#which then got burned down by an invading army so he had to flee with a random human girl he’d enthralled + his elderly cousin

[fingertipsmp3]

Thousand Year Old Vampire is such a great game fr. I love creating a little dude and then absolutely wrecking his shit

[staranon95]

DinCobb Week Day 4: AU/Freebie (SFW)

for @dincobbweek​ this time we’re returning to a favourite AU of mine. The Halo universe!

i’ve previously explored a Halo/Mandalorian AU. the first story is very much NSFW but this story acts as a prequel showing how Cobb and Din meet in that verse

before we get started here is some very handy terminology

ODST - Orbital Drop Shock Trooper Spartan - a term for someone who was a child soldier and given physical augmentations to become a weapon ONI - Office of Naval Intelligence (so like the in universe FBI) UNSC - United Nations Space Corp (the army but in space) Covenant - invading alien forces and the main villains in the series Reach - a planet humans had settled that was destroyed by the Covenant

AO3 Link

Blast Radius

When Cobb was told by his CO to expect some heavy infantry of reinforcements, he was expecting another ODST squadron, not a Spartan III whose black and silver armour made him look more like an ONI operative than a functioning war machine for the UNSC.

Now granted, Cobb had nothing against Spartans. Spartans were the reason they were even managing to hold their own against the Covenant. But he did have a problem with this Spartan.

“Sergeant Vanth?”

Cobb looked up from the view into New Mombasa to see his Lieutenant Jo leading forward a heavily armed Spartan.

“Infantry’s arrived,” she said, and Cobb wished she didn’t have her helmet on so he could read her better.

“Sergeant Vanth,” the Spartan said. “Spartan A114 reporting in.” The Spartan then snapped to it and saluted him to show that he knew how to respect his superiors, but Cobb knew better. Spartans had a reputation to Lone Wolf it, and Cobb didn’t need that shit on his team.

“A Spartan,” he said incredulously. The Spartan easily towered over him by nearly a foot. All those augmentations and front of the line armour specs only added to the mass that made all Spartans seem unkillable. But in Cobb’s eyes, it made them cocky as well. “Wasn’t expecting a Spartan.”

“It was all they had on hand to offer,” 114 said.

“Right, well, settle in, big guy. We’re mainly search and rescue. Free hostages and get them to safety while clearing out the nests, you hear?”

114 nodded. “Loudly.” He unhooked a sniper rifle from his back and moved forward to join the rest of Cobb’s team with the look out—without needing to be told or looking to be told.

Cobb sighed. It was going to be a long fight.

…

“Vanth, come in.”

“Go ahead, Issa.”

“I’m spotting Jakal reinforcements on the rooftops. Beam rifles from the looks of it.”

“All. Squad, keep your ears on and your heads low and—”

Cobb heard a crack over head and ducked low as a second one followed shortly after. He held his battle rifle up as he looked for the source of the shots.

“Jakals are cleared. You’re free to go.”

That was 114.

Cobb sighed and clicked his tongue. “A heads up would be nice next time, 114.”

“Time’s of the essence, Sergeant.” Then he heard a ‘click’ and Cobb knew the bastard had likely muted on his end.

Fucking Spartans.

…

New Mombasa was a fucking mess. Based on the chatter they were picking up, the Covenant forces seemed to become more and more contained to one part of the city, like they were congregating. Other ODST squads had been deployed to hotter areas in the city, and Cobb’s smaller strike team made it easier for infiltration to minimalize casualties. They were the cleaning crew, really, and Cobb didn’t mind that.

But he did mind that his Spartan was deathly silent most of the time.

He had 114 act as their eyes. With his high-powered scope, he was able to get a better view of the terrain before Cobb’s team went down in to clear it out, and Cobb had to admit, 114 was a good shot. Those enhanced reflexes sure came in clutch in the best ways possible, but Cobb was expecting at least some communication on his end.

114 acted like a brick wall and Cobb hated it. He knew nothing of the Spartan, didn’t even know his name, and while it was nice to be fighting with someone who was this well skilled, Cobb didn’t know if he’d choose 114 over another top notch ODST squad.

“Looks like we got a standard fair here,” Jo said. “Couple of Brutes. Grunts as back up and a Jakal nest.”

Cobb nodded. “You see a Chieftain?”

“Nah, looks like pretty standard fare for them.”

“Good. Listen up! We clear this intersection and that gets us one step closer to the bank. You play it safe and you play it hard. Cover always. Focus fire on Jakals and Grunts and then the Brutes. Clear the field before we got in heavy. Got it?”

He received a chorus of Oo Rahs! and then utter silence from 114. “Hey, Spartan, you got that?”

The Spartan nodded and said nothing.

“Good. I want you on that roof top. Take the Jakals and then we move in. Provide cover from the Brutes if they get close.”

“I think it’d be better if I were on the ground with you,” the Spartan said, and Cobb was surprised he said anything at all—let alone battle advice.

“No,” Cobb said. “You’re best on the rooftops.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, Spartan.”

He could see that 114 was frustrated with how he tightened his grip around his sniper, but he fell in line all the same and marched off to find a perch of the sight before the team moved in to clear the junction.

“Get into position,” he said to his team, and they all crouched for cover and waited for 114 to get into position.

He looked through the scope of his battle rifle and scoped out the scene. Four Brutes, half a dozen Grunts, and two Jakals. Nothing in comparison to what Cobb had dealt with before, but it was better to play things safe and slow rather than to rush in.

“114, check in,” he said.

Silence.

“114, this is Sergeant Vanth. Check in.”

Again, silence. And then he knew why.

Rather than targeting the Jakals first and letting the squadron in there was a sudden explosion that caught Cobb off guard. 114 had discharged a round into one of the plasma cells stacked in the area that took the Covenant force by surprise, killing one Brute in the onslaught. Then Cobb saw 114 jump into the fray from what should’ve been his perch, taking a running jump to clear a distance of a dozen or so feet and come to the ground in a roll to lessen the impact from a fifteen foot drop. Then he struck with deadly precision on the Covenant left recovering from the shock.

“Fuck,” Cobb said. “Issa, eyes on the Jakals.”

“You got it, Sarge.”

“The rest of you, eyes forward! Now!”

He leapt over his cover, raised his rifle against his shoulder and began to pick off the Grunts one by one, while 114 aimed for the Brutes. And he was doing so with just a magnum pistol and a knife.

One of the Brutes raised his spiker in Cobb’s direction, and he dove down behind a concrete barrier as the deadly spikes imbedded themselves into the asphalt where he had just been standing previously. A Grunt jumped into his field of vision on his left and he turned and fired, hitting the Grunt’s methane tank, which he saw spark and catch before it blew. He raised his hands for cover and then looked over the barrier to see the field. The Grunts were fleeing. The Jakals were dead, and 114 was locked in combat with the only remaining Brute until he managed to drive his knife into the Brute’s throat and finish it off with a shot from the magnum until the Brute fell dead.

Cobb charged up to him. “What was that!?”

114 wiped his knife off his vambrace before sheathing it. “I told you. It was better to have me on the ground.”

“You disobeyed an order!” It was hard to feel commanding in contrast to a Spartan, who towered over Cobb in every way and could likely throw him up against the wall.

“It was efficient. You aren’t using me for my skills.” It also didn’t help that 114 was a calm speaker, rarely showing any form of inflection.

“Your skills are firing cover. My team can handle the job on their own. Disobey me like that again and I’ll see you reassigned.”

The Spartan looked at him, head tilted down in his direction. For the longest time he didn’t move until he took a half step back.

“Clear?” Cobb said.

“Clear, Sergeant.”

“Good.”

He looked over his shoulder to his team and waved them forward. “We’re moving.”

…

Scrounging in conditions like this were hard. Training to be an ODST required a certain amount of time in the field already before jumping into training specifically to handle an orbital drop. And then from there it was ‘survive until you group up or you’re pulled out’, which meant with the sun falling on the city that was burning, it was time to break for an MRE and some water before the final push into the heart of the city to help with the withdrawal of ONI scientists. It was the last job before the UNSC was pulling out the troops, which meant that ONI was going nuclear with its facilities so it wouldn’t fall into the hands of the enemy. New Mombasa was being abandoned in the short run. Once the Covenant was off Earth, they’d probably try to rebuild, but for now, it was pull back and see what happened.

It was nice, for a moment to sit on the ground with his back against the wall and his helmet off. It could’ve been a nice day in the city. The sun was warm. There was a breeze cooling his sticky skin from the sweat when the internal fans in his helmet couldn’t cool him fast enough.

But then he saw the Spartan who stood there rigidly off to the side of their little encampment. He had his back to the rest of them and seemed as if he was still on patrol despite the fact that the area was safe and they needed to rest before the final push.

Cobb sighed and got to his weary feet. He walked forward, grabbing at his pouch for one of the MREs he still had left. “Hey, Spartan.”

114 only turned to look over his shoulder.

“You eat yet?”

“Not hungry,” he said, before looking over the highway they were on and the sheer drop it led to.

“Come on, partner. You gotta eat. We’ve been going for near twelve hours and at least another twelve yet before we’re out for good.” Cobb stepped in front of him and handed out the MRE. He didn’t know if Spartans had the same standards as ODSTs. Did he carry MREs? Looked like he had water at the least.

Then 114 did lift his hand and take the MRE from Cobb’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to it, pal.” He stepped back, slapped 114 on the arm, and went back to his squad.

Then, when Cobb was sitting on the ground once more, he saw the Spartan move to a concrete barrier and take a seat. Then he removed his helmet, showing only a shock of dark hair, overgrown by UNSC standards. He didn’t see his face, but at least the Spartan ate.

