#twould be wonderful

[ikeasharksss]

i was not too excited for the barbie movie but THEN i discovered that sharon rooney, a fat actress, is going to be the lawyer barbie???????? oh my gosh??????? this movie better do her justice otherwise there will be wailing & gnashing of teeth :(

[aberooski]

I demand Syrus angst content from this Fandom. I demand the good boi to join the darkness (and be saved from it by friens andjadencough)

As one of the biggest Syrus kins/stans/advocates I know, you are so right.

I need angst content, I need fluffy content, I need that sweet sweet hurt comfort content, I need it all. I require all of it.

I literally wrote an aftermath to episode 95 because they brush that entire situation under the rug and it was so huge and important for both Syrus and Zane's characters, but mostly Syrus. Honestly every time they address what he went through/is going through emotionally and mentally because of his brother, they downplay it or brush it under the rug in the next immediate episode and Zane gets off scott free with 0 consequences. That's not coolio schoolio if you ask me.

Honestly Syrus deserved to have an angsty little arc where they actually for real dealt with his trauma, especially considering how central a character he is in the group. The points where they just acknowledgeit for a minute then move on can only do so much for me emotionally, y’know? I do appreciate that they at least tackled his insecurities and helped him at least begin to overcome them as the show progressed though. I suffer a lot of the same insecurities and anxieties he does myself so it's very healing and helpful for me to see him working to overcome those while I'm trying to do the same.

Honestly they all deserve a little angsty dark trauma arc, but you are so right, angsty emo Syrus content please! 😁 gimme gimme!

[jomiddlemarch]

If into other hands these relics came

John knew himself in possession of a rare moment of contentment.

Mariko knelt overlooking the courtyard and John sat beside her, his legs grown used to the contortions the men of the Japans undertook to achieve some repose. He had not yet stopped longing for a proper chair carved out of oak, with a back high enough to let him extend his legs, a plump cushion filled with goose-feathers snug at the small of his back. He knew if he tried to describe it to Mariko she would be puzzled, though perhaps less so than by his yearning for his old bed with its embroidered linens and curtains that could be drawn tight against a cold night. Mariko, puzzled, was a creature of such profound loveliness that he considered interrupting their idyll and beginning with an encomium upon the chair, when his gaze was caught by a subtle movement in the room to his left.

“May not Fuji-sama be at ease if I am?” he asked.

“She is conducting the rituals of mourning,” Mariko said.

John turned his head and squinted. Fuji was crouched in front of something obscured by her narrow shoulders, her head bent. She would be very still for a moment and then move, something about her suggesting a bird about to take flight.

He realized she was doing her damnedest not to cry.

“Is there a prohibition against tears?” he said. “It is not forbidden our women, ‘tis expected they weep over a lost babe, a husband taken untimely—"

Mariko pressed her lips together in such a way that John struggled to recall her ever smiling.

“She would never do anything to dishonor her family,” she said, which was no answer at all.

“”Twould not dishonor me, and she is my consort,” John said, rising. Feeling the pull along his bones, the strength of his flesh. He took a deep breath, better able to fill his lungs standing. “Come along, Mariko-sama, we must go to her.”

“She has no need of us,” Mariko said.

“You’re protecting her in some way, but you must not fear I shall harm her,” John said. “I would speak with her, need you to translate.”

“She will not want you there,” Mariko said. “Whatever you think to tell her, she won’t want to hear it.”

“How do you know?” 

“Your ways are not ours,” Mariko replied.

“Have you ever lost a child, Mariko-sama?” he asked.

“No, Anjin—”

“I have,” he said. “I would speak with my consort. Now, Mariko-sama.”

*

“Fuji-sama, I beg your pardon for interrupting you,” John said. His tread was still far heavier than any man of the Japans, so she had heard him approach and he hadn’t startled her. She’d been standing when he and Mariko came into the room, the low table with the two white boxes partly hidden by her robes. When he’d first arrived, he thought he’d never be able to tell one lady from another, their hair and eyes all the same hue, their complexions differing in the slightest manner, as one petal from another on the same blossom, but his eyes had grown more acute. If Mariko reminded him of a falcon, Fuji could only be a dove. Something about the curve of her cheek and lip made him sure she’d once been her family’s cossetted darling. There was a darkness in her gaze that told him she had dreams she could not bear to remember, dreams she could not bear to wake from.

Fuji inclined her head and murmured a response.

“She says, she awaits your request,” Mariko translated. As always, he wondered what had truly been said. It was no secret from him that Mariko chose carefully what she relayed, her own motives superseding his; he was at her mercy more than anyone’s other than Toranaga, for she spoke with his tongue and any deception or omission she made was one he might discover only when the blade struck his throat.

“I request only that she listen to me for a little while, nothing else,” he replied.

Fuji said something, clearly an assent, but one given with grace but no generosity.

John hadn’t expected anything different.

“Fuji-sama, you are my consort. I am hatamoto to our Lord Toranaga, but within this house, I am the master and what is acceptable to me is what is acceptable to those in my care and under my protection,” he said.

Mariko translated. He could only hope she made his words carry his intention.

Fuji bent her head, a show of deference. There was no overt condescension or disgust, but he wondered how she felt, a highborn lady given to a man who among his own people was of no particular elevation or honor.

"You need not attempt to conceal your mourning. Whatever the full ritual is, you may conduct it, without fear of my displeasure,” he said, allowing Mariko to speak. “You may shed tears for your dead, especially for the child. Your baby.”

Mariko gave him a long look, opened her mouth as if she would offer an argument or remonstrance.

“Tell her what I said, Mariko-sama. As I said it,” he said. He heard his tone—it was the captain’s voice, Toranaga’s, the lord who gave orders. He spoke as a husband to a wife honorably wed, as if he had not left Mary in London with his son and her belly full of the babe he’d never seen, named for his Queen, not the saint.

Mariko spoke and Fuji’s eyes widened. If she allowed herself the latitude, she would have gasped.

“I would have Fuji-sama know that if it is her wish, I would try to give her a child,” he said. Mariko looked stricken and he could see it; she had not had the wherewithal to conceal it from him. “I am a barbarian, I know this, but I am Lord Toranaga’s hatamoto and I have sired two healthy children. I would not impose myself upon Fuji-sama but I am willing to give her the chance of another child.”

“She would rather die,” Mariko said quickly.

“Let her tell me herself,” John replied. “Let her have that choice. Our Lord says be fruitful and multiply, does He not, Mariko-sama?”

“That will mean nothing to her,” Mariko said.

“But it means something to you,” he said. Mariko let her gaze to fall to the hem of her robe, where the petals of a blossoming tree were scattered as if blown by a wind instead of embroidered over a month of Sundays.

She turned so that her back was to him and spoke again to Fuji. This time, Fuji did cry out, a choked sound she stopped her a hand to her mouth. John bowed his head, holding the position longer than he would for anyone other than Toranaga. When he looked up again, Fuji was staring at him and her expression was incomprehensible to him, save that she did not appear either terrified or repulsed.

She said something, her voice soft, higher than Mariko’s, sounding younger than she must be. She might be cursing him, using the most obscene terms to reject him, but he would not know anything other than the sweetness of her tone, like a lark’s song at daybreak.

“She says she would not tie you so. That she would not risk your child, when it might suffer the same fate her son, should you fail,” Mariko said.

John smiled.

“She doesn’t think much of my chances,” he remarked. “She may well know better than I. Tell her the offer stands, but that I appreciate her consideration and I understand she honors me by listening to what I have said. Joy perhaps will elude her in this world, but I would see her at peace, if I am able to give it to her.”

“She must find her own peace,” Mariko said.

“She may have help, Mariko-sama,” he said. “If she sought it from me, it would be given and gladly.”

“And I?”

“You may have my soul if it would give you a moment’s ease,” he said, surprising himself almost as much as Mariko.

“That’s heresy,” she said slowly.

“Blasphemy I think is more accurate,” John said. “But if it’s the truth, I can’t see the Lord will hold it against me.”

Mariko’s eyes suggested she would hold it all, against him and for him, asleep and awake, however far she would retreat within herself.

“We should let Fuji return to her duties,” Mariko said.

“Tell her to do as she will,” John said. He didn’t wait for Mariko to translate, simply turned his back and began to walk out of the room.

She followed after uttering a word or two, the language still largely incomprehensible to him. They returned to the veranda overlooking the courtyard, though there was no way to regain the tranquil satisfaction he’d felt earlier.

“You would have lain with her then?” Mariko said. 

It was possible, it was not impossible that she was jealous. That she was not concealed behind a fence or a what he imagined when she’d described it, a briar full of thorns, very small, very white flowers scattered amidst the tangle, but present beside him, something within her claiming him for herself, as if he had not already abandoned one wife for the sea and then again for the Japans.

