#this is not put out to debate this is just pure shouting to the ether Tumblr posts

[danwhobrowses]

I'm not sure how much good this vent will do, I'm not even sure I want to post this vent after my last one, but I'm writing it just so it's out of my head and into words because it seems once again fandom has chosen to send vitriol Ashton Greymoore's way.

What for? They talked to a 'specter' of the primordial titan within them, through their connection to the earth, the natural flow of creation and destruction. They ask what will happen to the world, it responds that it'll endure, they ask what of the people, it responds that the strong will survive and the weak will be remade into something stronger, to which Ashton replies they think they understand. To fandom this means that Ashton is becoming a fascist, that they have a 'Make Exandria Great Again' attitude for wanting the Primordials back, that they need to be beaten up or 'get what's coming to them' in order to change their mind, and I can only sit here and stew and wonder if this hate is really well-founded? Ashton is among my favourite characters in C3, I get frustrated by them at times too but if I think about it a big percentage of my frustrations is more towards people disliking them than me disliking things they do, or Matt setting up scenarios that doesn't do them any favours towards the fandom that hates them. Some of these are knee-jerk reactions of course, but for others it does feel like they have it out for Ashton, and I don't wanna engage with that, which makes it quite lonely when most of the fandom hones in on it.

For the most part I can understand how the whole 'the weak will be remade' bit can be taken badly; it's definitely iffy, but every other plan we have is also very iffy. The Release Predathos option literally involves unleashing an entity that wants to genocide the gods, the Maintain Status Quo option ('option' the status quo imo is impossible, in my mind the Gods can stay but the dynamic will still have to change) maintains a relationship where the gods pick and choose who they feel deserves help, using their power to covet more power, strongarm and demand loyalty, and overall choose fellow gods over mortals when the chips are down and not owning up to it. We should also remember that entities can speak in riddles, 'remade into something stronger' doesn't necessarily mean death; it could mean to adapt and grow, to become strong enough to bear and overcome it as many of the PCs of Critical Role have done with their hardships and trauma. It's worth reminding that the sad truth is that people will die whatever outcome happens - the aim is always to lessen the amount but if the Gods leave it's a power vacuum, if we linger too long it's a Calamity, and if the Gods stay it's a holy war on a more wild and less organized scale - and that Ashton isn't saying they approve of such death, merely that they think they understand. The commune doesn't tell Ashton which way to go; it only tells them that the world will endure, there will be change and it will change people, trees will still grow, the wind will still blow, the waves will still flow along the coasts of the sea, and people will survive. I know the interpretation can differ from people thanks to Matt's patented vague or riddle-mounted choices in phrase, but I also think if it was the Wildmother who told Orym or some other follower that 'nature is a cycle, everything must adapt to change or else it'll die - this world will change, but it will also survive' nobody would be calling Orym a fascist, people would accept it because the Wildmother's domain is nature, and nature is not always kind.

While we're mentioning Orym - and because this is gonna come off as critical I must preface that I like and enjoy All of the Hells, that's not changed - I also gotta call it out here because it does very much feel like the people who hate Ashton hate them for the reasons they love Orym. Both are stubborn, they're diligent in their personal code, they care deeply for their friends and would give their whole being just to keep them safe, they believe in the Hells' power and greatness more than each member does and more than they believe in their own, but Ashton gets the hate mainly because these fans agree more with Orym on the god stuff. What confuses me though is how these same haters can despise Ashton for being consistent but love Braius, the literal Devil Worshipper who secretly is on board with the Chase Away plan only so he can help the Devil rule the world, the compulsive liar. Where's Braius' scrutiny? A world under Asmodeus will be a far worse 'survival of the fittest' scenario, why does Braius get a pass in all this stuff huh? Because he's funny? Seems people ignore the whole morality talk when they're discussing Braius' dedication to Exandrian Satan.

I find it irksome too that even the group seem to criticize Ashton reaching out to Primordials too - as if that wasn't what we wanted them and Fearne to do anyway. They don't dislike the gods simply because they're a 'great entity', it's because they're a great entity that holds power and doesn't use it equally or fairly; they pick and choose who to help, a lot of the time in Ashton's experience for their own self-service, but they won't prioritize mortals over another god no matter who cruel or heinous the god is being, and the following of these gods are so intertwined with politics that most religious motivation also ends up being political. Ashton has no connection to the gods, they reached out and got nothing, an Angel looked at them and made them feel like nothing, but they do have a connection to the Primordials; from the Earth Golem to the Titan Empress they're literally a vessel of, they experienced something significant in their connection to the Earth, so I don't like how that they're almost mocked for having it. In addition, Ashton's behaviour during this commune differs because of that connection, but also because the titans are a natural flow; they don't demand or test or politic or prejudice, and despite being a Great Entity in its own right it never made sure Ashton felt small for their own satisfaction, they asked a question and got an answer, it's the same reason Ashton has disdain for most political leaders but likes and respects Keyleth, Allura, Kima, Pike, and (eventually) Percy despite also being people in power. To call on Orym and the Wildmother as an example again; Orym's an Air Ashari, the Ashari are guardians of the Elemental Planes - made from the Primordials - not tied to a god, but nobody criticizes his connection to the Wildmother despite both not being a follower and his culture being more tethered to Primordials and their descendants. I'm not saying it's all correct for Ashton to want things to go back to how Primordials ruled, but we must remind ourselves also that we only know a story written by victors when it comes to the Schism - a story which could very easily have been altered and edited to make it feel more justified for the Primes and mortals to actively genocide all the Primordials, the native species and creators of this world, and desecrate their remains to make weapons, soul anchors, and cities - the specter didn't say 'fuck em, all mortals should die' after all, if they believe mortals would survive then they must be at the least tolerant of mortal existence. Why is it okay for god followers to say they wanna keep the world with the gods they have a connection to (and I'm not saying they aren't) but Ashton is out of line for wanting to have a world which has something active that they also have a connection to? It seems rather unfair to allow one side to have and the other to have not, picking and choosing because our audience's bias has spent more time with the gods, Ashton wanting something they can connect to doesn't feel all wrong either, the Eidolons still exist with faint worship hiding away so they're not smited by the gods, why can't faith exist so they're not in hiding? I sincerely doubt the Punk Rock that is Ashton is asking for the Primordials to fill the Gods' roles the same way the Gods have been running things either, they want to break the throne remember? There needs to be a balance in ideals and practice of course, and in an ideal world there could even be a more fluid and all-inclusive Exandria where gods and Eidolons live harmoniously with mortals without hierarchy and class systems, I think Ashton could happily live with something like that, they did say the world needs 'a little chaos' to call back to Matt hinting that the current world doesn't have enough.

Which leads us to those wishing violence upon Ashton - and I really don't like that. People who say 'hitting them over the head is the only language they understand' seem to misinterpret Ashton as if everyone around them have been on their hands and knees begging Ashton to reconsider and them ignoring valid points and pulling a Leroy Jenkins. In reality, nobody is actually talking to Ashton about it, a lot of the frustration with Bells Hells right now is that they aren't talking to each other, even about the end goal! Ashton has valid reasons for their thinking, so being violent isn't gonna change their mind; undermining, dehumanizing and trying to effectively bully anyone let alone someone with chronic pain and low self worth will never truly convince them to your way of thinking. All people understand the language of violence, but that language is not used justly, those who truly wish violence upon Ashton don't want it in hopes it'll force Ashton to change their mind, they want it for their own satisfaction of seeing them in pain; so they can further push them away from the rest of the group and go 'that guy's not one of us', make it so the people Ashton calls family after a lifetime of loneliness, confusion and abandonment - the people they promised they won't abandon, and have kept true on that promise even at their lowest - make them feel small and worthless, and force them into box where they can't be themselves, and I hate that people would want to treat them that way. Ashton IS capable of listening; they've stepped back and trusted the other Hells to do their own thing even when it's ridiculous like staging a play where they pretend to be Ludinus to trick Unseelie emissaries into thinking that he attacked them, they listened to the gods even when they didn't have to like they promised they would and despite it being very personal they held themselves back for the benefit of the group, and if the group talked to them calmly where they were all allowed to healthily discuss the pros and cons, the ideals and compromises, and the risk and reward of all plans that have been proposed then they would listen, and they would try - you don't need to slice bread with a broadsword.

