#the rusted knight parody

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

The Battered Dragon

Buckle up, buttercups. This is a long one.

Jaune: Soooo... (continues looking around at the "forest" around him) where do you guys think we are?

Ruby: I don't know. I honestly didn't think I'd find anyone that quickly. Even if half of the group was tied up my a village of mice.

Weiss: (plucking a thorn out of her sleeve)They were... craftier than I would have thought.

Blake: (ears wilt) It makes me wonder where Yang is, or if she's okay.

Weiss: (places a hand on Blake's shoulder comfortingly) I'm sure we'll find Yang. You have to remember that this is Yang we're talking about. If anyone can manage surviving in an unknown world filled with random dangers, I'd place the charred remains of the Schnee fortune on it.

Blake: (ears perk up slightly) Yeah, you're right.

Weiss: (watches as Ruby and Jaune discuss what steps they should take next) You know. When we find her, it might be a good idea to have a bit of a heart-to-heart with Yang.

Blake: (ears spring skyward) I-I don't know what you're talking about.

Weiss: Blake, you almost jumped off the platform after Yang. I dragged you off the literal brink, and you immediately went feral on Neo afterwards.

Blake: I'm that obvious, huh?

Weiss: To everyone except Yang herself... (watches as Ruby trips over a random tree root and pulls Jaune down to the ground with her) And maybe those two.

Blake: (chuckles softly)

Jaune: Hey! Do you guys think we'll see the Lively Carpenter or the Battered Dragon???

Ruby: The Battered Dragon? I don't remember that character from the story.

Blake: The Battered Dragon was a strong warrior that fought back the night in a fiery blaze, but was always warm and kind towards the people in the book.

Weiss: We're not in a storybook. But! If we were, I wouldn't mind meeting the Lively Carpenter. They were so sweet in the story.

Jaune: I remember the Battered Dragon was like a barbarian of sorts. Super cool and strong who fought with her fists.

Ruby: I don't remember Yang ever reading that character. Actually, I don't remember her reading me that story at all.

Jaune: Huh... That's odd. I would have though- (draws sword) INCOMIIIIIING!!!

Jabberwalker: (bounds through the canopy into the clearing and slashes at Jaune)

Ruby: Jaune! (pulls Jaune out of the way)

Blake: Ruby! (throws Gambol Shroud, wraps the ribbon around Ruby, and yanks her back)

Weiss: (glyph attacks Jabberwalker and blasts it back)

Jabberwalker: Seeking - Searching - Contacting - DEVOURING!!! (leaps towards the group and slashes at the group wildly)

RWBJ: (get tossed to the ground)

Jabberwalker: (tail whips Blake to pin her down and leaps onto her)

Blake: (blocks claws with her sword and struggles to keep the claw from her face)

RWJ: Blake!

??? : I said I wasn't done with you yet!!!

-Burning fireball of stone barrels in and slams against the Jabberwalker's head, shattering into a million smoldering pieces as molten rock oozes over spiral horns-

??? : (rugged, dark brown leather adorned with intricate patterns and fur trims, well-worn trousers and boots, tanned leather tank top with tatters at the hem where the bottom has been torn off, revealing muscular abs and a few battle scars, and a blazing heart tattoo on a well-endowed chest. Scarred left arm is on display, muscles rippling as powerful hands grab the Jabberwalker's horns, while a paint chipped, slightly rusted metallic right arm glints dully in the sunshine. A purple bandana tied off where the metal meets flesh. Black and brown leather hand armor and pauldron adorn the left shoulder and hand with golden brown/grey whisps of fur protrude from under the plates. Burning golden hair burn out in a long trail behind a scorched, wooden dragon mask)

??? : Did you honestly think I'd let you hurt anyone here? (punches Jabberwalker a few times in the face) Then you're crazier than I thought! (throws Jabberwalker over to the next acre)

RWBJ: (stare in shock)

Jaune: (gasps like an excited child) Oh, my gosh! It's the Battered Dragon!!!

Blake: The Battered Dragon! In PERSON!

Weiss: We're actually in a fairytale....

Battered Dragon: (panting before squaring her shoulders and turning to RWBJ) Dammit! (takes off her mask, revealing one lilac and one crimson eye and three scars on her jaw) You guys weren't supposed to be here.

Jaune: Is that...?

Weiss: Yang?

Ruby: (walks up to the Battered Dragon) Yang?

Battered Dragon: (shakes her head, dislodging the tears in her eyes before nodding firmly) Yeah, Rubes. It's me. And you guys weren't supposed to-

Ruby: (grabs Yang's hand tightly) If you didn't think we'd come looking for you, then you must have forgotten who raised me.

Battered Dragon Yang: (sniffs and holds Ruby's hand) Right. I'm just... glad to see you guys again after all this ti- PUAH!!!

Blake: (tackles BDY to the ground and hugs her tight) Yang~

Battered Dragon Yang: (shocked eyes glance at Blake briefly before tears slip from her eyes, her nose wrinkles in an attempt to keep from crying, and she breaks. Arms wrap around Blake like a lifeline) It's actually you....

Weiss: (after a few minutes) Yang, what happened to you?

Battered Dragon Yang: It's... a long story...

[howlingday]

Time travel au.

Jaune revovers quick enought to save alyx and leave with her.

They arrive in volume one. With young jaune replaced by the rusted knight older him. ( he kept juniper and sadly the cat some how got throught)

Jaune adopts alyx and sets out too not fail starting with removing cinders and ironwoods heads

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

I was n't sure if you wanted this to be a RWBY timeline au (a parody/comedy), so I'll treat this as it's own thing for now.

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

"And you want to live here, correct?"

"Yes." Jaune nodded. He had no idea where the door at the tree would take him, but back in time certainly wasn't something he would ever have expected. "My... daughter will also need a roof over her head as well."

"Yes, your daughter." Ozpin furrowed his brow. "Not many parents forgo traditions, naming their children something so unique."

"Is there a problem with how I name my child?" Jaune sounded a little offended, mostly because that's what a parent should do. "She gets teased enough as it is!"

"Teased by who?" Ozpin narrowed his eyes.

"Uh, children... playmates... children who play with her!"

"I see..." He tapped on his keyboard. "And may I ask why you're attending Beacon? Couldn't your family provide you the means? The Arcs are a close friend of mine, and I'm sure they wouldn't deny a stranger, let alone one of their own."

"Oh, well, you see, they, uh..." Jaune felt his brow sweat. He was slipping. "We're distant relatives. Not really that close."

"And yet close enough to name their newborn son after you?" A smug grin split Ozpin's stoic face. "Happy birthday, by the way."

"Oh..." Busted.

"Now, why don't we start over, Mr. Arc?" Ozpin offered with a hand, not fully understanding the irony of his request. "Honesty is the best policy, as they say."

Jaune's hands clenched. "They, but not you?" He didn't deny it, allowing Jaune to continue. "I lost a lot because of you. I had nearly lost everything because of you, and your selfish crap."

"So, you're from the future, is that it?" Ozpin asked, oddly without a hint of sarcasm to him. "Why don't you tell me everything?"

Jaune gave a chuckle. "That's funny, coming from you. After everything you hid from us-"

"Because you were not ready to-"

"DON'T ACT LIKE YOU KNOW ME!" Jaune smashed his fists into the table, snarling at the old headmaster. "A lot of blood is on your hands, y'know!"

"Yes." Ozpin nodded. "And there is some on yours."

Jaune looked down to find hands bleeding. The table below was merely cracked. Jaune could flex his fingers, but it stung. His aura flared, and his wounds healed. He gave a sigh.

"Tell me, Ozpin." Jaune said, sitting down. "What do you know about the Girl Who Fell Through the World?"

Meanwhile, the titular girl was sitting quietly, reading her own book next to the recently hired Glynda Goodwitch. Every chapter a chronicle of her misdeeds, each told from her own perspective. Or at least, that's what the book sold.

"Lewis..." She heaved a heavy sigh. Juniper nuzzled her nose into Alyx's thigh, to provide comfort to the girl. It worked, and so she read on.

