. Either against each other for the land, or against Danerys to defend each of their factions. Either way, these must be the root of their betrayals. This is speculation for book only, for TWOW / ADOS.

Her sudden laughter made Drogon hiss, and sent Viserion flapping to his perch above the porthole. "The ploy worked well."

The exile knight did not return her smile. "These are Illyrio's ships, Illyrio's captains, Illyrio's sailors . . . and Strong Belwas and Arstan are his men as well, not yours." (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

Viserion turning away from Danerys, once he hears her laugh and Drogon hiss. Similarly, Aegon turned away from Danerys, once Tyrion implies that Danerys wouldn’t take him seriously because she’s more powerful than him (Drogon is bigger than his siblings, he bullies them often). So Aegon takes Illyrion’s ships, captains, sailors, what have you, they are his and not hers. Illyrio is invested in Aegon, not Danerys. Much later, we have this...

I know she is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are proof enough of that. (...) Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, 'Good morrow to you, Auntie. I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I've been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I've washed the blue dye from my hair and I'd like a dragon, please … and oh, did I mention, my claim to the Iron Throne is stronger than your own?' "

Aegon's mouth twisted in fury. "I will not come to my aunt a beggar. I will come to her a kinsman, with an army."

"A small army." There, that's made him good and angry. The dwarf could not help but think of Joffrey. I have a gift for angering princes. "Queen Daenerys has a large one, and no thanks to you."

Aegon will not beg.... Viserys bristled. "Guard your tongue, Mormont, or I'll have it out. I am no lesser man, I am the rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. The dragon does not beg." I’m not saying Aegon’s like Viserys. I’m saying Aegon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. It is his by right, not hers. Fits.

Drogon raised his head and screamed, pale smoke venting from his nostrils, and Viserion flapped at her and tried to perch on her shoulder, as he had when he was smaller. "No," Dany said, trying to shrug him off gently.

"You're too big for that now, sweetling." But the dragon coiled his white and gold tail around one arm and dug black claws into the fabric of her sleeve, clinging tightly. Helpless, she sank into Groleo's great leather chair, giggling. (ASOS ~ Danerys II)

Viserion’s behaviour is interesting. Might suggest Aegon tries to seek an alliance later after all. Speculation.

"They have been wild while you were gone, Khaleesi," Irri told her. "Viserion clawed splinters from the door, do you see? And Drogon made to escape when the slaver men came to see them. When I grabbed his tail to hold him back, he turned and bit me." She showed Dany the marks of his teeth on her hand.

"Did any of them try to burn their way free?" That was the thing that frightened Dany the most.

"No, Khaleesi. Drogon breathed his fire, but in the empty air. The slaver men feared to come near him." (ASOS ~ Danerys II)

Viserion tried to escape again. Fits.

"Remember. To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.

"Quaithe?" Dany sprung from the bed and threw open the door. Pale yellow lantern light flooded the cabin, and Irri and Jhiqui sat up sleepily. "Khaleesi?" murmured Jhiqui, rubbing her eyes. Viserion woke and opened his jaws, and a puff of flame brightened even the darkest corners. There was no sign of a woman in a red lacquer mask. "Khaleesi, are you unwell?" asked Jhiqui.

"A dream." Dany shook her head. "I dreamed a dream, no more. Go back to sleep. All of us, go back to sleep." Yet try as she might, sleep would not come again. (ASOS ~ Danerys III)

No idea.

Drogon flew almost lazily at Kraznys, black wings beating. As he gave the slaver another taste of fire, Irri and Jhiqui unchained Viserion and Rhaegal, and suddenly there were three dragons in the air. (ASOS ~ Danerys III)

A three way battle “the dragon has three heads”. The Dance of Dragons II.

"Yunkai will have war," Dany told Whitebeard inside the pavilion. Irri and Jhiqui had covered the floor with carpets while Missandei lit a stick of incense to sweeten the dusty air. Drogon and Rhaegal were asleep atop some cushions, curled about each other, but Viserion perched on the edge of her empty bath. "Missandei, what language will these Yunkai'i speak, Valyrian?" (ASOS ~ Danerys IV)

In this chapter, Danerys threatens Yunkai, the yellow city, whose thematic are a lot of betrayals for... yes, that’s right... gold. The Wise Masters try to bribe her, Danerys steals their gold, Daario kills his boss for beauty (but he’s a sellsword, they only care about gold, and accordingly he dresses in... gold!). There are betrayals... for gold.

Drogon and Rhaegal keep together (alliance) but Viserion breaks away and goes to perch on the edge of the empty bath. Considering what the show did to “Aegon” (Cersei) and considering this, it reminds me of the King’s Landing summit where they agree to fight the Others together but then Cersei breaks faith and never shows up north. Fits, somewhat.

Something similar may happen in the books. The three dragons call a cease fire, but then Aegon shows them the middle finger and conquers King’s Landing (the empty bath) instead. Interestingly, the bath is empty, suggesting there’s nobody in power (maybe the Lannisters / Tyrells finally defeat each other and Aegon seizes the opportunity). Would fit perfectly. Aegon “betrays” for a gold, the golden crown of the Seven Kingdoms (Joff and Tommen’s crown is gold).

"Wise?" Dany sat crosslegged on a cushion, and Viserion spread his white-and-gold wings and flapped to her side. "We shall see how wise they are," she said as she scratched the dragon's scaly head behind the horns. (ASOS ~ Danerys IV)

This is all in the same “betrayal for gold” chapter, so it’s interesting. Maybe after that trolling, Aegon attempts a new alliance. After all...

Griff put a black-gloved hand upon Prince Aegon's shoulder. "Spoken boldly," he said, "but think what you are saying."

"I have," the lad insisted. "Why should I go running to my aunt as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me … in Westeros."

Aegon grows bold, just like the dragons grow bold (this word is used) when they’re chained in the pits, and refuses to be beg. A dragon does not beg.

"When all the slaves have departed, you will open your gates and allow my Unsullied to enter and search your city, to make certain none remain in bondage. If you do this, Yunkai will not be burned or plundered, and none of your people shall be molested. The Wise Masters will have the peace they desire, and will have proved themselves wise indeed. What say you?"

"I say, you are mad."

"Am I?" Dany shrugged, and said, "Dracarys."

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan's tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. Golden marks spilled across the carpets as the envoy stumbled over the chest, shouting curses and beating at his arm until Whitebeard flung a flagon of water over him to douse the flames. "You swore I should have safe conduct!" the Yunkish envoy wailed.

The dragons go cray cray at Daniella’s “madness”. Maybe they rebel against her once she threatens to burn King’s Landing, unless Aegon surrenders. Speculation, but somewhat fits (Jon shanked her when she burned KL).

There’s something here for sure though, Danerys behaved abhorrently here with the Yunkai masters and at the show’s rendition of the dragonpit, trying the same dragon intimidating tactics and breaking safe conduct.

Daario upended the sack, and the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn spilled out upon her carpets. "My gifts to the dragon queen."

Viserion sniffed the blood leaking from Prendahl's neck, and let loose a gout of flame that took the dead man full in the face, blackening and blistering his bloodless cheeks. Drogon and Rhaegal stirred at the smell of roasted meat.

"You did this?" Dany asked queasily. (ASOS ~ Danerys IV)

Daario IS NOT a precious cinnamon roll in search for love. Danerys is stupid.

Her captains bowed and left her with her handmaids and her dragons. But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. One of the wings buffeted the sellsword in his face. The white dragon landed awkwardly with one foot on the man's head and one on his shoulder, shrieked, and flew off again. "He likes you, Ben," said Dany.

"And well he might." Brown Ben laughed. "I have me a drop of the dragon blood myself, you know." (ASOS ~ Danerys V)

Ben is a sellsword who betrays Danerys for... gold!, then reveals that he never betrayed her. Yeah right, LOOOL. As I said, Aegon might seek an alliance later, so Ben’s twice turncloak might alude to that. Would fit that scenario.

I was going to take you home! Her dragons sensed her fury. Viserion roared, and smoke rose grey from his snout. Drogon beat the air with black wings, and Rhaegal twisted his head back and belched flame. I should say the word and burn the two of them. Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe? "Are all the knights of Westeros so false as you two? Get out, before my dragons roast you both. What does roast liar smell like? As foul as Brown Ben's sewers? Go!" (ASOS ~ Danerys V)

Dance of Dragons II. Seems to suggest the Jon and Aegon take arms against Danerys once she shows her true bitch colours. Again, suggested before.

There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder every day. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too far away. One day one of them may not return, she thought. (ASOS ~ Danerys VI)

Viserion running away from Danerys. Aegon turned away from Danerys once he grew bolder (a good word to use). Fits.

A DANCE OF DRAGONS

Viserion sensed her disquiet. The white dragon lay coiled around a pear tree, his head resting on his tail. When Dany passed his eyes came open, two pools of molten gold. His horns were gold as well, and the scales that ran down his back from head to tail. "You're lazy," she told him, scratching under his jaw. His scales were hot to the touch, like armor left too long in the sun. Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift. "You should be hunting with your brothers. Have you and Drogon been fighting again?" Her dragons were growing wild of late. Rhaegal had snapped at Irri, and Viserion had set Reznak's tokar ablaze the last time the seneschal had called. I have left them too much to themselves, but where am I to find the time for them?

Viserion's tail lashed sideways, thumping the trunk of the tree so hard that a pear came tumbling down to land at Dany's feet. His wings unfolded, and he half flew, half hopped onto the parapet. He grows, she thought as he launched himself into the sky. (...) She watched Viserion climb in widening circles until he was lost to sight beyond the muddy waters of the Skahazadhan. (ADWD ~ Danerys I)

Fits. Bye bitch. The Martells send their regards.

Dany did not want to talk about the dragons. (...) Down in the pit, Viserion had snapped one of his chains; he and Rhaegal grew more savage every day. Once the iron doors had glowed red-hot, her Unsullied told her, and no one dared to touch them for a day. (ADWD ~ Danerys IV)

The dragons craned their necks around, gazing at them with burning eyes. Viserion had shattered one chain and melted the others. He clung to the roof of the pit like some huge white bat, his claws dug deep into the burnt and crumbling bricks. (ADWD ~ Danerys VIII)

Viserion running away from Danerys’ shackles, likewise Aegon turning away from Danerys’ entrapments and going his own way. Fits.

"The white one is Viserion, the green is Rhaegal. I named them for my brothers." Her voice echoed off the scorched stone walls. It sounded small—a girl's voice, not the voice of a queen and conqueror, nor the glad voice of a new-made bride.

Rhaegal roared in answer, and fire filled the pit, a spear of red and yellow. Viserion replied, his own flames gold and orange. When he flapped his wings, a cloud of grey ash filled the air. Broken chains clanked and clattered about his legs. Quentyn Martell jumped back a foot.

A crueler woman might have laughed at him, but Dany squeezed his hand and said, "They frighten me as well. There is no shame in that. My children have grown wild and angry in the dark." (...)

They’re not fans of Danerys anymore, not even “sweet” Viserion (he’s the nicest of the three dragons). Rhaegal especially never was, since he’s been biting her hand since before he could fly. Hopefully, they have become fans of each other. Me wants some quality time between the dragon bros, complaining about their shitty father mother.

"All I know of dragons is what my brother told me when I was a girl, and some I read in books, but it is said that even Aegon the Conqueror never dared mount Vhagar or Meraxes, nor did his sisters ride Balerion the Black Dread. Dragons live longer than men, some for hundreds of years, so Balerion had other riders after Aegon died … but no rider ever flew two dragons."

Viserion hissed again. Smoke rose between his teeth, and deep down in his throat they could see gold fire churning.

"They are … they are fearsome creatures."

No idea. Reminds me of that dumb cliff talk in the show tho. Instead of Quentyn being afraid and (later) being killed by Rhaegal, Jon was brave to pet the lizard.

I leave outside this post Barristan’s and Quentyn’s chapters, which have a lot of description. They’re basically about Viserion and Rhaegal breaking free. Of note, Viserion tries to run away from Quentyn (he just wants to be free :<) and Rhaegal kills Quentyn after he raises the leash against his brother (oooh).

#i stan these two dragon bitches #anti daenerys #anti daenerys targaryen #anti aegony #anti jonerys

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lakemojave · 3 years ago

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Land of Falling Sun 5

Somewhere on the plateau, somewhere high in the sky above the desert below, somewhere the bandits and the beasts and the caves and the sandstorms and the migraines could not reach, a vulture flew. This vulture was not unusual; it had one head, two eyes, one beak, feathers, and one pair of wings. It flew and crowed exactly as one would expect a vulture to do: ominously, of course, but as was expected. The vulture did not realize this, but despite its mostly normal appearance, it was very unique, since it had no legs. It had not learned of this since it had not descended upon some poor carcass--or foolish traveler--for its next meal in quite a while, or at least not since it arrived at the plateau. Besides the thick sandstorm that nearly pelted it to the ground not moments before it arrived, its surroundings had not dramatically changed.

The vulture saw what looked like a wounded creature below, laying motionless in the dirt. It circled slowly and steadily above, waiting for the thick and distinct scent of death to beckon it closer to sate its hunger. Sure enough it did, and the vulture swooped down eagerly. It approached the ground and made ready to land, upon the dead thing, but then became aware, for the first time, that it had no legs to stand on. It flapped frantically in the air, desperately adapting to this new situation. While it did, the creature stirred, then sank into the ground below, slowly dissolving into the earth which had softened like sand. As the frantic scavenger rose into the air, in awe of what it was looking at, a long tendril shot out from the ground where the creature once lay, and snatched the bird out of the air.

The vulture soon disappeared from the air, sank into the earth, and was gone.

-----

A hunter of foul beasts and big game rested in her tent. She lay on her back, hood flipped up to provide more shade from the suns. Her rifle lay in her right arm, just in case.

She heard a crunch behind her. She nudged the trigger in her hand.