“It would not have been for pleasure, for the clouds and the rain,” he said. The sky was overcast, the light diffuse, fading, harder to sail by, if one wished to sail away. “I would have striven to give her a child, that she might have a babe to suckle, to hold against her heart. Against the dark.”

“You cannot replace what is lost,” Mariko said. “You could not have helped finding ecstasy.”

“Only release, Mariko-sama,” he said. “Do you not wish for it, you and Fuji-sama, the release of death? I would find a briefer respite and perhaps she would find there was peace to be had with a new child. His eyes would not have been blue.”

“You don’t know that,” she said.

“No, I don’t,” he said. “I find I know hardly anything, but sometimes, I am still right.”

[crepesuzette2023]

Dear Beatles: Annabel is not pleased with the RUBBER SOUL cover!

(From: THE BEATLES BOOK MONTHLY, No. 31. Feb. 1966)

When first I saw your latest LP sleeve My eyes, dear Beatles, I could scarce believe There's nobody, I feel, could like it much Except, perhaps, the vampire-minded Sutch. I tried to Work It Out, but I could not, Why such a very photogenic lot Should want to see yourselves portrayed as freaks; You look as if you'd all been dead for weeks. Believe me, Beatles, I admire you vastly And scarce can bear to see you look so ghastly. John's usual zest for living is so great I hate to see him looking like "the late". For innocent-appearing wide-eyed Paul This graveyard guise is not the thing at all. The Pretty Things are prettier by far Than that grey-yellow Dracula-type Starr. And so cadaverous seems Georgy Harrison That Jagger's an Adonis by comparison. What bird who over Beatle pictures drools Can want to see her idols look like ghouls? Twould be a bonus, giving extra pleasure, To make the photo one your fans could treasure. The album, lads, is wonderful; these strictures Are just directed at those 'orrid pictures.

Annabel Lee

[nonbinaryurianger]

FFXIVWrite 2024, day 23 - On Cloud Nine

Little thing about the start of Rinh and Haurchefant's relationship.

Rated M for implicit sex.

"By the Fury, what a splendid victory!" Haurchefant greeted Rinh, bursting with enthusiasm as she emerged from the judgment hall of the Tribunal. "To see how you strove in the face of adversity─"

The rest was cut off when she leaped into his arms and slammed her mouth against his.

It was a long time coming, really—or at least it felt that way. When she had turned him away after the banquet at which she had been accused of regicide, she told him to ask again after things calmed down. Yet aside from some flirting, he had not made any real move, and so in the heat of the moment she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. Arms. Lips. Whatever.

Despite some surprise, he accepted her advance readily, catching her with grace and leaning into the kiss. However, when her tongue teased at his lips, he pulled back with a coy smile.

"Mayhap we should take this elsewhere," he murmured, setting her down and glancing around for any disapproving priests.

They managed to contain themselves all the way to the Forgotten Knight, but once in the privacy of Cloud Nine Haurchefant lifted up as if to pick up exactly where they had left off, only now pressing her back against the door as he pressed their mouths together. This time, he was the one to test with his tongue, which Rinh welcomed wholeheartedly. Her hand laced through his hair as their tongues melted together, and they broke apart only to come up for air, at which point Haurchefant took the opportunity to study her neck with his lips.

"Help me out of this armor, would you?" she whispered against the tip of his ear.

By Menphina, what a wonderful feeling it was to bring two bodies together in such intimacy. While Rinh was no stranger to such encounters, the opportunities had been few and far between since leaving her home village. Now, under the covers, limbs intertwined, having shared moments of skin upon skin and heart upon heart, she felt like she could melt, regardless of the chill in the air. She took his face in her hand, gently stroking his cheek, and gave his a slow kiss, softer and less urgent than before. Her own taste still lingered on his lips.

"Twice now has the Fury smiled upon me this day," Haurchefant said once their lips had parted. He ran a finger gently up and down her side, from her chest, to her waist, to her hip, to her thigh, and back up again, being sure to tread carefully over the fresh bruise that now graced her ribs after the trial. It wasn't bothering her too much yet, but she was not inclined to complain about his care, nor about all the kisses he'd left there when he discovered it.

"The Fury, the Lover...it does seem we've found favor with the gods." She absentmindedly lowered her hand to his chest. "But the others must be wondering what happened to us."

"Ah, but it is so cold outside of this bed, and you hail from a warmer clime. 'Twould be cruel to force you back into the Ishgardian air so soon." He pulled her close against him, rolling onto his back so that she could rest her head on his chest. "They will survive another bell wondering."

[searchingforserendipity25]

Music, Too That Sweet Madness. on ao3.

for @maedhrosmaglorweek. many thanks to @thelordofgifs for the beta.

-

"There art thou, dear heart."

"Nelyo, Maitimo, my lord Russandol! Have you fled likewise? I have fled to wander the shade a while, singing something less full of verve and cheer - I fear I shall go a little mad otherwise. Do I look mad?"

"Less wild about the eyes than Father, if that be any consolation."

"Some! Glad he is, and furious I think also; his laughter stung the eyes. His best beloved child, come into his own -"

"How happily wed is our brother! It does him good to have his eyes full of another face, that looks less like his own. And his wife has a fierce enough heart to dispute him for herself, which is better than might be expected."

"I would pity her more, if she looked less pleased with the contention for possession over the prize! They are gone now to their own joining, and only the revelers remain. I trust the spirits are high still. Didst enjoy the leaping and the dancing, and the dizzy stirring of the Mingling's own air?"

"The arias I liked well, for the power in them was fairly wielded; and the effect and impressions was most convincing."

"That is all! Meager praise thou givest me. Convincing - thou hast such a suspicious eye for artifice, not at all like our parents' child."

"Aye, indeed, what a dreadful lack of artistry is my heart - so suspicious it seems to me perhaps thou hast sung too convincingly. Wilt thou be unwell?"

"O, assuredly! Calling so much delight shades the spirit to weariness. 'Tis a rare skill, unfettering all the joy that might be found in a gathering, in fair and measured fashion. Skill has a price, and great singing demands its sacrifice. Tonight I keep my voice still, though tomorrow it may be ground to silence."

"Yet I note silence is not in your repertoire tonight!"

"Am I being too unpleasant? Be sure not to leave my side, even if I am."

"Was thy walk such a lonesome time as that?"

"Not so very much, I thought; till I saw thy height and breadth in the shadows coming towards me through the grass, up the path I left barely trodden upon the ground. Then my heart was glad. Perhaps I am not kind; but I would not like to be without thee, tonight."

"Thou shall be without me, as long as thou likest."

"That is false, but sweet falsity. I was unjust. Thou hast thine own artificiality, brother. I wonder at times -"

"Aye?"

"We are a people made for delight, are we not? In habits. It would not be such an effort to singers, if it were the true disposition of the Quendi."

"The rituals of wedding covenants are not those of our regular days. Though indeed 'twould be most convenient to have thy voice employed in willing the thoughts of all those who hear it - still it is not done, as a manner of domineering, for all the tiresome slow work of our courts might tempt it."

"Maitimo, for shame! Thou ought not make me laugh at tyranny. In truth I ought not speak inauspicious things, on such a day! My voice is very mighty."

"So it is!"

"Though not enough for a compliment, I gather."

"Thy singing rings still, and echoes in every graceful embrace, and all the twirling gestures and generous words. If that is the flattery thou wish’st, I can offer it, and know myself accurate. And thou were most helpful besides, in keeping together our parents and all the company guided in the most useful configuration of conversation, in the hosting and the leading of the dancing meters. My work was made easier for it, and our brother's wedding more joyful. Is this better?"

"Very! Fine tithe, for all my efforts. It went quite well, did it not? Perhaps I ought to be wed myself, now the order of efforts is charted terrain, and not so daunting."

"Thou dost surprise me. Shalt thou be wed, Káno?"

"Oh, I expect I shall. I have many friends, thou know'st; I am very beloved."

"So thou art! None love thee better than I, as none came to thee, here in the dark, when singing laid a shadow upon thy heart; but I suppose that is a high standard I mark."

"None!"

"I have made a good study of our company tonight, as thou know'st; and none, I say."

"Prove it! Say thou shalt not wed, not without my word of approval."

"That is not a just preposition, for I would not wed any thou didst not love also - while thou, Káno, wouldst not think to wait for my approval."

"That is true enough, I cannot be cross - but only because I know thou wouldst never give thy approval, even were I very happy. Thou seest, Maitimo, for all thy deliberation, and scorn of jealousy - I know how thou hast been made in our father's image."

"Makalaurë, thou hast made thyself drunk with thine own words."