This was by and far the strangest thing she'd ever seen since coming to Beacon. Granted, this was still her first month, but her stance remained the same. For some reason, she had a good feeling about this job.

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

"This world... is not my own." From atop a building in Vale, The Curious Cat heaved a sighed. "Disappointing."

[pilot-boi]

Curious cat sings creepy parody Disney love song to rusted knight

I don’t know if this is the same Anon, but you both are geniuses

If I wasn’t on a cruise I’d be drawing all of this stuff SO hard

[duckapus]

Most of the major events in the Haltmann War, in more-or-less chronological order:

The distraction plan is successful and the Crew + Kirby manage to get into the Access Arc undetected...but shenanigans ensue because it's them and they all get separated early on.

Susie succeeds in copying Mario's Player Data over to Elanore, but doesn't kill him right away, because even if she wasn't afraid of how Movie Mario would react to her killstealing she'd still let him be the one to do the deed since she promised him revenge if he helped her and it would go against what's left of her principles to go back on a deal.

Lots of cool fight scenes down on the surface, with Marcy, Shroomy, Kaizo, Amy, and the other Major Side Characters, as well as the Hologram Trio, getting most of the focus.

There's also a scene with Slenderman, Siren Head and Huggy Wuggy teaming up and absolutely slaughtering Haltmann's forces.

Elanore and Barney decide to help Mario escape because he seems like a nice guy. Unfortunately, the Tax Evasion Yoshis find out and won't let them go without a fight.

Primp Town comes under attack because of course it does, allowing the Puyo Puyo characters, the Koopalings (minus Iggy 'cause he's trapped with the other mad scientists), Root and Lil Coding to show off their skills.

Tari and Saiko find Hal, who's been upgraded Mecha-Knight-Style into the Halt Monitor and is guarding the bootleg Guardian Pod Susie made from the God Box Shard.

The Access Arc's defenses come online to assist Haltmann's fleet against the good guys' much larger fleet, and Sage retaliates by bringing out the Death Egg and fighting Death Star Parody to Death Star Parody, which provides an amazing background for the ongoing fight between Movie Mario and Melony's team

The New and Improved Augmented Security Swipe takes to the battlefield back on the ground, getting into a fight with the side characters and surprise entries Dusty Grumpton and Heavy Squid, while Joe, Dusty's Dad and Fury Bowser fight the King Salmonids and that one giant robot boss from Kirby 64.

Bob and Boopkins run into The Goomba, who now has a personalized Robobot Armor he calls his Executive Suit. It has four massive arms because he, like most Goombas, has kind of a complex about that sort of thing. He's also still only calling Boopkins Fishy, which makes him rather quickly shift from trauma-and-bad-at-fighting-induced-fear to also-trauma-induced-murderous rage

Cody discovers that he inherited his mom's skill with a shotgun when his siblings nearly get killed by a squad of Octoling Clones that slipped past Primp Town's actual combatants.

Kirby, Luigi and Perry find Susie guarding the Scientists, and it's immediately obvious that they're going to have to knock some sense back into her

A second invasion fleet appears in the Internet Graveyard, only to discover that it has not been left unprotected, with 1, 2, Juliano and Knuckles leading the Dead Memes as a well-coordinated army instead of the chaotic feral mess Haltmann had probably been expecting

3 and 4 find Vee and Hex, and while 3 and Vee's frustratingly similar personalities do make them clash at first they manage to get the kids on their side like Mario did. And then the Bob-Omb Battlefield Chain Chomp shows up with a plasma cannon mounted on it.

Meggy ended up alone and, in a scene framed almost identically to the Octo Expansion Agent 3 boss cutscenes, finds DST-19, the Octoling Clone who most closely replicated their DNA donor: Desti. It even has her original Blaster, the signature hot-rod paintjob faded to almost nothing and replaced by patches of rust from its years at sea.

Movie Mario looks like he's on the ropes after a devastating blow from a Super Waluigi Launcher attack, only to tap into the God Box's power and become Mari0, which gives him a second wind also unleashes his secret army of Anti-Minions onto all of the ground battles.

There's also a massive, surprisingly powerful Anti-Meme version of the Onceler who shows up in Primp Town

At the Goomba fight, Booplins manages to actually climb up the mech while Bob's drawing fire with his actual direct fighting, and he proceeds to push the Goomba out of the mech, take control of it himself, and use it to stomp the Goomba without remorse.

Mario, Elanore and Barney defeat the Yoshis, with Mario afterwards lamenting his broken friendship with the main green one, not knowing that he's actually still conscious and has been given some things to think about

Saiko and Tari have a lot of trouble with Halt Monitor, but eventually manage to break through his reprograming thanks to their shared past in the Reboot timeline

Just when it looks like the Primp Town group is beat, Lily discovers that her siren song is the least of her voice's powers, because she unlocks the power to SHOUT DEVISTATINGLY AND IMPOSSIBLY LOUDLY, which basically deletes the Mega-Anti-Onceler, most of the invaders...and a great deal of the surrounding countryside.

During the Susie boss battle, she gradually realizes that her situation with the God Box Shard is a direct and terrifying parallel to what happened with her father and Star Dream. She's not exactly cured of her corruption, but she does at least now know there's a problem and is actively fighting against it. Unfortunately, between all the damage to the Access Arc, the God Box's influence permeating everything by this point, and Mari0 and A.S.Swipe being Mari0 and A.S.Swipe, she doesn't currently have any way to call the invasion off

Meggy vs DST-19 is nasty, both because Obvious Trauma Reasons but also because DST-19 turns out to legitimately just as good as the original Desti was, and besides the lack of talking is even acting exactly like the original would have. Ultimately the duel leads to a draw, at which point DST-19 actually finally talks, commenting on how Meggy's getting slow in her "old age," because apparently she's had Desti's memories the whole time and was looking for a rematch! So now she's part of the group, apparently.

Also A.S.Swipe gets blown up again. Hopefully for good but probably not.

It's at this point that everybody in the Arc actually manages to meet up at the bootleg Guardian Pod...well, almost everybody. Guardians are still missing up until they come crashing through a wall still pursued by the Cyber-Chomp, who's then quicky taken down and freed from its cybernetics by Executive Suit Boopkins, because he's tough now apparently. We'll see how long it lasts.

Meanwhile, out in space, Mari0 is handing Melony's team their asses and Sage is getting way too into tearing the Arc apart, to the point where she's seemingly forgotten that everyone has to actually escape from it before she finishes destroying it. Eggman is very proud of her.

The Arc group gets inside the Pod, which the Chomp puts inside its mouth, and they all shoot out the nearest airlock just in time to not get blown the fuck up, since the Chomp is the Chomp and can totally survive the vacuum of space and falling from low orbit. While that's happening Mari0 sends the group fighting him crashing to the ground

this leads to the final battle happening in a massive crater. While the Arc group is mostly still fresh to go, the space battle and ground battle groups are running on fumes at this point, with the chaos emeralds spent, Waluigi and the Demigods unable to access their powered up forms, Shaggy fucking dead (and poofed because it turns out he was the Shaggy that Axol drew on Anime Island), and Creative Mode disabled.

Despite this they still stand up to keep fighting, with Waluigi pulling out a tennis racket(gloriously fitting), Desmond doing his best with his lance and shield, Steve breaking out the Diamond Gear, and Melony actually having Kirby use her sword to become Fierce Deity Kirby and pulling out Inkweaver to use herself.

Just about everybody still standing working together(including a surprise Lawyer Kong pulling a Cease and Desist for a brief stun at one point) just barely manage to take him down...except the boss music just changed keys instead of ending.

Mari0 grabs Luigi, stating that its fitting he'd use SMG4 Mario's brother to gain the power to destroy this world, given what happened to his own, and starts fucking absorbing all of his Meme Energy! This gives him the boost he needs to start draining the Meme Energy and Anti-Meme from everyone and everything around him, except for Mario because he wants his counterpart to ba awake enough to suffer and the Haltmann siblings thanks to their immunity to Anti-Meme energy.