She could hear the shot tear through the canvas and connect with the organism outside, but soon regret showing off for her audience of no one. Standing up and knocking her head, fighting against the ringing in her ears, she picked up the gun and stepped outside.

Had her ear not been ringing, she might have heard the mournful wails coming from the women behind the tent. She did not hear them though, so when she turned to face the scaled and slithering women of varying limbs and appendages, she let out a louder than normal yelp.

The women all snapped their heads toward the hunter, hissed, and descended upon her.

Last time anyone saw the hunter, she was still running, and far more snake people were chasing her.

-----

The plateau had lots of small oases, scattered and sparse and welcoming to beast and traveler alike. It wasn’t uncommon for small towns and homesteads to crop up around them, acting as safe havens for those who created them.

If you were an outsider, they were often some of the most dangerous places you could find. The most dangerous thing on the plateau was not the beasts that lurked below the surface, but the people who walked above it.

Of course, the giant coyotes were a close second.

One particular oasis had become a small goat farming settlement. Goats were some of the most valuable livestock to keep on the plateau; being true omnivores, they could eat damn near anything they were offered. Unlike pigs, they were even capable of eating things most creatures would find inedible or poisonous, which included most plants on the plateau, as well as the bones of any carcass they received. They provided substantial milk, and their meat was delicious.

At this oasis though, nearly half of the town’s goats had been eaten by giant coyotes in the course of a week. The survival of this settlement was at an incalculable risk.

There were four families that lived on this oasis. Among them, two were frequently absent, as they often scavenged the nearby territory for supplies and raw materials. Of the two families that stayed at the oasis, the Vales were the oldest. The hands of their great-great-grandparents built the town, and their great-grandparents were its most fervent defenders. Now, they were comfortable, and did little but tell others what to do.

James Vale, a bright young thing born with no eyes, took the passing of his favorite goat, Rufus, with great dismay. No one in his family was willing to lift a finger to protect the rest. “Wait for Thelma Nolan to get back,” they’d say. “Then we’ll be safe.” Thelma was a great shot, and fearless. However, she was out scavenging, and there was no telling when she’d be home.

One night, young James went out to the goat pen and waited for the coyotes. He had no weapons. The next day, his parents would find him sleeping next to the battered corpses of four coyotes. James’ arm was broken, and resting on a large, bloody rock.

-----

The plateau had a curious relationship with the concept of existence. It was a very unique space--inordinately large yet extremely difficult to find; having a wide and well defined edge yet being nearly impossible to leave. It was widely populated by some of the scariest and deadliest things to walk the earth, yet people who settled there had a hard time imagining living anywhere else. It was uniquely suited, for these reasons, to enterprising fellows, and damn fools. Years and years ago, after the first few settlers and explorers made their way to the plateau and formed their little enclaves and townships, an army of enterprising fools followed them, hoping to tame the savage land. They hoped to take on the wild beasts and tribes who called the place home and discover what secrets the plateau could possibly want to hide from the rest of the world.

They’re buried together in a cave somewhere. Their foes gave every single one of them a gravestone.

-----

In a small town in a fairer part of the plateau, where you trod your feet on grass instead of dirt, there was a bar. Local goat farmers and explorers would unwind here after a hard day of work, playing cards and stretching their numerous legs. It was often quiet. Not much to say there, perhaps.

The last few days had been unusually tense, since there was a stranger at the bar. He defied the townsfolks’ comfort and understanding for several reasons. First of all, he was classically humanoid, unlike the chitinous and many-legged fellows who lived here. Second of all, he was a skeleton.

This was troubling, as the townsfolk were certain that classical humanoids lacked external skeletons. This meant that either he was different than his kind, there was something terribly wrong with him, or their past assumptions were wrong and would have to be changed. Nothing seemed wrong with him, not really. He never smiled, but he talked with a friendly and polite voice with a strong country twang. He didn’t eat, he didn’t drink, but he was always playing cards, and never seemed to mind when he lost. He was terrifying to behold.

One day, after he lost a few too many hands in a row, he readjusted his tattered shirt, reached for his wide-brimmed straw hat, and stood up to leave. He was about to tip his hat to the gentlemen across from him when the saloon doors stood open. There stood a hooded figure, about a head taller than the townsfolk. He leaned on an elaborate looking cane with a single arm. In his hand, shoved into the handle of the cane, appeared to be loose leaves and herbs. He looked to the skeleton.

“Hi there sir,” he said in his usual cheerful and friendly tone, “What can I do ya for?”

The figure clenched his cane, which started to glow a light blue, as the leaves began to dissolve. “I’ve been looking for you.” He slowly lifted the cane--glowing more powerfully now--and raised it to point at the skeleton.

The skeleton threw a bottle at the hooded man, hitting him square in the forehead. He then leapt over the bar, grabbed the stashed shotgun, and shot the man right in the chest. The man flew out the door and into the street, dead on the spot. His spell misfired into the air in a loud crack of lightning, which hit nothing.

“Well,” the skeleton said, “That’s a damn shame. Pardon me fellas, y’all have a good day.” He walked to the saloon doors and claimed his gun belt from the doorman. The townsfolk never saw him again.

-----

The last anyone had seen the hunter, she was still running.

#land of falling sun #my writing

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cecilspeaks · 4 years ago

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176 - The Autumn Specter

Lips are the toes of the face. Welcome to Night Vale.

[spooky theme song]

It’s Halloween again, Night Vale, my favorite day of the year. As a kid, my mother used to dress my sister Abby and I in homemade costumes and take us door to door, vaguely threatening our neighbors until they gave us candy. When I was a teenager, I got a little old for trick-or-treating, so I started going to haunted houses with my friends. A lot of those haunted houses were kind of predictable with all their chain saw killers and Victorian ghost children singing nursery rhymes, who would follow you home and sing by your bed for months afterwards, but they always got to me. I loved the emotional rush of being scared. I still do. Of course, I don’t go out much to haunted houses, but I still love good old fashioned scary stories. I thought today would be a great day to share some of my favorites with you. I had my new intern, James, put together a few spooky tales that are perfect for putting you into Halloween mood.

But first, let’s have a look at the Community Calendar. This Saturday night at the New Old Night Vale Opera House, is the annual costume gala. This event is the Opera House’s largest fundraiser and one of the most prestigious costume contests in the region. A panel of judges will be on hand to determine the best costume at the ball. Last year’s winners were Joel Eisenberg and his partner Danny Jimenez, who dressed in a tandem outfit of a stegosaurus. I was there, listeners, and it was impressive! The creature was so realistic-looking. The craftsmanship of the costume was top notch, but listen, I have to confess I’m always more into high concept creativity rather than realistic details when it comes to costumes. Like I remember the 2015 gala, when Amal Shamun came dressed up as the concept of ennui. She made herself 12 feet tall, dressed in a taupe long coat, and created a constant drizzling rain inside the ball room. Anyone who looked at her got super sad and wanted a hug. But Joel and Danny’s stegosaurus was fine.

Sunday afternoon is the fall craft sale in Old Town Night Vale. An inscrutable maze of stalls showcasing the finest products from our town’s artisans. There will be cultural events for children, like finger painting classes, puppet shows, and a visit from the Autumn Specter. The Autumn Specter returns. It comes to collect its crops, with its great and sharp sickle. [creepily] It will harvest every ripe soul in Night Vale, the Autumn Specter is hungryyyy! It is Octoberr and it is timme to feeeeeee-duh.

Hey James, this Community Calendar doesn’t seem right, it’s just a bunch of stuff about the Autumn Specter. Also this font size, what-what is this 32 point? That’s just much too large. And it’s printed in red ink and that is a waste of our color toner, James. Eww, eww! This red ink is still really damp. OK, plus there’s nothing about start and end times of the craft fair, or anything about the food trucks, like if the Autumn Specter is hungry, surely it wants some falafel or Korean barbeque or tacos. James, could you just redo this story? James? James? [clears throat] Well, listeners, I don’t know where James went. Um, I can hear him breathing, but I don’t see him anywhere. Yeah, it’s fine, let’s just get onto our first spooky story.

[static, old-fashioned music] One quiet moonless night, not long ago and not so far away, a teenage girl sat in a house that was not her own. It was the home of Tony and Sheila McDowell. The girl was their babysitter, and she had just put the two young McDowell children down to sleep. The girl watched TV alone in the dark living room, only the bluish flicker of a scary movie illuminating her face. The phone rang abrupt and loud, startling her. She raised the receiver to her ear. “Hello?” she said with a slight quiver. “Have you checked on the children?” came a raspy voice. The babysitter ran quickly upstairs, opening the door of the kids’ bedroom. She flicked on the light, and there they were, fast asleep. She went back to her movie, but the phone rang again. “Haave youuu checked on the childrennn?” came the same voice, only more sinister. The babysitter again hurried upstairs, opened the door, turned on the light, and saw the children still asleep. The caller called again and again and again. “Have you checked on the children?” The babysitter, so scared, barely able to move, hung up the phone before the voice could finish its repeated query. When the phone rang once again, she answered and shouted: “Stop calling me!” But this time, it was a different voice. The person on this occasion said: “Ma’am, this is the police. We’ve traced the call. The call is coming from inside the house. Get out, get out!” The babysitter panicked and started to run, but then she remembered: she never called the police! How would they know to even trace the call? So she crept fearfully upstairs to the children’s room, and the phone was ringing again, the clamoring bell igniting her fright. And she cracked open the door and she saw- She saw the young McDowell boy and his little brother hunched over a phone and giggling! They were pranking her, and she felt relieved but embarrassed. And she told them to stop fooling around and go to sleep. And they all shared a good laugh.

Let’s have a look now at traffic. [papers rustling] Um.. OK, well I don’t seem to have a traffic report from intern James. Also James isn’t here right now, because I sent him out to go pick up lunch a few m- Oh, hey James, James, James, James – wait, why are you standing in the control booth? You were supposed to go get lunch and also I’ve asked you a couple of times not to wear that burlap bag over your head. I mean yes it looks great, with the Jack o’ Lantern face drawn onto it, I mean the mouth is a bit lopsided and the eyes are a tad uneven, you know kinda flat and emotionless, but all in all it’s a cool look, but it’s decidedly not allowed in Station Management’s dress code. Oh, you’re holing a knife, too! So did you get- did you already get that lunch then? Well if that- if that’s the case, you don’t need to cut my sandwich in half, I’ll-I’ll take it whole. And also I need that traffic report, thanks. James? What are you waiting for, the Autumn Specter to do it for you? [chuckles] Hop to it! James?

[clears throat] Well, while James is working on that, let’s get back to my favorite spooky Halloween stories. This one isn’t a story so much as a fun Halloween game. The legend of Bloody Mary.

According to the lore, if you turn off all the lights, and stare into a mirror, repeating “Bloody Mary” three times in a row, she will appear and tear your face off! I’ve never tried this because I don’t own any mirrors, but my husband Carlos conducted this very experiment in his science lab. He said he darkened the room and repeated the name and nothing happened for a long time. But then a figure of a woman appeared, silvery gray and shimmering, and she approached Carlos slowly, her hollow white eyes never blinking. She brought her face only inches from Carlos and said: “Are you for real?” And Carlos said yes, he was indeed – real. And Bloody Mary said: “OK because this time of year, I just get a bunch of giggling, screaming teenagers, and I’m really tired of ripping off their faces for no pay whatsoever!” And Carlos gave her some resources for starting a union and she thanked him and she offered to tear his face off in exchange for the consulting, but Carlos said no, he liked his face, and wisher her luck. Night Vale, pay your malevolent spirits! They’re overworked especially around Halloween. And a 20 per cent gratuity for poltergeists, phantasms, revenants, and ghosts is standard.

And now for t- what the, oh you- [papers rustling] Wait, OK. You know, I thought intern James had handed the traffic report to me, but this is just a piece of parchment with a 9-pointed star seemingly drawn by a finger dripped in blood. And then there are a series of ancient runes scrawled around the outer edges. Now I took runic in college. I mean, most of my friends took Spanish as their language, but I thought living here in the American Southwest, it would be more useful to study ancient Scandinavian and Germanic alphabets. And from what I can make out, these are a message about the return of the Autumn Specter. Ugh, alright. OK. I love that intern James loooves Halloween and whatever this the Autumn Specter is. In fact, James is still in the break room right now construction a sacred totem out of ash tree branches and twine. He’s been muttering to himself all day in a language that I don’t recognize, and the only words I can understand are “Autumn Specter”. But I still have neither my traffic report nor my lunch! Wait, do you think James is… Naah, put it out or you mind, Cecil.

Let’s tell another spooky Halloween story. There once was a beautiful young woman who wore a green ribbon around her neck. She won the affection of a handsome young man. They fell in love and one day the boy asked the girl why she always wore a green ribbon around her neck. She would not tell him. One day the man and the woman were to become husband and wife. In her white bridal dress, the woman still wore her green ribbon. The man asked her on their wedding night if he could untie the green ribbon, but even on the most intimate of evenings, she said no, and he respected her answer. But he longed to know what she was hiding behind the ribbon. Through the years, the man asked the wife again about the ribbon, but she never removed it, nor answered his questions about it. She only warned him that he would not like what he saw if she were to remove it. He asked less and less, but his curiosity grew and grew. And they became old, very old, and they knew their time left was short. The man asked one more time: “My dearest wife, love of my life, tell me that I may remove the green ribbon from around your neck.” And the old woman said: “My adoring groom, here in our room after all these many years, yes you may. But I caution you, as I have many times before, that you shall not like what your eyes behold.” The man hesitated, but finally reached his weakened, wrinkled fingers to the green bow along her nape. And he tentatively pulled the ribbon, and suddenly it unfurled, falling from her neck, and the man gasped. Upon her neck was a series of ornate letters spelling out “GOTH LIFE”. The woman said: “I got this tattoo in high school but kind of outgrew it and it’s super embarrassing.” And the man replied: “It is for sure weird, but also pretty cool. I like it.” And she never wore the green ribbon again.