…

Their final push into New Mombasa was the ONI facility itself, a giant cube looking building built in the center of a manmade pond to look fancy. It was a rough sight, but under the cover of darkness, it wasn’t like Cobb could see it all that well. All he was looking at was the sight of four ONI scientists being overlooked by a Covenant strike team—which included a Brute Chieftain.

Chieftains were worse than the usual foot soldier Brutes. Their armour was heavier, including armour that could only be struck through or cracked at the very least with specific armour piercing rounds. Chieftains also usually carried heavier weaponry, and this one had a gravity hammer on his back.

“They’ll want to keep the scientists alive,” Cobb said. “That’ll be our advantage to get in. Issa, what do you see?”

“By my count? Five Brutes on top of the Chieftain. A dozen Grunts. Jakals with shields but no beam rifles.”

“The structure doesn’t make good for sniper nests,” Jo added.

“114, you there?” Cobb asked.

“I’m here.”

“Report in.”

“I’m in position. Not the easiest place to leave in a pinch if you need back up.”

“We’ll go slow,” Cobb said. “Target the Brutes and get them broken up. I don’t want to fight the back.”

“Hear you loud and clear.”

114 went quiet on his end but didn’t mute.

Progress.

Then he turned to the scene at hand to plan the best way forward.

“On your count, 114. You take the lead. We’ll pick off the stragglers.”

“Going loud in three.”

Cobb looked down his scope and breathed in deeply and watched as 114’s first shot landed and struck a brute dead.

“Keep them clear from the hostages,” Cobb said. “I don’t want them taking them anywhere else. Issa, Jo, on me. We’re moving.”

They moved in as a unit before breaking and posting up at the windows that lead into the building they were infiltrating, most of which were broken. Once Cobb had a clear line of sight, he opened fire.

The darkness gave them a natural cover, and with their spread position, the enemy had no idea where they were. They kept the Brutes at bay away from the hostages where they were pressed flat on the floor to cover from the spray of bullets and plasma. For the time being, they had the upper hand until the Brute Chieftain roared and pointed in their direction.

“They’re coming out! Heads up!” Cobb said.

First the Grunts and then the few remaining Jakals which were picked off with deadly precision until the Chieftain himself charged out with his hammer swinging in Jo’s direction.

Cobb stood up from his cover and peppered the Chieftain’s back with bursts of rounds until he turned on Cobb and came in his direction.

“Cobb!” He heard Jo’s concern over the radio, but it was too late.

He rolled and dropped to avoid the Chieftain’s hammer as it discharged a burst that affected the CPU components in Cobb’s armour. But then the Chieftain swung again and the force of it sent him to his back, momentarily stunned before the Chieftain swung the weapon around, showing the sharp edge on the other side of the weapon head before crashing it down on Cobb’s chestplate.

The chestplate cracked under the pressure, and Cobb felt a burst of pain before the force drove the air from his lungs and he laid there, prone and stunned.

His ears were ringing, and he gasped like a fish which only made the wound worse until spots clouded his vision and he blacked out.

He blinked and saw the Chieftain’s armour cracked by an armour piercing round from a sniper.

He blinked again and saw Issa and Jo corner the Chieftain before a second round struck his back before a third struck his neck and he began to tumble.

He blinked and lost sight of what was before him.

…

“Cobb? Cobb.”

“Sarge, lift your right hand if you’re awake.”

“Is he okay?”

“We need to get the hammer out. His lungs could be damaged.”

“I’ll handle that. Hold him steady.”

Pressure on his shoulders, gently so before a wrenching and—

He gasped and coughed, felt pain radiating out from his chest and he tried to raise his hands to cover it, but he was held down gently.

“Spartan, there’s biofoam at his hip.”

“Got it.”

He heard the sound of an aerosol can being applied to his chest before the pressure on his lungs was abated and he could take a deep breath and relax.

“You there, Sarge?”

He nodded and tried to reach back and pat for Issa’s hands.

“Chestplate is cracked,” he heard 114 say. “The biofoam will hold for a few hours, but he needs medical attention.”

“I’ll get to the hostages,” Issa said.

“Evac point is over the bridge,” Jo said. “I’ll post up with Issa and get the hostages to safety. You good with the Sarge?”

“Just fine.”

Then he felt himself being lifted from the ground and cradled close to someone’s chest.

“Hey, Spartan,” he mumbled.

“That was damn reckless. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“Knew you were watchin’.”

He heard 114 sigh. “Keep your words to yourself, Vanth. This fight isn’t over yet.”

…

He had heavy bruising to his chest and a hairline fracture in his sternum. He was on bedrest for a least a month with another month of light duty. He was lucky his lungs weren’t pierced.

Regardless, he had the luxury of his own private room in an actual hospital and not just a field tent. He was on some medical grade painkillers, and his team was being commended for their bravery. All around successful.

But now with this free time, he intended to do some research—never could abide stagnation for long. He pulled up a datapad and using his UNSC credentials, managed to get into the databases of every active soldier on the ground. He searched for Spartan A114, and as he suspected, he was given a lot of redacted material.

The Spartan III program was still tightly under wraps, but parts of it were being declassified, and through the grapevine, Cobb knew they were different from the old Spartan IIs.

Not as good training facilities. Not as good outcomes or survival rates.

He saw the name ‘Reach’ in 114’s file and knew if the Spartan had survived the planet’s destruction, he was a survivor to reckon with, and also why he didn’t have a fireteam of his own. He probably lost them all in the fray.

Everything else including personal details like date of birth, home planet, and name were redacted, so there wasn’t much else he could look into for the time being. But he did file a request to have 114 placed permanently on his team. He wanted to keep the Spartan close.

…

Friends and teammates would come by and visit him. Issa and Jo in pairs, but then one strange visitor came: a very, very tall man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a neatly kept moustache.

“This seat taken?”

He’d heard that voice of his helmet dozens of times, and Cobb looked at him and couldn’t believe his eyes, that he was seeing the Spartan—his Spartan—out of his armour.

Cobb waved his hand to the chair and pushed a button to have his bed elevated so he could face 114 head on.

It was almost comical to see 114 sit down in a chair not meant for someone of his size, but he made it work. He was dressed in a uniform and not standard military fatigues. There were metals pinned to the beast pocket, and Cobb could see what many of them meant.

“Ceremony?” Cobb asked.

“No. Meeting. I heard you put in a request for me to be made a permanent member of your squad.”

“Well. I liked you. Felt we fought well together eventually. We could use another on our team.”

“I’m surprised you’ve been managing well with only the three of you.”

“Used to be four, but I sacked the other guy.” Cobb shook his head at the memory of Toro and his hot-headed ways. The kid was lucky he hadn’t lost his head if Cobb hadn’t pulled him back time and time again.

“How are you holding up?” 114 asked, eyes drifting to Cobb’s chest and how its swathed with bandage and gauze.

“Eh. Could be worse. Chestplate took the brunt of it though.”

“That’s what it’s for.” 114 breathed in deeply, licked his lips, and looked down at his hands. “It’s . . . it’s good to see you. That you’re okay.”

“Thanks to you.”

“I barely had my sights on him.”

“Hey, Spartan. Look at me.”

He looked up, and Cobb was struck with how upset 114 looked. Upset in almost a sad way.

“I’m here. You killed the Brutes. Hostages made it out. That is a hundred-percent in my books.”

“Still, I . . .” He breathed in, a shuddering breath. “I don’t like watching from afar when my teammates are in the direct line of fire. It makes me feel . . .”

“Like you can’t protect us.”

114 said nothing.

“Listen,” Cobb said. “We can discuss this. Figure out new strategies. My team, we’re new at this. We’ve worked alongside only a handful of Spartans but not directly with one. We’ll figure it out, see what works for the both of us. But I’m not tolerating Lone Wolf shit. We’re a team.”

114 nodded.

“You good, soldier?”

114 raised his head. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Cobb smirked. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Satisfied with that answer, 114 stood and prepared to leave but just before he could get to the door, Cobb called out, “Hey, Spartan. You got a name to add to the A114?”

The Spartan turned to look at him, pulling open the door as he did, and after a moment of hesitation, he said, “Din.”

“Nice to have you, Din. Rest up if you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

[germanicseidr]

Menapii

The Menapii was one of the Belgae tribes with a Celtic culture. They seem to belong to the same branch of Celts who migrated to the Atlantic coast and invaded Ireland. Their name might have been derived from a Proto-Celtic word -Mano meaning thought or -Mono meaning to tower. The Eburones were the Menapii's neighbours to the east, the Germanic Batavi to the North, the Nervii to their southeast and the Atrebates to their south. They obviously had no neighbours in the west because that is were the North sea is located.

The location of this tribe is interesting, Julius Caesar, Ptolemy and Strabo described that their territory was located between the rivers Rhine and the Schelde. This means that they should have lived in modern day Northern Belgium and Southern Netherlands. According to Caesar, the Menapii were the Celts that lived closed to the Rhine and thus they waged a continuously war against the Germanic people.

The Menapii were first mentioned by Julius Caesar in his work 'De Bello Gallico'. The Belgae tribes entered into a confederacy out of fear that the Romans would conquer them. The Menapii tribe was part of this confederation in 57BC. This meant that the Menapii were at war with Julius Caesar and they were one of the very few tribes who managed to resist Caesar for quite some years.

In 56BC Julius Caesar left Illyricum and tensions flared up again almost immediately. Some of the Celtic tribes revolted against Caesar: the Veneti, Lexovii, Morini, Nannetes, Ambilati, Osismii and the Menapii. Especially the Veneti could prove dangerous to Rome since they had a powerful navy.