Regardless, this allows Mari0 to assume his final form, Mari0 Soul('cause Kirby), with only Mario, the Haltmann siblings and Peach(who has no Meme Energy of her own thanks to the Worst Activation Ever) left standing to fight him

Except, as the fight wears on and it all seems hopeless, their friends start managing to jump back into the fray, still weakened from exhaustion, injuries, pain from the extraction, and the fact that they can't use memes to screw with reality like usual, but no less willing to help save the day

Even Yoshi manages to come back and sides with the heroes, allowing for a last-minute Big Super Move courtesy of the whole Seven Star Children thing Mario, Luigi, Peach, Bowser, Wario, Yoshi and Donkey Kong have going on(from Yoshi's Island DS) that Mari0 couldn't have possibly seen coming thanks to his origins. And now he dead and the Anti-Memes die with him

Now there's the cleanup, including dealing with the whole "Desti is a goo clone now" situation, detoxing everyone who got pumped full of Anti-Meme Energy (especially Susie), and figuring out what to do with a whole extra weak-but-fully-functional-and-stable Meme Cycle Set who on one hand are creations of the God Box meant to be used for evil but on the other hand are literal children who ultimately decided to be good the very first chance they got.

Also Yoshi now gets to join Peach and Welony in the "Attempting Redemption" group! Mario is probably going to be significantly more wary about this one, considering.

[the-lincyclopedia]

AO3 First Lines

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. If you have fewer than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

Thanks for the tag, @doggernaut! I’m making an executive decision to leave the song parodies (of which there have been many) out of this and only use the narrative fics, though I’m keeping the drabble series in. Anyway, from most recent on down, here are the first lines of my last ten fics.

Sophos knocked on the door to Helen’s apartment and shifted from foot to foot, unsure what to do with his hands. (May I Straighten Your Tie?)

Eugenides did not care that his attendants were surely listening right outside the door. (to trust more freely)

I meet Costis Ormentiedes and Eugenides, King of Attolia, in the king’s apartments, which are far less ostentatious than one might expect for the accommodations of a sovereign. (The Unlikely Friendship between the King of Attolia and His Favorite Guard)

Was Irene ever a child? (Shadow Princess Era)

Why oh why did Lucia Day have to fall right before finals week? (When Lucia Day Dawns)

Shitty wasn’t surprised to see that Jack’s eyes were red-rimmed when he answered the door at dinnertime. (had the shiniest wheels (now they’re rusting))

"Separate or together?" the waiter asked. (First Date Jitters)

I wiped away my tears. (bring on all the pretenders (i’m not afraid))

It was midterms, and somehow a mundane disagreement about something unimportant had escalated into the first real fight of Costis and Kamet’s month-old relationship. (this love is difficult (but it’s real))

At the beginning of freshman year of high school, Helen somehow convinced Irene to join the math team. (Five Times People Thought Irene and Helen Were Dating and One Time Everyone Knew They Weren’t)

I tag @khashanakalashtar @worldsentwined @hoeratius @the-knights-who-say-book and anyone else who wants to play!

[groundbreakingdot872]

lights and sirens blaring I am here for service o7

ILY :)

anyways,

It’s always so interesting to see your thoughts work straight into the fine bone and gristle of the matter, right there to Merlin’s desperate lashing out of ‘I haven’t changed’ to Arthur’s immediate stoicism (and knowing already) to Merlin then mirroring him as default

It’s fascinating

If Merlin was a reptile, he has shed his skin. Coils of loose grey scales and remnant humanity slide away in the second Arthur acknowledging the fact of his immortality.

Maybe I’m fixating too hard on the lines “Merlin’s face goes from almost pink with frustration to an almost grey-white” but I can see Arthur’s shoulders rise with a sinking fear that Merlin is exactly who he had always claimed to be: himself, and an unchanging entity

He’s the bobbing wisp o’ light that followed a prince into a dark cavern, the rushing wind that beats on the shoulders of guards chasing druids through the midnight streets, and he’s every cliff and burrow and earthy knoll that decorates the Kingdom, Arthur claims to know so well until it’s standing, human-dressed, in front of him.

There’s so much to dig in here- about how Arthur is unable to put the idea of every grain of dirt and cobblestone and every ordinary face in Camelot with the idea of Merlin, so familiar and shifting in his magic-marrow in front of him

It’s hard to equate those ideas together because then Arthur would be forced to recognize every face that Merlin picks up, every dirt-lined brow in the outlying villages, and the bloodmagic-hewed hands of every sorcerer he’s condemned since.

Merlin just is

“until he slowly tips his chin in understanding”

VIV

I AM DEVOURING YOUR WORDS

like-

Merlin, hollow skeleton of a man that rattles with the branches skittering around them, his face ghost-grey, dancing on the fine line between nausea and relief, tipping his chin up in a fucking parody of the resolve that he’d put on time on time again, the one that bleeds through even before his pride’s stained from the admitted truth, he’s readying himself right now and I’m closing my eyes in so much reverence and awe and a little pity

and

LEON

I fuCKING KNEW he’d come through at some point and here he is!!

with fingers pointed right into Arthur’s face that have traced maps and battle plans with the same unwavering resolve. With his brows pulled rough like berry thickets and the rust-sweat of old blades, and so immovable in the face of Arthur’s flimsy retaliation, like all of the sword-play routines he had stumbled back from as a squire

And it’s the same Leon, the same man, the same child, shielding Merlin from Arthur’s counter moves like he’s guessed at the weak defenses all along

“…bright and sharp and warning, but Leon meets him with squared shoulders and a foot slid just in between the two of them.”

herewegoherewego!!!!!!!

Leon’s words ‘heart and soul’ have ripped me a new one, it just stings like freshwater to hear Leon of all the men, white-knighting for Merlin here, to step forward and with him, with nothing but the the cape of unswerving loyalty to cloak himself with- it’s so honest of Leon, so stalwart and true

“Arthur’s face shutters and he stares a hole between Leon’s eyes. Merlin’s hand closes around the back of Leon’s shirt and grips right.”

The feelings are FEELING RIGHT NOW

how are you so good at this??? Arthur’s pulling the blinds on whatever is brewing between his first knight and the inescapable honor he sees in the face of Merlin’s magic, and he’s looking between his eyes because he doesn’t dare to lift them higher than the noble’s knights brow; that would be impossible.

You are just brilliant. That’s all.

“Merlin shouldn’t have been such a bad influence all those centuries.”

AJSHDJEUDNXISOWMSJDOHWGSUWJWK cry…

This is such a Leon and Merlin keeping company at Parisian tables, knocking knees on outcroppings and stranger’s balconies, whittling figures in barren fields just passing the time, and meeting over and over again over centuries with the same conclusion in every shoulder clasp, every muffled greeting. Like I can see it!

“…and Leon’s lucky he’s spent the last couple hundred years getting used to Merlin trying to wind him up.”

THERE IT IS AGAIN

and Arthur’s the lucky one I think! (to avoid a front-row performance to Leon’s perfected right hook)

“…wit the strings cut.” GAH

don’t mind me at this point I’m just word babbling over the cutting precision you’re employing here

“Arthur bows his head, like a scolded child, and tucks his chin into his chest to hide the wobble Leon knows is there. Arthur had never been able to maintain a poker face when it really mattered.”

Arthur’s lips tremble before he’s about to cry, there’s a flea-sized scratch above his left eyebrow from when he dared to knock the wind out of Sir Ethan at 11, he’s got a folding quality to him whenever an attacker flanks his right side after touching sword-point, and he drew first blood, terrified, against a traveling Lord from Mercia who dared to ogle Morgana at her 16th birthday banquet

Leon knows this, because it’s his job to be observant . To be all-knowing of Arthur’s rips and tears like it’s more than the fondness of understanding him as a younger, once foolhardy and tenacious prince.

If Merlin is the complete knowing of a thousand dusty tomes in Geoffrey’s library, then Leon is the familiarity of a well-read page, creased and finger-printed all over, lovingly.