"I do not know how Therindë did it. If I died, I would not wish thee to be happy, and glad, and wed whom thou likest and had many children. I would wish everyone who loved me to wear ugly clothes always, and be very unpleasant. Like Father."

"Thou art drunk. Dearest, say not such things. I am not to die."

"All the same. Thou must promise. Not to give thyself away - without my regard. For I too am very covetous, thou know'st, and I would have a say of such things, in death and love alike."

"So I swear - if thou shall come with me, and rejoin the revel. This dark wandering does ill to thee, I see, when thy spirit is spent and drunk with singing."

"So sworn?"

"So sworn, on thy own heart! Which, as we have so cleverly decided, must be shared, and mine likewise. I mind it less than I thought I would. But then thou hast ever been mine own minstrel, and with song I must share thee as well as I might."

"That is true; that I shall not be sorry for.” 

"Only do not be wed so soon! Nor can our household take the changing of the tides so soon, without a good arranging of affairs. I have arranged one such occasion already, and would have a time before taking up this hosting of joy once more, lest I turn mad myself, for far longer than it takes the effects of a Song of Power to fade in the air."

"I shall not. I do not at present have the heart for love. O, Nelyo! Is it possible to sing too well and too long of joy? I fear - and this is not singer's weariness alone - at times it does seem a store that may be spent."

"Come near, dear one. Rest here against my breast - thou art dizzy on thy feet! A long walk that was, for one so spent, and so heavy at heart; yet this spell shall soon pass."

"That is no consolation, and thy kindness I judge not very convincing, for my part. It always does come back."

"I know. So it is with the line of Therindë, each in our time. Think'st thyself alone in this malaise?"

"Never! I know thee, better than thou at times.”

“A lofty claim!”

“And true. What business, I might ask, has our father's eldest-born son evading the crowds, and the pride of a good task, and all the pleasure of company, to hunt a mislaid thing of his when it goes walking by itself? At least a hound thou couldst leash decently, and a wife might be commanded as decree the Laws - so too a servant likewise."

"Káno, thou dost speak worse than unkindness, and more than madness."

"Still thou art the one who speak as master of the household! Ai, here my lord Russandol is eager to lift a noble finger, and order my silence. He shall not have it - tonight I cannot silence myself, even when I wish it, and know it to be best."

"And so I must not have my anger roused, then? I love thee best - still thou dost make that a trial."

"Leave it - I know. Dost thou think I do not? In the morrow I shall be good, and come sit with my head upon your knees, and apologize. Thou know'st I shall. Does that satisfy?"

"It shall satisfy, when thou dost obey as I called."

"Very well! I shall follow, if thou likest. Let us return to the gathering, and hope the Mingling wanes fast. The light wounds my eyes, tonight; I fear I shall weep, and it is a vain singer than cries with his own song as the cause.”

[halfbakedspuds]

OC in fifteen

Thanks for the tag @illarian-rambling! This'll be fun to do.

Rules: pick fifteen or less quotes that ideally capture the essence of a character. Add a little beat of action or context if required

For this, I'm going to use Maire Aitkin from Echoes of Shadows because that WIP needs more love, and she's my favourite character to write.

If A' couldnae see shite, 'twould still be brigh'er than this fecking tunnel.

Johan. A' thought ye knew tha' blood belongs inside of th'body?

Holy Bozhe, lord o' heav'n and ward'n o' the nine hells, what th'fuck is tha'!? (First time seeing a demon)

With ye lot 'tis always, "Oh Maire, A' done screwed it, aye? Be a dearie an' heal me up, would'ya?" Well what if A' need healin' an' A'm tae burnt out tae patch m'self up? Already lost an eye an' a leg tae tha', thankya kindly. If ye ain't already dyin' or a hinderance in your current state, wrap it up an' walk it off.

Well A'm so bloody sorry tha' ye blitherin' fecks bleed out faster than A' can plug th'holes.

Oh, so terrifyin', A'm a-quakin' in my wee boots! Oh wha'ever shall A' - have fun breathin', jackass (Said while collapsing a cultists lungs with magic)

People forget tha' us bioworkers are incredibly aware o' ev'ry wee movement people 'round us make. Ev'ry time Johan sees ye, his muscles relax, an' he feels more comfortable - in all fairness, he feels more comfortable 'round all o' us - but A' find it curious that his heartrate also picks up a wee bit only when it's you he sees. And e'en more curious that yours does th'exact same thing when ye see him.

Wow, right fascinatin' story, mate. Hey, A've heard tha' th'Green Rooves are wonderful this time o' year. (Said the first time she hears Johan and Anastasia discussing demons. 'Green Rooves' is Ost-Rietland slang for a mental institution)

Ha! Ye think this is cold? Go spend a month in Northern Rostov. Nae, e'en better, go spend a month in th'Angeheim wilderness. Then ye can talk 'bout the cold.

Always wanted tae go sightseein' in Genesh. A' probly wouldnae survive a day in th'desert but A' always wanted tae go. Maybe Neureich would be a good place tae visit, too, but wha's really over there anyways? Thirteen bombed out cities 'long th'coastal forest followed by Bozhe knows how many miles o' e'en more desert? Nae, thanks, A'll stick tae ma books.

Righ' then, hands up an' arses on the ground, this is a robbery! We're nae here tae rob any o' you's tho', so dinnae try bein' no hero 'till we have wha' we came for.

A' sometimes hate that A' can feel everything yer body does. A' can feel yer desire tae throttle me an' now A' have tae ask m'self wha' A' said that could've warranted it. Why d'ya force me tae introspect an' grow as a person? How dare ye? (Said with the express purpose of annoying the hell out of an already livid Hans)

Pffff-fucken, sacred hells, when last did anyone clean this place up a bit, 'tis rank! Hey ghosts! Open a window from time tae time, a wee breeze is good for th'soul. Or... souls, in this case.

Rostovan is such an easy language, though. Just get drunk, shove half a potato down yer throat an' make whatever noises come tae mind. Bob's yer uncle!

Shut it, or next time A' put ye back tae-gether, A'll leave an earing in yer colon.

Open tag for whomever wants it

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Prompt #3 - Tempest

Thunder rolled over the House of the Fierce.

Were she not shinobi, it would be unlikely Yugiri’s exit would have been as dramatic as it was. There was a moment of anguish, and she actually raised her voice to Gosetsu, and then nothing, not even an afterimage.

Were it not for her own shinobi training, Xiao would likely have missed the direction Yugiri vanished to, as Lyse and Alisaie did. She grit her teeth.

She turned back to Gosetsu, who purposefully looked away from where he figured Yugiri had slunk off too. His kindly smile was even more of a poor mask for pain than it usually was as his expression turned stony, “...It is for her to think on our master’s words and recognize the futility of her course. Or at least, those are my thoughts upon the matter.”

Gosetsu’s eyes flitted over to meet Xiao’s, her expression had hardened as well, but in a different way, for different reasons, “You may think differently. Should you be so determined to give chase, I will not bar your path.”

Xiao nodded and casually palmed the paired knives at her hips.

“Zenos will fall, but it will not be to a desperate knife in the dark. We will need proper planning and ample preparation. She has neither.”

Xiao also quietly made her leave as Lyse and Alisaie started shouting at anyone that would listen.

The rain started sporadically enough that they masked Xiao’s approach upon Yugiri’s position. If she was surprised that her fellow shinobi dropped down beside her, she did not show it.

“Did Gosetsu send you to stop me?”

“Would sendin’ me t’ stop ye actually stop ye?”

“I am not in the mood for riddles.”

“Wasn’t the plan, no.”

“...Then you came of your own free will?”

Yugiri sighed, “I should be surprised if you agreed with my chosen course, no one else did. But it’s not as fanciful as it seems.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Scant moments ago, I received the crown prince’s itinerary from one of our spies in the castle. ‘Twould seem that Zenos has no desire to remain in Doma any longer than necessary. His impatience is to our advantage. He arrived at the castle without warning and announced that he wished to inspect the Moon Gates this very eve. The whole castle is in a state of upheaval, but even with Yotsuyu’s pleading, he will not be delayed. He declined a full escort, only traveling with a scant honor guard.”

The shinobi pulled at the front of Xiao’s shozoku, “The kami could not have blessed us with more auspicious circumstances. I will kill him, Xiao. I will.”

Xiao put a hand on Yugiri’s, her grip iron, “Rather not come t’ blows wit’ ye, but the first knife t’ Zenos’s throat’ll be mine.”