Unfortunately the Veneti fleet was cornered and destroyed in Quiberon Bay (modern day France). Most of the Veneti strongholds and villages were attacked and almost all of the Veneti civilians were killed or captured. The Menapii survive this slaughter and continued resisting Julius Caesar in what you can call guerilla warfare. They would carefully withdraw into their swamps and forests, luring Caesar's troops with them. This eventually led to the Romans burning down random villages.

To make matters even worse, the Germanic Suebi confederation decided to cross the Rhine in the following year and unfortunately the Menapii were in their way. This led to a clash between the Suebi and the Menapii. The Menapii are able to defend their line of the river. The Suebi decided to withdraw in an attempt to lure the Menapii out. This works and the Germanics were able to defeat the Menapii and occupy most of their villages and ships.

This event unfortunately drew Caesar's attention and in the year 55BC, Julius caesar attacked the Suebi and pushed them back across the Rhine again. By this time, most of the Belgae tribes submitted to Caesar but the Menapii and Morini refused. The Morini are eventually beaten in battle but the Menapii managed to avoid a slaughter by hiding inside a forest. The Belgae tribes became part of the Roman empire and they lost their independence forever.

Caesar's conquest of Gaul caused quite some panic amongst Celtic tribes. Some of these tribes decided to flee and there is reason to believe that parts of the Menapii tribe fled to Ireland. Ptolemy mentions a Manapi tribe living in south-east Ireland which could be remnants of the Menapii tribe.

Some of the Menapii apparently also served in the Roman army as auxiliaries. A cohort of Menapii auxiliaries is mentioned in inscriptions found in Britain dating back to somewhere around 200AD.

An even more interesting story about the Menapii revolves around Marcus Aurelius Mausaeus Carausius during the 2nd century AD. Carausius was a Menapii man in service of the Roman army. He managed to become the commander of the Classis Britannica, a Roman fleet active in what is now the English channel.

Carausius declared himself emperor of Britain and northern Gaul in 286AD. He managed to get the support of the legions stationed in Brittanica and Gaul and managed to stay in power for 7 years before being assassinated by Allectus, Carausius' treasurer. So it wasn't just only a Germanic Batavi who managed to become a Roman emperor (Postumus), the Celtic Menapii managed to produce an emperor as well.

The Menapii eventually got absorbed by the Franks and the Menapii who migrated to Ireland eventually became part of the kingdom of Laigin. This Celtic tribe definitely has a fascinating history, its future tied to that of the Germanics, Romans and the Irish.

Here are pictures of: A map showing the territory of the Menapii, A map of Ireland showing the location of the Manapii, A coin with a depiction of Carausius,

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 13

The Morning After

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, while waiting in Barley for the high-level adventuring party to slay a dragon for them, the party found themselves in the middle of a small apocalypse wherein they had to fight an army of barley-monsters animated by echoes of ambient blood-feud hatred. They handled that just fine, though! Saelhen only almost died.

This time... well, with everything dealt with more or less smoothly, it's time to get back out on the road. This is a pretty short one (because my second vaccine kicked in halfway through and I had to break.)

They'd like to get on the road immediately, if they can- they've got cover of darkness and plenty of distracted and tired villagers under which to, uh, kidnap a child. Only problem is... Vayen has just slipped into drunken unconsciousness, and part of their kidnapping plan was to have him turn Kensa invisible.

But it's fine! Looseleaf has a plan! She's a spirit mage- she can magically heal people's wounds, right? Surely she can handle a little bit of alcohol poisoning! It'll just take a little arcane improvization...

Saelhen du Fishercrown: WELP Looseleaf: i'm drunk too now Benedict I. (GM): Okay, so, what does a critical failure on trying to undrunk Vayen look like...

So Looseleaf's like, okay, just identify the foreign contaminant in his bloodstream and tell it that it wants to get out, right? Ain't nothing can go wrong with that!

What goes wrong with that is that Vayen vomits all over the bar- and what comes out is not vomit. Or alcohol, for that matter. It's some sort of... pitch-black, sticky substance. And he's still not waking up.

Benedict I. (GM): So I think now you quite conclusively have the problem of "Vayen is out cold". You have technically never had a better opportunity to just ditch the guy, I guess! Looseleaf: Yeeeeah, let's, uh, get him upstairs. I think ditchin' him is out of the question right now. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Oh he's way too narratively interesting for that now Boy is stuck in the roller coaster called player curiosity

As they take him up to bed, they- well, of course they go through his pockets. They have to, to find his room key! And if they just happen to find notes written in indecipherable rectangles of opalescent black ink, and a diagram of the circle on Saelhen's bracer- well, that's just unavoidable.

In the morning... well, first I ask them a bunch of suspiciously-detailed questions about exactly how they disposed of the black goo Vayen vomited up, which ratchets up their paranoia a few levels. Turns out they just wiped it up with some old rags and threw them in the trash.

So when he wakes up, and Looseleaf asks him about the black stuff he threw up... well, first, he pulls some of his notes out of his pocket, stares at them in confusion, then panics and demands to know what happened to the goo. On being told, he rushes down to the kitchen, stares horrified at the contents of the trashcan, and then steels himself to begin sucking furiously on the nasty goo rags. He's barely able to suppress his disgust, but apparently this is really important.

So, Vayen's got problems. What else is new?

Well, Kevin's back, and gives them the lowdown on what happened with the dragon:

They set up camp inside the bedroom, using a lead-lined duck hide sort of situation, and waited for the dragon to show up for the scheduled corpse drop with Arnie. When the dragon arrived, they sealed the whole tower in a forcecage, and got to town with "patented methods". The dragon managed to use some sort of magic item, though- a weird straw doll looking thing that they weren't sure about the effect of. They tried burning it, but it didn't seem to help that there was an army of weird plant golems charging the tower and trying to break down the forcecage. Lady Greatholder's maids were just barely able to fend off the attack- one half of the invading forces was strangely more meager, and they were able to concentrate their attacks on the ones attacking from the east. He mentions that if they'd had to deal with just a few more of them, the barrier might've broken and the dragon could've escaped.

So, Doon's been sent off to track down the dragon's lair (and thereby hoard), but the rest are headed back today. As for Arnie...

Benedict I. (GM): The contact, he says, has decided to come quietly. And he says it funny, like he's implying something else. Saelhen du Fishercrown: 3 - INSIGHT (1) Benedict I. (GM): Not sure what, though. Saelhen du Fishercrown: can't read into it! Benedict I. (GM): Yeah, he might've been assuming you knew what he meant- oh well.

Since the Deathseekers are to be their ride back, and sneaking a child onto a "horse" without the high-level adventurers noticing seems... difficult at best, Looseleaf opts for honesty- explaining that "there's a child in this village who has expressed the desire to flee an abusive household", and that Saelhen wants to bring her. Kevin doesn't pry too much into this, and agrees- he probably assumed they'd done their due diligence on that.

The party comes up with a pretty simple plan for getting Kensa out: the town is surrounded by fields of tall barley, which means getting out of town without being seen is just a matter of making it to the fields and going the long way around. Delivering Kensa's letters is similarly pretty easy after some thought- they leave the pile in the care of the general store, to be discovered after they've fled town.

So, they meet up with the Deathseekers, who're all chuffed about their successful dragonslaying. The maids are kind of bandaged up from their scrap with the Justice Echoes, and Arnie is... tied up on Lady Greatholder's back like a backpack, seemingly pleased as punch about his circumstances. What... exactly... do they have planned for him?

Orluthe and Looseleaf offer some magical healing to the maids- who seem relieved and thankful for it, since apparently they've turned down magical healing from John Human. That guy does healing, apparently! There's something intensely unpleasant about it, apparently! Which is unfair, John claims, because "wasps never hurt anyone", apparently.

Also there's a colony of parasitic wasps under the eaves of the tower that wasn't there before, apparently!

Those things being utterly unimportant, the party gets back on the road. And immediately runs into... the forest. Remember the forest? The one with lots of weird identical trees that Looseleaf's spirit-senses determined weren't, like, exactly alive?

After poking the trees and determining that they're not coming to life and attacking anyone, they decide- eh, this can be a problem for later, or perhaps for someone else. The high-level adventurers know about it now, so it'll be fine!

That thing being utterly unimportant, the party gets back on the road. The trip to Cauterdale is pretty uneventful, and on arrival... well. First, Arnie is thrown in jail.

Looseleaf gets some demonsbane seeds from Kevin's garden, and next time... it's time to catch a boat!

[rex101111]

She Is The Moonlight, Shining Down On Me, Chapter 1

BOY DID THIS TAKE A WHILE.

Hey guys! This is a bit different than my usual fair, in that I actually planned this out and had a beta! That’s right. @imbeccablee​ actually sat down with me and pointed out all the tiny little mistakes in grammar (of which there were over a couple dozen), tenses misplaced (all of them), and in general helped me clean this up and make it much better than it would have been otherwise. So you really have her to thank for how good this is!

Anyway this is a fantasy AU inspired by one post from a few weeks back calling Miruko a moon goddess. Literally that’s it, hope you enjoy it! I got some GOOD STUFF planned for down the line ;D

Princess Fuyumi's kingdom is burning.

That's the nightmare she'd been waking up from for weeks now, the sight of her home crumbling and her people screaming at her to help them. Their faces swirling into ash and fire before she would bolt up in bed, her hair plastered to her brow with sweat and her heart pounding.

Every few days it would come to her again, the fires burning bright and the screaming louder, the last time it happened she swore she could smell smoke. She manages to keep it from her brothers and father, washing her face with ice cold water and having her handmaidens put an extra layer of makeup to hide the growing bags under her eyes.