I’m just so- out of words so wordsnotfound about this whole thing, AHHHHHH, you’ve done the impossible and more, to succinctly draw up Merlin, Leon and Arthur, as if it were as easy as scratching stick-figures

wow

i don’t know where the fuck this came from, actually

[sketchiedetails]

Iconoclasts was on sale a while back so I picked it up. I’ve been eying the game for a while because of the gorgeous sprite work.

I’m still not sure if I like Iconoclasts. I find it an interesting game, yet I’ve got mixed feelings about its story and gameplay elements.

I remember way back when that this game was reformed from another idea by Joakim Sandberg. I heard that it took about a decade to finish, and the work definitely shows. Iconoclasts has some of the best game art I’ve ever seen. Every screen in the early game is lush with background animations, and the character art has a lot of personality. The game’s sprites remind me of a mix between Metal Slug and Final Fantasy 6.

In terms of gameplay, it’s a 2-D action adventure game. I don’t wanna call it a full Metroidvania, because the game is very linear and doesn’t really leave you guessing where you need to go between story beats. The last game I’ve played that felt more like a proper Metroidvania would be Hollow Knight and even though that game also had a set path you needed to follow in order to progress the story, there were plenty of moments where you could branch off and approach the game in any order you wished.

Iconoclasts isn’t as open-ended; it’s very story-focused, and the pacing feels like it’s hitting the ground running at the beginning but then slows down by the second and third act in order to elaborate on plot points that were only hinted at in the beginning. There are hidden areas and boss fights, but they’re really obtuse and sparse compared to the ones you’ll encounter as you follow the critical path.

You play as Robin, a mechanic who speaks softly but carries a big wrench. All your actions as Robin are tied to either your stun gun, which can have up to 3 different settings, or your wrench, which you can upgrade to gain new abilities like charging electricity and traveling on ziplines. Each type of shot has a normal shot and a special charged shot that can affect its properties. It’s impressive how creative Sandberg got when it came to designing puzzles around Robin’s moveset. They start off quite simple, but their difficulty ratchets up fairly high as puzzles require you to perform more of Robin’s abilities in quick succession in order to solve them. Some later areas tend to have a hard time signposting to the player what or where to go next (I’m thinking of the One Concern bases in the second act of the game).

At certain points in the game, you’ll take control of other characters and they can play very differently from Robin. One can only make use of their shotgun, and another can only use their sword (and not very well considering their physical state at that time).

One of the big draws to Iconoclasts is the boss fights. They’re all very creative and have different gimmicks - some are just standard duels and others may require the help of another character. The downside to them is that having gimmicks can cause trial-and-error gameplay since you’ll have to lose a couple of times in order to understand how to fight each boss.

The only word I can use to describe Iconoclasts’ plot is ... frustrating. It frustrates me the way Binary Domain’s plot did, in that both games have very interesting world building but they don’t really do anything with that setting. Binary Domain’s saving grace was that it had a great cast of endearing characters. Every member of the Rust Crew had some charm to them and you’d warm up to them by the end of the game.

Unfortunately, Iconoclasts’ cast isn’t as appealing: to a man, every one of them besides Robin is an asshole, and that’s only really because Robin is a silent protagonist.

I’m not exaggerating. None of the people you meet as Robin are likeable, and that includes her brother Elro. They’re all broken individuals, and while that makes them interesting, there’s no chemistry in their interactions. Most conversations end up as shouting matches, and you can’t help but feel as awkward as Robin when it comes to being a bystander in these exchanges.

The plot itself feels like one long Shaggy Dog joke. It’s an action adventure game, and the basic setup is the typical small town character who’s swept up in the intrigue concerning multiple factions. While that can be a very trite conceit, there are inspired moments in the plot concerning the setting’s infrastructure and the magical forces that make the world turn. The endgame gets almost JRPG-like in terms of enemy scale, but the twist turns the concept on its head and makes it almost feel like a parody of those stories.

The thing about all this is that I can’t tell if that’s the point of the game. It’s called Iconoclasts, and the title does live up to that name because the main antagonistic force is a theocracy that’s full of nutjobs who are abusing the religion in order to keep the people down either because they’re following orders like cogs in the machine, or they’re religious fanatics who’ve bought their own hype and are incredibly smug. The save points are all religious statues and they change based on where you find them, as if to say that it doesn’t matter who’s on the statue since they all serve the same purpose. One of the more prominent characters is supposed to be an aspiring messianic figure, but he’s a perennial fuckup throughout the entire game.

The game seems to nudge at the fourth wall every now and then when certain characters talk to Robin. Everyone seems to talk Robin up as this amazing hero, but really all she’s done is get caught up in other people’s business because she’s too nice. By the endgame, you’ve been instrumental in overthrowing the One Concern and even taking on Him and people just take it in stride as if that’s just a thing that commonly happens. It almost makes me feel like the term Iconoclasts doesn’t just refer to the fact that Robin is instrumental in taking down the One Concern, but also as a statement against these boilerplate adventure stories.

The punchline to the joke has to be at the very end of the game has Robin, having fought Him and saved the world after returning from space, return to her bed where the game started and her brother - the man who lost his family and some of his body parts to the One Concern - considers that maybe Robin can take care of herself and doesn’t need to be as overprotective of her as he’s been throughout the entire game.

Iconoclasts is an impressive title for a one-man team and worth a playthrough just to appreciate the pixel art and tight gameplay. The story’s well-told and has a lot more depth than I was expecting from this kind of game, but take note that its tone tends to whip back and forth between twee to macabre.

[sakuroba-blog]

BOLD any which apply to your muse! Remember to REPOST! Feel free to add to the list!

Tagged By: @cfgreenery Tagging: @valor-knight @stratus-hero

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bold everything and then unbold?

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[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. lavender. copper. turquoise. amber. magenta. midnight. jade green. neon yellow. neon green. tan. [ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. metal. spirit. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. acne. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. fur. feathers. scales. webs. eyes. hands. tongue. sweat. tears. feline. chubby-faced. curvy. short. tall. busty. normal height. muscular. makeup. piercing. tattoos. dimples. plastic surgery. dyed hair. painted nails. amputation.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. brass knuckles. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. razors. fighting fans.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. opal. topaz. jade. agate. bismuth. geodes. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. faux fur. lace. leather. silk. satin. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. granite. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. fool’s gold. fossils. sea glass.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. pine trees. maple trees. palm trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. lilies. hibiscus. petals. thorns. seeds. vines. roots. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. swamps. rainforest. petrichor. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. shooting stars. rainbows. auroras. fjords. canyons. floods. droughts. thunderstorms. tornadoes. hurricanes. tsunamis. volcanoes. earthquakes. blizzards. meteors. constellations. comets. planets. seashells. driftwood.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. tigers. bears. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. zebras. giraffes. cats. dogs. bunnies. cows. sheep. pigs. goats. frogs. snails. praying mantises. butterflies. bees. wasps. crows. ravens. parrots. peacocks. mice. rats. hamsters. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. phoenix. dragons. foxes. llamas. camels.

[FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. kombucha. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. lime. cherry. pineapple. strawberry. watermelon. bananas. mango. coconut. pomegranate. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. cakes. desserts. chocolate. vanilla. hazelnut. peppermint. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. popcorn. pretzels. soda. burgers. burritos. pizza. pasta. ambrosia. lasagna. peanut butter. curry. bacon. soup. cheese. avocado.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. cosplay. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. blogging. vlogging. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. sitar. keyboard. drums. percussion. marching band. drama. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running. partying.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. blazer. shirt. boots. sneakers. slip-ons. sandals. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. shorts. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. tie. watches. glasses. sun glasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. bowties. canes. bows.

[ MUSIC ] rock. pop. jazz. rap. r&b. hip-hop. funk. alternative. classical. trance. dubstep. edm. ebm. hardstyle. blues. latin. k-pop. j-pop. ambient. new age. metal. world fusion. dancehall. reggae. soca. punk. ska. singer-songwriter. folk. country. bluegrass. swing. opera. show tunes. a capella. minimalist. avant-garde. new wave. disco. baroque. symphonic metal. soundtrack. vaporwave. glitch. house. chillout. psychedelic rock. post-rock. cabaret. trip-hop. easy listening. trap. nightcore. indie. grunge. contemporary. black metal. metalcore. emo. screamo. rockabilly. parody. industrial. electro pop

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. fireworks. reflections. cityscape. cathedral. mosque. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. partner. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. lies. angels. demons. fairies. elves. gnomes.