Will Ashton 'get what's coming to them'? Maybe, but what is that exactly? We only assume to know the full vision of what Ashton wants to act on. All of Bells Hells are gonna face the consequences of the choice they make on Ruidus - when they finally make one that is - in and out of the world they live in, so won't that apply to everyone? So what for Ashton? do people want Fractures 2.0? Does everything Ashton wants in life have to blow up violently in their face? Family, Closure, their best friend's safety, why does 'what's coming to them' have to be something aggressive and harmful? People change through positive reinforcement and good experiences too! Caduceus Clay would remind you that it's love that makes people. Don't mistake this rant as me wanting Ashton to be exactly as they are now, I too want to see growth from Ashton and we ARE seeing it happen; I see it in small instances where they think twice about rash actions and try not to fly off the handle, when they sit just to listen or understand or to defuse tension, and that when they're going somewhere or doing something they let the group know in advance, those who think Ashton hasn't changed since ep. 1 aren't paying close attention, but that doesn't mean that they don't still have more ground to cover. I believe that Ashton grows the most through kindness; when they're treated like a person and not a blunt instrument or a nuisance, and I hope what's 'coming' for Ashton isn't rejection, bitterness, and isolation, but acceptance, empathy, and for someone - if you know me you'd know who I'd want it to be - to convince them that they are worthy of living, that they're special not because of their powers or blood or because they have died and been put back together again (honestly, it does irk me a little that both Keyleth and Imogen chose that for titles and to brag to the Matron, I know it isn't intended this way but sometimes it feels like saying 'your best defining quality is that you've died a lot') but because while they have every reason to hate everything they still chose to be kind to those who deserve kindness, they have a good heart and they mean well. Are they perfect? No! They're in their 20s very few people irl have their lives together at even twice that age, but I want them to have good things in their life; things that help them feel happy and safe and like they can still feel comfortable in their own skin without having to appear more 'palatable' for people who've already decided that they don't like them. I want them to know that they've always deserved to live and they still deserve it now, I want that not just for Ashton but for all the Hells, and hopefully they'll all live to have it.

And most of all I want the people who hate them to be wrong about Ashton Greymoore, and I want Taliesin to prove them wrong.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 24

first time reader click here

TWs/Summary: The party, finally. Nerds be nerds. They're all dorks tbh. Booze and partying. Clint is a disaster. Natasha is a queen. I beg for comments from y'all cuz I'm short on serotonin 🥺🥺🥺💚✨

This is a Spotify playlist I made for the first half of the party. Sets the mood 😌

The party was booming, the room was flooded with a large amount of people dressed in various extravagant outfits. It was enough to sweep my eyes over the crowd only once to take notice of the thought and money people had put into their outfits. I hardly noticed any cheesy "angel/devil" or "sexy cat" ensembles, my eyes caught on gemstones and feathers and floor-length gowns instead.

First Avenger to catch my eye was Thor - only because the people surrounding him barely held back from drooling. Hell, I did a spit-take: the usually graceless giant stood casually posted at one of the snack tables, wearing silver robes embroidered with tiny sparkling gemstones; a sleek, angular crown rested atop his head, his blonde hair was longer, lighter and straight. One look at his ears and the realisation struck me: Thor was Thranduil, the Elven king. It made sense since Peter had the thunderer hooked on the Lord of the Rings movies a couple of weeks ago...

Both Loki and Wanda cleaned up no less nicely. The Witch was wearing a midi dress, airy and soft, in pastel tones that brought out the natural rosiness of her cheeks and the scarlet undertones glimmering in the strands of her hair. Unlike me, she chose to wear a sparkling tiara, which Loki had created after a short debate - it was an intricate material illusion meant to last for at least ten hours.

Loki himself was a work of art: dark and macabre fantasy painting. I could barely tear my eyes away from the pale, tall man clad in dark green silks and brocade. The candlelight threw shadows on his angular face and his sharp cheekbones stood out more than ever: twenty minutes I spent on convincing him to let me put make-up on his face paid off spectacularly. Flickering lights toyed with the emeralds and forest greens of the shiny silk of his vest, giving Loki an ethereal glow. His eyes shone crimson red, making nearby people throw equally startled and appreciative looks.

As for myself, the stares I got were no more and no less than I expected. The dress I'd been aching to wear fit me perfectly, earthen tones, hand-embroidered blossoms and delicate golden threading. The layers of my skirt were just voluminous enough to give me the extra airy, floating walk, the medium-height platforms of my shoes lightening my step. The ropes securing them to my legs were decorated with flowers so delicate they looked real.

The peak of my outfit took an arm and a leg in bribery of the resident sorcerer-turned-vampire, but in the end, even Loki himself could hardly look away from his creation. An hour of research and some serious magic voodoo shit was what it took for the fluttering fairy wings to sit between my shoulder blades. I felt them as an extension of my own body, and whilst flying was definitely out of the question, I could flicker them and felt the delicate brush of Wanda's fingers as she admired the translucent, blue-green, marble-patterned sheen of pure, concentrated magic.

In hindsight, I should have simply bought a set of pre-made wings and asked Loki to enchant them to move on their own. Hindsight... I wasn't good at that. So, in this moment, with the wings syncing up with my jittery nerves, the shiny traitors shook with the force of stares directed at our little trio. There was an absurd amount of gorgeous people and breathtaking costumes, yet even then, we stood out like Mona Lisa in an indie art gallery. Muted 'woah's and 'oh-my-gods' traveled across the room, turning even more heads towards us.

"And you wanted to wear Walmart," I weakly chuckled in Wanda's direction, seeing her wide eyes and Loki's arm rapidly wrapping around her waist, catching her a brief moment before she stumbled. The trickster looked unimpressed and bored for all the world to see, but to me, the slight twitching of his eyebrow told me he wasn't feeling that much different from us girls either.

"Brother!" Thor gestured us over with a drink in each hand, parting the crowd of people easily.

Noah, et tu? I had no choice but to swallow my unease, hoping my concealer and highlighter did their job and my face hadn't lost the sublime glow I was aiming for. For a girl like me, the Fae aesthetic wasn't easily achieved: naturally, I wasn't innocent, I wasn't playful... However, I was mischievous. Plenty of that.

Spotting a semi-familiar face in the crowd of partygoers, I gave the man a lopsided grin and a wink without actually taking note of who he was. Tonight, I would be a fairy. I would play.

"King," Wanda mock-bowed with a laugh, carefully embracing Thor. Even Loki did a brief, composite left-handed tilt with a slight smirk.

"Where's the rest of the gang?" I giggled, immediately making grabby hands for the nearest brightly coloured, fruity concoction that fell into my eyesight. Being sober at a party was not something I had planned to be: first drink went down like water as Thor explained the whereabouts of our various friends.

"Steven and James are with Lady Natasha, there is a knife-throwing contest outside on the patio," As soon as those words left his mouth, Loki immediately perked up, not-so-subtly turning his torso towards the large open area.

"Go," I ushered him. "Win us something, good sir," With a chuckle of my own, I grabbed Wanda by the hand for both of us to give a chaste good luck kiss to each of Loki's cheeks. He smiled as I threw a tiny amount of sparkles at him, shouting "GOOD LUCK!" to his retreating back.

"Princess?" I heard a curious voice pipe up behind me, an arm carefully wrapping itself under my wings. Said arm jerked as the sensitive matter of my wings fluttered away from the touch, shivers running down my spine and making me shuffle in place awkwardly.

"Tickles," I breathed out, voice pitched.

Tony's utterly perplexed face came into view as he gave me an open-mouthed once-over. "Darling..." He cleared his throat. I had managed to rob Tony Stark of his words! "You look... Exquisite." His eyes critically surveyed the amount of make-up and glitter on my face before he lifted the inside of my wrist, touching his lips to the pulse point for two long seconds, stealing my breath away with the simple, intimate gesture. It was by far more powerful than having to get glitter out of his beard if he'd kissed me on the lips, or even on the cheek.

"Congratulations, you've caught a Fae," I grinned mischievously, my own eyes widening at the amount of tiny little details on Tony's costume. Delicate, moving clockwork gears and metals interwoven with dark brown, harsh leather; he wore a tophat decorated with a pair of glasses and both his arms and harnesses had moving details of polished, dull-grey chrome. It was unreal, like Tony had stepped out of a Steampunk graphic novel, like he'd just got done filming the Wild West movie. "Nerd," I affectionately brushed my fingers - glitter-free hand - along the handlebar mustache he'd grown out.

Tony spoke over Thor's laughter, pressing himself closer to me, this time careful around my wings. "Do I get to make a wish?"

"Don't be rude, Tony. The Fair Folk should be treated with politeness and respect," Bruce's amused voice signaled his arrival before I even saw him. His costume and Tony's complimented each other: whereas Tony the wngiy obviously was some sort of inventor, Bruce was a doctor, or perhaps, a chemist. Instead of moving gears, he had an array of brightly coloured vials attached to a gold-and-green embroidered belt, and a single monocle replaced his usual rectangular glasses. The scientist gallantly raised my palm to his lips, fighting a smile of his own. Utter nerds! "You're the most beautiful thing in this room, Princess. Everyone can't take their eyes off you," With that, a brief, bright flash of green blinked in his eyes and then I knew, Bruce and Hulk would be on my back, watching out for me wherever I would decide to go.