Yugiri’s eyes widened even as Xiao’s narrowed, “The first strike on Zenos proper is yours to take, but are you… are you sure?” She nearly faltered, perhaps seeing her own stubborn foolishness reflected in Xiao, but then shook her head and steeled her resolve, “Thank you. Thank you. I… I cannot well express what this means to me.” She released her grip on Xiao’s clothing and gestured, “We have much to discuss, but we can do so on the way. We shall intercept the party at Yuzuka Manor. Let us be off!”

If anyone saw two shadows flit away, surely it was simply a trick of the lightning.

Zenos was bored. 

Oh so bored. He would have fallen asleep on his feet were he not trying to get all of this over with as quickly as possible. He could feel the ennui eating at his soul. It sat upon his chest, and perhaps, were it just a little bit more real, he would have simply stopped struggling against it so that it could force the breath from his body for good. Alas, he could not simply will himself to die of suffocation to end his suffering. He wondered if staring up into the storm would avail him, perhaps he could drown if he allowed enough rain to drip down his throat. Ah, were it not for his helmet.

The nervous imbecile leading the way was prattling on like he were some tour guide for some of the more slack-jawed Yaes or Wirs Galvus. His words had all the effect on Zenos that they would have on a particularly sharp and deadly blade. Instead, Zenos indulged in his internal monologue. The ruins around him were no more cleaned up now than they had been almost five years prior, when he had been tasked with putting down the insurrection. Less a province than a graveyard, the putrid husk of this broken nation was utterly devoid of proper sport. 

He sighed out loud, much to the disconcertment of the Pilius Prior. Varis of course demanded that his son fulfill his duties as heir apparent to the Imperial Throne. So here Zenos was, in fallow fields that he had labored so long to sow seeds of hatred and fear. Where was the harvest? Where were the savage beasts baying for blood?

There was unusual movement behind him, but he thought little of it, perhaps the fools behind him slipped up in the rain. Surely it were anything, it would be little more than hollow-eyed prey striking from the dark.

In one fluid motion he drew his blade and parried the shinobi’s attack, crossing blades just ilms away from his neck.

A flick of the wrist and the shinobi bounced back, another attack in his blindspot, perhaps the first was just a feint? Another would-be killing blow had it not been for Zenos’s prowess. 

The soldiers behind him lay bleeding in the dirt, throats slit and silently eased onto the ground to gurgle to their deaths. The idiot leading the party started screaming, and Yotsuyu started shouting, possibly orders. 

Truth be told, he was looking to provoke something by setting out as close to alone as he could. How how he desired to issue an official challenge, to give the Domans a week to plan and then reap the harvest, but that would never be allowed now that he was heir apparent. So this was as close as he could get to tilting his head to offer his neck, bait to see how desperate for his blood Doma was. All of this was just so he could feel something.

He felt nothing. An improvement over the hollowing ennui, but there was no joy in this hunt.

“How weak. Is this the sum of your hate?”

The second shinobi was unmasked, her eyes filled with fury, her teeth grit with determination, but it was far from the look of the beast that he desired to face. 

“This is but the beginning! For Lord Kaien! For Doma!” 

Kaien’s retainers? Really? And there were only two that let vengeance and rage fester for so long that they would strike at him? Zenos had tempered his expectations, but he was still disappointed by the showing. What did he have to do to get people that could properly hate him, to properly threaten him?

The first shinobi, a Miqo’te with an eyepatch, threw a projectile at Zenos, which he deflected without turning. A misdirection. The projectile exploded into smoke and brilliant light, surely blinding a lesser swordsman, if but for a moment. But Zenos was no lesser swordsman. The follow-up strike still came at him, a blow he let glance off his armor. This one gave him some pause at least, he was unaware there were Keepers of the Moon so far east, and that one would be trained in the arts of the shinobi at that.

There was something about her…

Ignoring his assailants, Zenos looked at Yotsuyu, doing her best to fuse her back to the Manor’s outer wall, her umbrella forgotten, her kimono soaked, “Mayhap I shall test this new blade of yours. Let us hope it is to my liking, lest your misfortunes compound.”

The two attacked again, the Au Ra leapt while the Miqo’te ducked, attempting to hit different gaps in his armor, attempting to divide his attention. If he had given either attack a bit more attention the other would be in his blindspot. Clever, very technical. But one was easily parried and the other effortlessly dodged.

He sheathed his kanata and stepped back to address both of his would-be foes, “Then again, I am loath to expend such effort on the unworthy. Come— earn the honor.”

The clash of steel on steel was nearly drowned out by the pummel of the rain and the howl of the wind.

Yotsuyu had long fallen silent in horror, she had no illusions about the quality of her guard, but that the two shinobi would drop them almost as an afterthought before refocusing their attentions on Zenos… Well it was more the reason to hide within the walls of the castle. 

But Lord Zenos was hardly fazed, he simply strode through the flurry of expert bladework and ninjutsu, not to mention the driving rain and whipping winds, as if it were a well choreographed dance. 

And perhaps in part it was. Though Yotsuyu was no warrior, she had been forced to learn how to dance, and she could at least parse some of the steps. The shinobi were at two disadvantages. First, Zenos’s size and reach far surpassed that of either relatively diminutive figure. Several of the techniques that they were able to use on the soldiers would find no purchase or were simply impossible on as tall and as armored a figure as the Garlean. Second, they had to coordinate to avoid hitting one another, the Au Ra more than the Miqo’te, and when one had an opportune angle on Zenos, often it meant that the other had to pull back. Were but one of the two disadvantages present, perhaps the crown prince would be lifeless on the ground, but both together was enough to consistently give him an edge over his opponents.

And then, when Zenos went on the offensive, the two broke off the engagement completely. Neither could withstand the brunt of Zenos’s attacks directly in their lightly armored states. If he were even a bit threatened, it was child’s play for Zenos to create the breathing room he needed and reset the fight. Yotsuyu wondered what his expression was under the grimace of his helmet. Was he entertained, or was this just busy work? 

Then, through one of Zenos’s attacks, the Miqo’te landed a blow even as she leapt backwards. One of her knives snapped, its blade wedged into Zenos’s side. Whether it actually wounded the crown prince or just caught in his armor, it was difficult to tell, and certainly Zenos did not react as if he had been stabbed. Yotsuyu wasn’t sure if Zenos would react to being stabbed, let alone how. 

“Well done, beast. You have earned the right to look upon Ame-no-Habakiri.”

Zenos drew the katana with a burst of crimson. The concussive force pushed back the elements, temporarily creating a sphere of violent calm around the Garlean with no rain, no wind, only death. It knocked both shinobi flying, and had Yotsuyu not braced herself against the wall, she too would have been bowled over, even at this distance.

Yotsuyu heard herself exclaim hoarsely in horror, “What… what is this…? Kami forfend…”

Both shinobi struggled to rise again, the Au Ra outright collapsing. 

But the Miqo’te did something Yotsuyu had never seen before. Even as she struggled to stay standing, the violet Miqo’te roared bestially and tore off her armor. An axe manifested out of the aether itself into her outstretched hand, and her body was sheathed in an orange-red aura of deadly intent. For all the toying that Zenos had done, for all of the violence inflicted and near death exchanges, this was different. The Miqo’te’s eyes burned red, even the one underneath her eyepatch. This was unbridled rage, with nothing held back for self preservation.

Zenos landed a wicked blow squarely upon the Miqo’te, powerful enough to splinter one of the trees behind her. And yet she kept coming, landing solid hits on Zenos as well, forceful enough to push Zenos back, to lift him ilms off the ground as he parried.

But it was far from just animalistic desperation, Yotsuyu could see how the Miqo’te attempted to drive the snapped blade further into Zenos’s armor with her attacks. For the first time in the entire encounter, Zenos was actually on the backfoot. He leapt back, sheathed that dread blade once more, and flash-stepped forward for another blast of Concentrativity. The Miqo’te was once more knocked flying, but aetheric chains lashed her to Zenos. Even as she slammed into the ground, she remained standing. She pulled herself to Zenos with that chain, her back muscles heaving, and drove her axe into the gap between Zenos’s oversized pauldron and his helmet. 

On anyone else, it would have easily been a killing blow. On anyone else, it might have outright beheaded, if not rent in two.

But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Zenos. 

As the Miqo’te collapsed, Zenos chucked with recollection. “Ahhh… I remember you. Ala Mhigo. The champion of the savages. Did I strike down your lover, now that I recall?”

He casually removed the axe and rolled his neck as if he had merely developed a crick, “Oh… how right I was to spare your life. How delightfully bestial.”

He sheathed Ame-no-Habakiri and removed his helmet. Yotsuyu gasped quietly in horror as the crown prince contorted his lips into an expression she had never seen before on his face. 

He smiled.

Zenos kneeled down and lifted the Miqo’te’s body by the nape, forcing her to meet eyes, “Hear me, hero. Endure. Survive. Live. For the rush of blood, for the time between the seconds— live. For the sole pleasure left to me in this empty, ephemeral world— I need you to live!”