[moonsandstar-s]

The Final Warning - Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIII - The Brightest Star 

Summary:  As the year draws to a close, peace has finally dawned. The time for unity has arrived. In the Vytal festival, it is time for heroes to rise, bringing glory to their kingdoms. But as autumn dies, the first winds of winter blow over Remnant, chilling the hearts of the people; breathing doubt into their souls. Long-buried secrets will triumph, and every action will have a consequence. Ruby must reconcile herself with her own fate. Weiss struggles to escape her legacy. Blake cannot erase memories. Yang’s search leads her into more peril than ever— but none of them can outrun fate. Shadows turn on shadows, and bonds shatter as they are tested to the limit. For in dividing them, they will fall and burn; at the eye of the storm, no peace lasts forever. In the end and beginning of time, there is a place where the sun never rises, and the dead delight to teach the living. A great danger is rising from the darkness. It’s time to take sides. The final warning is coming. The first chill of winter is the most deadly; it is the chill that kills more than any other. The first betrayal is the most damaging; it is the act that shatters bonds of love and trust, crushing even the strongest heart, tearing teams apart. AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7745314/chapters/21649940 Weiss 

As Weiss stared down at Yang’s broken body, Sage standing over it and frantically weaving a green net of light around to heal her, she couldn’t even feel shock, or horror. She only felt numb, a deep chill slowly seeping through her veins, freezing her heart. Her team was broken, with what had happened, and tonight… the damage had already been done. It was irreversible.

The battle, and the digging of the graves, was over. Ruby still had not returned. Pyrrha and Jaune were both missing, and no one seemed to know where they were. Blake had stumbled out of the cafeteria a little while ago, bloody and gaunt, with a strangely hunted look on her face, but Weiss had barely noticed that… because in her arms, she held Yang, who was unconscious, with only the stump of an arm left. She’d been carrying her bridal style, like some cruel parody, and Yang’s blood— or at least, so Weiss had thought— had been all down her skin, flaking rust-red, though there seemed far too much blood covering Blake to have come from Yang, and far too much of it to just be her own, either.

She had refused to say what happened, who had attacked Yang, and so, unable to confront the reality of what had occurred, Weiss had stalked off the far recesses of the courtyard to wait in silence for Ruby, trying to silence the storm within her mind.

Ruby, she thought longingly, not for the first time that night. Ruby, where are you?

Then, as if the mere thought had brought reality about, a small shout pierced the silent night, and the sound of running footsteps echoed like gunshots behind her.

“Weiss!”

Weiss turned, barely able to believe it, her heart leaping in her chest - and there she was, there was Ruby, running across the courtyard, looking thin and pale and frightened, her hair a disheveled mess, blood streaked across one cheekbone, but she had never looked so much like a miracle to Weiss, a small miracle, the ones you kept close to your heart.

She was so beautiful, Weiss thought, so precious to her. And yet, she might die too. Might befall the same tragedy, like Yang.

Ruby leaped at her, almost knocking her down with the force of her embrace, her arms going around Weiss. She was crying and laughing all at once, her body shaking, and Weiss gathered her close, allowing herself one small, precious moment to let herself feel what she hadn’t dared to feel for so long.

“Where were you?” Weiss whispered into Ruby’s hair, her voice muffled, not trusting it to hold up steadily if she spoke louder.

Ruby hesitated, as if taken aback, and she let go, stepping back to meet Weiss’s gaze. “I… do you not know? I thought with the Bond and all, you’d have…”

Weiss cursed herself silently. “I thought… I don’t know. Sun came back with everyone from the arena, and he said you had jumped off… I was afraid to verify it myself.”

Ruby let out a small huff of laughter, but it sounded wobbly, as if all the stress and terror and grief of the night were finally catching up to her. “Verify. Listen to you. Proper as ever, even in the middle of all this.” She reached up to touch her own cheek, fingers gently running along the drying streak of blood. “I saw Torchwick’s ship,” she said, something guarded in her voice. “Did you?”

“Of course. He released a cargo-load of hacked Atlesian-Knights into the courtyard, and Grimm as well. I’d assumed someone had broken him out of his cell. Maybe Cinder.”

Ruby looked away, her mouth working, before she glanced up and blurted out, “I killed him, Weiss.”

Weiss’s eyes rounded as she felt Ruby’s anguish mixing with her own stunned fear. “You… killed Torchwick?”

“Sun told you I left the airship,” she murmured with a feeble shrug, “but he didn’t know what I did. I used my semblance to leap the gap and make it to the arena… I took a rocket-locker and rode it up into the sky before falling on top of the ship he was on. I battled him and… I almost died. I was hanging off the edge, into the sky, with one of his partners pointing a knife at me, but I thought of you and Beacon and my sister, and all I had to lose… so I reached up and knocked her off the edge, and I battled Torchwick… and I won. I got him in the chest before knocking him off the side of the ship. A Grimm got him and killed him.”

“Ruby,” Weiss said gently, feeling her terror and self-loathing at the thought that she had murdered someone, “you shouldn’t feel bad. He would have killed you, and he wanted Vale to fall. You did your job as a Huntress.”

“I know,” she said softly, but she was still trembling softly.

“I don’t think any less of you for it,” Weiss murmured.

“That’s not what worries me, Weiss.” Her silver gaze darkened, a flash of anguish going through it.

Weiss frowned, bemused at the sadness flowing through the Bond, at the expression on her partner’s face. “Then what are you—?”

“I— I saw my sister,” Ruby burst out, stammering, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “Over there. Her arm… and Blake. I… what happened?”

Weiss shook her head mutely, thinking to herself that she ought to have guessed that was what had been bothering her. Ruby and Yang were close— closer than most siblings, closer than she had ever been with Winter. “Blake won’t tell us. She’s just been sitting there… like a ghost. Whatever happened… I don’t know and I’m afraid to ask her.”

“The White Fang was here,” Ruby said slowly. “She had that old partner in the White Fang… do you think, possibly, that he could have been here tonight and…?”

“Oh, no.” Weiss shuddered at the thought. “If it’s true… poor Blake. I can see… if he was her former-partner and they were on bad terms… he must have taken revenge on Yang.”

“Well,” Ruby said, “she’s safe now, as safe as she can be. I think that we need to—”

She never got to finish her sentence, though, because at that exact moment, her Scroll let out a sharp beeping noise— the call tone. Weiss’s brow furrowed. Father? She thought quizzically, remembering his early incessant calls, but it couldn’t be him; he never called at night, when he was busy with clients, or paperwork, or drowning in a drink. It was someone else, but who? She rummaged in her gear and fished out her Scroll, and surprise filled her as she saw Jaune’s picture bouncing on the screen. It was testament to how much she had changed that she didn’t feel annoyance, but worry for him.

“Jaune!” Ruby looked terrified, which startled Weiss. “Ren and Nora said he was missing, along with Pyrrha. Weiss, answer it, quick, he could be in trouble!”

Fumbling, she swiped right to accept the call, and almost dropped it as an avalanche of noise blared out from the speaker, followed by someone screaming frantically.

“Jaune!” Ruby cried, bringing Weiss back to the present as she held her hand in her own to to press her ear to the speaker. “Jaune, where are you?”

Jaune’s voice came back in a terrified cry, muffled and broken. “Weiss, please, you have to stop her!”

Weiss stared at the lit screen. “What? What?”

“Pyrrha!” he shrieked back. His voice was full of anguish. “She’s going after that woman at the top of the Tower. Cinder! She thinks she can sacrifice herself to buy us time, but she doesn’t stand a chance!”

“Jaune, what are you talking about? Where are you?”