The knots in my back, in my stomach, slowly began to unwind, the feeling accelerated by the warmth of alcohol sitting low in my belly. I was happily sandwiched between my two men, chatting with Wanda and Thor, nibbling on the spooky treats that Tony's catering services had provided. They were delicious.

Sam appeared, dragging a flushed Clint in tow. The archer had evidently gotten well into his drinks, seeing as he was holding a horn in one hand whilst the other still barely held onto his head. Despite the costume fail, he seemed to be having the time of his life.

"We need glue," Sam announced, smiling in our direction. "Well, hello, ladies," Briefly, abandoning his bird bro, Sam kissed a giggling Wanda on the cheek and wrestled one of my hands from Tony to peck it, too. "My, my eyes have been so blessed!"

"What are you?" Wanda asked the man curiously, pointing at his... a sort of toga, brown leather shoes that looked more like hooves and a crown of... grapevine?

"Dionysus," Sam mock-bowed, "And this is my Pan. Who happens to be a lightweight and enjoys annoying witches that can throw knives with scary precision!" The man announced, annoyed, whilst Clint just drunkenly giggled as he was helped by Thor - the Asgardian-Elf was doing something to the archer's headdress and putting the wonky horn back in its place, hands steady despite Clint's swaying and squirming.

"Classy," I toasted Sam. "Who's the knife-throwing witch?"

"Natasha," He grabbed a drink of his own. "She went as Yennefer, both fossils are Witchers and Pietro is Jaskier. He looks like a proper court jester in that purple... Thing," The dark man was giggling, too, somewhat tipsy.

"The Ass of America could fit his sizeable rear end in leather pants? How much KY jelly did they use?" Tony snorted mockingly as all of us laughed. I remembered seeing an interview with Henry Cavill and his troubles regarding the leather pants - Tony's question was valid and you can fuckin' quote me on that.

"Man, don't ask me. I've already seen more than enough of him and Barnes in the supply closet," Sam winced, downing the remainder of his drink in one go.

"And what were you doing in the supply closet, Wilson?" Natasha was absolutely breathtaking in the black mesh dress. Pietro next to her looked like a masquerade attendee - in a good way. He had gone with the video game version of Jaskiers outfit and was a bright addition to or our mostly black and pastel coloured party.

Sam grumbled something unintelligible, striking a conversation with Pietro and Clint, pulling the rest of us into it one by one. People came by and went, saying their hellos and asking to take pictures - the party was attended by mostly SI and trusted SHIELD employees with the exception of a few B-level celebrities Tony knew personally, no press was allowed beyond their designated area so all of us could afford some degree of frivolity.

Steve and Bucky - oh my God their costumes were tight - shared kisses and heated glances over the tops of our heads. Bruce's hand snuck under the highest part of my skirt, caressing my legs and Tony's soft pecks on the top of my head filled me with the warmest sense of adoration. Loki, being the gentleman he was, had won both me and Wanda each a stuffed spider which we gracefully accepted, thanking the trickster with a dance.

Or three. Wanda went first, eyes sparkling and smile ten miles wide as she soaked up the admiration, the envious stares of the people in the room. The witch looked simply stunning, she was glowing, and Loki next to her shared the sentiment wholeheartedly - a small grin decorated his face, eyes kindest I'd ever seen them. In that moment, Wanda truly was a princess.

Three and a half drinks in, I swayed gently to the music, unbothered by the smile creeping on my face as I watched the two magical people dance and mingle. "You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey..." Singing along was a pesky habit of mine that manifested itself after a certain amount of liquor circulated through my system. It wasn't like I was a bad singer - my parents had made me take music classes until I was sixteen - but it was generally an embarrassing moment nonetheless. In that moment, I didn't give a damn. "You're as sweet as strawberry wine..." Trust Tony to pick the kind of music I actually knew and liked.

A flash of purple and my glass was snatched out of my hand and promptly downed. Shamelessly grinning, Pietro gave me a look with that cocky tilt of his lips, blonde hair in utter disarray. "That your work?" He nodded towards the dancing couple, giving the empty glass to Bruce who was now watching my swaying with a careful eye.

"My and Loki's," I replied dryly."Thank you," Pietro replied sincerely. "Wanda needed this," Briefly looking me over (fuckin' glitter! I was missing out on so many hugs!), the blonde settled on squeezing my hand between his own. "May I steal your lady for a dance?" He addressed Bruce, seeing as Tony was immersed in a conversation with some dude dressed as Marty from Back to The Future. IT department, maybe?

"You may, but no funny business," Bruce looked godly in his outfit with the stern expression: eyebrows drawn together, lips pursed and irises having just a tinge of green. Hulk watching me added an unexpected sort of spice to our interactions. It made me feel...

"Let's go, Printsesa," Pietro unceremoniously dragged me to the dancefloor, all but stomping over other people's feet, shoes, tails and various other accessories. Boys will be boys... And we danced, and we laughed - until Loki and Wanda floated over to us, promptly swapping partners with fluidity I didn't expect from either of the twins. I watched Pietro spin Wanda with a smile as the Witch shrieked and cursed at her overenthusiastic brother.

"How's it going, Lokes?" I addressed the resident vampire, placing an arm on his shoulders. Tall ass bastard.

"Better than I expected," He admitted. "Although I cannot say I appreciate intoxicated Midgardian males."

"Nobody likes drunk dudes," I rolled my eyes. "I've lost count how many faces I've punched and balls busted at parties. They just don't learn."

"Oh, indeed, you're a fighter, little one. How could have I forgotten?" Loki teased me, doing an elaborate twirl to narrowly avoid the slap I was aiming at his chest. Tall, cheeky bastard.

I definitely should have put salt in his tea sugar.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

[anonwriter27]

Trust in Me Ch6

Slightly longer chapter than usual, let me know what you think :) 

Darkness. Heat, a burning, blinding fire. Wet stones shaking beneath him. The echoes of footsteps left, right, louder, and louder.

 “Asgardian.” They sneer.

 Left, right, louder, and louder.

 “Jotun.” They mock.

 Left, right, louder, and louder.

 “Forgotten Prince. Left to die.”

 Left, right, louder, closer.

 “No more chances, Laufeyson…”

 He tries to yell but his lips cannot move. A cold, scaley hand creeps over his face, covering his eyes. He knows what comes next. No….no, no, no….

 “NO!” Loki yells as he bolts upright in his bed.

 His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath. He pulls off his shirt, removing the discomfort of the cold sweat clinging the material to his skin. After a moment or two, he regains control, his breathing regulates, and he takes in his surroundings. The sight of his mundane room at the avenger’s tower, providing him some relief.

 He gets up from his bed and walks to the en-suite; he fills up a glass of water and drinks it in one go. As he puts down the glass, he notices his reflection in the mirror, but leaves before he can take a good look at himself. After the incident…after New York, Loki found it hard to look at himself; shame would wash over him, and with it, a wave of nausea.

 He walked over to the window, the cool breeze providing some comfort. He stayed there until the sun came up.

Y/N had been walking up and down the corridor that joined hers and Loki’s room for the past fifteen minutes.

 ‘What if he wants to go back to sleep, we did stay up late talking.’ Or, ‘He didn’t look well at breakfast, maybe I should leave him be.’ Were just two of the thoughts swarming around Y/N’s head as she debated knocking on his door.

 ‘Just do it.’ This thought was the loudest and strongest of them all, so she listened.

 A light tap, one, two, three, and the deed was done. She unconsciously held her breath to await his response, her thumbs twiddling, and breathing quickening.

 A moment passed before the door opened, Loki stood before her in a black long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Despite his muscles being obvious under the tight fabric, it looked soft. He had taken to wearing Midgardian clothing; Thor had provided him with some clothes on his arrival to make Loki look more casual and less threatening. Y/N noted that no matter the clothing, a God was still a God, the ability to always look ethereal was just in their nature.

 “Ready?” Loki said.

 Y/N let out the breath she’d been holding and nodded with a kind smile.

 Unbeknownst to Y/N, Loki had been aware of her pacing back and forth but was determined not to push her. He wanted her to have the option to back out if she wanted to, though he could not deny the small feeling of disappointment he felt in his chest at the thought she might change her mind.

 But she didn’t disappoint, and after Loki’s torturous night he was grateful not to be left with his own thoughts.

 Loki and Y/N walked through the joint living room on their way to the library; Vision, Wanda and Peter were already there enjoying a peaceful Sunday with pastries and coffee. They appeared to be preparing a feast for the day.

 “Good morning Loki, little miss.” Greeted Vision happily, Peter waved to indicate a hello while his mouth was stuffed with croissants.

 Loki nodded with the hint of a smile on his lips.

 “Good morning.” Y/N spoke quietly.

 “There’s plenty of pastry if you guys want more food.” Wanda offered.

 “No thank you, Y/N was about to show me the library.” Loki said.

 Everyone paused, Peter mid bite, Wanda mid sip of her coffee, and Vision mid distribution of omelettes, causing one to slip of the spatula in slow motion and unceremoniously splat onto the table.