He then set the Miqo’te back down into the mud.

Zenos looked up to the skies, the storm was passing. His heart, he could feel his heart pounding, his breathing actually struggled to keep up. What was this electricity that seemed to crackle through his veins? And his body, his body ached. He was battered, possibly bruised, possibly bleeding from his side. For a moment, for a fleeting, but very real moment, he thought the Miqo’te might kill him. So much he had read about fearing for one’s life, the brilliant sharpness in vision that set in when genuinely struggling against equals, when genuinely fighting to the death. Perhaps this was actually an opponent to overcome, to strive to defeat. He was giddy. He was swimming in emotions that he had hardly felt before. And this mere taste was just a sampling, a brew that had not finished refinement, more time would be necessary, more honing. 

Oh how he longed for another taste! To drink from the lifeblood of his new, most delectable foe! But he had to wait. He had to deny himself until the right moment.

Zenos rose and turned to leave. He did still have a Moon Gate or two to inspect. He ignored the arrow that landed at his feet, and the shouting of someone or other behind him. He heard Yotsuyu coughing and shouting somewhere in the distance but running after him.

None of it mattered. He finally had something to look forward to.

Back at Namai, Yugiri and Xiao were carefully cleaned and stitched up before being unceremoniously but gently dumped into the baths. Each was still alive and nursing no permanent injuries because the other was there, but neither would have stayed so long in the fight were it not for the other.

In brighter news, their recklessness had rallied the people of Namai, and though they did not so much charge into the storm as warily approach it, they covered the retreat as Imperial reinforcements came sniffing around as the moon broke through the departing clouds.

Most importantly, it was proof indeed that Zenos was no invincible, indomitable foe. His armor was not impregnable. His offense was not insurmountable. No matter how slim, the Domans had a chance. None perhaps had the same ferocity that Xiao unleashed, but if they all shared a little of that ferocity, that beast within, perhaps Doman liberation was possible.

[resurrection-of-soul]

Flashback | PSYCHOBREAK 2

Writer: Akira (日日日)

Characters: Rei, Kaoru, Adonis, Koga

Kaoru: Ugh, could you please stop caressing my chin? It's, like, totally gross actually! And like, the amount of disgust I feel seeing someone who looks just like Rei-kun going around doing stuff he'd never do is seriously unreal!

[ For the best viewing experience, please read directly on my blog! ♪ ]

Time: A few hours later

Location: In front of the AIIE Experimental Facility

Rei II: [Welcome, members of UNDEAD.] [So I finally get to meet the "real" me. I've been waitin' for this.]

Rei: Oh dear…

Rei: 'Twould seem our ill omen proved true.

Kaoru: Th-the fake showed up just like that, huh. I thought he'd, like, hide or something.

Rei II: [Hey Kaoru, shut up for a second. Can't ya see me n' Mr. Original over there're in the middle of a conversation?]

Kaoru: Ugh, could you please stop caressing my chin? It's, like, totally gross actually! And like, the amount of disgust I feel seeing someone who looks just like Rei-kun going around doing stuff he'd never do is seriously unreal!

Adonis: This is what is known as the uncanny valley. I came across the term while I was researching AI. It seems we feel an instinctive unease when faced with things that resemble us, but aren't quite the same. It's probably because our brains get confused when our internal memories and perceptions don't match up with reality.

Rei II: [I keep tellin' you~] [I'm tryin' to talk to the "real" me, so could you small fry quit prattlin' on about useless stuff?]

Kaoru: …The fake Rei-kun is like, weirdly mean. Is that an intentional part of the design, or?

Rei: This is oddly unsettling… I do apologize; my counterfeit has quite a poor attitude…

Kaoru: Hey, that's still better than complete silence, right? I mean, look — there are fake versions of the rest of us over there, but they totally haven't said a word?

Kaoru II: […]

Adonis II: […]

Koga II: [Hah? You wanna fuckin' go, punk? I'll kick your stupid taco-lookin' ass!]

Koga: Why's my fake the only one with a weirdly low IQ?!

Koga II: [Hah? You're makin' fun a' me, aren'tcha? You wanna get bitten to death, asshole?!]

Kaoru: Ohh, haven't heard that one in a while. You really used to say that kinda stuff a lot~

Rei: Hmm… Judging from the fact mine own counterfeit is one of those so-called "ore-sama" characters, 'twould seem these imposters are meant to mimic the past selves whom we were so recently faced with.

Rei II: [Ahaha. With only a week's worth of experimental data, it's pretty hard to get deep into your consciousness. All we could do was pick up on some fragments of the past.] [Replicatin' your current behavior's still beyond our reach.]

Kaoru: That's good, isn't it? It makes it easy to tell us apart.

Rei: Verily. Though I am equally abashed to be so relentlessly confronted with my youthful follies now as I was during our shared dream. Now then, let us cut to the chase. Pray tell, what exactly art thou intended to be?

Rei II: [You've already figured it out, haven't you? You and I are both the same super smart and clever Sakuma Rei-kun, after all ♪] [We're HELLSING, the imposters who have been pretendin' to be you.] [We're artificial idols, born from the AIIE experiment.] [To be more specific, we are entities with mechanical bodies who have had the data collected from you durin' the experiment installed into us.]

Kaoru: Actually, I've been wondering about that. If you were made from the AIIE experiment, doesn't the timeline not match up?

Rei: Aye. According to the records, HELLSING made their debut shortly after we began the experiment — within a day of our seclusion from the world, in fact.

Kaoru: Yeah, that's a bit too quick. I can't help but think they already had our fakes prepared before the experiment started.

Adonis: That's true. Perhaps data was pre-installed via the internet or the like, but the timing still confuses me. Why have the imposters begin their activities before the experiment's conclusion?

Koga: We might not know the details yet, but the whole thing already smells rotten.

Rei II: [That one's a mystery to us too. We machines are slaves to our human masters, y'know~ We can only move accordin' to the orders we've been programmed to follow.] [You could say we're just followin' our instincts.]

Kaoru: So basically, if we want to know the details, we'll have to go and ask the person who manufactured and programmed HELLSING directly.

Rei: Indeed. Though this may sound harsh, these four are ultimately nothing more than puppets dancing at another's whim.

Koga: But how're we s'posed to figure out who made 'em? Durin' the AIIE experiment, that plain-faced guy's robo-lookalike was the one handlin' all our meals n' stuff. We never saw another livin' person even once. They said it was to avoid muddlin' the data, but now that I think about it, ain't that kinda off?

Rei: By the "plain-faced guy," dost thou perchance refer to Mashiro Tomoya-kun? That aside, thou art correct in that there has been an unnerving absence of any contact with living humans throughout this ordeal. We were entreated to partake in this most peculiar experiment through HoldHands, and having assented, we were guided through the whole process by machines. There must be someone profiting off of this manipulation from behind the scenes, yet at present, we lack the information to so much as speculate on their identity.

Kaoru: AIIE is supposed to be some kinda top secret project managed by ES, so it might be one of the bigwigs at ES behind all this, y'know?

[ ☆ ]

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[s1ithers]

rt posting // finished ch3. love the torture elves, hysterical 10/10. obsessed with how the game pits altruism against your responsibility to your people against the culture around your character. do something good & compassionate by player standards/treasonous in-universe, get absolutely kicked in the teeth for it, and have your companions call you to account afterwards... exactly what i want from an rpg, thank you

like i'm sure it has another way to get you through the plot if you don't agree to help Y, but i was thinking while doing it, hm. this is an action i am taking with videogame protagonist-like disregard for consequences bc i personally want to, despite how hard it would be for my char to justify, even if /she/ personally wants to! & then to just eat shit for the rest of the chapter. v satisfying. love a game that doesn't let you tramp all over its internal consistency to be a hero. love a world that pushes back <3

almost wonder if i got some sort of bug with the romance being weirdly (not) integrated? with H going from v sweet to Mad as Hell. (and like thank god they voiced that bit in case the text didn't fully convey how blisteringly he despises you for this lmao x_x christ alive. the VAs are gr8). but honestly only needed like one or two lines of transition bc it's a great conflict. what if your existence was only excused by your purpose & your purpose was fighting one enemy but the one person who treats you as more than that keeps falling for that enemy's lures. what a knife in the heart. bc the dismissal of your function is a dismissal of YOU but at the same time....you've already bitten the hook of that same mercy, haven't u :3

honestly would've liked a chance to say sorry i got us all trapped in the torment nexus. bc it's ultimately my responsibility right, yrliet doesn't command this vessel. i'm gleaning that admitting that to the group might be a somewhat uh avant-garde leadership style for these ppl but twould be nice to say it to ur lover what with the torture n all

reconciliation scene could be so good bc like what if we were two people with something tender & fragile growing between us. but also a traitor to humanity & an agent of the inquisition. but also a psyker who laid powers on the absolute ruler of the sector etc etc

and perhaps some dialogue option wherein you ask /why?/ and i could say it was out of friendship with a xenos. absolute super mega heresy. handing you the weapon to destroy me to prove my sincerity but like. like. the power play of knowing you won't use it.

could be sexy.