Though they do not miss her requesting more and more patrols on their borders, nor the way she furtively looks out windows looking for war banners on the horizon. Her dreams are glad to provide her with all the ways her kingdom would burn, but fall smugly silent whenever she tries to see the enemy that will light the torches.

She refuses to let that hinder her responsibilities; still she goes out to the people near the castle grounds, still she takes a tour of the knights training, still she keeps up her visits to her mother and her tutoring of her younger brother.

She feels foolish, allowing a nightmare, even a reoccurring one, to haunt her as it is, but every time she takes a moment to catch her breath, the sound of fire and screaming invades again.

Old wise women speak highly of dreams, of how they are messages from the gods above, signs to prepare and pray and hope for aid, and nightmares as omens of impending doom.

Fuyumi grew up on tales of gods and heroes, same as almost any child growing up under the light of the sun, tales of the unparalleled strength of the mighty king of gods and his once mortal wife, legends of the god of wind flying with his mighty red wings, and myths of the moon goddess with beauty unmatched and courage unrivaled.

She heard stories of demons too, creeping things of mangled flesh and rotten souls, things told to children to make them behave and go to bed on time.

Before she thought legends were just that and nothing more, that there was no king of gods, that the moon was not some heroic maiden, and that demons did not hide under her bed to make sure she didn't sneak off to the library after her parents had retired for the evening.

(At least she never saw any when she did, perhaps the space under her bed was too small, perhaps demons had bigger things to plan…)

She thought that up until soldiers came back from their western border, barely twenty men injured and limping that used to belong to a battalion of some of her father's most elite guard.

They whimper of monsters encroaching in the capitol, twisted shadows riding during the fall of night with their sights set on the lives of everyone they come across. Panic sweeps across the city, people abandoning their homes to run, knights being drilled night and day with no breaks, her father spending every second of waking planning and strategizing with his advisers.

She overhears them speaking of plans to spirit her and her siblings away to a neighboring kingdom, to fulfil the promised union between her youngest brother and the only daughter of king Yaoyorozu a full decade early, to cut Shouto's childhood tragically short, to put her so impossibly far away from her mother.

Her nightmares worsen. Now shadows lick at the walls of her home along with fire, and the shadows have jagged teeth and rotten flesh like all her forgotten childhood memories. She stays in the fire longer, long enough to see the walls of the city crumble and the shadows rushing forth to devour all she holds dear.

And right before she wakes up, she would look up at the sky, and see the moon.

Glowing a brilliant ivory, it's shine blinding the stars, looking down at her as if it is waiting for something.

Waiting for a prayer.

Gods descending from on high to save mortals in their times of greatest need, that was another one she heard frequently. Is that what the moon wanted from her, a request for aid? A hope and a wish for her family to be saved? Is that all she needed to do? Simply ask?

But nothing is ever simple with gods, the tales where they rescued kingdoms and kings never ended there, there was always a catch. Gods do nothing for free. Prices were steep, deals set in stone and enforced with blood.

If the lives of thousands hung in the balance, what could her kingdom possibly offer the moon in exchange?

She didn't have long to wonder, her worsened nightmares only had three days to fray her nerves before the omen came creeping over the horizon.

It is late at night, a full moon hanging in the middle of the sky, just low enough for Fuyumi to see it from her window as she packs her bags. The monsters are closer now, far too close for comfort as far her father saw it, and so her and her two brothers would pack light, dress like commoners, and flee before the hell nipping at their heels closes its teeth around their feet.

She's nearly done packing her things, her hands shaking and her heart heavy, eyes glued to the bright moon outside her window as her mind got pulled in a hundred different directions. Would King Yaoyorozu be faithful to his promise? Would Shouto be able to handle that responsibility so soon? What would become of Natsuo in all of this? Would he be stubborn and try and stay and fight?

Will she ever see her mother again?

Fuyumi's kingdom may be strong but her house is a broken one, one brother dead, the other endlessly angry, and the last scarred and destined to be bargained off. And she herself lost in the middle, reaching out to them and their father to try and salvage what she could of her family.

It's what defined her, she kept busy to keep herself sane, doing a million things a day so her mind wouldn't wander down dead ends. But now she's limited in what she can do, only pack her bags and keep her guard up; her family will be forever torn to pieces and there is nothing she can do about it besides hope that whatever is left of it will not slip through her fingers. And perhaps for some divine salvation.

"What would it cost?" She whispers as she closes her travel case and stares at the moon through her window one last time, "What do I need to give to save my home, my kingdom, my family?" She bites her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, feeling sick to her stomach, "Please, tell me what I need to do."

The moon simply shines down quietly among the stars, refusing to answer so easily.

She's on the verge of getting on her knees and praying when Shouto bursts through her doors in a panic, his usually stoic face shivering and eyes wide with alarm. He grips the door frame with whitening knuckles as he breathes heavily, "Fuyumi, you need to come with me, now."

She's flat footed, so suddenly torn from her thoughts and shocked at the face her brother was making, "S-Shouto what are you-"

He grabs her hand and begins yanking her out of her room hurriedly, his steps harsh against the marble floor as he quickly stomps towards a tower on a higher floor of the castle, overlooking the city and the hills outside the gates.

"Shouto! What is going on?!"

"We were too late."

She feels her stomach sink through the floor, hoping against hope that she is sleeping, simply tossing and turning in her bed as her mind ties itself in knots over childhood nightmares.

Shouto squeezes her hand, one of his nails digging slightly into the skin of her palm making her wince in pain.

Awake now, fully and completely, Fuyumi Todoroki, beloved princess of the Endeavour kingdom, watches a hoard of snarling shadows crest the horizon of a hill. Her brother says something, something about calling the army back, calling Natsuo or their father, to do what she isn't sure.

She turns to him, sees him full of panic and alarm, and she feels a familiar strength raise in her, a strength she only found when he came to her late at night because of nightmares. She put her hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently and keeping her gaze locked with his, and said, "Everything is going to be okay." The words come out with no real conviction, but it is simply the only thing an older sibling can say when the world is ending, "Shouto, find Natsuo and father, it will still take them about half an hour to reach the walls, and our walls are strong, do you remember how strong they are Shouto?"

He looks aside at the gathering hoard, but she puts her hand on his chin and pulls his eyes back to her, her grip firm until he starts talking, "…As strong as a mountain," He recites from memory, a thing she had him remember whenever he had nightmares like her own, "our walls reach to the sky…" There is barely conviction in his voice, but the tremble subsides for the moment as he takes a breath, "Fuyumi…"

"Natsuo and father," She repeats firmly, the soft smile on her face thin as paper, "go to them and have them evacuate as many of the people as they can, I'll do the same and be waiting for you all by the back exit of the city." She lets go and leans away, and she can see in his eyes that he doesn't believe her at all. She swallows back the bile in the back of her throat and forces her smile again, so weak she isn’t surprised her little brother can see right through it, "I'll come find you once things calm, now go."

Shouto could be oblivious, bless his soul. He says his piece and takes situations as they appear, no more and no less. More than once she and his other tutors had to hold back a groan when he ignored court niceties and continued on as if nothing happened. But he is no fool; no, the crown prince is still a sharp young man, and when you lay the pieces before him he is very capable of putting them together.

Which is why his stricken face doesn't surprise her. She expects him to object, to grab her by the wrist and drag her to father so they can all flee together, but she stares him down and he folds. He grits his teeth regardless, "I will see you at the back entrance." He says stubbornly, almost petulantly, but she simply keeps smiling. "Promise me."

Lying always leaves a poor taste in her mouth, but she has grown used to ignoring it to keep her family happy and advisors appeased, "I promise." Her words feel weightless as she says them, and again Shouto seems to know, but he nods and turns to run to the throne room, leaving her on the wall alone.

She turns away from his shrinking form to walk to the rim of the wall and stare out at the horizon again, the mass of shadows growing steadily bigger, the sounds of gnashing teeth and scraping claws slowly gaining volume.

She reaches into her jacket, and pulls out a small knife. It's unassuming in every respect; a simple wooden handle, a simple iron blade, but it's adequate in doing what every blade needed to do and that is all that will ever be required of it.

It's an old blade, given to her ages ago by Natsuo a few weeks after her mother was sent away. She never really knew what he expected her to do with it, she never so much as threw a punch by the time he gave it to her, but it was a gift from her brother regardless, so she sharpened it and polished it and kept it clean merely on principle.

She never had to fight anyone, never had to defend herself or her loved ones outside of a throne room or courthouse, but still the knife remains near her, more as a reminder of what she had to protect than a weapon she ever intended to use.

It has a use now, but still not what Natsuo probably thought it would be, at least not for now.

Every part of her reoccurring nightmares is creeping towards the city, every sinking feeling she's had for the past few weeks is going to be proven true within the hour. But there is one part she has yet to figure out, the shadows and the flames and death she has already puzzled out.

Only the moon remains.

A beacon in the night sky, a light house in a sea of stars, only its purpose remains vague to her. But she does have an idea, an idea born from dusty old tomes that she read ages ago when she still believed in fairy tales and legends.

In those legends the gods saved mortals from danger as often as they damned them for their hubris and disloyalty. More than once she read of the heavens parting and a gracious figure resolving a trouble far beyond mortal ken. But never for free, never without a price, never without a demand.

A deal is always needed; a god does not leave their perch in the clouds without reason. Fuyumi supposes that is fair enough. How many screamed at the gods to save them from disaster, betrayal and death? How many of those prayers and pleas went unanswered?

…They always answer in the legends though, every myth is about when a true believer was rewarded, every legend, every fairy tale, every old story she read is about a time the gods showed some measure of benevolence.