 “You offered to show Loki around?” Vision asked.

 Y/N shifted on the spot, “Umm, yes…” She said, barely above a whisper.

 The three friends smiled fondly at the situation in front of them, they couldn’t remember the last time Y/N had volunteered to do anything of her own volition. Not that she was lazy or unwilling, she was just so scared, and they found it remarkable that, of all people, it was Loki who had brought out this side of her.

 “Have fun.” Wanda said warmly. With that, the pair walked out of the kitchen to the library one floor below.

  The journey to the library was a quick one, before they opened the large doors Y/N paused. This was her sanctuary, a place she didn’t have to hide, where she knew no one could harm her. She was taking a big leap of faith in trusting Loki with this space, but part of her felt like he needed it. She wasn’t a greedy person; she could share her little safe haven.

 “So, this is your library.” Loki stated, sensing her trepidation.

 “I suppose so. Uncle Tony filled this room with my favourite books when I was little and came to visit, so I’ve always secretly thought of it as mine...” She said meekly, her hair shielding her face.

 “…But you can come hear anytime you wish…if you want.” Y/N added.

 Loki smiled at her, a real smile indicating true appreciation, “Thank you.” He said in earnest.

 Y/N’s cheeks were ruby red, so she made herself busy and opened the doors.

 Loki wasn’t sure what he had expected, a room with a few bookshelves and a seating area maybe. He certainly didn’t expect wall to ceiling bookshelves in a labyrinth like design, their destination leading to soft leather sofa’s and a large fireplace.

 “Your Uncle made this for you?” Loki said is wonderment as he looked at the endless shelves.

 Y/N nodded happily, “Yes. It was much smaller when we started this little project. Over the years it just got bigger and bigger.” She chuckled.

 He liked the sound of her soft laugh.

 She didn’t give away much, but Loki was slowly starting to put together a picture of who this young woman was. The latest piece of the puzzle was ‘beloved niece.’ It was clear Stark doted on his sweet niece; to build her something she truly loved and could build on for years to come showed a great deal of devotion. Loki recognised that kind of devotion as one born from tragedy.

 Y/N showed him how everything was organised in genre then alphabetical. Her system impressed him greatly and he pulled out a few books from their slots to bring with them to the seating area.

 They read quietly for a couple of hours when Y/N began to feel cold. She moved over to the fire to start it and sat there as the cold in her skin began to thaw.

 Loki watched the light from the flames illuminate her soft features. In her state of tranquillity, Loki allowed his words to be unguarded.

 “You don’t look much like your uncle.” Loki noted.

 Y/N whipped her head around to face him, “Oh, no I don’t, sorry.” She said with a small laugh, as she played with the ends of her hair.

 Loki frowned. He didn’t like that laugh, it was different to the light chuckle she gave when pleased; no, this one masked discomfort and he wasn’t happy he had caused it.

 “You needn’t apologise, it was merely an observation.” He assured her, shocked by his overwhelming urge to reassure her.

 “Sorry… I mean, well… I don’t really take after my mother’s family in appearance.” She clarified, feeling silly for assuming his anger.

 “So, your mother was Stark’s sister? I wasn’t aware he had much family.” Loki said. With the man of Iron spending so much time with the avengers, it was hard to think of him with a family. In fact, it was hard to imagine any of these heroes with a family waiting on them.

 Y/N smiled sadly, “He doesn’t talk about her much.” She said softly.

 Loki looked at her, there was a maturity in her countenance, as though she understood something beyond her years.

 Loki hesitated, “May I ask why?”

 Y/N wasn’t sure how to go about explaining her mother to Loki. The truth was Tony could talk endlessly about Rafael and recount old memories; but when it came to his sister, he froze. Her death had caught Tony off guard and with the chaos around the situation, he never got a chance to take a moment and grieve. So, he never spoke about her, not even to Y/N, and out of respect for her uncle, Y/N stopped talking about her too.

 She wanted to talk about her though, without fear of upset or melancholy.

 “My mother died quite suddenly when I was younger, it’s a sensitive subject for my uncle.” Y/N explained.

 Loki nodded in understanding, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

 “Thank you.” Y/N said with a sad smile.

 “What was she like?” Loki asked, catching Y/N off-guard.

 He was about to regret his intrusiveness, but then she positively beamed at him with a smile so breath-taking, he found himself smiling in return.

 “She was beautiful.” Y/N spoke wistfully. “She was so clever, we used to read together in my father’s study. She seemed to inhale books, she read them so quickly. She wasn’t just book smart though… the way she spoke was eloquent too. We used to have family and friends over for dinner every few months; whenever she walked into the room, she seemed to command it. I would watch everyone as they watched her, its like they were in a trance.”

 Y/N spoke with pure adoration, it would appear she had inherited her mother’s ability to capture an audience, Loki couldn’t look away.

 “Sometimes she would join my father’s meetings; a room filled with giant men shouting one another down, yet one word from her could silence them all. She was a force of nature.” Y/N smiled, happy to have finally said out loud the thoughts she had kept tucked away.

 “I’m sorry, I got carried away…” Y/N spoke shyly.

 “No.” Loki said quickly, surprising both Y/N and himself. “Don’t apologise…thank you for sharing that with me. It must be hard for you…not to talk about her.”

 Loki felt suddenly very shy himself, but Y/N gave him that dazzling smile.

 “Thank you for listening.” She said.

 It was clear Y/N had wanted to speak about her mother to someone for quite some time. Loki admired her sensitivity and came to the conclusion that she may be looking after Tony as much as he looked after her.

 A few moments silence passed when Loki decided he ought to be less guarded with her in return. They appeared to be exchanging memories and anecdotes as currency, slowly learning more about each other through these transactions.

 “I can understand…why your uncle doesn’t wish to talk about her. I still struggle to discuss my mot-“ he paused, “Frigga.”

 Y/N nodded in understanding, “I’m sorry you lost her, that must have been hard for you.” She said

 Loki nodded, “It was, but time appears to heal most wounds.”

 Y/N offered a sympathetic smile, “It does, I’ve found that the loss never truly goes away but that can be a good thing sometimes. Reminders of what you lost makes you remember what you had; eventually the memories replace the grief.”

 She was wise beyond her years and Loki found comfort in her words.

 They continued to read long into the day until they both realised they hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in some time. They walked happily to the living area of their apartment, content in one another’s company.

 “Perhaps I should read this book series the spider boy raves about.” Loki contemplated holding a copy of the philosopher’s stone in his hand.

 Y/N gave that sweet chuckle, “They’re excellent books, and there are movies too.”

 “Movies?” Loki asked, looking at Y/N confused.

 Their brief laughter was interrupted by Thor who had just walked into the kitchen.

 Thor looked perplexed at the scene before him; his brother and Stark’s niece sat at the kitchen island eating left over pastry and discussing books.

 “Brother.” Thor greeted.

 Loki turned to his sibling, “Thor.”  He nodded in greeting.

 Loki watched as his brother looked over to Y/N, a slight frown on his lips and his posture solid and unmoving.

 Loki looked over to Y/N and found she had made herself as small as possible, her head slightly bowed as she rubbed her hands nervously.

 “I should be going to bed, umm goodnight.” She said though it was barely audible.

 As she scuttled out the room, Thor began to relax. “Good day brother?” Thor enquired patting his brothers back as he got himself a drink out the refrigerator.

 “Fine.” Loki said, irritated by Y/N’s absence and the way in which it came about.

 Thor was acting as though nothing had happened, which irked the trickster even more.

 “What was that?” Loki demanded.

 Thor looked up from the pastry he had snagged, “What was what?”

 “That little display of dominance you used to frighten her off.” Loki said, practically through gritted teeth.

 Thor sighed, running his hand through his hair, “I know, I know, I just don’t trust them.”

 Loki was confused, “Them? Do you mean Y/N?”

 “Well yes.” Thor said matter of factly, “Surely you recognise her?”

 Loki’s look of puzzlement led Thor believe that his brother was none the wiser.

 “She’s a Tatum, Rafael’s daughter. You remember them brother! Father had us watch over them these many years.” Thor explained.

 Loki thought back, trying to place a face to the name, when suddenly it dawned on him. “The Tatum Clan? I thought Odin said they had died out.”

 “They have.” Thor said, with a mouth full of food. He gestured to the empty spot where Y/N once was, “She’s the last of them.”

 It clicked into place now. Her hair, her eyes, he knew he had seen them before. It was hard to believe she was a descendent of such a brutal clan. Loki remembered stories of their raids and pillaging, and from what he could recall the years hadn’t softened them.

 How did Stark know them? How could his sister marry one of them? Did Odin know about Y/N? This clarification had only provided Loki with more questions.

 It was then that Loki thought about Thor’s reaction to Y/N.

 “Is that why you’re cold to her? Because of her family?” Loki asked.