(but then ofc power play is the only language we speak, so maybe what i really want is to trust you. it's about the plausible deniability it's about the misdirection)

anyway. forcing me into a public judgment of my other not-lover in a way that also functions as a proxy trial for my own failings in That Whole Situation, both undermining my authority & creating the chance to shore it back up IF i give the rest of the crew their pound of flesh (realigning the emperor's chosen with the path of righteousness & oh so conveniently, with him over her), an hour after we /finally/ tore each other's clothes off is sooo. fun n flirty. peak shit. because as we know! the most important element of a healthy ship is trust :)

[xkuja]

@asheanon from yes he is going to humour her ridiculous question anyway

|| || Kuja sighed, elegantly extending one leg over the other, reclining in his velvet chaise with a regal air, as if perched upon a throne-- a monarch graciously addressing the queries of his devoted courtier.

"Based on my interactions with the Regent, his mental capacity seems quite on par with that of an Oglop, so no, I don't believe his transformation significantly hindered him, aside from perhaps the inconvenience of lacking opposable thumbs for... certain passtimes."

How she'd come across that story, he couldn't help but wonder. Though, given how swiftly rumors spread in Lindblum, similar to Treno, his astonishment was somewhat tempered. She'd probably heard it from one of her sorry little companions.

"On the other hand, ~my expansive wisdom~ could hardly be confined to the paltry smattering of neurons which animate a worm's existence. 'Twould be akin to encasing the oceans within a thimble. Impossible."

Indeed, only the most superior intellects would ever take a debate on why they could never possibly undergo transformation into a worm and turn it into bragging rights.

[meracydia-miqo]

FFXIVWrite 2024 - Day 20: Duel

exarch watches ahki fight; spoilers for late shb

———

Ahki’s movements were as graceful and fluid as a dancer’s, and it would not surprise him if she had some experience in such a field. Whereas others might expect one so experienced in the Allagan art of summoner would prefer to stand their ground at a distance, moving only when necessary while their arcane creations took the field, backed up by the spells so skilfully recited by their summoner, Ahki was not like that.

The Exarch had seen precious little of her combat prowess firsthand. While the memories of what he’d seen back when they first ventured into the World of Darkness would forever remain etched upon his soul, it had been almost night and day difference when he saw it again in Holminster, wielding the same arts as way back then. The fact she was more experienced was plain to see, in the way she would run and jump around, unafraid to get in close when necessary and always trusting her allies to have her back.

To have the opportunity to fight alongside her again was not a dream he had expected to come true, but seeing her deft manoeuvres, he found himself needing to remind himself not to get distracted.

Though while in the past she wielded a tome, this time, it was the same crystalline daggers he had commissioned specially for her that she had in hand.

‘Twould seem his conjecture had not been incorrect.

They had found themselves in the heights of Kholusia in the shadows of Mt. Gulg, in the midst of the grand inimitably-Scions plan of creating a massive Talos to grant them access to the now-floating mountain. While the conditions could be harsh in such a location, strong gusts that would sweep across the barren slopes not uncommon, he could not resist the opportunity for one last adventure by the Warrior of Darkness’s side.

If he were to pass on the morrow, it would be with no regrets. And what a way it was to spend his final days.

Sin eaters approached them from either direction as they escorted the dwarf Korutt to the Duegar’s Tewel in search of earthseed for the Talos heart, but like second nature, Ahki fended them off with ease.

When another sin eater showed up, she was the first to react, hurtling towards it. It raised a twisted appendage to strike, but Ahki somehow foresaw that too, and ducked out of the way, landing a solid strike against its torso with her dagger in swift retaliation. So nimble as she was, the sin eater didn’t seem to stand a chance, and before he knew it, she had it on the ground and was off to take down the next. One wouldn’t guess she hadn’t been using daggers all her life with the practiced ease at which she wielded them. It put him in mind of the shinobi of Doma, and he was left to wonder if she hadn’t received some level of tutelage during her time there.

When one approached her from behind, the Exarch fired a spell of his own, felling the beast before it could reach her. Their teamwork earned no shortage of praise from Korutt, who looked up to them as if they were tried and true partners.

Would that it could have been so.

It was in the way that she did not flinch nor fall, despite all that she had been through. When she got hit, she was quick to get back to her feet. As if an invisible force, an unspoken wish was driving her forward with her every action. She did not hesitant in her nimble movements, and defeated the last of the sin eaters like it was nothing.

The Exarch wondered what sort of a life she would lead, in his absence. Free of the Light’s influence, to be sent back to her own world. Would she return to her familiar arcanima, side by side with her carbuncle again? Or would she remain ninja-like, armed with the same daggers she held now?

No matter what it was, even if he would never bear witness to it, he was certain she would fight with no less beauty.

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 9: lend an ear

Despite what Avery thinks, Rita is not dying. She hasn’t taken on that much Light, really. She’s fine. If he calls her my lady one more time in that achingly concerned tone of voice she might hit him with something.

Not that it wouldn’t make her melt in any other circumstance, but that’s besides the point. The point is that, though his efforts at sharing her burden are appreciated (gods, nobody’s ever even offered before, never mind been able to), she’s far better equipped to handle this than he is. She’s just...tired. Yes. Tired. That’s it. She shouldn’t complain.

On the other hand...

Well. On the other hand, he keeps asking how she’s doing, if she’s sure she’s well, and right now—they’re in Amh Araeng, it’s hot and dry and sandy and she’s stuck watching Thancred be an absolutely prize arsehole to Mini-filia while Urianger, for some infuriating reason of his own, is not tearing him a new one for it, and all she has to survive this with is shade and a lukewarm beer—anyway, after all that, she can’t stop herself from answering.

It starts like this: the shade of an awning. Avery perched on a crate with his sword across his lap, grimly oiling the blade. He’s pulled his hair tightly back, and she watches the glint of her bronze earclasps in his ears and thinks about touching them. (She’s thought about touching them a lot.) The wind kicking up, blowing sand into her face and making her cough until she can barely catch her breath. Avery’s head snapping up, his concerned, “My lady—Rita? Are you alright?!”

She finally manages a deep breath, aided by another swig of what is truly terrible beer, and snaps, “No.”

He tries to say something else, but she’s still talking. She can’t stop now. “No, I’m not bloody alright! It’s hot and the light hurts my eyes and I’m feckin’ exhausted all the time, I have cramps in muscles I didn’t know could get cramps, my feckin’ throat hurts, I have to look up and—and see Minfilia’s tomb, the place where she died, th’ land she died for, and Mini-filia’s gonna go the same way if nobody—if nobody stops her—Thancred’s not gonna fuckin’ do it because he’s a fuckin’ useless sack o’ shite—we’ve gotta put up with that and the feckin’--th’ feckin’ light zombie voidsent—an’ I’m so—so bloody tired, Avery, I’m so tired—”

And now she’s crying. Wonderful. She scrubs at her eyes, immediately regretting it when it makes the salt burn of her tears worse, but at least this way she can’t see the expression on Avery’s face.

Avery, who’s making a noise like he’s been struck. His sword falls to the ground with a clatter as he rises to his feet, his hand outstretched as though he’s going to—what? Place it on her shoulder? Pull her into his arms? Gods. If he does that, she’ll—she will—

(Break.)

(Push him away.)

(Never let go.)

But he doesn’t get a chance, because one of the locals has noticed them and is asking whether she needs help; she answers automatically in the negative, watching Avery slowly sink back onto his seat and pick his sword up. It will need to be cleaned again.

She blinks away the remainder of her tears and risks glancing at him. Her voice comes out thick and snotty, but she still feels better for getting all that out. “...Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

He catches her gaze and holds it. His eyes burn. “You never need to apologize, my lady. I recall a very wise woman urging me to express my feelings; ‘twould be churlish of me not to welcome your own sentiments.”

She’d said that to him once, long ago, when they were near-perfect strangers and she’d been urging him to write with no clear expectations that he would. Her heart twists in her chest, and she knows she’s blushing. “Avery,” she mutters.

“Ritanelle.” His voice has gone soft and warm as candlewax. And the way he’s looking at her...