She's now in her own little myth it seems a kingdom long plagued by a severe king and his broken family, soon beset by a hoard of monsters, only to be saved by an act of sacrifice. Or at least, hopefully saved.

And she's ready to sacrifice anything.

She looks up at the moon, the shadow across its face (some call it a man but she only ever saw a rabbit) unmoving as clouds pass it. She squares her jaw, unsheathes her knife, and grips the naked blade in her bare hand. "Please save my kingdom."

The glow of the moon remains silent, so she grips the blade with more force, a sting and a pearl of blood quickly following.

"Please, save my kingdom, my people, my family!" She grips the blade harder, more and more blood trickling out. "I'll do anything! Give you anything! It doesn't matter what you ask of me! It doesn't matter what you demand! I'll give it! I'll give you all I am worth!" Tears start flowing down her face, the sounds of the demons howling and snarling barely half a mile away, "Please! Help us!"

She bleeds, and cries and pleads, but the moon says nothing.

Her blood forms a small pool at her feet, staining her shoes and beginning to soak her socks. Her tears turn to sobs as she lowers her head from the moon in the sky to look down at the pool she formed to see her own despairing face, the drops flowing down her cheeks and into the crimson blood on the floor, disturbing the mirror image of the moon reflected in it.  

The ripples her tears kicked up slowly die, and the shadow of the rabbit on the moon blinks.

She freezes at the sight of it, her grip on the blade of the knife easing off as she stares at the reflection in the pool. Just as she's sure she imagined it, the head of the rabbit moves, moves to look at her directly, blinking with eyes of pure starlight.

She looks up slowly, her heart picking up speed as she tries to grasp what is happening. When her eyes reach the true moon in the sky she sees it is no illusion dreamt up by blood loss and desperation. Indeed, the rabbit on the moon is looking at her, looking directly at her even though it is a million miles away.

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but words fail her, her mind simply cannot reconcile what it is seeing with the reality she knows. Myths and legends are for children needing a good night's sleep, and yet here she is, staring up at an image she never even saw in paintings.

She fails at her words long enough for something even more impossible to happen. The rabbit on the moon glows, its obsidian body shimmering a brilliant silver. The glow grows brighter and brighter, so much she has to shield her eyes from it, and in the distance she hears the demonic hoard reel back in alarm and pain.

She dares to open her eyes to the blinding light just in time to see the rabbit leap out of the moon, to see it transform into a ray of pure ivory light and race across the sky towards her. Some deep seated panic raises in her chest and she takes a step back, but before she could back away further the light lands on the wall she had been leaning against a second before in a blast of air that knocks her off her feet and onto her backside. The knife clatters out of her hand, and the light kicks up a cloud of dust as it lands that made her close her eyes

When she opens her eyes again, she is met with the most striking sight she has ever seen.

A woman stands on the wall, surrounded by an aura of ivory light. Her stance is confident and proud, one foot planted on the ground while the other curled up, her skin a brilliant bronze shining in the star light. She's dressed in a silver garment that hugged her figure, showing off curves that makes Fuyumi blush like a teenager whenever her eyes rest on one spot for too long.

A golden crescent moon adorns her chest, the garment leaving her arms completely bare, displaying an ample amount of muscle, and her legs are covered in a shimmering black silken fabric that seems to merge into her skin and hide nothing of the sculpted build of her lower body. Her feet are long, furred, and padded like a rabbit's.

Her most striking features, however, are further up. A pair of cotton white rabbit ears where human should be, with silver hair flowing down her back and passed her hips, eyes whose shade matches the crimson blood she spilt to summon her, and a smile, full of gleaming teeth, sharp like a wolf looking at an especially tasty morsel.

Fuyumi could recognize her anywhere, her visage adorning temple walls all around the continent, her likeness and deeds immortalized in countless books and endless folk tales.

In front of her is the brilliant Moon Goddess Miruko, she who challenged the sun, the bravest warrior of the heavens, tales of courage and brutality following her in equal measure. The unbeatable, merciless, unstoppable Miruko.

She is beautiful.

She is terrifying.

She is walking towards her.

Her steps are dew drops on the grass, not a sound is made as she draws closer to the princess, her razor sharp smile unmoving. Fuyumi's heart speeds up more and more with every step, the pain in her palm ignored as every nerve in her body is focused on making sure no movement the goddess makes is missed.

Soon she is above her, her strong figure casting a shadow over her as her smile shines with starlight.

The first sound she hears the goddess make is a deep throated chuckle, making her bones tremble and her heartbeat skip, before at last Miruko speaks, "Anything?" Her voice is strong and clear, cutting through the air like a moon beam, "Is that what you're offering me, Princess, anything?"

The way she said Princess makes something curl up and burn in the pit of Fuyumi's stomach, a hint of amusement at her predicament that doesn't sit well with her at all. But she swallows her sudden indignation with practiced ease born from a lifetime of royal matters and nods gravely, putting pressure on the wound she made in her hand with Natsuo's knife, "Yes my lady, I offer you all I can give, if you would save my kingdom…I will pay any price you wish to name."

Her smile turns sharper, the sight of it nearly enough stop Fuyumi's heart, and then she laughs, the sound echoing deep into the night and reaching the hoard of demons now knocking on her city's gates. "So brave! Been a while since I even heard of a mortal ready to throw everything away like this, so noble! So selfless!" She continues to laugh, the sound harsh but honest; there is no mockery in her for the Princess it seems, only condescension, "What else am I to do but answer in kind? I think I like you, Princess, so I'll take you up on that offer."

She turns away, Fuyumi suddenly able to breathe now that the weight of those crimson eyes is absent, and begins walking back to the edge of the wall, the sounds of demons banging on the steel gates increasing in volume. Somewhere to her left, she can vaguely hear the sounds of hurried footsteps getting closer.

The goddess jumps up on the rim, the muscles of her legs tensing under the fabric, her shoulder bunching up to gather force as she moved her weight to the tip of her toes. Looking at her from behind Fuyumi could see a small ball of fluff under the small of the goddess' back, a rabbit tail to complete her image.

Of all the things that she has seen so far, to see a goddess with a smile like a drawn blade and legs strong enough to crush a boulder sporting a bunny tail is nearly too much, and so, nearly hysterical at this point, Fuyumi can't help but crack a tiny smile and giggle softly at the sight of it.

One of Miruko's ears twitches and she looks back, just quick enough to see Fuyumi's smile before the Princess nearly swallows her tongue in fright. To her surprise the goddess apparently isn't insulted, instead flashing her sharp smile again with a low chuckle, "Oh, you and I are going to get along just fine, Princess."

Fuyumi barely has a moment to ponder what Miruko means by that, the smile promising something she feels she's wholly unprepared for, before the sounds of footsteps finally reach the both of them. She turns to see her brothers and father standing flabbergasted as they stare at her and the radiant figure standing on the wall.

Her father is the first to gain his bearing, stomping forward past his sons with a stiffness in his shoulders. "Fuyumi!" He bellows, stealing furtive glances at Miruko as he looks down at his daughter and her bleeding hand, "What is the meaning of this? What have you done?"

"She saved your asses is what she did, jackass." Miruko laughs with a snort, "While you chicken-shits were shaking in your boots, she came up here and actually called for help from someone who can actually do something."

The whole crowd turns to her as one, Fuyumi feeling her face heat up at hearing a goddess speak such foul language, her father's chest puffed out almost on reflex, "Who are you to speak to me like this? What is-"

"Father!" She shouts at him, finally getting back on her feet, panic surging some power to her core, "Calm yourself! This is the moon goddess!"

She can hear Shouto gape and Natsuo chocking on his spit, but her father's reaction is what captures her attention. Some deep dread flickers across his face, a mix of wounded pride and disbelief flashing in his eyes before he grits his teeth and his signature glare places itself on his features again.

"She's-" He sounds choked, like he can scarcely believe his ears, looking between his daughter and Miruko at a loss, "That-that can't be!" The screech of bending metal sounds from the direction of the city gate, howls and screaming beginning to ring in the air. His face twists in a furious scowl, bending down and screaming at her, "Fuyumi forget that, what are you still doing here?! You should have left the city ages ago! You and your brothers could die if you delay them any longer! There's nothing for you to do here! This isn't one of your damn fairy tales!"

"On the contrary!" Miruko exclaims, suddenly between of the irate king and the panicking Princess in a flash of moonlight, "It’s a brand new legend your Majesty." Despite barely reaching his chin, the broad shouldered king can only take a step back from the goddess as she speaks down to him, "Years from now, future generation are gonna be telling the tale of how the valorous moon goddess descended from on high to defeat a hoard of ravenous demons about to kill a thousand innocent people."

She takes easy steps, almost casual in her gait, while the king nearly scrambles back from her whenever she got too close, her aura of light burning bright with each word she speaks until it nearly hurt to look at. Eventually the king is with his back to the wall, and far away from Fuyumi, his anger wilting in the face of uncompromising divinity.

"…Of course, they'll only do that if you get out of my way." Miruko's voice echoes through the crowd, the sound reverberating near the end as Enji takes careful steps aside from the goddess' path. Miruko turns her head to follow the king, Fuyumi catching a glimpse of a glow in her eye when she did, before the goddess scoffs, "Good job, your highness."

She can practically hear her father grinding his teeth from where she's standing, but her father does nothing more rebellious than clenching his fists and glaring with all his might at Miruko, the act being repaid with a smug, unaffected grin.

"Now," The goddess rolls her shoulders idly, hopping back up on the rim of the wall facing the quickly deteriorating city gate, "What was I doing?" She looks back at Fuyumi with a smirk, one hand on her hip, "Well Princess? Does your offer still stand after all of that?" She points at her fuming father, who says nothing in return.