You know, listeners, I’d love to bring you that traffic report, but right now, um, I’m facing something much more urgent and more dire. My studio door has opened on its own, and as I turned around, I could see down the long faintly lit corridor of our offices. And at the end of the hallway stands a figure, and he wears a Jack o’ Lantern mask, his head crooked to one side like a dog asking a question or like a hanged man, or both. And it is intern James, and he holds a long knife and he walks, he walks slowly toward me. And he is speaking at first in a mutter, but now louder, a strange shout in an obscure tongue like a magician casting a wicked spell, and he is moving much faster toward me, like a limping run, and his blade is raised high, and James is not an intern, Night Vale, bu the Autumn Specter itself come to reap my soul!

But before he does that, Let me take you to the weather.

[“Welterweight” by Nels Andrews. https://nelsandrews.bandcamp.com/]

So. During the weather, I went to human resources and requested a file on intern James. Oh I’m fine, by the way, and James is not the Autumn Specter, but I’ll get to that. So I found a copy of James’ résumé and cover letter for the position of radio station intern. His application was originally submitted in 1845. “That’s almost two centuries ago!” I exclaimed, but according to HR, they’re pretty backlogged on the intern apps. “What are you gonna do, we get to them when we get to them,” they said from the bottom of their abandoned well. Paperclipped to James’ application was a wrinkled and yellowed news clipping from the Night Vale °Daily Journal, and the article says that James died on Halloween night in 1849 when he was hit by a train. I then went to the hall of public records and found that our radio station was built in 1950, atop the very train tracks where James met hi send. James’ soul has been wandering the halls and offices of our radio station ever since. For all James ever wanted was to be a radio intern. To serve the listening community, to lift high the voice of journalistic truth. And it was his death that led to the shutdown of those train tracks and the eventual construction of a new station home, and the building we still use now. So I was wrong about James. He was an intern, after all, and not a malevolent Halloween spirit.

But I was right that the Autumn Specter had come for me. For when I turned to see James running down the hill, I did not notice the Autumn Specter behind me, with its bony hands and scarecrow mouth, and I did not notice its soul reaping sickle, which it had raised high above its oversized head and stick thin body. And James had given his life for the building of our radio station, and in death, gave his soul for the very same cause. And James threw himself upon the Autumn Specter, and he tried to stab the Specter’s neck and chest, but it-it- it did nothing. And the Spectre pushed James aside and then turned its black coal eyes upon me. And it raised its curved blade once again and swung! I tried to duck, but was too slow. And just as the sickle’s edge reached my face, James dove in front of it and vanished in a burst of white flame, as he was struck. And the room was empty and the Autumn Specter was gone too.

To the family and friends of intern James, he was… an OK intern. Not always on top of his writing deadlines, but he literally sacrificed his soul for our radio station. I can’t bring you a traffic report today, but I will live to bring you one tomorrow. If we find a new intern. And HR tells me that we have hundreds of candidates, although most of them are not yet aware that they are candidates.

Stay tuned next for our new cooking competition show, “Flay Bobby Flay”.

And as always, Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: The road to hell is paved with cobblestone. It’s super bumpy, not at all comfortable, and really bad for your car’s suspension.

#wtnv #Welcome to Night Vale #welcome to night vale transcirpts #episode 176 #the autumn specter #sorry i misspeled it as spectre

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kevrocksicehouse · 4 years ago

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Mary Astor who would have been 115 today, could have been a leading lady any time she felt like it. She rarely did. A few of her great ones:

Edith Cortright in Dodsworth. D: William Wyler (1936). “My Dear. Don’t”, Astor says to Fran Dodsworth (Ruth Chatterton) who is about to deepen a liaison with a suave playboy (Paul Lukas) deceiving her newly retired husband Sam (Walter Huston) in this story of a decaying marriage showing its cracks on a European vacation. Later she’ll provide a peaceful haven for Sam after he realizes his marriage ended years ago. Astor plays a romantic version of a “woman of the world” in this drama of how marriages can sometimes just….end, and in a movie that treats it’s characters like grown-up people instead of vehicles for melodramatic hysterics, she offers a second chance to a newly aimless American (“Do you want to enjoy life for a while”) as the most angelic homewrecker the movies have yet offered.

Brigid O’ Shaughnessy in The Maltese Falcon. D: John Huston (1941). “You’re Good. You’re very good,” Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade says to Astor’s almost pathologically dishonest femme fatale and he’s only partly sarcastic. The pleasure he gets when he sees through her lies and the straight face her “woman in trouble” maintains as she spins another story on top of the last one, is this great movie’s version of a love story. Astor plays the woman whose affected vulnerability and tremulous voice has led more than a few men to play the sap for her (at the cost of their lives) as a desperate viper in a no-win situation: she has to outwit him, but doing so would disappoint her. The look on her face when she realizes she’s lost is both funny and pitiful.

Princess Centimillia in The Palm Beach Story. D: Preston Sturges (1942). Astor is like a Tex Avery version of a screwball heiress, as the daughter of one of the richest men in the world who gloms onto newly dumped Tom (Joel McCrea) who is trying to keep his wife Gerry (Claudette Colbert) from marrying John D. Hackensacker III (Rudy Valee) who is Astor’s brother. Princess is oft-married and man crazy and the rapid fire way that Astor says “Look at that very handsome man, I wonder who he is, I don’t think I’ve seen him around before, I thought I knew all the handsome men in this village,” makes me grieve that she never worked with Sturges again. After I’ve stopped laughing of course.

#mary astor #dodsworth #the maltese falcon #the palm beach story #kevrock

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chaoskirin · 4 years ago

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Reversed (Reworked) Chapter One

Well, I finally did it! I am re-working Reversed in order to remove the Harry Potter from it. This was one of my most popular Queen stories, written before the author of HP showed her true colors. I like the story too much to allow it to be tainted by that BS, so here it is with a new coat of paint!

There is, of course, still some similarities. I’m REMOVING the Harry Potter. And while that does necessitate some re-writes, the gist is still the same. I hope you enjoy the story as I repost it chapter by chapter!

PLEASE Reblog, and please feel free to comment on AO3. I love comments, if you’re so inclined.

AO3 link can be found here!

---

Chapter Title: In His Eyes Word Count: 5148 Rating: PG Genre: Fantasy/Gen Summary: Roger, Brian, and John are brought together by a shared accident.

Between the two of them, Brian and John should have been able to get Roger up the stairs. Should have. Except Roger had become dead weight between them, legs dragging, black eyes staring.

"Did you hex his legs, too?" Brian snapped, lip curling at John, who supported Roger's other arm.

Neither Brian--a student in the Kyyra View--nor John--who made his home in Vexxzus--were particularly powerful. Despite Roger falling prey to the same muscle-less predicament, he sure had a healthy weight to him. As John stumbled on an uneven step, he growled, "Use your legs, Taylor!"

"I thought I was supposed to be playing the grievously injured damsel in distress?"

Brian groaned. "How are you still joking about this? You can't see, you idiot!"

"Bet he can walk, though." John elbowed Roger's ribs, and miraculously, the Oerris found his feet.

Vale Rest loomed ahead of them--an enormous, crooked tree growing out of a shallow escarpment. The natural magical force in the area made it an ideal, if not unsightly, place to construct an academy. At least it blended in with the environment, which was more that could be said for other schools. Of course to get to it, one had to climb a million steps.

At least that's what it felt like.

They paused outside the southern tanglewood doors to catch their breath. Despite their altercation, John kept one hand on Roger's arm out of guilt; he couldn't just leave the other student alone on the dark after everything, especially since it wasn't meant to happen.

John only meant to disarm the other boy, but a much nastier curse had bubbled up in his mind instead. The anger, combined with the fresh blood on his hands, led to the recitation of a spell he didn't even know he knew.

Scraping his thumb across his palm, John dislodged the last of the dried beetle haemolymph. Vexxzus spellcasting was disgusting but powerful, and he could still feel the magical aura around him from the insect's death. With that alone, he'd be able to cast for many hours.

As if reading his mind, Brian asked, "Why can't you Vexxzus have a normal focus?" He ran his hand over the branched barrier in front of him until he found the right combination, after which the door swung open. "To cast immediately, too. It's... Well, it's irresponsible is what it is!"

"Aw, c'mon. You know Vexxzus' magic is pretty new," Roger said, glancing up from the floor. An intricate black mask traced the skin in and around his eyes, the pattern almost like lace. It was disturbing but beautiful, shimmering like stars. John couldn't stop looking at it, half with pride and half with horror. A second year student such as himself shouldn't have been able to cast such a curse.

"Decades old," Brian corrected as he and John guided Roger onto the flagstone interior, then toward yet another set of stairs. "A new study in the course of history, sure, but it's been around--There's still people alive who were kids when it first manifested. It's hardly new! Anyway, why are you defending him?"

"Mmmh," Roger mused, his feet tapping in front of him to find the steps. "It looks like he's sorry."

"Looks like!" Brian exclaimed. "You can't bloody see!"

"But I can feel!" Roger argued. "Look at 'im. He's practically shakin' out of his boots."

John certainly did feel as if he'd be expelled for this, or that his family would disown him. Or kill him. Consequently, he couldn't prevent the occasional shudder from wracking his body.

Brian grunted a halfhearted acknowledgement. Roger patted John's arm and said, "It's okay, John. Trust me."

John curled his lip, sneering. "How, in any way, is this okay?"

"It's not," Brian said. "And once we make sure Roger's okay, I'm telling the Council everything."

"I hope you make sure you tell them that this idiot challenged me to a duel in the first place!" John snarled. "And you were his second, May!"

"'This idiot' is right here," Roger noted.

"Good! Don't challenge me to a duel next time!"

"Roger that!" Roger Roger'd.

Incredulous, Brian let Roger go, and stood with his hands on his hips. "Oh, you'll listen to him?" Brian demanded. "This is a snake, Roger. We step on snakes. I'm your best friend, and I clearly remember telling you that this was a bad idea."

"Well, I mean..." Roger fumbled for words. "There's a big difference between 'this is a bad idea' and 'don't do the thing.' Seems to me like we should keep John around. He has the potential to stop me from doing some incredibly stupid stuff!"

John chuckled before he realized what he was doing.

"It's not funny, you prat," Brian said. "You could have killed him." Killed? No. Could he have? Granted, he'd said the words to the curse that blinded Roger before he really knew what he was saying, as if they had a mind of their own. He'd screamed them, in fact, if he remembered right. At full volume, louder than he'd ever said anything before.

What if his anger had driven him to say something else, though? There were rumors. The barest whispers of the power of Death Magic--the power to take a life for a life. Since the Vexxzus View manifested some seventy-odd years ago, those in the darkest reaches of the world had experimented. And, it had been theorized, the words came from deep within; a language spoken with no context. An ancient tongue... "No," John said, half to himself and half to Brian. "I couldn't have. I'm twelve." He stopped on the stairs, distracted by the idea. "You could have. I'm honestly surprised you didn't," Brian said. "Pleasantly, mind, since we're all still very much alive. Thanks for that."

Could he have felt so much hate in that moment that he could have possibly used magic to kill? Was it even possible? If anyone could do it, his View could.

No.

"Let's go, Rog," Brian said, taking Roger's arm again. He gave John another good glare before turning away.

Despite his blindness, Roger still faced backward even as Brian dragged him up the stairs. Eventually, Roger turned away as well, and John thought that would be the end of it. He'd escape to his dormitory and await his punishment while he pondered if he was capable of killing another student in hatred.

Well. Hatred was too strong a word. John didn't particularly like Roger Taylor, but he didn't hate him.

"Hang on, Bri," Roger said. John looked up again, to find the Oerris student feeling his way down the stairs on his own. John automatically reached out to help him. Roger wasn't a bad kid after all... He was just a bit of a jackass. And definitely didn't deserve a life of blindness for a few idiot pranks. "John, I told you, it'll be okay." He took one of John's hands in both of his, and for a second, John believed him.

"No, he's like all the other Vexxzuses," Brian grumbled. "He'll grow up to be a murderer. Maybe even the first person to murder someone with a single word."

John wrenched his hand away from Roger. He lacked the fortitude to argue, since fear and a painfully insistent shame clouded his thoughts. He actually could have killed someone! And even if Roger was just an stick-waving Oerris like the rest of them, with no sense of artistry to the craft, he was still a kid.

Also, the most confusing person John had ever met, because who in their right mind was actually nice to someone who'd just cast a terrible curse on you?

Roger, apparently. An person with feelings and dreams and goals. What if, instead of staring into Roger's starry eyes, John had to stare at his life-robbed corpse?

He saw it for a moment. A snow-pale classmate, dead and still. Struck with the gravity of what could have happened, John shuffled backwards. Unfortunately, as he was on a step, his foot landed on thin air, resulting in an immediate tumble. Something cracked as he tried to catch himself, and the resulting pain followed him all the way down. He couldn't remember how high up he was, but by the time he collided with the landing, he felt like he'd rolled down a hundred stairs. Howling in agony, he curled against the banister, clutching at his arm.

"What happened?" Roger asked. "John?"

"Look--I didn't mean it, Deacon," Brian said, footsteps getting closer. "I mean, as far as Vexxzuses go, you're all right, I guess? What'd you go and--Oh, hell, this is broken."

John opened his eyes, tears distorting the blue and silver colors of Brian's Kyyra uniform. "Broken?" John hadn't ever seen that look on Brian's face before. Gentle, worried, caring. Before, it always looked so angry. "You're both idiots," he said.

"Brian?" Roger whimpered.

Brian bit his lip, brow furrowed. "Okay, Rog... Let me..." He stood, skipping back up the stairs. Taking Roger by the hand, he guided him back down to the landing. "Sit here with Deacon. I'm gonna go get a nurse. Don't move, either of you. I mean it."