She decides it’s suddenly a very good time to check her grimoire for any cracks in the binding.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Rare Pair Week 2023: Meet Cute

Well last week was all for Sib and Thanny and this week gets to be about Demos and Yugiri! So please have their first interaction from way back in A Realm Reborn.  no warnings. word count: 1.4k

Demos grunts as he puts the wooden crate onto the cart, pushing it to the side when Thancred comes up next to him. “Well other than the few sacks over there,” Thancred says with a small groan, “we’ve got everything loaded.” He claps his hands free of dust once pushing the crate into place, leaning against the cart with folded arms as Demos starts to make sure everything is secure. The rogue’s eyes don’t leave their mysterious guest as she talks to some of the refugees, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Do you ever wonder just what she looks like underneath that hood of hers?”

Demos glances over, shrugging, “Doesn’t seem that important.”

Thancred rolls his eyes, “Can you not humor me, Demos? She must be hiding something if she’s choosing to wear that dark of clothing and a full mask in the heat of Thanalan.”

“Well if she is then it’s none of our business to pry. You told me she just came all the way over from the East where the Empire is in full control,” Thancred nods, “Then there’s no need to try and push her to take off her mask. Wasn’t long ago the Empire had some strongholds here.”

“So you’re implying she’s a wanted woman? Which means she must be a thing of beauty underneath.”

“Really, Thancred?”

“What?” Demos lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head, “No, tell me. What is it you’re trying to say to me?”

“Didn’t you just break things off with Siberite?”

His jaw tightens, arms folding tighter, “It didn’t just happen. That ended a long time ago.”

He huffs out a laugh, “Two and a half weeks ago isn’t a long time ago.”

“Might as well be,” he grumbles with a wave of his hand, “How do you know that any way? Didn’t think that was something you'd keep count of.”

“I don’t. Siberite does. You all still send me with her on missions just like yesterday.”

“Surprised she still talks about me,” Thancred chuckles, “Guess I just have that effect.”

Demos snorts, “Not really. I had to listen to that woman talk for three hours straight on her latest conquests.”

“Latest conquests,” he balks, scoffing with a shake of his head, “Did she happen to tell you any names?”

“I said she talked for three hours straight, didn’t say I listened for three hours.”

“Well how is that helpful to me?”

“It’s not, but you know what would be? Going and talking to her about it like you should have done.”

“She said she wanted nothing to do with me.”

Demos looks upward, with a sigh, Oh Menphina help me with these two, “Look if you’re feeling the need to get involved with someone else connected to the Scions I’d highly advise you against that. And especially not with someone that’s just had to leave her whole life behind to start anew in what pretty much feels like a new world.”

Thancred huffs, putting his hands up, “Okay, fine. I’ll leave it be for now, but not because you told me.” He looks over the cart as Demos tosses on the last sack, “Now if you don’t mind, I believe my work here is done, so I’m going to have some fun, twould seem I prefer the company of the local tavern anyway.” 

Demos shakes his head, watching as Thancred stalks off to the tavern across the way, giving one final tug on the leather straps. He turns to his patiently waiting caribou, Oisín, giving a solid pat on his neck, “Hopefully those two are the kind of people that need to be dramatic about things first. Just hope they get over it soon.” The animal gives a shake of his head, Demos giving a nice scratch between his antlers, “Yeah, probably not.” He sighs, petting the animal once more, “In the meantime Oisín we gotta get this stuff up north.” He just begins to secure Oisín to the cart when he can feel someone approaching him. 

“You are making your way to Mor Dhona, is that correct?” 

“Yep,” he turns, looking down to see the hooded woman looking up at him, “Thought you’d be on the carts with the others? Can’t have run out of room for you.”

“They haven’t no, but I am told you will be bringing up the rear of this caravan.” He nods, “Then I shall like to join you. I am told one of your best fighters is leading the way and I should like to ensure my people’s safety.”

“Mean you’re more than welcome so long as you don’t mind being in tight quarters,” he smiles gesturing to the small bench and then to the cart itself, “or ridin’ on top of crates.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Then after you ma’am,” he says, bending down to create a foothold for her to climb onto the bench. She doesn’t say anything, taking his assistance to settle herself, “Oh, if you want there’s a small pillow just behind you.” She gives a small tilt of her head, “People I’ve taken in this cart tend to not be as acclimated to long trips sitting on wood. And the champion says it’s uncomfortable when you have a tail.” He shrugs, giving one more check to Oisín’s straps, smiling when he’s satisfied, “Alright boy let’s get goin’.” Demos watches as the others begin to move into the tunnel leaving Vesper Bay, giving his signal to go as the two sit silently. 

They’ve just made it to the halfway point when she says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“The scars on your face, how-?”

“You heard I was a healer I take it,” he finishes giving a half attempted smile.

“Forgive me. I did not know you were. I don’t mean to pry.”

He chuckles, “Ah, don’t be. Sure you got a good reason to ask, you don’t seem like the kind of person to broach a subject like that on a whim. Besides, it's nothin’ too bad. At one point we went up against this primal, she shot out feathers. Got nicked by them is all.”

“So why the scar?”

“Things got busy, moved quickly, didn’t think ‘bout it until much later and body was already doing it’s thing. So it was gonna leave some kind of mark anyway. Just had an old friend stitch it up where it needed to be.”

“Have you seen a lot of combat like that? Or are you used to a busier battlefield?”

“You trying to fill the silence?” She looks away, leaving Demos with a frown, “You’re fine to do so. Just you know, asking a lot of questions and I don’t believe we even know each other’s names.”

Her head snaps up to look at him, “No one thought to tell you my name? But you are a part of the Scions.”

“I am, but I don’t hang around much. Probably why they never told you mine.”

“I-. Hm, now that I think about it, I don’t believe I was ever formally told.”

“Then we should get on that,” Demos clears his throat, holding out a hand, “I’m Demos.”

“Yugiri,” she says with a light laugh taking his hand, “a pleasure to meet you.”

The caribou belts out a cry, making the two jump. “Oh, right. Sorry. And this guy here, Yugiri, is Oisín. You’re gonna have to pet him and give an apple when we get down to make up for the fact we can’t currently.”

She laughs, holding a hand to hide most of it, “Well it is also nice to meet you Oisín.” She turns to look at Demos, the sun hitting her covered face just right to allow for him to see through the fabric long enough to know she has a smile, one he returns in kind. “Demos, would it be alright with you, if I asked you a few more questions?”

“Can’t guarantee I’ll have a good answer but sure, just promise you’ll answer a few of mine along the way.” She nods before jumping into a line of questions that keep conversation going until they reach their destination. 

She jumps down with hardly a sound, giving a small bow, “Thank you for letting me accompany you, Demos. I hope we will have some more time in the future to talk again.”

“Same to you, Yugiri,” he says with a wave watching as she gets lost amongst the other Domans taking in the new sights, mumbling, “Same to you.”

[jefarawol]

So you do distinguish between those who acknowledge and repent their sins, and those who perpetuate them. Interesting. It seems to me that you have not, in fact, lost faith in mankind as a whole. Rather, you weigh our respective merits by how we allow the past to influence our future.

Spare me thine idle sophistry. Even were there a mote of truth in thy reasoning, what of it? Wouldst thou have me slay mine own sibling to save a city of mortals?

Should we suffer ties of blood to bind our hands then? Nay. If the crime is one of unconscionable evil, we must needs condemn it─even should the transgressor be our closest kin. When my father corrupted himself and his followers with the power of a primal, I beseeched the Warrior of Light to slay him─an act alike to patricide. 

That he did not die by my hand matters little─if anything, it heaps greater disgrace upon my name. But had my father not fallen, he would have drawn countless thousands into a holy war of hellish proportions─which I hold the greater crime. Thus did I order his execution, sparing the lives of my people and yours. Alas, your brother wyrm now prepares to murder those whom I sought to spare.

What is more, he has taken my comrade's body for his own─but if I must slay my dearest friend to defeat my direst foe, I will not flinch from my duty!

Thou wouldst strike down thy friend and, by example of thy righteousness, persuade me to break mine oath and kill my kindred?

Heed me, my child. The servants of Hydaelyn envision a different outcome. They intend salvation not only for Ishgard, but for the doomed dragonslayer as well. Believest thou this shade to be Nidhogg returned? Is it not merely a manifestation of his vengeance─the shadow cast by thy brood-brother's rage? I would not command thee, but ponder well thy course lest it lead thee unto greater remorse...

While this shade of vengeance remains, the future will ever be uncertain.

Nidhogg's transformation into rage incarnate is, in part, of mine own doing. I rendered unto him mine eye, and empowered his revenge thereby... But 'tis the purity of my brood-brother's wrath that lendeth him his all-surpassing might.