“Don’t worry about me!” He was screaming now, and Weiss and Ruby exchanged horrified looks. “Please— please, you have to save Pyrrha. I can’t…”

“We will,” she promised, knowing she might regret it, but saying anything to calm him down. “Are you okay?”

A noise like cracking stone and yelling went through the speaker before the line went dead, and Weiss turned her Scroll off, fingers shaking as she stuffed it away. Ruby’s gaze had gone flat and cold. It was the look of a warrior about to go into battle, but somehow, it looked very wrong on her face.

“We have to go,” she said. “Pyrrha can’t fight Cinder. If she does, she—” Ruby swallowed, losing composure, and for a moment, Weiss could see through he cracks in her armor to the fear and uncertainty that lay beneath. “She’ll die,” she said more calmly. “We have to hurry, now.”

They both took off at a flat-out sprint, streaking across the courtyard, past the lumps of dirt shielding the bodies of Fox and Neon, past Yang and Blake, who was now lying flat on her back and speaking to Sun, a bloodstain slowly spreading across her torso, past the sparking shells of robots, past broken slabs of stone. They ran past the fountains and the entrance to the school, drawing their weapons, coming to a halt just outside the west side of the Tower.

Weiss looked up.

She could see two figures within the office, engaged in a fierce battle, and the roof had been blown off, exposing them to the stars. A ring of fire burned on the east side of the broken office, lapping flames skyward. The wyvern Grimm was circling overhead, like some specter, its red eyes glowing horribly as it shrieked triumph into the night. It was clearly Pyrrha and Cinder, but Weiss had never seen a fight like this one. They moved with the speed of demons and the brutality of Grimm. She could tell right away that this wasn’t a spar or some mock-fight; it was a fight to the death, and if they didn’t hurry to alter it, there would be one clear outcome.

“Ruby,” Weiss said, feeling strangely calm as her partner tensed, readying herself to sprint up the Tower and intervene. “Ruby— wait—”

Her silver eyes flashed back in mild surprise at Weiss’s reluctance, a pang of confusion tautening the Bond. “What? Weiss, we can’t wait. Pyrrha can’t wait—”

“I’ll let you go up there, but I…” Weiss flinched, lowering Myrtenaster so that its tip scraped the ground. “Ruby, I need to tell you…”

Ruby turned around, looking alarmed at the note in her voice, Crescent Rose planted in the ground beside her. Looking at her— the determined set to her jaw, the dance of her silver eyes, the girl she was, even if she was gone in the face of battle— she knew, as clearly as she knew that she was to be a Huntress one day, that she loved her, more than she could ever have imagined loving anyone. Words swelled on her tongue and then, with a sudden blooming of do-or-die courage, she let them go. “I love you, Ruby,” she burst out, ignoring her own fear, ignoring the way Ruby’s eyes widened. “I have for a while now. I don’t know if you feel the same, but I’ve been dancing around it for a long time and trying to pretend it wasn’t happening because there was just too much to sort out, too much to do… but I don’t think I’ll ever be finished with all of that. It’s always one thing after another; that’s just how life is, and I don’t want to be like Jaune or Pyrrha and have everything slip away from me while I’m not looking. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, if we’re going to die tonight, or you’ll be killed up there, or if this is all going to fall, or what… all I know if that I love you, and even if you don’t feel the same way, I had to tell you, just in case I never get another chance.”

She stopped, her chest rising and falling in shallow, fast breaths. It was clumsy, it wasn’t perfect, but it was honest, every bit of it. Ruby stared at her, silver eyes wide.

Then they crashed together, colliding like two waves on a stormy shore, thunder and snow swirling above their heads, and Weiss was kissing her. It was clumsy, unpracticed, and it was the most painful thing she had ever done.

As a child, she and Winter had talked about their weddings, about romance, playing at adulthood, wondering how they would fall in love, and which boy would steal their hearts away. Weiss hadn’t expected this at all— not this, not this pain. It was clumsy, and it felt as though she was cracking apart at the seams, every bit of careful self-control and poise she had learned falling away. The kiss felt like someone had taken a knife to her heart, digging it right into the very center, where it hurt the most. It was a kiss in the shadow of a goodbye, all flickering sparks and fire, a burning coal in the middle of an icy world of snow and storm. She tasted salt on her lips. Salt, she thought. And then, oh. She pulled away, opened her eyes, and saw, with a faint, distant sort of surprise that Ruby was crying, her silver eyes brimming with tears. Crying the way you might if you wanted something, but it was something you could never, ever, have.

“Weiss—”

“No, don’t say anything. I can’t— I can’t bear it if you say anything.” Weiss bit her lip, running her hands  down the sides of Ruby’s face. Already, she had lost the childish roundness of it, leaving behind only angular bones and hollowness. “Ruby, I… you have to save her. You have… you have to come back. Cinder’s up there, but… God, please stay safe.” Her voice dwindled. “You have to stay alive.”

Ruby took pause at that, not looking at her, twisting a strand of Weiss’s hair in her fingers as if it was something precious. Then she raised her eyes up, and Weiss flinched. There was something very old in the look— something ancient and full of a terrible grief. “I’ve never regretted Bonding with you,” she said, her voice sinking into almost a whisper. “Not once. And I never will. Never.”

She turned and took off, streaking off across a roiling sea of Grimm, leaving a wake of petals red as blood behind her, going up the side of the Tower like a warrior into battle.

Then she was gone.

And even then, some part of Weiss knew she had lost Ruby— the Ruby she had fallen in love with, the innocent, optimistic one— forever.

/ / / 

Pyrrha

Cinder’s eyes widened as Akoúo̱ swooped towards her, and she raised her bow with a look of unadulterated fury, letting an arrow fly free. For a moment, Pyrrha was filled with exultant, desperate hope— Akoúo̱ was right in its path; surely it would intercept the arrow— and for a moment, it looked that way. Her shield crashed into the arrow, shattering it midair.

But the shards floated for a second before condensing together and continuing their path, zipping through the air as a red-hot arrow that found its mark and sank into Pyrrha’s calf.

She cried out, staggering a few paces before falling to her knees. The agony that spiked up her leg told her as surely as if the words were spoken that the arrow was poisoned with something— acid, perhaps, or something to do with the fire abilities she possessed. It felt like the blood in her veins was slowly heating up, boiling, making her fevered. Sweat began to bead on her brow.

“It’s unfortunate that you were promised a power that was never yours to begin with.” Cinder’s voice floated around her, above her, beneath her, inescapable and creeping down the back of her spine. “But take heed of this— I will use it in ways you could never have wielded it, and find solace in the knowledge that you fought well.”

Cinder was suddenly standing in front of her, and Pyrrha glared up at her, refusing to cower, even now. Her eyes glowed as she lifted her hand, shards spinning up to coalesce into a dark, curved ship of a bow and arrow.

“Any last words?” Cinder looked at her along the bow’s length, the arrow pointed directly at her.  

Pyrrha met her gaze, her back straight and strong, her heart thumping loudly in her chest, as if it was aware that any second, it would cease. “In the end,” Pyrrha said, her voice calm and echoing in the emptiness of the night, “it is you who will burn. It is you who will die the meaningless death. Not I. I am not scared.”

Cinder’s eyes flashed with something that looked like a mixture of guilty shame and anger, and she lifted the bow, aiming it directly for Pyrrha’s sternum.

Right before she heard the snap of the string as the arrow flew free, the clouds parted to reveal a single, bright star, shining through the snow clouds. It looked like an eye, a silent sentinel, watching her, guarding over her. A guardian. But not a Maiden. Not what had plagued her for long. Snow was falling, gentle flakes of ivory stroking her face with whisper-soft kisses. She closed her eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath of the sharp winter air.

Autumn is gone, and they don’t need me anymore. In the end, it will be okay. I will make it okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. That mantra repeated in her ears, and she opened her eyes, meeting Cinder’s icy amber gaze without wavering. Without faltering. Cinder had won the battle, but Pyrrha knew she had won the war, and as Cinder met her gaze, a look of horror filled it. Pyrrha wasn’t afraid of dying, but Cinder was.

In the end, you couldn’t cheat death. It would have its own.