After helping Roger sit, Brian ran off, at a much quicker pace, toward the hospital. All John wanted to do was cry, really, but he found himself distracted when he felt Roger's hand on his hip. "What are you...?" John started. But Roger seemed to be concentrating quite intently as he moved his hand, finding John's elbow. A little more, and he was touching John's shoulder. "Ah-ha!" he exclaimed. Reaching all the way around, Roger pulled John up, until he was sitting. Not one to reject any sort of comfort at the moment, John leaned against Roger, relishing the warmth. "Did you fall down the whole flight?" Roger asked. "Half, maybe," John said, glancing up and estimating. "Yeah, half. May says my arm is broken." He looked down at it and wished he hadn't; no arm should be able to bend quite that way, and seeing it just made it hurt more.

"Why do you do that?" Roger asked.

"What? Fall? It's a hobby."

"No. You call me and Brian by our last names. I mean, he does it, too, but just 'cuz you do, I think."

John really had no idea. It seemed like the thing to do, he supposed. Take something precious to someone and completely ignore it in favor of something less personal? Seemed stupid, now that he really thought about it.

"Anyway," Roger went on. "This is quite a spell you did. I think you might know more than Brian." More than a stuck up old Kyyra? Possible. Probable, even. Though Brian didn't seem like the type to study curses in the first place. Academics could name a curse and maybe even go through the incantation for a test, but to actually pull it off? Nah. Most who shared the Kyyra View had the same problem, at least as far as John knew.

He took a moment to feel pride at the compliment, until the implications hit him. Looking into Roger's eyes, he winced. "It's bad, Roger."

"I know."

"Then why are you so calm?"

He smiled serenely. "Well, it's done, isn't it? There's nothing I can do about it right this minute. Besides, I don't think you meant to."

After a moment, John said, "No. I really didn't." There was no sense wasting an opportunity to learn, though. He leaned over to look at the spell's handiwork again. "What's it like? Do you see anything?"

Roger shook his head. "No. N'come to think of it, I'm not totally sure what... what it was like to see." His eyes narrowed, the bright stars shifting around inside. "That's strange. I mean, odd, isn't it? I don't remember what you look like."

John felt sick.

"It'll be okay!" Roger said again. "Brian'll demand the Head Matron. Salwix, or her assistant Cammielle. He gets all panicky and people kinda take him seriously 'cuz he's so brainy. They'll make it better."

John wasn't so sure.

In the idle silence, Roger waved a hand in front of his own face, expression elated, as if this was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him. "Wow! What's a hand look like? I can feel it, but I don't remember. Neat, huh? You know, my view's colors are purple and gold, but I can't even think of what purple is anymore! This is so weird--"

"Please stop," John said weakly.

"Eh? All right. Just thought you wanted to know, is all." Roger pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them.

"Didn't know it did all that," John replied. "Actually I wasn't sure what it'd do. I think I read about it once. My family's got these old books. Sometimes I'd sneak into my mom's study to read them."

"Didja get in trouble?"

John laughed. "Yeah. Sometimes." Roger laughed, too, then said, "Look at us, havin' a normal conversation for once."

"You're cursed, and I've just broken my arm. This isn't how normal people have a chat."

"Normal as we've ever had. Anyway, you seem nice enough. How'd you end up with the Death View, anyway? I thought only the creepy ones ended up there."

John curled his nose. A lot of people thought the same of Vexxzus, but one couldn't control their magical aptitude any more than they could control the color of the sky. "They shouldn't be called Views," John answered. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

"Yeah, but--"

"It's just a way to do magic, all right? And some people are... better at it than the other views. Some people... It's all they can do."

"Really? It's all you can do?" Roger pressed. "I'm good at Oerris, but I can do Kyyra if I really concentrate. But I don't want to concentrate, so..." He trailed off with a shrug. "You know Brian can do all four? Even Ghittan?"

John didn't know that. His respect for the Kyyra increased a fraction of a millimeter.

After re-situating his arm, which had dulled from a brilliant pain to a mere sharp ache, John said, "yes, it's all I can do."

"Weird," Roger said, though his voice carried a hint of contemplation to it. "We all just thought that--"

"Oh! Heavens, there they are, just like you said!" a voice echoed from the upper landing, cutting Roger off as a heavyset nurse bustled down the steps. Headmatron Salwix, who ran the entire hospital, reached John and Roger and knelt down next to them. Brian followed a few steps behind.

Salwix reached into her pocket, retrieving a pouch, out of which she took a pinch of red clay. Looping the pouch around her thumb, she reached for John's wrist; her touch set it to throbbing again, and he squealed.

She tsk'd. "You're right, May. Definitely broken. Falling down a flight of steps at your age, Deacon? Remind me--"

"A second-year, ma'am," Brian supplied.

"Well, I suppose it happens sometimes," Salwix muttered, gently sprinkling the cold clay down John's forearm. She muttered a healing incantation John hadn't yet learned and added, "this will numb the pain until I can take a closer look. But it's still broken, so don't go doing cartwheels on it."

John's answered with a relieved sign. "Yes, ma'am."

"As for you..." she said, turning to Roger. Reaching for his face, she grabbed his cheeks and turned his head from side to side, squishing his lips into a pucker with her grasp. With her other hand, she traced the lines around his eyes. "Cold, smooth. I know what this is, but I haven't seen it in years, and then, only once in my entire career! What in Merlin's name happened?"

John looked up at Brian. The Kyyra crossed his arms, quickly looking away. He hadn't told!

"Whrrbwoosiiyrrs--" Roger tried. Salwix released his face.

After rubbing his jaw, Roger tried again. "One of the sixth-years bet me that I couldn't curse myself," he said, brimming with unearned pride. "Now he owes me n' Brian n' John here a round next time we go to Rec."

John bristled. How dare a stick-waver take credit for John's brilliant spell? Before he could ruin their whole cover, though, he bit his tongue. Roger seemed to be in the process of saving his ass, which meant John was going to have to let that little insult go. At least for now.

Salwix looked up at Brian, who rolled his eyes. "Roger's an idiot, Matron Salwix," he said. "I found him wandering around down the hill. Me n' Deacon were helping him get up to the hospital, but then..."

"I see. Well, Mister Taylor, I'll be informing your View's council that you've been using advanced curses. This won't go unpunished, I'm afraid. This sort of magic is dangerous." She shook her head, clicking her tongue. "At least you didn't curse someone else. Honestly, you children. Up. Both of you. We'll have you seen to."

With Salwix helping Roger to his feet, that left Brian to help John. He did so with surprising care, slowly, so as not to jar the broken arm too badly. It still stung, now that gravity was pulling on it. John held it to his chest, feeling tears sting at his eyes again. "Matron Salwix?" John asked. "Can you fix his eyes? He's going to be okay, right?"

Salwix turned, hesitating. Roger said, "It's okay. You can say." "There are... some side effects," she said. "Minor, but obvious, I'm afraid. But you'll see again." Side effects. As Salwix helped Roger up the stairs, John met Brian's eyes, and they shared a moment of worry.

~*~

"Uuughhhh," Roger groaned. As he became more and more conscious, the headache seemed to get worse. Still, he chanced opening his eyes, grimacing as the light hit them. He threw his arms up in front of his face to block it out.

Well, at least he remembered what seeing was like now. Pain. Agony.

"Roger," someone whispered.

"No, not so loud," he whined. Peering through his fingers, he found John and Brian standing over him. If John would only move a little bit to the right, he'd block out the overhead light...

"We're between classes," Brian said, as quietly as he could manage. Thankfully, Brian's voice was fairly comforting anyway, but it still made Roger's head hurt. "Thought we'd come see if you were awake yet." Between classes? Roger's duel with John was on Saturday, which meant he must have missed all of Sunday. At least. "So, this is when I ask the cliché, 'how long was I out?' question, I suppose." He squeezed his eyes shut and added, "Shut up, Roger. You're too loud."

"He's Roger, though," John said, worried. "He knows. He's just being funny," Brian replied. "Or trying. It rarely ever hits the mark." "Hey, I'm funny." Roger opened one eye again, and gestured to the window. "Think one of you can shut the curtains?" "They're closed, Rog," Brian said. "Besides, it's cloudy out. You're just very photosensitive right now. It'll pass." "Oh, yeah, don't take my photo right now, either. I imagine I'm a bit of a mess. Now, c'mon. Tell me. How long was I out?"

Brian and John looked at each other. Roger noticed that John's wrist was neither wrapped, nor did it look like it hurt at all as he cradled a stack of books. "Ah, well," John said. "Salwix put you out for a week. She thought you'd wake up today. I got your homework."

Roger groaned.

"I told you, he doesn't like homework," Brian said. "You should have saved that for when he was up and about."

Roger smiled. "You two friends now?"

"He needed someone to keep him in line. Vexxzuses, you know," Brian said.

John rolled his eyes.

Roger pushed himself up until he was sitting. The headache was easing a bit now, although it still felt like someone had grabbed his brain, shaken it, and put it back sideways. One would think that with all the mages around Vale Rest, they might have found a way to eliminate such inconveniences entirely. Maybe he'd ask Salwix for a headache draught once Brian and John left. "You guys figure out what the side effects are supposed to be?"

They smiled, and John giggled behind his hand. Roger didn't like that. It meant they were in on a joke that he wasn't in on, and that was unacceptable. "C'mon, it can't be too serious. What? What is it? Do I have another eye?" He waved his hand in front of his face, but found that he was still seeing in boring, normal three dimensions. No mystical powers of prestidigitation. Alas. "Is he disappointed that he doesn't have another eye?" John asked.

"No," Roger said. Then, "Yes, maybe."

"It's not that exciting," Brian said. "John, did you bring the mirror?"

"Oh, right. Hang on." He set his books down on the nightstand and slung his bag off his shoulder, digging through it. "You'll have some dark circles under your eyes," Brian said. "That's thanks to the initial masking spell effect. But it doesn't look that bad, honestly, I think. It's the other thing... Show him. He'll probably love it." John handed him the mirror. Despite his curiosity, Roger still felt just the slightest amount of trepidation as he looked into it... and found that his eyes were a rather fetching shade of bright lavender. Surprising, to say the least. He wondered if it was a trick of the light, but when he moved the mirror, they stayed purple.

"Salwix says they'll change based on the weather," Brian said. "It's raining now, so... We're guessing purple is rain. We'll have to see what the rest is. I guess that's the true intention of the spell, it's just... imperfect. Also, it's..."

"Not reversible," John said quietly. "I'm really sorry, Roger."

He missed the blue, it was true. Still, John seemed so down, and it could have ended up being a whole lot worse. Color-changing eyes? The girls were going to love him. "Are you kidding?" Roger exclaimed. "This is great. There's no windows in the dorms. We'll know what to wear without sending someone upstairs in their skivvies."

"Told you," Brian said. He smiled, laying a hand on John's shoulder. But John didn't look particularly relieved. He had that same sick, pale look that he had on the stairs. Or, the same look Roger imagined he would have, if Roger could have pictured anything at that point in time. In any case, he looked now how he sounded then, and that was kind of sad. "Hey, Bri?" Roger said. "Can I talk to John for a bit?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. Glad you're up, Roger. I'll have your homework waiting for you when you get out of here." He winked as Roger groaned, before shouldering his bag.

"He knows I hate homework," Roger said, once Brian was gone. "Your wrist looks okay." "Oh, yeah. They fixed it up here really quick," John said, turning it over a couple times. He sat on the bed, shoulders slumping. "Thanks, by the way... For taking the fall for me. While I was up here, I heard Salwix talking to your Council. I'm sure if they knew I cursed you, I would have been expelled."

"It's not that bad! Is it?" Roger held up the mirror again, poking at the dark smudges under his eyes. Eh, he could make it work. They really brought out the color, honestly, even if that color was purple. "We gotta find out what the other colors are. Think you can make it stop raining?"

"...Yes." John said. "I mean, yes, it's bad. No, I can't make it stop raining. Do you take anything seriously? I cursed you, Roger. Forever. What if it'd been worse?"

Roger lowered the mirror. The poor second-year looked like he was about to cry. "My mum says 'if' is a big word."

"It's two letters."

"Yeah, but you can't dwell on it, you know? If you start thinking of all the 'what ifs,' then you never live now. What are you worried about? That you'd be able to do some weird death magic?"

John didn't say anything.

Honestly, Roger always did have a healthy fear of the Vexxzus View. Some, like John, crushed beetles to gain a burst of magic power, but he'd seen others take the lives of mice or birds. Killing was a strange, gruesome, macabre focus, unlike the much more sensible imbuing of magic into a wand or gem--like a sensible human.

Furthermore, the View possessed an air of secrecy and mystery, even among its own members. No one knew how far the magic could go. What it could do. Everyone else in Vale Rest just assumed the Vexxzuses pursued murder as their ultimate goal. Why else would you choose...

But John said he hadn't chosen it.

Roger sighed. "Look, I don't know you very well, but everything I need to know about you, I've learned since our duel. S'far as I can tell, you wouldn't be able to do it." When John looked affronted, Roger clarified. "That's a good thing! No one should be able to invent a killing word, and those who'd do it are bad people. And... and even if you could... Even if you knew some death spell, you wouldn't have done it anyway. You wanted to teach me a lesson. You didn't want to kill me." Roger paused, then added, "Did you?"

"No! Of course not!" As soon as John said the words, realization dawned, and he relaxed. "No. I never want that. Still. I think what I did to you... It's the worst curse I know of. And I shouldn't have been able to do it. I mean, most adults can't do it. It is still under development, after all. It just doesn't work right... But it's not the words. I've read about it, you see. A little. It must be the pronunciation. It's not at all natural. The words--they say they're ancient..."

"Like... Old god ancient?"

"Maybe," John wondered. "And it'd be easier with a wand, like you have in Oerris. There's a... A motion to it."

"I thought you said you didn't read much about it."

John's academic fixation fizzled, and he slumped. "I pick things up."

Roger muttered to himself, throwing his feet over the side of the bed. Looking through the drawers in his nightstand, he finally found his focus--a rosewood wand, carved in the shape of a panda eating bamboo. He held it out to John, who wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, yes," Roger said. "Stick-wavers and such. I've heard it all. It's a valid implement for magic!"