 Thor paused his eating, contemplated the question, and sighed, “Its not that I dislike her, I simply don’t know what she is capable of or if she is trustworthy. You remember them brother, they were not kind people.”

 ‘But she is.’ Loki thought

 They sat in silence until Thor decided he was going to bed. As Thor was walking out of his brother’s apartment, Loki spoke up.

 “Do you judge me?”

 Thor turned to find his brother looking down to the floor, avoiding his gaze. “Judge you?”

 “For being Laufey’s son? For being Jotun? For my family history?” Loki asked.

 “Brother… never, I do not judge you for your true form…”

 Loki stood up and made his way to his own room, “Then perhaps you should show her the same courtesy.” Loki said as he walked away.

 Thor watched him leave and wondered what had come over his brother. Whatever it was, it had certainly given Thor a lot to think about.

[existential-queers]

Our Hero, Satan

A very silly paper written by a very silly person about a very silly poem

Thank you and goodnight

Modern interpretations of Lucifer Morningstar are overwhelmingly that of a sexy, misunderstood bad boy with daddy issues. Look no farther than Netflix's Lucifer or The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina for example. While it would be undoubtedly easier to sell one's soul to a tall, dark, attractive, chiseled beefcake, this is not Satan's long-established depiction. From the days of early Christianity, Satan was a monstrous and horrific creature of the deep—not so much tempting as terrifying. The question is then, of course: what changed? Enter John Milton's highly kudosed fix-it fanfiction, Paradise Lost, and its unlikely protagonist, the Morningstar.

Paradise Lost chronicles the biblical genesis from the perspective of none other than he who has been called Wicked One, Adversary, Father of Lies, and Prince of Darkness: ya boi, Satan. From his very introduction directly proceeding the Fall, Satan is undeniably charismatic. He is certainly the most dynamic of the ensemble cast with even some critical claims that “Satan is superior in character to Milton’s God,” an omniscient, omnipotent, all-benevolent, blah, blah, non-human, blah, blah, perfect, blah, blah, flat and boring character (Kaiter and Sandiuc 452). There are no excuses, Milton. In rousing speeches of revolution and sly temptations in the garden, he gains the audience's sympathies, though perhaps not trust. He is still Satan and his words should probably be taken with a grain of salt, or maybe a whole block, just to be on the safe side. Wading through the suave and sympathetic, the question often raised and hotly debated is: is Satan a hero or a villain? 

Satan begins the poem in pain, chained in a lake of boiling sulfur, surrounded by fallen friends. After getting yeeted “headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,” free-falling through primordial Chaos, and crash landing in the wretched abyss, he is bound to straight up not be having a good time (Milton 1.45). Now you may be thinking: well that’s what he gets for rebelling against God and being, you know, Satan. What, then, would you say about an unsuccessful revolutionary who rebelled against a cruel dictator and was jailed and tortured indefinitely? This is the picture Satan paints, at least. Even after all this, he holds out hope to learn from prior mistakes, gather up his comrades, and

To wage by force or guile eternal war

Irreconcilable, to [their] grand foe,

Who now triumphs, and in th’ excess of joy

Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav’n. (Milton 1.121-124)

They all live to fight another day, and even in a place where hope cannot reach them, their leader inspires it once more.

This is terribly reminiscent of Greek tragic heroes the likes of Odysseus and Jason. Satan is a brave and clever leader, trekking through Chaos to the garden himself rather than sending a poor redshirt. After a bit of kitty shape-shifting and spying, Satan gets to work on infiltrating the garden in the most effective way imaginable: fighting battle-ready angels head-on. Again. After that predictably fails, he heals up in Hell while the demons build a cannon. A cannon that also fails. Come on, Satan; only a third of Heaven fell with you. Face it, you just don’t have the numbers. Back to pre-Plan A, Satan fits himself with another animal disguise but with fewer limbs this time. There must be something thematic about the number three—wonder what that could be—because it finally works. Humans: tempted, God: thwarted, Satan: could probably use a nap.

Satan may be the protagonist, but that does not necessarily make him a hero. One of the most important aspects of the Greek model of a tragic hero is hamartia. This is not to say that he does not have flaws—of course he does, he’s Satan!—but that his flaws are the same as all of his more admirable qualities. What gives Satan his complexity is his paradoxes and contradictions such that “envy, pride, ambition, [and] self-glorification give the character his singularity and magnificence but also pass the rigorous sentence on him” (Kaiter and Sandiuc 453). He is the protagonist in that he is the main character of the work, but he is also the antagonist in that he “drives the plot with his machinations” (Kaiter and Sanduic 457). Satan is just self-aware enough to realize: “Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell” (Milton 4.75). Of course, he tosses self-reflection off the not-so-proverbial garden wall moments later in favor of some mischief, but at least he recognized it.

Satan’s way of fighting what very well may be an authoritarian overlord is petty at best and truly evil at worst. In the narrative, he fights not for justice but for “desperate revenge” through the destruction of innocents (Milton 3.85). The humans were not involved in the first war, but Satan seems to play by the logic that ‘if I can’t play with you anymore then no one can.’ So, like a cat or a toddler lacking enough attention from father dearest, he throws a fit and breaks daddy’s favorite toy. That is if daddy’s favorite toy is an entire species now damned to eternal torment until someone else is brutally murdered. How barbaric. But, to be fair, that last bit is God’s fault. If you’re omniscient and omnipotent, can you not just design a better world? Are you not more powerful than sin, a literal child of your own creation? So then, are you not omnipotent or not all-benevolent? Either way, Satan’s actions are rather villainous.

On a more meta note, it is such an interesting detail that Satan is a supreme orator in regards to Milton’s beliefs on writing. Certainly, Satan had to be a phenomenally eloquent speaker and rhetorician to fit the narrative (i.e. rallying comrades in Heaven to go up against God himself, tricking Eve to eat an Edenic tide pod, etc.), but the way that Milton executes it inspires *chef’s kisses*. Milton, who found the heroic poetry format of rhyming couplets to be constricting, who deliberately chose to write his epic in plain verse, puts the rare and only rhymes in Satan’s speeches. He basically shouts to his audience: I hate when people write poetry in this style, oh and here’s a character I wrote whose speech emulates this style (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). You are not that slick, Milton. Okay, you’re kind of slick.

Milton may have set the precedent of Sexy SatanTM, but that is not all his Satan is. He seems to be in the my-book-started-a-genre-with-flat-tropes-and-cliches-I’m-blamed-for-but-are-not-representative-of-my-book club alongside JRR Tolkein and Suzanne Collins. The Satan of Paradise Lost is more complex than the bad boy who wrote his name on God’s blacklist. Milton “creates a character who is at once someone we tend to appreciate as heroic, and someone we want to see defeated” (Kaiter and Sanduic, 456). Satan is not an Enjolras, but he is not a Hope-less Pandora’s box of pure evil either. In the same vein, Satan is not properly a hero or a villain either. The most fitting label for him may just be that of an anti-hero: one who employs deplorable methods to do what is considered good and righteous but often succumbs to hubris anyway. Milton’s representation of Satan is almost nebulous in motivations and moral center, if such a thing could be said about Satan. While this makes him difficult to pin down, it continues to inspire religious and literary critique to this day.

[donegeonsndragons]

Narratuary: Session 10 Highlights

The Magidemic is a big deal, family is awkwardly reunited, and some questions are answered.

Wow, it’s the 10 sessions and 6 months anniversaries of this campaign and me seriously playing D&D! Time flies when you’re having fun. Also, I’m going to be on EncounterRoleplay again this Thursday June 15th at 4 pm EST! So drop by and say hello if you can!

Premise: having retrieved the gauntlet from Councillor Galanodel, the party regroups...