In the end, it would all be okay, but Cinder could never say the same. I take this victory by my shoulder. In passing we achieve immortality, and I will face the end with my head held high. I choose to be a Huntress. I choose my destiny. I choose the life I’ve always led— courage, and love, not hate and fear, as Cinder has chosen. Let me die, but I will face it unerringly. As a Huntress. I choose to be a Huntress, not a Maiden, and I choose my path.

Her heart was full, not with hatred or fear, but with the same emotion that had walked her through her whole life— the emotion that was her pillar, the one that defined her legacy, and always had. A strong, loving strength— a strength that didn’t crush and hurt, but gave light and warmth.

Jaune’s voice whispered in her ears, filling her with certainty. Destiny is your choice.

Her eyes shifted up to the star, and it twinkled brightly. Still the snow fell, and still, Pyrrha held on to the image before she heard the twang of the string. It almost sounded musical, and she barely felt the impact as the arrow struck her in the throat, half punching her body around and making her collapse, a gasp ripping out of her mouth as a fiery pain consumed her, but it all felt distant. Everything felt very, very faraway.

Her hands hit the ground, but still, she looked up, the tiniest of smiles on her face.

A choice. My choice.

The world shrank to a tiny dot around that bright star, the brightest star, a sense of peace filling her as everything went very silent, before winking out to darkness, like the curtain falling, signaling the end of the act of a play. / / / 

Ruby

The glyphs burned beneath her feet, almost like glue, giving way and pulling her back in with a comforting security, and she ran— ran as if she had never run before, her breath feeling like fire in her lungs as she raced up the side of the Tower. The Grimm wyvern was circling above her like some massive bat, but she couldn’t be scared, couldn’t cower in wait, not if someone’s life was in danger.

She reached the summit, hardly aware of the dizzying drop below. The last glyph burst beneath her, giving her one final shove, and she shot upward like a cork popped from a bottle and plummeted, rolling over a broken slab of scorched stone and coming to a stop in a pile of dusty rubble. Heaving broken breaths, she looked upward, knees stinging from her landing, and blinked as her eyes slowly homed in on two figures before her, one kneeling, one standing. One with a weapon, and one without.

Twang.

What she saw made no sense to her eyes, like a bizarre nightmare from an illogical fever dream with no logical setting. Pyrrha was on her knees, and she was choking and gasping, her hands splayed in the dust, her green eyes dimming and fading as they looked up at the sky, locked on some distant point Ruby could not see and she was slumping over and not moving anymore and there was Cinder standing over her with a bow and arrow and blood on her hands and her amber eyes filled with triumph—

Ruby closed her eyes, a distant humming in her ears, a pressure suddenly throbbing behind her eyes as the scene sank in, replaying in her mind.

Too late, a voice whispered again, and then it was not Pyrrha's face that Ruby could see, filling her mind, but Penny's. Too late.

She saw the arrow sink into her chest, and the gasp that came after sounded like a deafening roar in her ears, louder even than the snap as the arrow flew free. In her mind, she watched again as Pyrrha slumped over, her breathing slowing, stopping in awful, broken heaves, her green eyes slowly losing their light. They were fixed on a point in the sky, fixed on a single glimmering star, and for the fourth time in the night, Ruby watched, helpless and confined another person she knew die by Cinder’s plan. Pyrrha’s body shivered once before going still.

With a noise like ashes brushing together, she turned to a bright, shimmering gold, flames dancing over her body, and she became dust, simple dust that crumbled away in the unforgiving wail of the wind. Cinder’s eyes— deep amber, like the fire— were hard and cold as she dropped the circlet that had once laid over Pyrrha’s head.

Unable to comprehend it, Ruby stared, Pyrrha’s face tattooed on the backs of her eyelids, unable to go away. Then it became overlaid with two others— a paler face spattered with freckles, green eyes that had never been alive, and another, long-faded: a round face with kind silver eyes and choppy dark hair.

Mom.

A screech tore from Ruby’s chest, coming straight from her heart itself as it split at the seams with the pain of seeing Pyrrha collapse. A roaring pressure exploded inside her mind, and the last thing she was aware of was a blazing, burning, icy coldness raging through her body, contorting it, lifting her up in the air and flinging her limbs out, arms and legs akimbo as her back arched with the inferno of power erupting out of her skull. Pure, concentrated pain, stronger than she had ever known it, gripped her head, taking everything, every pain— every scar, battle wound, grief over all she had lost— multiplied by ten, twenty, a hundred, until she was screaming, her voice swallowing up all other sounds in the winter night.

She thought, I will die here, as the conflagration burst out of her eyes, the ground whitening and blazing up, roaring through the Tower and blotting out the sky.

She was not afraid.

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1188

Monday, November 13, 2017

 My sister Amy and I asked our Dad about his life in China and Hong Kong during my weekly Thursday visit last week and he told us about some very interesting experiences. Dad's mother died in 1945 when he was 12-years-old. His father and older brother were in the Chinese Army fighting the Japanese and he went off to work for the army as a sort of houseboy. He did laundry and served meals. He didn't see any fighting but did see Peking, Shanghai and Canton while traveling with the troops. It made me think again how lucky I am to even be here.

 Wonder Woman #34 - James Robinson (writer) Sergio Davila (pencils) Scott Hanna, Mick Gray & Eber Ferreira (inks) Romulo Fajardo Jr. (colours) Saida Temofonte (letters). Diana meets her long lost brother Jason for the first time and the two of them play catch up. That's why almost every page is crammed with word balloons. I don't like the fact that Diana has a brother and not even the twist at the end with the bad guy made me want to keep reading this comic book. I'm so disappointed since I really liked James Robinson's Scarlet Witch. I'm benching this title for now.

 Ms. Marvel #24 - G. Willow Wilson (writer) Diego Olortegui (art) Ian Herring (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The slow runaway train adventure makes its final stop this issue and I am glad. Some of the things that Kamala does didn't make sense but hey, it's a comic book. The problem I have is if you're going to use real science to solve your problem later then don't do impossible science before that. This story almost turned me off of this book but it looks like we're in for a change next issue so I will pick it up to see what's what.

 Detective Comics #968 - James Tynion IV (writer) Alvaro Martinez (pencils) Raul Fernandez (inks) Tomeu Morey (colours) Sal Cipriano (letters). The conclusion of "A Lonely Place of Living" has Tim returning completely to the fold. A bad guy is brought back into play as well and that should make things interesting for the team and us readers in the future.

 Master of Kung-Fu #1 - CM Punk (writer) Dalibor Talajic (art) Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). Way to let this super Shang-Chi fan down Marvel. The only good thing that I can say about this Legacy one shot is that I liked the art even though Dalibor is no Paul Gulacy. CM Punk, whoever he is he's definitely no Doug Moench. Okay, I just Googled CM Punk and he's a 39-year-old mixed martial artist and comic book writer. He's got the imagination of a ten-year-old though. This works as a parody but I wasn't expecting one so unless you're looking for some juvenile shenanigans, give this a pass.

 She-Hulk #159 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Jahnoy Lindsay (art) Frederico Blee & Chris Sotomayor (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). These Legacy books have been hit and miss but I'm happy to report that this is a hit. I'm glad they put the She back in this title. Never understood why they didn't when they brought Jen back to the racks. They also brought back an old Hulk super villain in this issue and I am looking forward to seeing what they're going to do to our Ms. Walters. I like attention to details in comic books and Jahnoy Lindsay gets extra marks for the foot chase scene. What Jen did makes a lot of sense.

 Daredevil #595 - Charles Soule (writer) Stefano Landini (art) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Here's another Legacy hit. Big changes for this book and I like them. Wilson Fisk is one of the better DD villains and now he's in a position of power and can really screw with Matt's life again. I'm putting this title back on to my "must read" list.

 Moon Knight #188 - Max Bemis (writer) Jacen Barrows (art) Mat Lopes (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). This Legacy book has also lured me back to reading this title again. It's still focusing on the psychological problems that Marc Spector has but it's less weird than what Jeff Lemire was doing when I benched Moon Knight before. It also helps that the art is more to my liking. Jacen was stellar working with Alan Moore on Providence and I'm glad he's on this book now.