After a moment of catching her breath and exchanging a quick glance with her brothers, who are stunned silent this entire time, utterly at a loss at what to do, she wraps her still bleeding palm in the fabric of her cloak, "Yes, it does, if you will save us from these demons…I will honor it."

Natsuo speaks up at last, the sight of her wounded hand stirring him into action, "Fuyumi, what happened to your hand?" He stops, his breath hitching, before he throws a glare at Miruko, his hand reaching for his sword, "What did you do to my sister!?"

"Natsuo don't!"

His sword flies out of its scabbard and he runs towards Miruko, lifting his weapon into the air with a savage cry. He swings his blade down with all his strength, blood in his eyes, but just before the blade meets its target, the goddess catches it between two fingers. It stops dead, like it's embedded in stone, and refuses to budge no matter how much Natsuo tries to pull it free.

"Seriously kid?" The goddess smirks, a tone of amusement in her voice, like a lioness being challenged by a mouse, as she casually moves the weapon in her grip from side to side like a blade of grass. Natsuo is pulled along with it like he weighs nothing. "I came here to kill demons, not waste my time with royals who have a death wish." She pulls the sword closer with a laugh so she and Natsuo are nose to nose, her brother ceasing his struggle out of shock. "I didn't touch her, Princess over there did that to herself."

"She-what?" Natsuo pulls his head away from her to look between Miruko and his sister in confusion, "Fuyumi why-why would you do that?"

"To prove she was ready to make a deal," Miruko answers for her, letting Natsuo go with a toss before turning back around to the hills outside the wall once more, leaving him to nurse his aching wrists, "that she was ready to pay any price I care to name so long as I take care of your little demon problem."

Shouto finally comes to his senses, rushing over to Fuyumi while ripping his shirt to make a bandage for her hand, "Fuyumi…" He mutters as he wrapped her bleeding palm, "How did you know that would work?"

She didn't, but she doesn't say it out loud; she can't tell her little brother that little plea of hers was born of overwhelming desperation, he deserves a sister stronger than that. As he finishes wrapping her wound, she looks at the back of the goddess as she looks out at the demons, clenching her muscles.

"And since she gave me her word, I intend to keep my end of this little bargain." She clenches her fists, crouches, and looks back one more time, straight into Fuyumi's eyes, the look conjuring something between dread and hope in her stomach, "Be right back, Princess."

With a flash of light and a jump that shattered the stonework she was standing on, she flies into the sky, whirling in the air for a quick moment before she races towards the outside of the city wall, crashing into the demon hoard with whoop of victory.

The sounds of demons attempting to break down the iron gates halt almost at once. After a brief moment where they are apparently stunned at the appearance of a god, they howl as one with a war cry and advance away from the city. The goddess is the bigger target, her glow visible even above the high walls of the city.

Very soon, the roars of violence are replaced with cries of horror and panic.

Fuyumi can feel the impact of every blow Miruko struck all the way from the tower. Every crack of breaking bones and every sickening sound of flesh torn like paper. The demons, the very same monsters who had plagued her dreams for days on end, seem like ants fighting a forest fire.

Above the sounds of violence, the roars and howls of the goddess are the clearest. She mocks the demons like they were children as they are crushed under her blows, she screams her triumph with every earth shattering attack and never does she ever sound like she's even trying, much less in danger.

She is doing her part, just as she promised, and just as Fuyumi pleaded for her to do. She is every bit as amazing as the legends told, she flies and soars through her enemies with grace and ease. And she laughs too; her laughter is a war drum, echoing high above the battleground and making Fuyumi's ears ring and ache.

It is vicious, a bloody cackle to rival all the gnashing teeth of the shadows in her nightmares.

People begin flooding the streets, on their knees praying in thanks to whoever called the wrath of heaven down on the demons. She can hear, very faintly, the sound of a chorus of her people calling out to the gods, calling out for their savior's victory.

Fuyumi is frozen on the spot, her heart beating loudly in her ears. This is what she prayed for, what she begged for with every ounce of her being. It surpasses every hope she had, utterly dwarfs every childhood fairy tale of divine victory her mother ever told her.

She can imagine her, ripping apart the demons with a flourish, that same razor sharp grin adorning her features as she did. This is a goddess, every bit as awe inducing as she hoped and more so, it is almost too much to believe.

She should be relieved, her city is being saved, her people will no longer need to hide away in their homes, she has succeeded. But the longer the fight drags on, the more the goddess howls and laughs, the more doubt begins gnawing at the pit of her stomach. This is the one she has bargained with, this feral rabbit goddess cracking skulls and ripping flesh outside her city walls. She has promised her all she can give, all she has, and she is sure that she has nothing that can possibly satisfy someone who laughs louder than hell.   

But it's too late for regrets now. Fuyumi knows this well, knew it from the moment she had drawn her knife. She will not turn away from her fate now. She will look it in the eye with a proud heart and strong spirit, no matter who will deliver it.

Soon the sounds halt, the battle much shorter than Fuyumi ever hoped it would be, the last demon breathing their last breath at Miruko's hands. A moment later a light suddenly appears far above the battle, a round ball of ivory moon light that houses the silhouette of a powerful figure with rabbit ears. Fuyumi can hear people begin to cheer at the sight of it, many recognizing it from tales they heard when they were children much like she did.

Natsuo stares wide eyed at it, utterly taken aback by how thoroughly Miruko had vanquished a foe that had completely decimated their elite forces with so little effort. Shouto bites his lip quietly and looks at his sister from the corner of his eye, as if he can see past this display of victory.

Their father's face is empty of expression as he stares at the goddess as she takes in the praise, but his fists are shaking quietly at his side. He turns fully away from the light and walks to the opposite rim of the wall, showing nothing but his back as he leans heavily on the stones with a sigh.

Fuyumi can only focus on her people, happy and alive.

The feeling of dread and fear that had gripped her beloved city vanishes in an instant as the sight of the moon goddess triumphant above the demons glowed in the sky. Fuyumi smiles at the sound of them giving praise, the sight of men, women and children standing in the street and on their roofs to cheer Miruko.

This happiness, this small moment of relief and peace, if that is all she will accomplish with this choice, then she will be content with it.

The light floats there motionless for a moment, as if to fully soak in the praise the people shout and cheer. If Fuyumi strains her eyes, she can barely see the figure, Miruko, crossing her arms with a grin.

And then the goddess turns back to the princess, and Fuyumi straightens her spine at the sight of it, taking in a deep breath to steel herself for her part of the deal. She puts a hand Shouto's shoulder, giving him the same paper thin smile from when she told him to leave her on the wall, before slowly stepping towards the light as it began to race back to her.

Within a moment, the goddess is in front of her again, her silver hair in disarray from the fight, her smile feral with adrenalin, but otherwise completely untouched and unharmed, the breeze high in the air apparently doing the most damage to her out of anything else that night.

"Woah!" She cries out in delight, all her teeth on display as she laughs lowly and catches her breath, "Man, those guys were angry! Haven't had this much fun fighting demons in centuries!" She smooths her hair down with a hand and lets out a breath, her wild grin shrinking into a more controlled smile as she looks back at Fuyumi, "Well then, I did as you asked, Princess, you know what that means, right?"

She nods quietly, trying to stop her mind from racing to a conclusion as to what the goddess might possibly ask in return for her help, "Yes, my lady, you saved my beloved subjects, my family, and so I stand to honor our deal, please," she bows deeply at the waist, her eyes closed to stop the tears from flowing out, "name your price."

Gods ask for many things, riches from kingdoms, children from heroes, complete devotion from priests, and everything in between from everyone else. She does not know what she will need to give to Miruko, but she offered all that she could give, and so the goddess can only ask for what Fuyumi has in her power to bestow.

If her father had somehow been convinced to swallow his pride and ask for help from the heavens, the entire kingdom could have been the price demanded. Her brothers might be forced to give up their futures for one dictated by a god.

But her? The Princess of the Endeavor Kingdom? She who snubbed countless offers of marriage to princes and heroes alike? The one with her nose stuck in books since she was six? The teacher, the quiet sister, the smiling face in the public square feeding birds and talking to the merchants about the little goings on in the capitol?

She has nothing for the goddess to take, not really. All her money is from the royal treasury, she has no power despite what people believe her to possess, she has precious few things that she holds dear and has the authority to give away.

Her diary, her flowers, a toy bird her mother gave her when she was an infant.

Nothing of the sort a goddess would demand, nothing that equals the value of a deal that saved tens of thousands of people. No, the goddess can take nothing from her kingdom, nothing from her family, nothing from her people, the only thing she can take from Fuyumi is something she was always willing to give for the happiness and safety of her family.

The only thing the goddess can possibly ask for is Fuyumi's life, and that she was ready to surrender from the moment she looked up at the moon and cut a blade across her palm.

But she forgot one thing about gods, they never acted as they should, never as mortals thought they would, so when Miruko puts a gentle hand on Fuyumi's chin to lift her eyes, meeting the goddess' gaze as she kneels before her with a pleased smile, what she demands next comes as a complete shock.

"Princess Fuyumi, eldest daughter of King Enji Todoroki," Her smile becomes a grin again as she declares confidently, all her teeth gleaming with starlight, "You requested a deal between gods, and so you have declared you are prepared to pay me my due."

So far, it was all as Fuyumi expected it to be, excepting the rather distracting finger on her chin, but something in her gut is telling her that things are taking a turn, the only thing she can do is nod quietly to Miruko's words and await her demand.

The goddess draws closer, until their noses touch and all Fuyumi can see is the crimson sky in her eyes, "Fuyumi Todoroki, my price is thus;" The Princess holds her breath almost painfully, wishing for her to simply take her life and get it over with- "You are to come with me to the heavens, to spend eternity with me, as my bride."