Igtbtgh and Carlin finally scrub the green dye off of themselves

Baldwin gets onto Councillor Galanodel’s good side and establishes his following’s presence

They also now know that the thing that Councillor Galanodel was worried about being stolen was safe, and that nothing seemed to be disturbed

In the inn that they’re staying in, a messenger pigeon comes with a message from Councillor Astorio, telling them to meet her at the Salv library

When they get there, they see Dee who beckons them inside

Carlin spots Councillor Astorio on the second floor alone, and he shouts her name and books it to the stairs

They have some pleasant small talk before the rest of the party joins up

Innchie, who has been harbouring some suspicions, asks Councillor Astorio why she didn’t just ask Councillor Galanodel for the gauntlet and had them steal it

Councillor Astorio takes a moment to explain 

She says that although part of the reason they’ve been gathering these items is because they’re dangerous, the main reason is that these are items related to the Magidemic in some way 

She’s been researching into the Magidemic to make sure nothing like that ever happens

She also says that she and Councillor Galanodel have a strained relationship due to some complications between her, her mother, and him (but she won’t expand on that)

Talking about the items, she says that it brings her to the next point of business

She says that she needs to go to the Southern Island, as she has a meeting with a professor who lives there

She’s sending Solvyre to bring the gauntlet and the weird creatures they retrieved from Kevamros, and she’d like to send Dee with her so that it will be delivered safely

However, Dee won’t let her go alone to the Southern Island, so she asks the party if they can either accompany her to the professor or accompany Solvrye so Dee can accompany her

After some debate, the group decides on accompanying Councillor Astorio 

Carlin asks Councillor Astorio what the professor’s name is, and when she says Professor Nim-Derw, and Carlin swears very loudly

Before leaving, Baldwin, Innchie, and Aurora all grab books (making sure to put their names down for borrowing)

Innchie talks with Karn, who seems to get along well with her and he says he’s at her service if she needs anything dealing with mechanical or engineering things

The group leaves for Fortuna, where a boat is awaiting them

On the boat ride, the Innchie and Baldwin read, Aurora and Carlin stay on deck and watch, and Igtbtgh takes a nap

Aurora spots a giant storm, which sends the crew into a state of emergency as they get everybody below deck to weather the storm

The captain informs them that wild magic has messed up that patch of ocean, which causes erratic weather

After the unnaturally strong storm, with Innchie discovering she has sea legs and poor Aurora throwing up, they arrive at the island

The island is beautiful and tropical, with lush tropical forests unlike what most of the party has ever experienced

Councillor Astorio wants to go to Avalore, the major city on the island, to rest before the meeting the next morning

Carlin leads them through, saying that he’s familiar with the area

As they go through the forest, they notice that some of the trees have carved out doors, and Innchie notices that there’s been people watching

The group enters out into a circular glade with a large pool of still water

They’re quickly surrounded by a group of elves, all with their bows drawn

An elf starts speaking to the group in elven (which only Aurora, Baldwin, and Innchie can understanding), asking why they’ve trespassed on their land

Aurora tries to diffuse the situation, saying they were just passing through

However, this just seems to draw the ire of the elf, who says that a “wildling nymph” like her never belongs on the island

Aurora pretends to be sad, the elf is totally unmoved 

Baldwin, curious, asks why it’s bad to have Aurora here

The elf says that this land had been kept pure from the corruption of wild magic, the glade being the only major arckey that had been uncorrupted by the Magidemic

Aurora is absolutely steeped in wild magic, and thus would be polluting the island...the rest of the group is bearable, but they would prefer to have “half-humans,” humans, and small folk off of their land 

Baldwin, coming to the (rightful) conclusion that these elves are xenophobic and doesn’t want them there, gets the elves to escort them off of their property and on their way to the village where the professor resides

Finally back on track, the group finds its way to the gnomish village as the non-elven speaking people are debriefed on what just happened

Carlin hears someone call his name, and he sees his dad 

His dad greets him and speaks to him in gnomish, saying that he wasn’t expecting Carlin to come home so soon, and that this must be Councillor Astorio who is to meet the professor

Without letting the party know that this is his dad, Carlin leads them to his childhood home (while being greeted by many of the gnomes who reside there)

The party is fed and given some camping supplies (as the house is too small for everybody), and they speak with Carlin’s dad, who introduces himself in broken Common as Taidgh “Catty” Catkin Nim, the unofficial leader of the village and the husband of Professor Nim-Derw

After some stories being exchanged, Aurora asks if Catty knows Carlin, and he says “Of course I would know my own son”

Carlin is not happy being here

After having a peaceful sleep, they awake to the sound of Councillor Astorio speaking with a gnomish woman

Carlin tries his best to sneak around and not get involved, while Aurora and the rest of the party joins the conversation

The gnomish woman introduces herself as Professor Caela Spriggy Nim-Derw, but to just call her Spriggy

Spriggy spots Carlin...

Spriggy: ah, that’s where you are, I was wondering when you were going to say hi to your mom Carlin: ...hi mom Spriggy: how have you been doing? Carlin: I’ve been doing ok Spriggy: I wouldn’t have to ask that question if you ever wrote home The party (OOC): OHHHHHHHH

Spriggy is proud that Carlin has been doing well for himself clearly, as he’s working with Councillor Astorio, and Carlin is just uncomfortable

Aurora and Innchie make some friendly small talk with Spriggy, even to the point of inviting her to explore and research (which she politely declined)

After some breakfast, Spriggy takes them to her archive, which is a relatively large building filled with papers and books that she mostly wrote or collected herself

The group learns more about each of the items they’ve gathered, as to what their rumoured properties are and how they’re related to the Magidemic 

Innchie, trying to be quiet, climbs up onto the ladder that Spriggy is on to whisper into her ear and ask if she had any ritual books (which she didn’t)

Afterwards, the group is taken to where Spriggy has been working recently, an offshoot of the arckey that’s in Avalore that has a glade and a smaller pool (which happens when magic is overflowing from an arckey and pools elsewhere)

Spriggy asks Aurora, who she spoke to about her wild magic nature, if she would participate in an experiment to see the effects of wild magic powered spells on pure untouched arckeys

She gets Aurora to stand in the pool and cast some spells

Aurora casts light: nothing Aurora casts firebolt at the ground: nothing Aurora casts firebolt at the pool: something

As the spell is released, reality seems to ripple around her

She tries this with chromatic orb, which has the same effect but with bigger ripples, to the point where the rest of the group can feel it

And as she casts mirror image, the ripples turn into a giant wave

The fabric of reality seems to twist and turn, and what can only be described as a hole appears and swallows Aurora

Aurora is in a dark place, where the plane she was in is now ghost-like and ethereal, and she seems to be there forever before being pulled back out (the group watched her blink in and out of existence)

But Aurora isn’t the only thing that comes out of the hole between planes

From the hole, a beautiful female torso appears, but the rest of her body is a giant snake...

And that’s where we left it off!

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 74)

Note: This chapter was codenamed “Winter Has Come.”

Alarms were blaring all over the Valley, millions of Fae all running through the streets, shuttering up and barricading homes and businesses; hauling their valuables, animals, and loved ones to the Tree of Life; or fortifying the streets and bridges, setting up turrets, shields, and elementals, be they for traps or to bolster their forces.

The watchers flew all around on the backs of giant birds, calling out to each other and warning civilians, airlifting to the young, the elderly, the disabled, and the sick, to safety, or providing air-support and visibility should worst comes to worst and the communication crystal arrays went down.

Civilian use of the Tubes was restricted, the coordinators working overtime to get as many watchers all over the Bastion as possible, with Ruby and Weiss as priority passengers; they stopped for a brief kiss, before off they went, to the Watcher’s Roost and the Heart of the Maker’s Forge.

It was still noisy as ever in that underground foundry, only instead of work songs, it was panicked shouting and barking orders. Makers slaved over the assembly lines triple-time, hurrying to produce as many munitions as possible, emergency supplies, and materials for repairing and rebuilding the Bastion.

Weiss ran straight through the organized chaos and to the Thumper, not even aware of the sweltering heat for the pounding of her heart, the sweat already pouring down her skin. She skirted around a large congregation of Fae all desperately praying to the statue of Talos, or lining up to get their slips for their last wills and testaments.

There was already a bullet waiting for her this time, watchers waving their arms and calling out for her to hurry.

She got into it along with a handful of other weavers, before down they went, into Abner’s laboratory.

The normally quiet and peaceful halls were already swarming with makers, weavers, and watchers; Weiss was rushed through the crowded halls as they all helped bring Abner’s golems to life, armed themselves with salvaged and hybridized technology from the human territories, or secured and protected the most vulnerable and valuable of Abner’s equipment, supplies, and experiments.

She finally ended up in the observation room for giant prison cell, like the Raucous Room, except the walls all glowed with the ethereal gold-white of 100% pure etherite. She had to shield her eyes until Abner’s spider limbs handed her a protective mask and water.

Weiss put the mask on, and began to drink. “What the hell is all this?” she asked in-between much-needed sips.

“How we’re planning to save your sister AND the Valley at the same time!” Abner said as he manned several controls at once. “This, my dear, is the ultimate in prisoner confinement: a nigh indestructible cell that will be impossible to escape from, physically or magically, and will happily absorb the very worst Winter can do with the Mk. IV, and then some!”

“Are we going to just keep her here?!”

“Up until you can convince her not to annihilate us all, at least!” Abner replied. “We CAN forcibly remove her from the Shepherd Suit Mk. IV, but as I’m sure you suspect, it will be MUCH more difficult, risky, and costly than if you can convince her to surrender.”

Weiss nodded. “Can we get someone to get something from Keeper’s Hollow?”

“Well, it’d have to be EXTREMELY important, I’ll tell you that!”

Under the mask, Weiss smiled. “Trust me, it will...”

Meanwhile, at the Watcher’s Roost, Ruby was in full-gear and being lead straight to the heat-map, the entrance to the Valley flashing bright red with Winter’s armoured face atop it. Things had quieted down as most of the watchers had already deployed, but the mood was tense and grim, the senior watchers all huddled over refining their strategies and monitoring the progress of the others out in the field.