"Mm-hm," John conceded, taking the wand and holding it between his fingers, as if it were filth. "I told you, I can't. Most people who can do Vexxzus magic can't. Except Brian, I guess."

Undeterred, Roger reached for the nearly spent candle next to him, and puffed out the flame. "Light it. It's the easiest spell we know. You said you pick things up, right? Maybe a different View? One that's not so deathy?"

"I can't--"

"Try!"

"No!"

John pressed the wand back into Roger's hand. "No. It's--It's not..."

He pressed his lips together, eyes focused downward at his own hands.

"All right, all right," Roger said, tapping the wand to the candle's wick and setting it alight again. "I just thought--"

John vigorously shook his head. "Sorry."

Interesting.

Roger set the candle back on the nightstand, and leaned back on his pillow. Despite having slept for a week, he still felt incredibly tired. Maybe being cursed sapped all your energy, too. Honestly, the thought that it could have been worse was pretty frightening, and maybe he'd think about how lucky he was later when it all caught up with him. Maybe he'd talk about that with Brian, though, since John seemed awfully traumatized by the whole thing. He certainly didn't seem like the stereotypical mean-spirited, borderline-evil Vexxzus everyone talked about.

"Hey, John? Why'd we start fighting, anyway?"

"You don't remember?"

Roger thought for a moment. He really didn't.

Clearly uncomfortable, John shifted, appearing much smaller. His brows lowered, but he looked hurt more than angry. "You... You charmed all the words in all my books to be the same color as the pages. I'd bought new books before I realized what you did."

"Oh yeah! Yeah, I remember now." He chuckled. "You were so pissed. I never heard a first-year say those words before." John reddened, looking away. It wasn't just the incident with the books, though, Roger realized, with a rare stab of guilt. Because after that, there was the hair-color-changing incident. And the sweater-unraveling incident. And many other incidents that seemed entirely minor and extremely funny, until Roger added them all up and realized... He'd been harassing the shy kid. The quiet one who just wanted to stay out of the way. Who didn't want to bother anyone.

Because John was a Vexxzus, and so very easy to harass. The whole time, Roger felt like a hero.

It was no wonder John had been so angry by the time they got to dueling. "Oh. Damn. I mean, you have such a bad temper... It was like, ah... throwing water balloons at a bear. Hilarious, 'til it... rips out your spleen or something. Brian did tell me to leave you alone. I guess after all that, I deserved--"

"Don't say you deserved it," John interrupted. "I was scared you'd never see again. I was scared I could have killed you. That's a lot worse."

Roger always prided himself on being the easy-going, laid-back guy who everyone thought was a complete idiot. He liked to make people laugh. And he did! Of course, it meant he was a bully, which wasn't ever what he intended. And he'd driven a nice kid to cast a horrible curse. Of course Roger deserved what he got. "I'm sorry, John. I really am."

"Yeah, well, if we're going to be friends, can you maybe do that a little less often? The bear-harassing, I mean." Friends? Friends? Roger knew his face must be lit up like a Christmas tree. He didn't care, though. "You? And a stick-waving Oerris? This is so cool." He used the springiness of the horrible hospital mattress to propel himself forward, knocking John's bag to the floor, so he could wrap his arms around his new Vexxzus best friend forever. "Ain't no one messin' with me now," he said.

John tried everything to pry him away, finally gave up, and said, "You're going to have to stop hugging me at some point."

"That's a lie," Roger replied.

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #brian may #john deacon #freddie mercury #fantasy #fantasy au #reversed #ck writes #not bestiary

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omgsquee2001 · 4 years ago

Text

Uzfakuh: A Kíli Love Story

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Prologue

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

My dear Frodo.

Bilbo Baggins

lit a match, then used it to light a candle. He walked through a hallway in his house, carrying the candle.

You asked your Aunt and I, before she moved away, if we had told you everything there was to know about our, adventures.

Bilbo opened a chest that was set against the wall. He glanced down in recollection at his sword, which was in its sheath. Bilbo reached out to touch the sword. At the last second, he restrained himself and pulled out a large red book from the chest.

And while I can honestly say we told you the truth, we may not have told you all of it.

Sitting down at his desk and opening the book, Bilbo saw a drawing of himself when he was younger.

I am old now, Frodo.

Bilbo picked up the drawing and gazed at it, smiling lightly. He noticed another, larger drawing. The familiar hem of a dress caught his eye. He picked the other picture up. While his smile shone with happiness and remembrance, his eyes shone with a sort of sadness. He gently stroked the picture.

I’m not the same Hobbit I once was. And neither is your Aunt, where ever she is.

After setting the pictures down, he picked up his quill and dipped it into a pot of ink.

I think it is time for you to know what really happened.

He paused for a moment, thinking about what to write. He got an idea and began to write.

It began long ago in a land far away to the east, the like of which you will not find in the world today.

There was the city of Dale.

Its markets known far and wide, full of the bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful, and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth: Erebor.

Stronghold of Thrór,

King under the Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf lords. Thrór ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son

and grandson.

Ahhh, Frodo, Erebor; built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of this fortress city was legend.

Its wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewed from rock, and in great seams of gold, running like rivers through stone. The skill of the dwarves was unequaled, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby, and sapphire. Ever they delved deeper, down into the dark. And that is where they found it. The heart of the mountain. The Arkenstone.

Thrór named it the King’s Jewel. He took it as a sign, a sign that his his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great Elvenking, Thranduil.

As the great wealth of the Dwarves grew, their store of good will ran thin. No one knows exactly what began the rift. The Elves say the Dwarves stole their treasure. The Dwarves tell another tale. They say the Elf King refused to give them their rightful pay. It is sad, Frodo, how old alliances can be broken. How friendships between peoples can be lost.

"And for what?" Bilbo asked himself. He scoffed and returned to writing.

But the years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly, the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. Thrór’s love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him; it was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow.

The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind.

It was a fire drake from the north. Smaug had come.

Such wanton death was dealt that day, for this city of men was nothing to Smaug; his eye was set on another prize. For dragons covet gold, with a dark and fierce desire.

Erebor was lost, for a dragon will guard his plunder as long as he lives.

Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the elves that day, or any day since.

Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness, a once mighty people brought low.

The young dwarf prince took work where he could find it, laboring in the villages of men, but always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright, for he had seen dragon fire in the sky, and his city turned to ash, and never forgave, and he never forgot.

Far away, in another corner of the world dragons were only make-believe. A party trick conjured by Wizards on Midsummer's Eve. No more frightening than fairy dust. And that, my dear Frodo is where your Aunt and I come in. It was the beginning of an unlikely friendship that has lasted all our lifes. But it is not the start of our story. For us it began…well, it began as you might expect. In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty wet hole full of worms and oozy smells. This was a hobbit hole. And that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home.

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

Frodo walked out of one of the rooms in the house, eating a cookie. He looked over at his Uncle and smiled gently. Frodo walked outside and took our the mail from the mailbox. He walked back inside. Bilbo, who was laughing while writing in his book, quickly quieted down and cleared his throat. Frodo set the mail on Bilbo’s desk.

“Thank you.” He said. Frodo looked at the picture of Bilbo when he was younger. Frodo smiled as he looked down at it.

“What’s this?” He asked. Bilbo took the picture from the hands of his nephew.

“That is private. Keep your sticky paws off.” Bilbo said. Frodo then picked up the other, larger drawing. The drawing depicted a young lady Hobbit and a young Dwarf.

//Just imagine that the Dwarf is Kíli//

They held hands, twirling in a dance. Their eyes bore into one another. They held love and adoration.

“Is this Aunt Azalea?” Frodo asked tentatively. Talking about his Aunt was a sensitive topic for Bilbo, for he missed his sister greatly. Bilbo fell silent for a moment before nodding.

“Y-yes. That is, your Aunt.” Bilbo said quietly. Frodo looked at the Dwarf.

“Who is that Dwarf with her?” He asked. Bilbo took the picture away.

“The best and worst mistake of her life.” He said. Bilbo picked up one letter in particular that Frodo had brought in. Bilbo opened it and read it.

‘My dear Bilbo,’ the letter started out. Bilbo could still imagine her voice. Soft and kind. 'How are you, Brother? How is Frodo? Is he getting into trouble like his dear Aunt always did, or is he a more respectable Hobbit like yourself? Kíli and I are doing very well, in fact, we are expecting a child! Isn’t that wonderful news? Thorin is doing very well at ruling the kingdom. He has lessened his strictness on Fíli, letting him live the way he would like. The others have returned to their normal lives, making toys, baking, crafting, advising. Kíli and I will make sure to come to the Shire. I wouldn’t want to miss out on my older brother’s birthday. Thorin wants to come along as well. He wants to see how grownup Frodo has become. Be prepared for another Unexpected Party. The whole Company wants to come for your birthday. I pray that you are doing well. Happy birthday Brother. Much love, Azalea.’ Bilbo smiled. He set down the letter on his book, reminding himself to write back to his sister. He made his way into the living room and took out some poster paper.

“You know, some people are beginning to wonder about you, Uncle,” Frodo said, looking at Bilbo. “They think you’re becoming odd.” Frodo said.

“Odd? Hmm.” Bilbo hummed before returning to the paper he was working on.

“Unsociable.” Frodo added. Bilbo chuckled.

“Unsociable? Me? Nonsense,” he handed Frodo the paper. “Be a good good lad and put that on the gate.” Bilbo said. Frodo looked at it dubiously, but still did as he was told.

He nailed the sign to the front of the gate. It read; "NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS". Bilbo came out and stretched. Frodo looked at his Uncle from the other side of the gate, smiling. He held a book, tucked under his arm.

"You think he’ll come?" He asked. Bilbo looked at his nephew.

"Who?" He asked.

"Gandalf." Frodo said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Bilbo smiled.

"Ahhh. He wouldn’t miss a chance to lit up his whiz-poppers! He’ll give us quite a show, you’ll see. I also think your Aunt is going to come, along with some friends who would love to see you." Bilbo said, smiling. Frodo’s smile grew. He loved it when his Aunt and Uncles came to visit. They always told him tales of how they reclaimed their homeland.

"Aunt Azalea is coming? Is she going to bring Uncle Kíli, Fíli and Thorin?" He asked. Bilbo chuckled. Frodo loved it when his Aunt and Uncles came to visit. They always told him tales of how they reclaimed their homeland.

"From what I read from her letter, she's bringing the whole group." He said. Frodo smiled.

"Right then, I’m off." Frodo said, heading off down the stone and grass path.

"Off to where?" Bilbo asked. Frodo stopped and looked at his Uncle.

"East Farthing woods. I’m going to surprise Gandalf." Frodo said. Bilbo nodded.

"Well, go on then! You don’t want to be late." Bilbo said. Frodo smiled and continued on, racing down, book in hand.

He doesn’t approve of being late. Not that I ever was.

Bilbo sat on his porch and smoked his pipe.

In those days, I was always on time. I was entirely respectable. And nothing unexpected ever happened.

#the hobbit #gandalf the gray #thorin oakenshield #kili #kili x oc

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lilith-of-rivia · 5 years ago

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My Queen

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt X Reader

Word Count: 3,727

Warnings: Angst, death, swearing

Summary: After Y/N’s paarents are killed unexpectedly, she is forced to become the Queen of her country. During her sorrow an old friend come to her cornitation, Geralt of Riva. She hires him to avenge her parents.

[This one is honestly a bit sad, because the reader goes threw so much in such a short amount of time. I really hope you enjoy this. And thank you to everyone who has liked/reblogged my last story. It truly means the world to me.]

Luthia Empire

~ 2 months ago~

“Y/N! I know today is going to be one of the hardest days, but you must do this. If not for people. Do it for your parents. Luthia needs you princess Y/N.” It was Persilla, the princess’s best friend.

“My parents haven’t even been in the ground for 48 hours and everyone not only wants me to become the queen but also start searching for a king. I am barely 20 years old.” Y/N’s voice was harsh and ragged her throat hoarse from crying for 2days straight. Her eyes were red and puffy.

Her mother would kiss her nose while wrapping her hair up into its protective bonnet to hold her curls into place while she dressed. Her mother would put a cooling blue oil that she never shared the recipe for, and rub it on her daughter’s under eyes, the cold allowing her swelling to go down….but not this time. Queen and King Rudhal had died but three days prior. They were in a caravan on their way to a far-out town in their empire. Two Alghouls; mates, ambushed the caravan. No one was found alive. After three days of hearing nothing on either side of the kingdom, the palace sent out scouts, who returned and delivered the heart-wrenching news to Princess y/n. Now not even two days later she was being prepared for her coronation.

The door to the princess’s room opened slowly, Persilla walking to her friend, her hands going to y/n’s shoulders. She squeezed them reassuringly, kissing her friend's [hair color] hair.

“I’m so sorry y/n...this isn't fair I know that but the royal court needs a Queen. You won't be doing this alone. One of Aretuza’s finest will be at your aid.” She whispered as her friend stared at the wall across from her bed.

“I’m already here.” Y/N knew the voice. It belonged to Tissaia de Vries. The woman who also advised her parents for many years, when she was a babe.

Y/N sat up in her bed wiping her eyes looking at the woman she saw as another mother. Tissaia’s eyes were red from crying as she took in the news of the loss of the king and queen. Tissaia sat down on the other side of y/n and helped wipe her eyes.

“We are going to turn you into the queen that you are. And tonight at the coronation feast, if you wish you may drown your sorrows in ale. As for your duties, do not begin until tomorrow.” As Tissaia spoke she led the Princess to her vanity, looking at her in the mirror.

While Persilla went to get her gown, the new one her mother was giving her for her betrothal. The gown was a lovely blue and plum. It had hand-stitched and beaded flowers all over it. And long sleeves made out of a light vale like material. Y/N couldn't help but cry as she saw the gown, the one her mother knew she’d love. Tissaia quickly wiped her tears before handing her a cup full of a blue liquid.