Thou wishest to rescue the dragoon from his fate along with all the rest? I do begin to see why Ysayle entrusted her hope unto thee. Thy purpose is pure. ...But so too is my brood-brother's wrath, and 'tis that which lendeth him his all-surpassing might.

 Hast thou the strength of will to stand against so terrible a shadow, I wonder? 'Twould seem I must put thee and thy companions to the proof. I shall await thee in the ruins wherein Ratatoskr once dwelled. Heed well the words of my children, and hasten thee to the place of thy trial!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

To hear Aymeric say out loud that he would kill Estinien, that I had caused Aymeric into a situation where he would need to kill his oldest friend, did nothing but make me sick. Every word cut into me screaming at me that it was my fault. If we failed to save Estinien, if he had to be killed, I would never be able to look at Aymeric again. If we saved him... I didn't even know how to entertain the thought that we would. Failure ate at me, hollowing me out. I withdrew from my own feelings too painful to cope with anymore.

[eriquin]

Cat's in the Cradle, part 6

More Eddie and Wayne shenanigans.

(master post)

Eddie drummed his hands on his knobbly little knees and tried to think. He wished he had something to write on, because his mind was spinning through things. They had a truck, but they didn’t have a safe place to stay. He could stick with Wayne, but it’d be hard for his uncle to explain where he picked up this familiar-looking middle schooler. Government agents, probably the same ones that ran the lab, were keeping tabs on Wayne. Granted, they were probably more distracted by the gates of hell opening up in Hawkins, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t circle back and pick up their stray failed experiment. And if those agents found out he could shapeshift, they were going to... Well, he didn’t know what they’d do. 

The kids had told him that Eleven was in hiding, and had lost her powers. He didn’t remember Eleven. He didn’t remember any of the other kids, except in passing. He’d been a failure, which was probably why it was so easy to break him out. Eddie reached up and tugged at his hair. He missed having enough of it to be able to chew on one of the ends as he thought. Focus! He needed to figure out what to do next. 

He wanted to tell Dustin first. Dustin would know what was going on and be able to give him an update on everything, and everyone. So, step one: talk to Dustin. He opened up the glovebox and rustled around in it until he found a pen, then wrote that down on the back of his hand.

Step two was probably something like ‘find a safe place to stay’ but that would depend on what Dustin said. Maybe step one required more fleshing out. How would they find Dustin? He could look up the Henderson’s address in any phone book in town, but then they had to get around Dustin’s parents. Having Wayne around might complicate that, so maybe it would be best for Eddie to try to pass himself off as one of Dustin’s school friends. One that stuck around after the earthquake? Or maybe he could just sneak in and convince Dustin directly without bothering his parents. He’d have to see the house before he could figure out if that was possible. 

Wayne came out of the motel room carrying a full bag over his shoulder and a suitcase in his hand. He tossed both into the back of the truck and held up one finger at Eddie, motioning for him to wait a tick as he went back in. Eddie wondered how much stuff he’d gotten from their trailer. He hadn’t noticed any of the mugs or hats missing when he’d been there, and Wayne wasn’t usually the sentimental type. He didn’t have to wonder for long, as Wayne came out again a moment later, holding his guitar. 

“Sweetheart!” Eddie squealed, launching himself out of the truck and running over to grab it. “You took her?” 

“Yep. When they told me to pack my things up.” Wayne nodded. He gave Eddie a light push back towards the truck. “Knew she was probably the thing most likely to be stolen if anyone came by, knew how much you’d want her to be safe.” 

Eddie sniffled as he climbed back into the truck, cradling his guitar against his chest. “Aww, come on, Uncle Wayne. Don’t say shit like that to me. You know how much of a crybaby I was at this age.” 

Wayne chuckled and got back into the driver’s seat. “True enough,” he said. “What was I thinking?” He turned to ruffle Eddie’s hair, and Eddie let him. 

Eddie told him about trying to talk to Dustin first. Wayne nodded along and agreed that the boy would appreciate a heads up that his grief was misplaced. He told him about his worries regarding Wayne having to explain where he came from. 

“Reckon you ought not fret too much ‘bout that,” Wayne said. “What with all that’s going on, people ain’t gonna ask.” 

Eddie frowned. “But, won’t they wonder who I am?”

“Oh, sure. Who gave that crazy old Wayne Munson another kid to look after? They’ll gossip all they want, but no one’s gonna come right out and ask.” Wayne shrugged and lit up a new cigarette. “Twould be rude. And who knows, maybe I just dropped by the orphanage and picked myself out a new nephew that looked the most like my lost one.” 

“Little orphan Eddie. Suits me. I should dye my hair red, d’ya think?” 

Wayne took a drag of his cigarette and raised his eyebrows. “And I should give in and shave my head, huh?” he asked. “Nah. But we probably shouldn’t call you Eddie in public. Might spook some folks.” 

“I went with Teddy when someone asked,” Eddie said.

“Like your Mama used to call you?” 

“Yeah.” Eddie strummed his guitar a little bit. The strings bit into the soft tips of his fingers. “Seemed appropriate.”

“I’ll go with that then. Or ‘hey you’ like usual.” Wayne gave him a little smile, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Okay, but we still need to steer clear of any suits, right?” Eddie asked. “Joe Schmoe in Hawkins won’t realize I’m still me but the government types might figure it out.”

Wayne nodded. “Here’s hoping they’ve got bigger fish to fry for the time being.” He finished his cigarette before starting up the truck again. “So let’s go figure out where this Henderson kid lives and break the news to him, huh?” 

They discussed the finer details on the way to the gas station on the outskirts of town. Wayne wasn’t thrilled by the idea of Eddie going on his own, but acknowledged that Dustin’s parents probably knew who he was and wouldn’t be happy to see him. He also didn’t want Eddie to hang around outside for a long period of time, what with the ash coming down harder now. Eddie said he’d already spent enough time in the Upside Down to be used to it, and they got into another debate about damaging his shiny new lungs. 

The gas station had a Yellow Pages and, more importantly, snacks. Eddie gathered up as much as his arms could carry and gave his uncle his most pathetic, pleading, big-eyed look. Wayne was unmoved and told him to pick one thing. He argued it up to one bag of chips and one drink and added some beef jerky for Wayne on top of it. They got a nervous look from the cashier, but no comments. 

Wayne drove them past Dustin’s house and parked a block away. He let Eddie get out and look it over. No one was home, and Eddie walked around it a couple of times to get an idea of how he’d get in. 

“I might be able to get through the windows of Dustin’s bedroom,” he said as he slipped back into the truck. “But it might be tough climb with these little noodle arms. The window in the kitchen is small, but I’m small now so that works out.”

Wayne had opened up the beef jerky and was chewing on a stick of it. He gave Eddie a tired look. “Getting right back to your delinquent roots, I see.” 

“Hey, gotta play to my strengths,” Eddie said. He strummed his guitar a little and smiled. “Such that they are.” 

“And where am I in all this?” 

“You looked up the Wheeler’s address, right? See if you can get in touch with Nancy. She’s the brains of the group, so she’ll know what we can do. She’ll want to know about the agents you met, too.” 

“You all right with me telling her about all of this?” Wayne asked, gesturing up and down at Eddie. 

“Yeah, if she believes you. I dunno if she will, though.” Eddie grabbed the paper bag that had held their snacks out and smoothed it out flat. “I’ll write her a note, though. Maybe that’ll help. Proof of life and stuff.”

“What’re you gonna say, son?” Wayne asked. 

Eddie chewed on the cap of the pen and stared out the window. “Fuck. I have no idea. ‘Thanks for leaving me behind, assholes’,  maybe?” He glanced over at Wayne’s stern look. “What, too much? Okay, I have a better idea anyway.” He hunched over the paper and started writing.

Once he was done, he folded it up and handed it off to Wayne. He climbed out of the truck, then turned around to buckle his guitar into place, telling his uncle to keep her safe while he was away. Wayne chuckled at him and tucked the note into his jacket pocket. He fished a bandana out of a different pocket and handed it to Eddie, telling him to keep his mouth covered if he was going to be outside for long. 

Eddie nodded and tied the red cloth around his face. “Do I look like I’m about to rob a stagecoach?” he asked, making pretend guns with his fingers. “Stick ‘em up!” 

Wayne shook his head. “Just, take care of yourself, kid. I’ll meet you right back here at eight o’clock.”

“I don’t have a watch.” 

This got a long sigh from Wayne. He unlatched his old metal wristwatch and handed it over. “I’ll get a new one for myself,” he said when Eddie tried to protest. “Just try not to lose it.” 

Eddie groaned. “Fiiiine,” he whined as he slipped the watch around his wrist. It hung loose and he knew he was going to fidget with it. “I’ll keep it safe. See you at eight.”