Ruby waved at Qrow, he grabbed her hand and pulled her straight up to the chair specially reserved for her. <What’s the plan?> she asked as she stood on the seat, leaning on the edge of the heat-map for support.

<The plan is that you stay here while Qrow engages Winter,> Glynda replied via holo.

Ruby’s eyes widened. <What?! She’s going to vaporize him! I’m the only one that can stand a chance against her!>

<We know,> Qrow replied, <which is why the plan isn’t to fight her, it’s for me to distract her long enough for us to set up a trap.>

The heat-map disappeared, to show a schematic of a barren crater somewhere far away from the Bastion or the rest of the Valley’s settlements, with live-feeds of weavers hurriedly making a giant teleportation circle in the very center of it, infusing it with magic before they as much as they possibly could to hide the signs that they had ever been there.

They explained the rest of the plan such as Abner’s cell, Weiss being there to calm her down, and worst comes to worst, how they were going to forcibly remove Winter from her suit, hopefully without killing her from the trauma of the spine-jack’s removal.

<And what if it doesn’t work, and she gets away and kills you...?> Ruby asked.

Qrow pulled out several teleportation charms. <Then that’s where these come in. They’re connected to my vital signs—I get fried, all your gear comes straight back to you, and hopefully you can get her on the second try.>

Ruby reluctantly pulled her mask and cloak off, then handed them to Qrow. <Why are you doing this, Uncle Qrow...?>

Qrow smiled. <Killing your girlfriend’s older sister isn’t exactly the best way to win her over,> he said before he put on the mask.

Ruby’s eyes moistened. <I love you, Uncle Qrow,> she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face in his chest.

Qrow grunted as he felt her horns digging into his chest, before he hugged her back, burying them back into the old, familiar scars under his clothes. <I love you too, Ruby… I’ll try not to get horribly murdered out there.>

<You better not!> Ruby cried as she pulled away.

Qrow put on her cloak, a pair of fake reindeer horns and ears, before Ruby handed him the Keeper’s scythe. He hurried on the Roost’s wellspring with a group of watchers; it was all going fine until he suddenly felt horrible pain shoot up the arm holding the scythe.

<AGH!> he cried, clutching it with his other hand, trying to get it stop it from shaking.

<Qrow! What’s wrong?> one of the watchers barked as their mender ran up to him.

Qrow grunted, shook his head. <I’m fine, let’s go!>

The others didn’t look like they believed him, but it wasn’t as if they had much of a choice.

“Please...” Qrow whispered to the scythe as the weavers prepared him for the trip and fortified him with last-minute spells. “Let me protect her… just one last time, I swear!”

He felt pain shoot up his arm again. He stiffened, bracing himself for more agony, before it faded away into nothing. “Thanks…” he whispered into the scythe. “… And I promise I’ll mean it this time.”

The weavers cleared him to go, and Qrow jumped into the wellspring.

Winter’s ride to the Valley was quiet, taking a rover to conserve her suit’s power, the two specially modified Tinmen she was bringing with her currently shut down to the same. She passed the time reviewing her suit’s newly added and modified systems and weapons, optimized for the unique conditions of the Viridian Valley, and of course, her main target.

At the very back were all of the crates of plushies she had brought from the Plushie Palace less than a month ago, sans Eluna for obvious reasons.

“ETA at five minutes,” the rover’s AI said.

Winter shut off the holos in her HUD. “You can come out now,” she said as she spun her chair around to the back. “I won’t report you—I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

One of the crates opened, and out climbed an AFA soldier in full combat armour, a sword in its sheath attached to his belt alongside the one sidearm and his comm-crystal. His foot caught on the edge, and he went ungracefully tumbling out onto his back.

Winter didn’t comment. “What’s your rank and name, soldier?”

“Ah—Private Jaune Arc, ma’am...” he muttered, debating if he should stand at attention, or take off his helmet then stand at attention.

“What are you doing here, Arc?” Winter asked. “You know where this mission is taking place, what it’s about, who we’re fighting, right?”

Jaune passed. “Uh… were those rhetorical questions, ma’am, or did you want me to actually answer them...?”

“Take a guess, Arc,” Winter replied as she spun her chair back around, looking out the windows of the rover to see the twin mountains of the Viridian Valley looming ever closer.

Jaune sighed heavily as he walked up to the seat next to her, sitting down with his head hung. “I’m a disgrace to my family name, ma’am. I’m the latest in the line of the Arc family, and every single generation, at least of one us was a soldier or a war hero of some kind—except me.

“I’m just a failure...”

“You had to have passed the entrance exam, didn’t you?”

Jaune paused. “… I faked my records, ma’am.”

Silence.

“… That’s a very serious crime, Arc. The test is there for a reason—it proves you’re capable of surviving out there, of protecting others when the time comes. What if someone has to rely on you, and you both find your skills lacking?”

Jaune groaned. “I know! … That’s why I stowed away. If I come back, I can live with myself and happily take my dishonorable discharge! If I don’t… well, at least I’m sure I make pretty good bait.”

“Heroes don’t throw themselves into battle hoping to die an honourable death, Arc,” Winter said. “They do so to protect others, to fight for what they believe is right, to stand up when no one else will. The act of sacrificing yourself for others is not inherently good—sometimes, it’s just an unneeded, avoidable casualty that causes more problems than it solves.

“I’m not going to use as bait, Arc! You’re a human being, not a worm.”

Jaune raised his head up and smiled a little. “Then maybe I can hold her off for a while with this...” He said as he pulled out the sword on his belt, revealed the sheath to be a shield, too.

“That looks like a First Settler relic...” Winter muttered as she examined the intricate detailing on the metal and the hilt.

“It’s because it is,” Jaune replied. “It’s been passed down to every Arc who goes into the AFA as a good luck charm—even when we reinvented guns, it’s helped us all survive.”

“I’m surprised you’re not worried it’ll break in combat!’

“Pfft! These can withstand pretty much anything.”

“What is it made of…?”

“That I… really don’t know. I’d say it was etherite but it doesn’t glow. It is pretty light, though—well, for an ancient sword and shield, at least.”

“ETA at less than a minute.”

Jaune sheepishly looked at Winter. “So does this mean you still want me on this mission, or should I just stay in the rover?”

Winter stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Get ready, Arc,” she said as walked past to power up the Tinmen.

Jaune nodded, and held his head up high. “Yes ma’am!”

The rover began to slow down as it reached the entrance of the Valley, managing bumps and rough terrain until it was simply faster to walk.

As the Tinmen booted up, Jaune noticed the markedly different designs of them, like they were just power cores on legs. “What’s up with those Tinmen, ma’am?” he asked as the inside of the rover was filled with the bluish-purple colour of Candela’s wellspring.

“They’re more power banks for my suit than fighters,” Winter replied as she headed to the hatch. “Watch yourself, Arc—if one of those things blow, you do not want to be anywhere near it!”

Jaune gulped. “I will, ma’am...”

The rover stopped, and they all stepped out, the Tinmen first. To make up for the complete lack of offensive systems, the androids were producing a powerful repulsion barrier all around them; even several feet away, Jaune could feel himself being pushed away.

“That is a LOT of power...” he muttered as he pulled out his sword and shield, held it close to him.

“We’re going to need it,” Winter muttered as she readied her weapons systems.

At his request, Jaune took point, the Tinmen between them, and Winter taking up the back.

She was fine with the arrangement, up until she found him screaming from, wary of, and stopping for every last noise and suspicious movement, becoming more frequent and dramatic the thicker the foliage and the trees around them got.

Winter sighed. “Halt!”

Jaune screamed, jumped into the air, and spun around, his shield and sword raised. He couldn’t see her exasperated face as he sheepishly lowered his weapons, but he could just tell.

“Arc: retreat back to the rover, and stay there until I return, or go back to Manor Schnee evening the next day if I don’t. The emergency rations will be more than enough for you.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but I’d rather not… I’d feel a lot safer with you and your lasers around. Besides, the Keeper might come for me and kill me while you’re away...”

“Assuming you don’t end up getting killed by all the other horrifying shit that lurks here in the Valley...” Qrow said from just behind him.

Jaune froze.

Winter raised one hand. “Duck!”

Jaune dropped to the floor.

A huge chunk of the tree behind him exploded into ash.

“Missed me!” Qrow cried from a tree branch above them.

Winter gritted her teeth, activated her wings, and rocketed off after him.

The Tinmen rushed on after her, Jaune got up and clumsily scrambled on after them.

“Wait!” he called out, before he tripped on a root and fell on his face. He picked himself up, spat out the leaves in his mouth, and continued running, a little more carefully this time. “AGENT SCHNEE! WAIT FOR ME!”