“Drink, it’ll calm your nerves and help you feel better. You won't have to worry about crying for the rest of the night.” Y/N looked at the liquid and quickly drank it. Tissaia was right, she no longer felt sad, but she didn't feel happy. She just felt content with not being okay.

After about two hours, the princess was dressed in her makeup and hair done. Tissaia took her tiara and placed it on her softly curled hair that rested gracefully on her shoulders. Her eyes; the same color as her father’s, bright blue, nearly gray if the time of day was right, no longer red.

Tissaia and Y/N sat at the top of the long stairwell. Y/N could hear the bustling grand hall, full of her people. And some lords and their suitors to witness the coronation. Tissaia’s hand was holding the princess’s. The princess had a small fake smile on her face but no one would ever know it was fake.

“Are you ready my dear?” Tissaia asked. Y/N squeezed her hand softly and nodded.

“No, but let's do it.” Tissaia nodded to the announcer and the curtains opened.

“Now introducing Princess Y/N!!!” The crowd erupted in applause, everyone on their feet as Tissaia walked the princess to her place next to a minister.

“Y/N Rudhal, do you promise to do everything for our people and only for the people. So help you, god? Do you promise to always be there for the sick, injured, or people in need? Just as the king and queen did before you?” Y/N was now turned to face the subjects before her, her eyes roamed the room seeing many familiar faces, people she had known her entire life.

Her eyes landed on a tall man standing near the back of the room, in a dark blue and green suit. His hair was a striking silver and white. It was tied back, half up. His eyes met with the princess. Her blue eyes staring into his golden ones as she cleared her throat.

“AS your queen I assure you that I will do everything in my power to protect my people. To make it known that we are none to be taken advantage of. As your queen, I will do everything in my power to be just as loving and caring for my people like my mother and father. I will make the tough decisions for you and only you. I will serve you, my people.” Her voice was steady, assertive. Her mother would have been proud of her. Her posture is perfect, her voice trained and warming like a Queen should have. The crowd erupted in cheers and claps. Some people cried as they watched the little princess become a woman.

Y/N turned to the minister as he spoke a prayer in their native tongue and then her mother's diamond crown was placed on her head. The announcer took place at the base of the steps again.

“Now presenting Your Royal Highness Y/N Rudhal!!” Once again the crowd erupted in cheers. But Y/N was not as happy as she thought she'd be on this day.

The party had now been going on for nearly 3 hours and had no intention of stopping anytime soon. The Queen had downed a tanker of sweet apple ale every hour, Tissaia was sat by her side, her hand in the Queen’s. Many lords and knights had come to pass their condolences onto the Queen, in hopes for a dance. But the Queen hadn’t left her perch.

Y/N’s eyes were fixated on her now empty tanker when the man she had locked eyes with approached the royal table. The men around her became stiff and tense. Their hands were closer to their sheathed swords. Y/N looked up and met those golden orbs again. The man bowed his head gracefully, the Bard next to him doing the same. This man was no stranger to the Queen, in fact, her father always spoke of the mighty wither. And how sometimes he wished out kind one had more monsters because “I’d love to hire out the best. Help support the hunter in his endeavors.” He had passed through her kingdom many times, sometimes coming to the royal dinners with his bard when her mother hired the man to sing.

“My condolences, your Highness.” His voice was tough, stoic. But Y/N could feel the sorrow for her in his voice.

Taking a long drink from her now refilled tanker the queen dabbed her lips with her napkin, before standing, for the first time that night. She bowed her head to them both, walking (stumbling every now and again) around the table and in front of the two men who again, bowed their heads. The Witcher reached for her hand and gracefully brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of her palm. Her face went red but she tried her best to ignore it. The men who protected her now moved closer to her. She placed her hand up to the guards and looked at them, annoyance clearly ached on her face.

“My nights, please, for the love of God let me be. You have done none of this to any of the other men who have approached me tonight. When in fact many other men have been known to be more violence against women.” The guards looked down and stepped back again knowing she was right. Her eyes went back to the Witcher, who was smirking softly. A small thin smile crept its way to her lips. The first real smile she had shared that night. Her eyes went to the bard and she smiled at him.

“Would you mind playing some of your music for this grand party? The bards that are here are quite boring. I wouldn’t mind hearing the songs of your endeavors with the white wolf.” The bard smiled brightly at her, bowing his head.

“It would be my honor, your Highness.” He took off towards the men who had instruments and started playing.

“Walk with me.” The queen began walking away from the witcher, not being far behind her. She walked through the crowd of smiling drunk people till she got to the balcony entry. The guards pulled the doors open and the two went through them.

The deep sigh that left the queen's lip was that of pure sorrow. Her walls are now coming down, being away from her people. The cool night's air crisp on her cheeks. The tonic Tissaia gave her had worn off many hours ago. The tears began to stream down her silky soft skin. Her hands were on the cool railing as she looked over her kingdom. Lit up and parties all over in honor of her coronation.

“My parents have been dead less than a week, barely in the ground for 48 hours, yet here everyone is. Partying, getting drunk.” Her voice was shaking and cracking as she spoke. The witcher was now by her side, his hands behind his back as he looked over the kingdom with her.

This wasn’t the first time they had met. The man had been her escape from the royal household for many years. Training her in sword fighting, hand to hand combat and healing. Her mother was never fond of the idea but she never said anything. Letting her daughter release steam a few times a year with The Witcher. The young queen would be lying if she said she didn't feel something for the man. But she was one of hundreds.

“I’m sorry, your Highness.” He barely spoke, she knew that. Unless it was to educate the girl on how her feet were not properly placed, or how she needed to tuck her elbow more.

She turned to him, her face wet with tears and eyes red again.

“You have to kill them, Geralt.” She went to wipe her nose with the back of her sleeve when he caught her hand, placing a white handkerchief in her hand. She laughed softly, knowing how her mother always trained her to never wipe her face on her sleeve. She always trained her to not cry when in the presence of others. She had failed already.

“Kill what your-“

“Y/N. You know my name. You’ve used it. Or even that stupid nickname you always had.” Geralt chuckled softly leaning on the railing as he watched the crying queen.

“Spoiled little princess.” They both said the nickname at the same time. Causing that small smile to spread on the queen's lips again.

“I don't think that nickname is fitting anymore, my queen.” His voice was smooth. She was happy being with him. There was no pity in his face, he didn’t look at her like some broken toy like everyone else had been. He looked at her the same he always had.

“You have to find those blasted Alghouls and bring me their heads. I will pay whatever it is you desire. However much. If you fancy a new house, a new sword, a horse, all of the above. Whatever your price. I will pay.” She brought the handkerchief up to her eyes dabbing the tears away again as she spoke. Her eyes on the witcher. He stood tall again, placing his hand on her arm.

“Coin is fine, my queen. I will find them. But It May take a while. They are the hardest to hunt, especially at this time of year. Winter is approaching.” His thumb rubbed soothing circles on her arm as she closed her eyes. Wanting nothing more than to cuddle into his strong chest.

“Do you remember when my father would tell you he wished we had more monsters because he wanted to support the mighty hunter?” Y/N asked laughing softly.

“How ironic. Now the only time my blood has hired a witcher is to find the monster who killed more than half of my family.” Her voice broke again. This time the witcher didn't watch as she cried. He placed his hand on her lower back and pulled her into his broad chest. Holding her close. His other hand stroking her hair softly. Her sobs were muffled into his chest. Her body shaking.

“What am I going to do?” He didn't respond. He just let her cry. He held her. The only person who didn't try to wash away her pain or make her pretend to be okay. He just held her while she cried.

After a while the queen pulled back and wiped her face again, laughing softly. Her fingers softly touched the soft fabric on top of the Witcher’s chest. The blue shirt was covered in dark tear spots.

“Sorry about that.” He laughed softly. Looking down at the shirt. His hands now came up as he coupled her face in his hands. His golden eyes looked deep into hers.

“I will find them. And I will bring their heads on posts to you. I will avenge your family.” His thumbs stroked her cheeks as she sighed leaning into his hands. A weight was lifted from her shoulder. For the first time since her parents died, she had finally been able to cry until she couldn't. And wasn't shushed or told to hide it.

There was a soft knock on the door, Y/N’s head turned as she looked to her door to the grand hall. Tissaia was standing at the door.

“The coronation dance of Luthia is about to begin. Your people cannot start dancing until their queen does.” She spoke softly. Looking at the queen who was in the arms of a Witcher. Y/N looked at the witcher.

“Care to dance, White wolf?” Geralt nodded, and they turned.

She hooked her arm in his as he led her inside the grand hall, into the crowd of men and women as the song started to play. They bowed to one another. His hand went to her hip, while the other took her hand. They stared at each other, eye to eye as their feet worked in rhythm to the song, the movements flowing for both of them. Geralt led the queen along the dance floor, her dress flowing gracefully. Her crown catching the light of the moon, sending sparkles all over the hall. Soon her subjects followed everyone dancing in rhythm.

The night had come to an end. The Queen bid farewell to her people and thanked them for their condolences and prayers before she turned to head to her room. The witcher leading her. He hadn’t left her side all night. She needed someone who wasn't going to pretend she was okay. He knew she wasn't. He cut her off when she hit her 5th tanker of ale. And was there to wipe her single tear many times.

They rounded into her wing of the castle and stood outside her chamber doors. Y/N was a bit drunk, leaning onto the man for support. His hand wrapped tightly around her waist keeping her upright.

“Come love lets get you in bed.” It was Persilla. She was next to Y/N. She smiled softly at Geralt as thanks for being there. Y/N turned and looked at Geralt.

“Will I see you soon?” She asked, threw hiccups. Geralt chuckled, stroking a strand of hair behind her ear. His lips pressed to her forehead softly.

“You will see me soon, My Queen. Send for me if you need me before I return. I will be as fast as possible.” With the soft gesture of love (even if Geralt wouldn't admit that’s what it was) he left the Queen. Her face burning red.

~Present~

“Please my queen, we have no crops. The Griffin has prohibited the ability to get water to our crops. We need it gone. Many of us haven't eaten in days.” The man from one of the lower eastern cities had come to beg for Queen Y/N’s help. A Griffin had been causing terror to the people of the small town and caused them to halt production on crops.

“The White Wolf should return soon, when he does. I will pay him to take care of the Griffin. Until then,” The Queen motioned for one of the members of the royal court to come over.

“Send a group of soldiers with this man back to his town, help move his people out and into the royal gates till they can go back to living without fear. Give them food and water and shelter.” The man's face beamed at the Queen's words. He dropped to his knee in front of her, his hands together.

“Oh thank you, my Queen, thank you.” She smiled and helped the man stand as he walked out with the member of the court. Tissaia was watching from the side, a proud smile on her face.

It had only been two months since her coronation, but the young queen was doing better than anyone had ever expected. She grieved her parents that night but then put her people first. She had done exceptionally well. Even so much so, finding her a king was no longer a top priority.

“My Queen!” One of her guards ran into the throne room slightly out of breath as he pointed to where he came from.

“The Wolf, he's back.”

The queen wasted no time in running out of her throne room, her guards on her heels. She burst through the door to the courtyard. There in front of her was, in fact, the White Wolf, and Jaskier his Bard. In his hand were the heads of the two Alghouls she had hired to kill. Her hands clasped over her mouth. The witcher placed the heads by her feet and bowed to her as did Jaskier.

“Your parents have been avenged, my Queen.” The queen lost all her training at that moment. She leaped into the man's arms. Her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she hugged him as tight as she could. Her eyes burned with tears. Geralt’s hands wrapped tightly around her waist as he held her to him. Embracing her in every way he could.

She pulled away from him only enough to look at him. She whipped her eyes before turning Tissaia who handed her a sack of coins.

“There are three thousand orins in here” She plopped the bag of coins into Geralt's free hand, his other hand on her waist. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as Jaskier choked on his spit.

“My Queen I cannot take that much for the job.” Y/N placed her finger on his lips silencing him.

“You avenged my parents for me. Take the coin.” She was beaming at him. He placed the sack of money onto his belt and hugged her again.

“That smile suites you, my Queen.” He whispered into her ear as they embraced.

“I have another job for you, Geralt if you'll take it.” She said as she pulled away, and they began walking into her caste. Her hand on his arm as they walked.

“Hmmm. Already?” He chuckled softly.

“Yes, a Griffin. Terrorizing some of my people in the lower eastern corner of my kingdom. They will be moved here, for the time being, so they are safe. No rush. Take your time from the long hunt. But if you choose to stay here, you will always be paid well.” She was looking at him as they walked to the same balcony they had been on not two months before. His hand now rested on the small of her back.

“I don't mean to be crude, your highness, but the monsters are not why I will be staying.” His words made her blush as they looked over the frost-covered Kingdom.

“You are a very forward individual Geralt of Rivia.” Y/N said with a small laugh as she turned to face him. His hand came up to cup her face.

“I came back to not collect the coin you promised, but to make sure you were okay.” She leaned into his warm hand.

“I’m doing better than I thought I would. Every Queen needs a hunter, a smith, and the protector of her people. I am choosing you Geralt. If you take my offer you have a place to sleep here. You will always be fed, have the best weap-“ Before she could finish her thought, his soft warm lips had been placed on hers, silencing her rambling. Her hands went to his neck as she kissed the man back. They stayed there, engulfed in each other’s kiss for a while before Geralt pulled away. Stroking her lips with his thumb.

“You are the reason I am here my Queen, as long as you are here I do not need another reason.” She beamed at him, kissing him again.

“Then so be it, you are now the Witcher of the Luthia Kingdom.” He pressed his lips back to hers again, her hands now deep in his white hair.

“As you wish, my Queen.”

#geralt x yn #geralt #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #geralt x you #witcher ciri #witcher netflix #witcher geralt #witcher jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivera #imagnes

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 4 years ago

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Motion Sickness Chapter 60

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I weaved my motorcycle in and out of traffic and past first responders heading the opposite direction, back towards the mine. It was a promising sign, one that we'd gotten away clear. Neo and I were good at making these sort of operations look easy. Almost too easy. That was apart from my encounter with the Turks.