A stunned silence drops on the crowd like an anvil, Fuyumi finding it impossible to breathe all of a sudden. She can feel the blood leaving her face, and in her surprise she was absolutely sure she had misheard, but the goddess goes on, heedless of the fear and terror no doubt building on the Princess' face.

"To repay me for saving your kingdom, my demand is this," Her grin grows feral again, and this time Fuyumi does not shrink away, "I want you to give me your heart." 

[phantom-le6]

Film Review - Mulan (2020)

As I noted in my previous film review for The New Mutants, I’ve temporarily postponed working through a backlog of TV show reviews to tackle a couple more film reviews.  With The New Mutants having been the first of those two films, I now give you my review for the second, which is the live-action remake of the Disney classic Mulan…

Plot (adapted from Wikipedia):

In Imperial China, Hua Mulan is an adventurous and active girl to the disappointment of her parents, who hope that one day she will be wed to a good husband. As a young woman, Mulan is forced to meet with a matchmaker to demonstrate her fitness as a future wife. Mulan, flustered, attempts to pour tea in front of the matchmaker, but a spider causes a panic from her little sister Xiu, accidentally causing a mishap that destroys the kettle, leading the matchmaker to call her a disgrace in front of her family.

To the north, an imperial outpost is invaded by Rouran warriors, under the leadership of Böri Khan. They are assisted by the witch Xianniang, who uses her magic to pose as a surviving soldier and report the attack to the Emperor of China; he then issues a conscription decree ordering every family to contribute one man to fight Khan's forces.

Imperial soldiers arrive in Mulan's village to enlist recruits and her father Hua Zhou is forced to pledge his service as he has no sons, immediately keeling over in front of the soldiers due to his bad leg. Realizing that her father has no chance of survival, Mulan flees with his armor, horse, and sword to join in his place. Mulan arrives at the training camp, which is run by Commander Tung, an old comrade of Hua Zhou. Alongside dozens of other inexperienced recruits, she ultimately becomes a trained soldier under his tutelage without exposing her true identity.

The Khan's army continues to advance, forcing Tung to end training early and send his battalion to fight. Mulan chases some troops on her own, but is confronted by Xianniang, who mocks her for pretending to be a man. She attempts to kill Mulan, but her attacks are stopped by the leather with which Mulan's chest had been bound to hide her identity. Mulan removes her male disguise, returning to the battle just as the Rourans begin attacking her fellow troops with a trebuchet. Mulan uses discarded helmets and her archery skills to maneuver the trebuchet into firing on a snowy mountain, triggering an avalanche that buries the Rourans.

Mulan rides back to camp and rescues Chen Honghui, a soldier she befriended in camp. Unable to hide her true gender any longer, she is expelled from the army and begins her return home. On her way, she is confronted by Xianniang, who reveals that she was also shunned by her people and fights for Böri Khan only because he treats her as an equal and that no one else does. Additionally, she reveals that the attacks on the outposts have been a diversion, as Khan's true plan is to capture and execute the Emperor for having his father killed. Risking execution, Mulan returns to her battalion to warn them of the impending capture. Tung decides to believe her, and allows her to lead a unit to the Emperor's palace. 

Xianniang uses her magic to assume the appearance of the Imperial Chancellor and persuades the Emperor to accept Böri Khan's challenge to single combat, while removing the city guards from their posts. The guards are murdered, and the Rourans prepare to burn the Emperor alive. Mulan's unit distracts the Rourans while Mulan goes to save the Emperor. Khan tries to snipe her with an arrow, but Xianniang, sympathetic to Mulan and disenchanted from Khan, transforms into a bird and sacrifices herself by intercepting the arrow. Mulan kills Khan, but not before he disarms her and destroys her father's sword. She frees the Emperor, who offers to let her join his personal guard. She declines the offer and returns to her village. 

Mulan is reunited with her family. An emissary from the Emperor, under the leadership of Commander Tung, arrives to present Mulan with a new sword, while making a personal request that she join the Emperor's Guard.

Review:

Apparently, this film got really slated by Chinese audiences for numerous historical and cultural mishandlings and errors, so before I get into looking at the film itself, I’d like to point out something about Disney films in general.  News flash, ladies and gentlemen, most of them are not original stories; the majority are based on historical legends, folk tales, fairy tales and story books, and not a single one will ever be spot on to what it was before.  Frozen?  A very loose adaptation of Hans Christian Anderson’s story The Snow Queen.  Snow White?  The original version of that story would read more like a horror film than children’s animation.  101 Dalmatians?  The Disney animated feature is very dumbed down and stream-lined compared to the novel. Given this, no one should expect any Disney film to be historically or culturally spot-on.  This is what Disney does, and always has done, and you have to keep that in mind every time you watch these films.  Plus, films are by their very nature made up, even when based on true stories.  Cultural and historical accuracy is what documentaries are for. 

Now, having said all this with regard to managing one’s expectations of Mulan in terms of its historical and cultural inaccuracies, I’d also like to point out that while the film is by and large a remake of the Disney animated classic, it’s not a remake like we’ve seen from Disney before now.  With the likes of Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin and the Lion King, the films have been adapted in a way that preserves the basic genre, plot and overall identity of the original film, simply adding to or adjusting as necessary to make the film effective in a photo-realistic format.  With Mulan, however, the remake focuses more on Mulan’s struggle in having to go off to war and become a solider, so this martial arts war film aspect ends up removing the musical aspect of the film, though fans of the original film will recognise variants on key songs within the score of the film. 

To my mind, taking out the musical elements and a degree of the cartoonish comedy through the elimination of Mushu was a very good move.  War is a brutal, bloody business that isn’t an appropriate environment for characters to be breaking into big musical numbers in.  Even the animated version of Mulan understood this by keeping its musical numbers confined to Mulan’s civilian life and time as a trainee conscript. Once the soldiers were confronted by the aftermath of war near the end of that film’s second act, we don’t get another song until we’re going into the end credits. 

That being said, I do feel that the film starts poorly, with the various scenes of social awkwardness around the film’s start and middle, ranging from the matchmaker debacle to Mulan’s various efforts at pretending to be a man all being scenes I didn’t enjoy.  These weren’t so bad in the animated version (well, the matchmaker was, but I digress), and I think that’s because animation is a medium that slightly diffuses that kind of awkwardness in a scene.  In live action, it’s a bit too close to real life, and as an autistic person I have enough moments of social awkwardness in my own life; I don’t need to see it in the things I watch for purposes of escapism and general entertainment. 

However, outside of archaic marital customs and the worst soldier’s drag act since Hugh Laurie in the Blackadder Goes Forth episode ‘Major Star’, the film still has good points.  The film’s other scenes are well-acted by all concerned, the fight scenes are well-down and the scoring is very good.  I also like the addition of the witch character of Xianniang, and linking her to Mulan through the idea that it is showing a mastery of chi energy for combat despite being woman that causes ostracism for both women.  This adds to the underlying moral of gender equality that is the core of the Mulan story, from original legend to animated film and on into this live action remake.  In addition, the actress who voiced Mulan in the original animated film has a cameo in this film introducing Mulan to the Emperor near the end of the film, so we also have a rare ‘passing of the baton’ moment not common to Disney remakes. 

Overall, Disney has created a decent remake of Mulan despite the loss of its musical genre in favour of more action and a greater focus on the war element of the story.  It’s just unfortunate that, for me at least, the awkwardness of some scenes makes the film an uncomfortable thing to sit through during parts of the first two-thirds, especially given their importance to the overall plot and concept of the film.  Frankly, I think the makers of this film needed to find a substitute for the animation medium in terms of diffusing some of that social awkwardness, and frankly retention of a talking dragon might have helped a bit.  Overall, I’d probably give this remake about 7 out of 10.

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 47- Fire and Brimstone

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

So.....i didn’t have the chance to fully edit this. I got some really unwelcome news followed by an argument, and suddenly it was almost 8:30. If there’s any mistakes, feel free to yell at me in the comments or my ask.

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

Avon was on watch, but Ecto slips into the darkness without her friend noticing. Normally, all three wanderers try to sleep close together. To minimize the threat of attack, and to make packing up easier. Plus, cuddles. But since their fight, Ecto had distanced herself. Kept the fire between herself and the others. She ate alone, she curled up to sleep alone. She was used to being alone- that’s how she was for most of her life. 

So leaving alone shouldn’t have been so hard. But it was. It took all her strength not to turn around, to return to the warmth and comfort that the fire, that her friends offer. Ecto was not backing down- not now. She’s decided what she’ll do. She can’t sit around and let people decide her fate, sit around and watch things happen. She was going to stand, and fight. Put herself between the danger and those who aren’t as strong willed as her. And get to bash a few enemies in the process was a bonus.

Ecto didn’t know how to make a nether portal- rather, she didn’t know how to make obsidian. She tried to rip it apart from a pond of cooled lava a few days back, but the fragile volcanic glass shattered in her hands. It was while Ecto was watching rain fall, cooling the lava into the black stone that she realized what she can do. 

She may not have the tools to mine obsidian, but she does have two buckets and two pools of liquid nearby. It’s a consuming process, dangerous at best. Lava pours from the heated bucket, and she has to be quick to douse the flames before they burn down the forest around her. She singes her fingers and hair a few times, but manages to construct an obsidian rift frame. Ecto takes a step back, counting to make sure she has the right dimensions. The black frame is imposing, volcanic glass absorbing and refracting light away from the structure. 