Animals big and small ran, branches and leaves exploded, the night was lit with flashes of blue laser-fire. Qrow continued to evade her, using his own natural speed and the cloak’s teleportation runes to just barely avoid getting vaporized. Winter’s helmet sensors were going crazy like the cameras at Manor Schnee, crackling and spiking with magic and error messages, not to mention the sensation of a plasma knife cutting into her brain and twisting all about…

… But she wasn’t letting that stop her.

All the while, everyone at the Roost, the Tree of Life, and Abner’s laboratory watched through spy cameras, or figures on the maps as they got closer and closer to the trap.

The Tinmen thundered through the forest with ease, their hoof-feet and reverse-jointed legs managing any terrain they found themselves in, if they didn’t come crashing through the bushes and vines, crunching roots underfoot.

Jaune panted for breath as he followed the path of destruction they were leaving, tripping and falling into a ditch that the Tinmen easily jumped over.

Qrow burst out of the trees, and into the crater; he teleported down to the ground, just before a giant laser almost scorched him into non-existence.

Winter shot out of the missing chunk of forest soon after, her shoulder-mounted cannons smoking as she flew up into the air. “STAY STILL AND LET ME KILL YOU, DAMN IT!” she cried as she fired a barrage of missiles, explosive orbs raining down on the crater.

“HOW ABOUT I DON’T?!” Qrow yelled back as he flashed in and out of existence, the magical rose petals he left exploding into blinding crimson clouds.

Winter screamed in frustration, blind firing into the fog, before she flew in.

“It’s working!” Abner cried, laughing. “It’s working!”

The Tinmen reached the edge of the crater, stopped as they detected the fighting going, redirected power to their shields and linked them together. Jaune smacked dab into their expanded and reinforced barrier, getting knocked flat on his back.

Inside the fog, Winter had realized her mistake, her optics completely failing from the overload of magic in the air. “Do you think this is going to work?!” she screamed as she prepared to fly back out.

“Yes~” Qrow said from just beside her.

Winter fired a blast there.

“Missed me!” Qrow said from her other side.

Winter fired another shot in that direction.

“Nope!” he said from in front of her.

Winter cried out as she thrust her hands forward, energy blades extending from her wrists.

“Jeeze, did they lower the standards for Queensguard or something…?” he said from behind her.

Winter whirled around with her blades, Qrow just barely avoided getting slashed.

“I don’t need to see you to kill you, you know!” she cried.

“Well might want to open your eyes, honey, and see what you’ve found yourself in.”

The red mist cleared. Winter looked down, finally noticed the glowing lines of power radiating from all around her, the circle in the center that she was standing smack dab in the center of.

Tendrils of magic erupted around her, wrapping around her body, and her HUD spitting out all manner of errors and warnings as she began to float up into the air.

Qrow casually strode in front of her, casually took off the mask, and smiled.

Winter opened her visor to glare at him. “You mother-fucker…!” she spat.

“You’ll thank me later, Ice Queen!” Qrow chirped as he casually saluted her goodybe.

Jaune’s shield came flying in from the side, slipping onto space between the ground and her feet. The tendrils were chopped off as the shield began to spin round and round like crazy on top of circle as the metal disrupted and absorbed the magic.

“AGENT SCHNEE!” Jaune cried as he threw himself at her.

Winter flew off from the circle, Jaune taking his place; the shield flew up and rejoined its owner, the tendrils wrapping all around him, instead.

Everyone watched in horror as they pulled Jaune through a rip in reality, and spat him out into the center of Abner’s etherite containment unit.

All was quiet everywhere in the Bastion.

“Well...” Abner muttered. “WE’RE FUCKED!”

[linabrigette]

Crypto Developments Aplenty at Devcon4, Ethereum 2.0 Among Them

Amid a declining market, one of the crypto industry’s foremost events recently flew under the radar of many investors. The event, Devcon4, an Ethereum-centric event attended by some of this industry’s best and brightest, highlighted the fact that while the market is tanking, crypto’s fundamentals are booming beyond belief.

Among the multitude of developments announced at the ongoing Devcon4, which is hosted in Prague — a crypto-friendly city in and of itself — some stood out more than others, including the premiere of MetaMask’s mobile client, an update on the second phase of Ethereum’s long-awaited roadmap, and an ever so silly singalong with Vitalik Buterin himself.

ConsenSys-Backed MetaMask Reveals Mobile Application, Ethereum To Go Mobile

Since its inception, the Ethereum Network, with all of its out-of-this-world decentralized applications (dApps), blockchain-based tokens, and smart contracts, has often been seen as an abstract entity by many consumers. However, consumers haven’t been left in the dark, as MetaMask’s internet browser plugin, one of the first applications built solely for the Ethereum blockchain, was and still is a viable way for users to interact with Ethereum’s vast ecosystem.

While MetaMask has eased the qualms of many perplexed users, there has been a gaping hole in the hearts of the mobile subset of Ethereum users, who have had little opportunity to interact with the blockchain ecosystem through their mobile devices.

This changed on Wednesday, however, as Joseph Lubin, a Canadian technology entrepreneur and co-founder of the Ethereum project, took to Twitter to express his excitement for a development update from the dedicated MetaMask team. Lubin, who currently resides over ConsenSys, the so-called “Google” of the blockchain world, wrote:

The @metamask_io mobile app was just announced at #Devcon4! Everyone’s favorite #Ethereum browser extension is coming to your phone. The team is focusing on not being ‘just a wallet’, but a portal to the world of all things #blockchain. https://t.co/3bvQXuF8gV pic.twitter.com/vcaIkkzcVS

— Joseph Lubin (@ethereumJoseph) October 31, 2018

Although this announcement accentuates the fact that MetaMask is poised to release a mobile client, which will allow smartphone users to hold Ether and ERC tokens, and to interact with dApps and smart contracts, a timeline was seemingly left undisclosed.

Vitalik Buterin Goes Serene — Unveils “Serenity”

After months of anticipation, on Wednesday, Vitalik Buterin, the de-facto face of the Ethereum Network, took to Devcon4’s stage to convey a keynote in front of a sold-out crowd. While many didn’t expect it, Buterin, who plays a role as Ethereum’s champion and figurehead, cut out some time to highlight Ethereum’s long-standing scaling debate.

Like Bitcoin, Ethereum is currently backed by a Proof of Work (PoW) consensus protocol, which allows miners to allocate their computational resources to validate and secure transactions on a decentralized network, albeit at a sluggish pace.

However, unlike Bitcoin, due to PoW’s relative inefficiencies and the rise of ASIC centralization, the Ethereum Core development team has sought to move away from the network’s original consensus mechanism. Ethereum’s first step towards abolishing PoW has seemingly taken the form of the so-called “Serenity Protocol,” which, as explained by Buterin, is a hybrid between PoW and Proof of Stake (PoS), the former’s metaphorical estranged cousin.

As noted out by Tim Copeland of Decrypt Media, who is in attendance at Devcon, Buterin was quoted as saying:

“Serenity is the world computer as it’s really meant to be. Not a smart phone from 1999 that can process 15 transactions per second and maybe, potentially play Snake.”

Per Buterin, through the use of PoS, a brand spanking new blockchain, and a three-part roll-out, Serenity may eventually facilitate “pure PoS consensus, faster times to synchronous confirmation (8-16 seconds), economic finality (10-20 minutes),” and, arguably most importantly, a 1,000x scalability upside, which should fix all of Ethereum’s current scaling shortcomings.

“B-U-I-D-L”

Closing off one of Devcon4’s last keynotes of the day, Buterin joined hands with a number of prominent Ethereum community members and Jonathan Mann, an internet-famous songwriter, to inject a bit of fun into the conference crowd, who had likely undergone a caffeine crash after a long day of friendly discourse, discussion, and development.

Today we learned @VitalikButerin is a backup singer! #Devcon pic.twitter.com/NtDR3sovqN

— MyCrypto.com (@MyCrypto) October 31, 2018

The song, which was sung by Mann, Buterin, and those in the auditorium, jokingly highlighted Ethereum’s “failed ideas” and a short recap of the project’s tumultuous history. While the topics the song covered may sound like a drag, Mann closed off his piece of art with a sing-a-long, beckoning the Devcon4 audience to sing “B-U-I. B-U-I. B-U-I-D-L” along with other silly, but fun crypto cliches.

It is important to note that while the sell out conference’s first day was filled to the brim with exciting announcements, the event is far from over, with there being two jam-packed days left for Devcon attendees to shout from the rooftops that crypto is here, and is here to stay.

As put by Lubin, the aforementioned founder of ConsenSys, in a recent “First On CNBC” interview:

“Digital currencies are not on the edge of collapse. We’ve seen lots of booms and busts in our ecosystem over the last 10 years and it has never been stronger than it is now. I measure that in terms of the number of projects, people, entrepreneurs, and developers  [involved in this space.] It is orders of magnitudes bigger than it was and the foundational infrastructure is getting built out.”

  source: https://ift.tt/2QbZTAc

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