It was hard to be sure what to make of them. Perhaps the Schnee Dust Company's militant arm. They had to have something for a long time considering the White Fang and all. They'd been at war far longer than I'd been alive.

In places the Atlas Military wasn't willing to reach the SDC had to have its own armed forces. That meant armed huntsman. That meant people with semblances like Rosso and Rude.

If I hadn't been along Avalanche would have been picked apart. They were amateurs at best. They had know idea how strong people could really get if they thought a machine gun could honestly keep them safe.

I rolled up on Seventh Heaven and the truck slid into its bay behind me. I wasn't hurt too bad from my scuffle with the Turks. Maybe I was rocking fifty percent aura. Maybe a touch more.

They'd never really solidly gotten me except for when Rosso smacked me on the back of the head with his electric-stick. That had smarted. But I was a tough cookie. I could handle it.

"Wew! We did it!" Wenge cheered. He was solidly high-fived by Jasper. Clap .

She turned to me and lifted a hand and gave me a thumbs-up and a cocky grin.

I kicked out my kickstand. I lifted a leg and smoothly dismounted the bike. Neo slid off the back with me. She'd been covering us from cameras, using her semblance. She was super handy to have around. I wasn't sure where I'd be without her.

I'd probably be majorly worse off, though. Her power had incredible utility. I could see why Roman had picked her up. She was unbelievably useful.

I swung off my bike and made my way up to the bar. I lifted the door open and held it open for Neo. She nodded up at me as she stepped past.

"You were amazing, Cloud! You should have seen him fighting two of the Turks at once!" Jasper exclaimed. She had her own weapon, a machete still strapped to her side. She mimed punching forward one or twice. "You gotta teach me how to fight like that!"

I pulled my pipe out. "That'll cost you," I said around it. "And I'm not sure you can afford it."

I could really use something to take the edge off of my reality.

Neo pulled at my sleeve as the rest of Avalanche filed into the bar. I knew she wanted another one of those overly sweet drinks. She'd earned it so who was I to disparage it.

"Can I get two of those house specials?" I asked Jasper.

"Oh sure. On the house this time. You did such a great job. I don't know where we would be without you."

"You'd be dead," I told her calmly. "Unless...do you know your semblance?"

"I can turn into a sort of cloud of vapor. It helps with get-aways sometimes but it's not exactly combat oriented," Jasper said. She began to shake up my and Neo's drinks. "Wenge's makes him actually bulletproof and Bisque's is technopathy. It helps with computers on missions sometimes. He can hack almost anything."

I thought about Bisque's semblance and a computer in far away Mistral before I shook my head. I couldn't trust them with something like that. I'd have to find another way into that computer, if I ever did. It was entirely possible I'd never ever get into that computer in Merlot's laboratory. I also wasn't sure I wanted to. His little black book had brought me nothing but pain.

I nodded at Jasper. They had nothing that would have kept them safe from Rosso's attacks. Not really. And I still wasn't sure what the other man, Rude, what his semblance was or did.

I exhaled out a long train of smoke and let it wash me over. Getting my blood pumping always countered the effects of the indica. I needed another toke to help me relax now afterwards.

"Yeah, you may have died. Can I get you all to consider another choice of work. I'm not sure you're cut out for this."

"Well we can't all have amazing combat powers like yours. What was that? You almost took down their airship before the fight even started. You two should have seen it!" Jasper told Wenge and Bisque.

"Limit Breaker puts me in an elevated state. And there's a charge I can spend on an attack," I took another long draw off my pipe and blew up towards the ceiling.

"It was amazing. You can fly!"

"A little." I shrugged off her compliment. Ruby could fly too.

"Well next time-"

"Next time?" I asked. "This was a one time gig. You're getting it twisted. I'm not a member of Avalanche. You better have my info. I want to hear about what the General has been working on."

"Oh right," Jasper said. "You want to tell him, Bisque?"

Bisque nodded. I watched him take a seat at the bar and I followed him. Jasper put our drinks on the counter and Neo began chugging away at hers while I remained more reserved and sipped at it.

"Some faunus workers came to us a while ago. The General had been putting 'em to work on the old Colosseum," Bisque began. "Amity Colosseum that is."

"Amity?" I wondered. "Why?"

"That's the kicker. They were hauling long range communication equipment on board and digging up gravity dust. Near as we can tell it's a bid to undo the black-out," Bisque continued.

"He's trying to turn it into some kind of communication satellite," Jasper finished excitedly.

"You're sure? He's trying to use it to get communications back up and running between the kingdoms?" I asked. I looked down at Neo and she met my eye over her red drink. I hoped she didn't spill any of that. It would stain like you wouldn't believe.

This was… it was tentatively good news. Communications between the kingdoms used to rely on the tower's being up and running. All of them. Now that Beacon's was down it had caused a worldwide black-out. A bit of a finicky system if you asked me. Any real robust system needed to be able to withstand some wear and tear. It needed to be able to take assault.

They should have thought of that. They should have been prepared for catastrophe. I always was, though that could have been because I was a walking talking disaster myself.

"That's… pretty good news."

"Not for the faunus working minimum wage on it. It's not a livable amount," Bisque disagreed.

"I meant in the long run for all the kingdoms. We need communication back online, I'm sure even the common person has been hemorrhaging money because of it."

"Not really. Only the rich have been suffering. A common person's toils are the same as ever," Bisque went on. "The poor have been getting trodden on the same as before. With or without global communication. You think a dust miner's life changed much when communication went down? Other than the higher chance of being laid off due to the embargo it's the same as ever."

I grimaced. It could be true. Only the rich had stocks to sell and buy. But there wasn't anything I could do about that. I was only good at cracking skulls open. I couldn't reshape the world's economy. I didn't have the time. I didn't have the strength. I didn't have the money.

"Tell me more about this satellite." I demanded. It was why I was here. Not to worry about the woes of the poor. It was better for me to not think about. Plus I didn't even have free will whereas the poorest dust miner at least had that edge over me.

"Near as we can tell once it's up communication will be reestablished amongst those places that still have a tower. But that won't solve the problem in Vale." Bisque said. "So they must be planning on flying to Vale and getting communication squared away there. It might mean repairing Beacon tower to get everything truly back in working order. From there we'll have a fifth communication tower in the form of the satellite which can go where it needs to in order to keep things running."

I took a drink. So they probably still planned on repairing Beacon Tower. I felt a strong desire to be there for that. Beacon had been my home for longer than anywhere that wasn't a tank of blue liquid.

Which, call me crazy, but I thought that didn't really count.

Beacon had been where I made my friends. It was where JNPR was born. It was where RWBY was born. It was an important place in my heart.

Rebuilding something like Beacon was real, actual good. Like teaching Peach what little magic I knew had been. That had done me well, too. It reminded me that I didn't have to be a monster.

I stood to leave. Neo rose with me, she slammed back the last of her drink as she did. I left most of mine in the table.

"Cloud… wait." Jasper pleaded. "We're planning on hitting a Schnee company freighter next. Planning on sinking it to drive dust prices back up. People are hurting with the enormous supply and little demand. Will you help us?"

I had a thousand good reasons not to. I looked at the faunus in the eye. My eyes marched between them in turn.

"We promise to share any news we get with you. Any information we learn from our network. We just could use a little more help. If you can't help us, will you teach us some of what you know, at least. We're not asking for much."

I sighed. If I hadn't taught Peach recently my first instinct would be to say no. But teaching Peach had warmed my cold soul. It had been as good for me as it had been for her.

"I'll give you some lessons. The first one is to not attack that freighter. You barely got away with what you did this time."

"We have to do something," Wenge said.

"No you don't. Not before you're ready. You can do more good if you wait. If you're patient. Organizing the people into real workers unions is fantastic. It's doing something. And you don't even need to blow anything up to do it. That's lesson one. Stick to that. I got in too deep and look at where I am now."

"A badass," Jasper interrupted, sounding adamant. "A real huntsman. Look at what you can do."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what I've lost. My friends are dead. My hopes are dead. My dreams are dead. I've got nobody besides Neo, now."

"And she's awesome. She's hot!" Wenge said. "Ow." Bisque hit him.

"Stick to unionizing. At least for now. I'll come by every few days and give you some lessons in fighting. Until you're ready just keep your heads down."

"What if we're never ready," Jasper asked.

"Then you'll still have accomplished something with your unions. That's not bad. It's better than what I can do."

"You can fight though. We can fight. We have semblances," Wenge whined.

"I lost so much to be able to do what I can do. You can barely fight. In a real fight you'd be destroyed. Those Turks would have destroyed you. I'll help you with training and advice. And hell, when you're ready I'll even join you on a mission. But only if you do what I say. Only if you're patient. You all don't have Neo like I do and there are cameras on every corner in this godforsaken city."

"Fine. We'll do it your way, Cloud," Bisque acquiesced.

"I'll be by tomorrow and we'll do some combat training. I'll run you through some stuff I used to run another kid through. I'll show you how to use dust to fight. I'll even do some sparring with you if you think you're up for it." I nodded. I felt Neo's eyes on me. I wasn't sure what she thought of all this. I wasn't sure what she thought about me giving in like this. It wasn't like I was super busy. Now I was just waiting for stones to turn up regarding Cinder and Salem's other agents.

"Thank you Cloud. You're a lifesaver," Jasper said.

I just inclined my head. Neo slammed back the rest of my drink as well, she aptly figured that I wouldn't be taking the rest of it.

I paced out of the bar and to my waiting bike. Neo was waiting just in front of me and not getting on. I straddled the bike and turned to face her.

"I know, I know. We're not getting very much out of it. But we're getting something. And I get to live with myself which is nice."

She hugged me. It came out of nowhere, a sign of real affection for the first time in months. It almost brought me to tears.

"Neo?"

She just shook her head. She eventually released me and looked up at me with pink and brown eyes. I felt her aura, a cruel mellow against my own.

"Been worried about me a little, huh. Sorry. I'm not like Roman though. I'm not all torture and death. I can't do that. I'm not like that. I don't want to be like that. I want to do what I can when I can. And besides they're good contacts. They're union leaders and you like their drinks. Think you can let this one slide?"

She blinked and looked away.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking. I wish that talking to you felt like more than just talking to myself."

She slid on the bike behind me. Her arms once more came right around me. She slid close to me. She was closer than she strictly had to be. It felt… nice.

I embraced the feeling and for the first time, I thought of Neo as a friend. A real friend rather than someone who's goals had happened to have been aligned with mine.

I think… I think she had just been waiting for some sign that I was a person. She was waiting for me to show that I was a human being and not just a monster from Merlot's laboratories. And I'd finally given it to her. So she in turn was showing me her own humanity.

It was a massive comfort and a boon to my soul. I could feel her aura against my own and it didn't feel as cruel anymore. At least not anymore cruel than my own must have felt. It was sort of like if I was running a fever and she was too, and then we touched. She would just feel skin temperature and not feverish. Even though she really was.

My cruelty felt like that. I was cruel and I wondered how long she'd been feeling it against her when we touched. I wondered how long she'd been waiting for me to give her a sign that I wasn't just a murderous animal.

The same way I was looking for more signs that she wasn't just a sadist.

She'd been waiting months, probably. She was tired. I could feel it through her aura. She wanted to be able to trust me past Cinder and I wanted to be able to trust her that far too.

"Crime doesn't fill the void."

She squeezed me.

"You're right. Crime is all that matters."

She hit me.

It was unrelentingly tiring having to constantly second guess my actions where Neo was concerned. I was sure she was tired of it too.

I cried a little and wiped my face.

I revved the bike and drove off in the night.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

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danurso · 5 years ago

Text

Left...

Yes! It was on the last second but i did it! Lets finish this year off with a bang baby! Or even better, with a YANG!

Jaune: morning guys. *sits down at the table*

RWB_/Pyrrha: *eating breakfast* morning.

Ruby: where are ren and nora?

Jaune: still on the room, just finished taking a shower and they told me to come and not wait for them, so i guess that means we won't see them at least until lunch.

Weiss: hmph, perverts.

Blake: *reading her book* didn't you kept ruby back almost every day after you hooked up too?

Weiss: *blushes* t-thats different!

Blake: considering how none of you has a male genital, yeah, i know it's different.

Weiss: *dark red* i hate you.

Ruby: *giggles*

Jaune: so, where's yang?

Ruby: she was feeling sick earlier today and told us to go ahead without her.

Jaune: is she okay?

Ruby: probably, it's been happening for a few days now, i thought she had already told you.

Jaune: no, she didn't. I had no idea she was feeling bad. *gets up* i'll go see her. *turns around and faces yang.*

Yang: *with a uneasy expression.* hey. . .

Jaune: hey, what's up? Are you feeling sick?

Yang: n-no, i'm fine i just. . . *sigh* can we. . .talk, just you and me?

Jaune: sure, did something happened?

Yang: on the room, just you and me. *walks away with jaune right after her.*

Pyrrha: what's wrong with her?

Ruby: we have no idea either.

Blake: actually. . .i might have an idea.

RW__/Pyrrha: *raise eyebrow.*

*At RWBY's dorm*

Jaune: so, what's up?

Yang: can you. . .sit down for a bit?

Jaune: err. . .sure. *sits down* are you okay? You look a bit pale. Ruby told me you've been feeling a bit sick the last few days.

Yang: i-i'm okay, i promise, i just. . .look, it's just that this is very hard to explain.

Jaune: what's hard to explain? You're starting to get me nervous.

Yang: . . . *takes in a deep breath before exhaling* jaune. . .do you love me?

Jaune: of course! Why are you asking me that?

Yang: do you know what you wanna do after beacon?

Jaune: we talked about this already didn't we? Our graduation is going to be in just three months, so after that we're going to find a nice apartment in vale and start doing missions to create a name for ourselves, wasn't that the plan?

Yang: i know, but what after that? Don't you have any other plans for after that?