 Batman Lost #1 - Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV & Joshua Williamson (writer) Doug Mahnke, Yanick Paquette & Jorge Jimenez (pencils) Jaime Mendoza, Yanick Paquette & Jorge Jimenez (inks) Wil Quintana, Nathan Fairbairn & Alejandro Sanchez (colours) Tom Napolitano (letters). Well they lost me with this issue. It's all too confusing for me and I don't care if Baphomet, or whatever the evil entity is, destroys the multiverse or how the good guy wins in the end. I just don't care anymore. Batman is my favourite DC hero and the three writers have done comic books that I have raved about, but this story has way too many shifts in time and space that makes it too hard to keep track of what's going on when and where. Dark Night Metal can rust on the racks for all I care.

 Jessica Jones #14 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Michael Gaydos (art) Matt Hollingsworth (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). The return of the Purple Man/Killgrave really ratchets up the intensity of this story. I find myself trying to think of how Jessica is going to beat this guy while reading each page. I also feel like there is a finality to events taking place with the announcement that Brian is leaving Marvel and going to work for DC. I am going to be very sad that I won't be able to read his stories about this wonderful P.I.

[leonardvdbilt]

VLADIMIR NABOKOV: LA LOLITA DI CUI NESSUNO PARLA

Il capolavoro di Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita, non è il romanzo scandaloso per cui è stato spacciato, ma un’opera d’arte che ha molto da raccontare.

“La mia Lolita aveva un modo impareggiabile di alzare il ginocchio sinistro flesso nell’ampio, scattante inizio del ciclo del servizio, allorché veniva a crearsi, e restava un istante sospeso nel sole, un vitale ordito d’equilibrio tra il piede sulla punta, l’ascella ancora imberbe, il braccio brunito e la racchetta gettata all’indietro, mentre lei sorrideva con denti scintillanti al piccolo globo sospeso così in alto, allo zenith del cosmo possente e armonioso da lei appositamente creato per piombargli addosso con il netto schiocco sonoro della sua frusta dorata”. Lolita, pp. 289-290

Sebbene sia stato spacciato a più riprese per un romanzo scandaloso e per un’apologia dell’amore per le ninfette (categoria di giovanissima donna che va dai 9 ai 14 anni, come l’autore spiega), il romanzo ‘Lolita‘ di Vladimir Nabokov serba molte più sorprese a chi abbia dimestichezza con i termini parodia, satira e poesia.

Il romanzo ha come prefazione lo scritto di un confidente legale dell’autore, il quale dà una lettura del romanzo evidentemente di parte e travisata. La presa in giro della figura del critico verrà sviscerata a più riprese da Nabokov, soprattutto nei libri La vera vita di Sebastian Knight e Fuoco pallido, dove il critico letterario (che spesso si ritrova ad essere l’Io narrante) spiega la storia da par suo, secondo il proprio personalissimo punto di vista filisteo, grossolano, borghese e in larga parte fazioso, risultando così una grottesca parodia di sé stesso.

L’ambigua relazione tra il ‘terribile’ Humbert Humbert e la povera Lolita viene descritto a sua volta dal punto di vista dello squallido, perverso Humbert Humbert; e risulta quindi essere un racconto fazioso, dove la verità trapela a tratti, per poi sciorinarsi in visioni, memorie e riferimenti del narratore a tutto quello che lo ha influenzato (dalla letteratura ottocentesca, a certa psicologia  freudiana, a certa lirica, alle memorie familiari, a un complesso microcosmo di arte con la A maiuscola e spazzatura pressapochista di cui è infarcito il mondo, in particolar modo quello capitalista americano degli anni ’40 e ’50).

Il libro così si rivela come una complessa stanza degli specchi, dove le variopinte immagini poetiche con cui si dipinge la ‘ninfetta’, si alternano a scene comiche in cui si satireggia la società contemporanea (dal matrimonio borghese, ai motel americani, all’istruzione scolastica, alle riviste di costume, agli pseudo-artisti).

La spassosissima scena, nella prima parte, dove la grassa moglie Valeria tradisce Humbert con un tassista ex-colonnello zarista e la descrizione della separazione ‘gentile’ fra i tre rimane un fiore all’occhiello della comicità che pervade l’intero libro.

La parodia dell’artista come narcisista, egotista, millantatore, che si crede artista ma forse proprio non lo è, si ritrova evidente anche nella poesia che Humbert ricava dalla lista degli alunni della classe di Lolita, e che recita con stile declamante, credendo possa essere di interesse al lettore. Le parodie sono numerosissime e ci vorrebbe un lungo e articolato studio per elencarle tutte, perché si corre davvero il rischio di trovarne sempre di nuove e dalla difficile interpretazione.

Ma ciò che più fa brillare la polvere di stelle del libro (‘and the rest is rust and stardust‘) è la fitta serie di riferimenti che l’autore, tra una parodia e l’altra, inserisce qua e là a scolpire la figura di Lolita come emblema tragico e al contempo lirico e visivo nell’immaginario contemporaneo (merito anche dell’omonimo film di Kubrick, di cui per altro lo stesso Nabokov ha scritto la sceneggiatura). Si notino i molteplici riferimenti a elementi pittorici botticelliani e  rinascimentali: l’intrecciarsi delle mani o i piedini della vergine, i riferimenti sparsi alla letteratura russa (si va dalle poesie di Puskin a rielaborazioni di intere descrizioni di Tolstoj); si apprezzino infine le ricostruzioni di elementi e ambienti americani, tramite un peculiare impressionismo simbolista o una fulgida finitura emozionale delle parole, tipica della poesia di Poe.

“C’era qualcosa di strano in quei suoi grandi occhi grigi, mi domandai, o eravamo entrambi immersi nella stessa nebbia incantata? Nello spazio che andava dilatandosi lei si avvicinò con la lentezza di chi cammini sott’acqua o fugga in sogno […]” Lolita, p. 154

Insomma, c’è davvero tanto rispetto alla sterile storia di pedofilia a cui si è da sempre ammiccato e a cui di solito ci si riferisce parlando di Lolita.

Bisogna tener conto, d’altronde, che Nabokov non è di certo autore scandalistico; infatti chi dovesse cercare scene di sesso verrebbe puntualmente deluso (anzi, nel libro di interviste Intransigenze, più volte l’autore dichiara di non essere minimamente interessato alle ragazzine, ma di essersi molto ispirato ad un altro autore che di ragazzine se ne intendeva davvero, almeno in campo letterario, come Lewis Carrol; il cui libro Alice nel Paese Meraviglie fu originariamente tradotto in russo dallo stesso Nabokov).

Per giunta, se si studia la biografia e la bibliografia dell’autore, c’è da considerare come egli sia un fine studioso di letteratura, nonché di entomologia; un filologo, i cui studi su Tolstoj, su Gogol’, sulla letteratura inglese e russa (per non parlare dell’enciclopedica opera d’analisi del poema Eugenio Onegin di Aleksandr Puskin) rifulgono come capolavori di indubbio valore e di certo meno esplorati del best-seller con protagonista l’ammaliante ninfetta.

Ecco perché Lolita dovrebbe essere trattata in primis come una parodia della stessa letteratura e delle belle chimere che ci racconta, o che meglio ci  raccontiamo; una parodia di molteplici generi letterari e di stili, e soprattutto come finissima celebrazione del gioco di prestigio per eccellenza, dell’arte, delle illusioni dell’amore e della scrittura, e di quella pervadente nostalgia (presente in tutti i romanzi nabokoviani) che è il tema principale che c’accompagna; quell’inestinguibile vuoto che, dalla notte dei tempi, l’umanità cerca di colmare.

E lo fa tramite quelle belle favelle, o sfolgoranti bazzecole… tramite quei sogni artificiali a cui diamo il nome d’Arte; proprio come Humbert Humbert cerca di colmare il suo vuoto attraverso l’immagine santificata della dolce Lolita. Written by Leonard Van Der Bilt.