Jaune: i thought we agreed to just see what happens after we get our apartment, take things slowly right? I mean, i have some plans and things i want to do but its nothing we need to worry about for now.

Yang: *avoiding his eyes with a guilty expression* but. . .what if something happened? Something big that would change our lives forever?

Jaune: yang, what are you talking about? I can't really understand where this is all going.

Yang: . . .i'm pregnant.

Jaune: . . .please come again?

Yang: i'm pregnant jaune.

Jaune: w-wait, what!? How did that happened!?

Yang: remember a week ago? When we went to a date to celebrate our two years together?

Jaune: yeah?

Yang: and remember that by the end of the night we went to junior's and got totally wasted?

Jaune: err. . .kinda? My memory of that night isn't perfect.

Yang: well, we got drunk as hell after a drinking competition and decided to rest on a nearby hotel, one thing lead to another and we started to. . . *pink* you know what.

Jaune: *blushes* y-yeah, i remember that part all to well if i'm being honest. B-but wait, i was using a condom on that day, how did you got pregnant?

Yang: jaune, we literally destroyed the bed while doing it, i don't think the cheap condoms we had were made to survive to our. . . *red* intense nights.

Jaune: *looking down, very nervously* so. . .you're really pregnant?

Yang: *nods* i made the test three times, its was positive on all of them.

Jaune: wow. . .so you really are pregnant. . .

Yang: are. . .are you mad?

Jaune: what? No, i'm not mad, i just. . . *gets up* i need some time to grasp the situation.

Yang: w-where are you going?

Jaune: *on the door* i just. . .give me some time okay?

Yang: o-okay.

Jaune: *leaves*

Yang: . . . *sighs and sits down, wandering on her thoughts*

*one hour later*

Ruby: *walks on her dorm* yang?

Yang: o-oh *forcing a smile* hey sis, whats up?

Ruby: . . .are you okay?

Yang: if i'm okay? What are you talking about? Of course i'm okay.

Weiss: yang, we know it.

Yang: know about what?

Pyrrha: blake told us that you were. . .uhm. . .well, pregnant.

Yang: *eyes wide, looking at blake* YOU KNEW!?!?

Blake: i saw you buying the tests yesterday, and after seeing you earlier i knew that the result was positive.

Yang: . . .

Ruby: so, how are you feeling?

Yang: . . .honestly? im freaking out. What if i'm not ready to be a mother? What if i'm not ready to raise a kid?

Ruby: come on, you always took care of me ever since i was a kid, if anyone here knows how to be like a mother, this person is you.

Pyrrha: besides, you're not going to be alone, jaune is going to be there for both of you.

Yang: yeah. . .i guess you're right.

Weiss: speaking of which, where's arc?

Yang: i don't know, after i told him i was pregnant he left saying he needed some time to think.

Blake: for how long he's been out?

Yang: an hour. . .i think.

Ruby: an hour!? Just where is he!?

Yang: i said i don't know, he's probably at the rooftop or somewhere like that.

Weiss: shouldn't he be here with you? This is unbelievable!

Yang: i-its okay, he's probably just thinking about situation.

Weiss: that's no excuse to let you alone and freaking out!

Ruby: im going to call him *dials jaune on her scroll* . . . . . .huh?

Yang: what?

Ruby: it says jaune's scroll is turned off.

Pyrrha: what? But jaune never turns his scroll off.

Blake: isn't him on your room?

Pyrrha: *walks off RWBY's dorm and knocks on her team's door*

Nora: *opens door* hey pyrrha. *looks at the crowd staring at her from across the corridor* what's going on?

Pyrrha: we can explain later, but now have you seen jaune?

Nora: yeah, he passed here almost an hour ago.

Ruby: do you know where he is?

Nora: no idea. He came in a hurry while talking to someone on his scroll.

Pyrrha: talking to who?

Nora: *shrugs* i don't know, all i heard was that jaune was talking about buy a passage home or something like that, then he picked his bags and ran away.

RWBY/Pyrrha: HE DID WHAT!?

Nora: he picked his bags and left, why? You guys don't really think he left for gold right? I mean, what reason could he have to suddenly run away from beacon?

RWB_/Pyrrha: . . . *looks back to yang*

Yang: *in shock* he. . .left?

Nora: hey, whats going on? Why is everyone so nervous?

Pyrrha: w-wait, there's something wrong, jaune wouldn't just leave like that.

Weiss: well, he clearly just did!

Ruby: pyrrha is right, jaune wouldn't run away like that! M-maybe he just-

Yang: SHUT UP!!!

*CRACK!*

RWB_/_NP_: *staring at a red eyed yang whose fist just went through a wall* . . .

Yang: *taking deep breaths*

Ruby: y-yang, we don't know everything yet, h-he might just-

Yang: JUST WHAT RUBY!?!? I THINK IT'S PRETTY OBVIOUS WHAT HAPPENED!!!

Ruby: please calm do-

Yang: DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN RUBY!!! I'M NOT IN THE MOOD FOR THIS SHIT!!!

Ruby: . . .

Yang: I KNEW IT!!! I FUCKING KNEW IT!!! DAD ALWAYS TOLD ME TO BE CAREFUL AROUND BOYS BUT I WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO NOT LISTEN TO HIM!!!

Ruby: y-yang-

Yang: *with hair on fire* WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!?!? I KNEW THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN BUT I LET HIS STUPID SMILE AND CUTE FACE TRICK ME!!! I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE TRUSTED HIM!!! THAT ASSHOLE!!! BASTARD!!! SON OF A BITCH!!!!!! *punches the wall, spreading a web-like crack all over it, letting out ragged breaths*

Ruby: *carefully getting closer* . . .yang?

Yang: *sniff*

Ruby: y-yang?

Yang: *falls on her knees, still facing the wall* . . .why did he left me. . . *sniffs, the fire on her hair slowly fading* just what is wrong with me?

RWB_/_NP_: . . .

Yang: *turns to ruby, her eyes back to lilac and filled with tears* why does everyone i love ends up leaving me?

Ruby: *tearing up*

Yang: am i that terrible of a person? First my mom, then summer and now jaune. . .why does everyone i love hates me so much?

Ruby: *kneels down, pulling yang into a tight hug* that's not true! We all love you! And you're a wonderful person!

Weiss: *wiping some tears* that's right, ruby is telling the truth.

Yang: *sniffs, now staring at weiss* . . .

Weiss: yes, you can be very annoying sometimes, but still, you're one of the most wonderful and caring people i've ever met, and if they can't see that, they're the ones losing it.

Blake: she's right, you're wonderful and they're the one losing if they can just give up on you for no reason.

Yang: but. . .what am i going to do now? How am i gonna raise the baby without jaune?

Ruby: well, if i remember well, you always took care of me when i was younger so i think you had a lot of practice with raising kids.

Pyrrha: plus, you're not alone, i think i speak for everyone when i say that if you're going to need help to raise your son or daughter, we will be there to help you.

Ruby: well said.

Weiss: of course we will.

Blake: *nods*

Yang: . . . *sniffs, letting go of ruby and opening a small smile* thanks girls, you're all amazing.

Nora: i don't really know what's going on, but i'll help you too if you need someone to break legs!!!

Yang: *chuckles, wiping her tears* thanks nora.

Nora: don't thank me! Just come here! *pulls her into a bone crushing hug.*

Ruby: us too! *pulls the others and hug yang*

Yang: heh. . . *hugs them back* thank you girls.

???: wow. . .err, did i came in a bad time?

RWBY/_NP_: *looks at the doorway where jaune is standing with a pair of bags on hand* JAUNE!?

Jaune: *confused* yeah? That's me. *looking at the dented walls* what happened? Did you girls fight or something? And- *notices yang's disturbed expression* yang? *drops his bags and walks closer* what's wrong? Why are you staring at me like tha-

Weiss: *standing on his way* back off.

Jaune: what? Weiss, can you please let me-

Weiss: no! Don't you think you did enough already!? Actually, why did you even came back!? You forgot one of your comics or something stupid like that!?

Jaune: wait, what? What are you talking about?

Blake: about you abandoning yang.

Jaune: me abandoning what!? What are you guys talking about!?

Yang: nora told us everything jaune, stop playing dumb!

Jaune: what? Yang, i have no idea what you're talking about, im not planning to leave you.

Yang: oh yeah? Then where were you all this time!?

Jaune: . . . *sighs* well, after we talked i went to the balcony to get some fresh air and calm down a bit but all i managed to do was get in panic. *rubbing the back of his head while looking away* i had no idea what i was going to do or if i was ready to be a father so i called my mom and asked for help. After that i went to vale to buy some things.

Yang: if you were just going to buy a few things then why did you had to take your bags?

Jaune: well. . .cause mom's list of things was a bit big. *picks the pair of bags, opening it and showing a ton of different stuff*

Ruby: what all this stuff?

Jaune: well, these things are lots of skin and massage lotions, medicines for any problems yang can deal with during pregnancy, vitamins for her and the baby, and a few bras and panties with extra sizes since mom told me a woman's breasts grow because of lactation and her hips grow a bit as well during the months of pregnancy.

Pyrrha: so you've been out all this time to buy all of this stuff?

Jaune: yeah, i've seen my mom getting pregnant four times and i know how complicated it can be, so i wanted to buy everything to make sure her pregnancy go smoothly.

Ruby: if that's all then why didn't you answered when i called you!?

Jaune: *sheepishly* well, i was talking with my mom the whole time while buying the stuff, and because of that the battery of my scroll died.

Blake: wait, so what were the passages nora told us about?

Jaune: mom insisted that after beacon is over, me and yang go back to my home so she can teach us a few stuff to help during pregnancy.

Weiss: so you were out all this time just to buy things for yang's pregnancy?

Jaune: yeah, basically.

Weiss: . . .i honestly can't believe you.

Ruby: i can, this sounds just like something jaune would do.

Yang: pff. . .

Ruby: yang?

Yang: *chuckling* all this time. . .i was getting angry and worried because of nothing. . . *sighs, looking down* i feel so stupid right now.

Jaune: *walks to her, pulling yang closer* did you really think i was going to abandon you? Specially now?

Yang: . . .yeah. i-

Jaune: *pulls her into a tight hug*

Yang: jaune?

Jaune: im sorry.

Yang: wait, sorry for what?

Jaune: i should've warned where i was going, but because i didn't do that you thought i had abandoned you. I know how much you're afraid of being abandoned and i made you feel like i abandoned you when you needed me the most, i'm really sorry.

Yang: what? *breaks the hug* jaune, i called you a lot of bad names and said horrible things just because i thought you left me. . .ruby and pyrrha tried to tell me you would never do that but i ignored them and kept cursing at you just because you spent an hour away from me. If anyone here needs to apologize this person is me.

Jaune: can we just agree that we both messed up, we both feel bad about it, and we're both sorry?

Yang: . . .okay. still, sorry for thinking you were going to abandon me.

Jaune: heh, bold of you to assume i would let you go just because you got pregnant, you're way too good of a catch for me to let you go.

Yang: *chuckles*

Jaune: i wasn't planning to let you go before, and i'm not going to start now.

Yang: what do you mean?

Jaune: . . . *sighs* i was planning to wait for the day of our graduation but, oh well, screw it. *pulls away*

Yang: *confused* what are you doing?

Jaune: *goes to one of his bags, fumbling a bit but finally taking out a small black box.*

RWBY/_NP_: *gasp*

Yang: j-jaune *tearing up* is this. . .

Jaune: *getting down to one knee* Yang, when we first met i couldn't imagine what the future was holding for us, i could never imagine that a girl as beautiful as you would fall for a dork like me, but you did, and you gave me the chance to show how much i love you while you showed me how much you love me, you're the light of my life, the brightness that fills the darkness that surrounds me and the warmth that comforts me during my coldest days, my very own sunshine. *open the little box showing a golden ring with a lilac jewel on the middle*

Yang: *covering her mouth while tears stream down her cheeks*

Jaune: so yang xiao long, would you give this humble knight the pleasure and the honor of being my- *gets tackled by yang*

Yang: YES!! *kiss* YES!! *kiss* YES!! *kiss* YES!! *kiss* A MILLION TIMES YESSS!! *pulls him into a long deep kiss*

Jaune: w-well, not exactly how i imagined but i'm not complaining. *gets back into kissing yang*

Weiss: *deadpans* why am i not surprised?

Ruby: *sheepishly* because it's yang?

Weiss: . . .fair enough.

Yang: *inserts hands on his hoodie while deepening the kiss*

Blake: i think we should leave, like, before things get more intense.

Pyrrha: i think that's an great idea.

RWB_/_NP_: *walks away*

Ruby: so, do you guys wanna do anything for now?

Pyrrha: . . .i'm kinda hungry, you guys wanna eat something.

Blake: sure.

Weiss: sounds good.

Pyrrha: you're coming nora?

Nora: nah, i'll wait for renny to finish his bath.

Pyrrha: okay, join us when he ends up there, okay?

Nora: will do!

RWB_/Pyrrha: *walks away*

Ren: *coming out of the room drying his hair* i heard some screams coming from the bathroom, did i lost something?

Nora: well, yang almost destroyed her room during her breakdown cause she thought he abandoned her after finding out she was pregnant, but turns out jaune was actually just worried with her pregnancy and left to buy some stuff so he came back and they apologized to each other before jaune proposed and now they're making out so no i don't think you lost anything.

Ren: . . .right. do you wanna eat some pancakes?

Nora: sure!

*on the room*

Yang: *on the bed and on top of jaune while making out* hold on a second, if i'm pregnant and you're going to be the father, *grins* does that means i can call you daddy?

Jaune: you already called me like that before so i don't see anything special.

Yang: well, now you're going to be a really daddy, so it spices things up a bit don't you think?

Jaune: *chuckles* fair enough. . .yang?

Yang: what?

Jaune: i love you.

Yang: *smiles* i love you too daddy.

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #yang x jaune #jaune x yang #dragonslayer #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladona #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #lie ren

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