Ecto pulls out the flint and steel, looking over her shoulder. She doesn’t know what she’s looking out for, or searching for. Maybe she’s searching for prying eyes- either the hellspawns or her own friends. Maybe she’s hoping her friends will see her, join her. But the only other creature watching as she ignites the portal is a pig. And even the pig flees. Ecto gets a shiver in her spine, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that this is a stupid, dangerous idea. 

Which is why she jumps in before her body can hesitate. Ecto has grown used to the feeling of traveling between worlds and dimensions. She’s used to the feeling of everything and nothing, used to feeling like she’s hungry and full, used to being in unbearable agony and perfect euphoria. 

But it still doesn’t mean she’s able to catch herself when she stumbles to the other side. She goes crashing into the red dirt. It’s clumpy, like clay rather than soil, staining her skin and clothes the color of blood. Ecto checks to make sure it isn’t actually blood, breathing out relief when she clears herself. 

Ecto stands to her feet, looking around. So this is the Nether, the one thing Avon fears above everything else. It’s hot...really hot, and that’s coming from Ecto. She looks up, trying to find the sun as she walks. It has to be the sun that is making this so- 

She catches herself before she drops into lava. One foot already over the ledge, she practically jumps back from the sizzling sea of molten rock. Okay, it’s not the sun. It’s entire lakes and seas of lava. Grey sand catches on Ecto’s feet as she walks the beach, the grain sticking to her shoes and wisping across with her. Dragging her down, making her slower. She swears it feels like hands are on her feet, and with each step she can hear a distant scream. Is that the sand? Or some creature she’s yet to lay her eyes on? She feels like she’s walking in a massive cavern. There is no sky, only more and more of this netherrack and soulsand. Not the endless void of the End, or the midnight sky of the Overworld. The only light comes from the sea of fire below her, or the few deposits of glowing stone above her head. Starbursts of yellow light, across the angry red scene before her. 

Sometimes, when Ecto is walking, she passes by slight changes in the nether. The air grows cooler, calmer. Beneath her feet, she notices the netherrack has been disturbed. Blue and red fungus buried in their own soil, crushed and overturned. She can see the roots of trees, long cut and burned away. She crouches down, picking up a broken vine. The cut is clean- cut with a tool. 

At first, Ecto can’t see the fortress. The red brick blends in with the red wall and the red ceiling and the red mist that it’s hard to outline. It’s not until she gets closer, noticing the heavy foot traffic in the netherrack that Ecto understands where she is. The fortress rises from the netherrack, grand staircases and fences in the same uniform style and color as the rest of the building. Pylons emerge from the sea of fire, holding up open air bridges high in the cavern. Square, enclosed buildings rise from the bridges, guarded by beasts that seem to be aflame as they move. Blazing, curling and turning like dancing fire as they hover. Definitely not something Ecto wants to deal with. 

She ducks into the long halls, the tunnels along the bridges. She can hear murmuring in the distance, and the ringing of metal against metal echoing down the halls. While initially drawn towards the sound of a fight, Ecto backs off. Avon was right about one thing- they’re outmatched. And as long as they have the dragon egg, as long as they have the upper hand, the wanderers will continue to only be runaways. She’s not here to fight a battle- she’s here to win a war. Hit them where it hurts. 

It’s been a long time since Ecto’s been alone. How long have the wanderers been travelling? The heat does remind her of her desert, a comfortable warmth that she does her best not to get distracted by. She misses the hot, dry climate of her home biome. And now, she finds that she’s starting to miss the presence of friends. She’s so used to being alone, why now does it bother her? Why does she wish for Red’s bouncing enthusiasm, Avon calm demeanor? She doesn’t need them to do this. She can do this by herself. She didn’t need to wait for them to forget her, to leave her. 

She left them. Ecto jumps into a patch of warty fungi, ducking under a staircase as armored footsteps march down the stairs. She covers her mouth and nose with a wrapped mask, tight and secure along her lower face. Muffling her harsh breath, and filtering a little bit of the awful brimstone scent in the air. How does anyone learn to live with this scent, like chicken eggs left in a chest for too long? 

Ecto slips down the hall, trying to be as stealthy as her lanky body can let her. She pulls her scarves close, and runs across the hard netherbrick like she’s running across sand. Soft footsteps in bouncing strides that disturb as little as possible. She peeks down the corridors, slips up staircases, edges around lava pits. 

Until she stops. At first, the voices sound exactly like Red and Avon. Red’s lighter, higher toned voice against Avon’s pitchy chatter. Except the tone of Red’s voice is sharp, like a knife cutting through their enemy, while Avon’s doesn’t have the husky tone from years of disuse. 

That’s not Red and Avon. They haven’t followed Ecto into the end. It’s their antithesis- Blu and Nova. And Endo. “Would you just shut up already, Nova? You don’t need to go telling the whole goddamn barrack about this brilliant master plan.” 

“It’s not like you came up with it in the first place.” Blu posits, blade swinging in lazy circles as they come around the corner. Ecto crams herself into a high up corner, dark and hopefully out of view of the hellspawns. She could’ve run, or hidden beneath the stairs- but that’s just not her train of thought. 

“But I’m the best one to explain to the rest of the army! What, would you rather Endo bores this entire squadron to death with her long winded essays on perfect battle strategy and undercutting the enemy?” Nova whacks her hand against Blu’s head, embers bursting from the firey hair tied back in a short ponytail. “And I doubt your rattled mind even knows what the plan is.” 

“I know that we need to do something with that egg.” Blu hisses. “And I know that this would all be over with already if we could just kill off those three idiots!” 

Endo shakes her head, the slick magma of her hair shifting color but hardly moving. “No matter how much we raize the nether, warped forests and fungi keep regrowing. The warped magic is coming from the End, but we can only guess that crimson magic is invading from the overworld.” 

“Of course it is. That place is freaky and weird enough, it just had to spill over and start growing shit all over the nether. But what does that have to do with the egg?” The trio pass by, hardly walking in unison. In fact, Ecto couldn’t say any of the three look remotely like friends, or even allies. They’re bodies are tense, especially when on gets too close to another. Ecto isn’t sure if he’s ever heard them not fighting- not just bickering like Ecto and Avon sometimes do, but full on attacking one another. Ecto leans out, trying to listen in as the hellspawns keep walking on. 

“You would like to know, wouldn’t you?” Endo stops, letting the others screech to a halt. Endo doesn’t look over her shoulders, but a horrible chill goes down Ecto’s spine all the same. “A little far from home, aren’t you Overlander?”

[5lazarus]

Hurt / Comfort prompt list: 6 and/or 17, please!

so you and Verdi inspired an entire story! these prompts provoke catharsis, and I was thinking of DA characters who desperately need that emotional catharsis, so here we go. Might make more sense if you read these two first, but I think it stands alone. Basically, after escaping Kirkwall, Hawke and friends are stuck in a cave, waiting for a storm to pass. Now they have to figure out how to weather each other. I put it up on AO3, titled Catabasis.

6. “I can’t breathe.” Isabela says, “Can you all fucking chill? I can’t breathe with this shit.” She throws her cards down. “Anyway, I win.” She pulls at her necklace anxiously. Everyone is on edge. Hawke bites back a response. Arguing with Isabela is never worth it, somehow she always wins, just out of pure intransigence. “We’re playing Go Fish,” Varric says, “not Wicked Grace. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rivaini. You haven’t won shit.” Hawke is surprised at his vehemence. “Don’t give me that look, Hawke. You know how much I hate caves.” He drops another card. “So we’ve literally blown up our lives. Blondie’s in a fucking coma. Aveline’s finally lost her job, and I’ve wasted all the money I spent bribing the guards to keep the only woman with principles on payroll. Which, in light of the whole city being burned down and invaded by our favorite choir boy, doesn’t seem the worst of my losses. We’re all pissed off. So? What are we going to do about it?” “We could talk,” Hawke says petulantly, sitting down cross legged. Varric hands them a few random cards. Hawke blinks at them. They aren’t quite sure if they are playing Go Fish, or Wicked Grace, or some unholy game Isabela and Varric have concocted just to mess with Bethany. They’ve done that before, made up a card game and rules on the fly. “What’s there to talk about?” Isabela says. She puts two cards down. “Hit me.” Varric slaps her hand and moves one of the cards sideways. They are definitely making up the rules as they go along. “We’re all pissed off. We’re on the run. Again. And I’ve lost my ship. Yet again. But what does it matter? Just pieces.” “What’s that?” Hawke asks. “Qunari philosophy. My mother was viddathari, you know this.” Isabela puts down another card. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like the Qun, that’s obvious. But it has its moments.” Merrill slinks out of the shadows and curls around Hawke. They put their arm around her and plant a kiss at the edge of her hairline, right above her ear. Merrill shivers, in a good way. Isabela smirks at them. “Anyway, it’s just--none of this shit matters, in the end. You just have to keep moving. Let the waves take you where they will. So Kirkwall’s behind us. Well, at least we know where we’re going. When the rain clears up, we’ll head to Wycombe. I’ve got some friends in the Rivaini merchant community there. We have options. Llomerryn isn’t that awful. Rainy, but smells better than Lowtown, at least. And we’re different about magic, about--well--elves. We won’t be turned away from taverns anymore, I’ll tell you that. If you want to stay with me.” They all fall quiet at that. Hawke wants everyone to stay together, but to what end? What’s the point where they’re falling apart like this? Take them out of the Hanged Man, without a common enemy, and immediately they are all at each other’s throats. Hawke catches Bethany’s eye. They want to try, but they are tired of trying and failing. They stay silent. Fenris says, “The Qunari don’t like magic, and you’re a fool to think Rivain can stay neutral when Tevinter inevitably drags Orlais into their war. And you’re a fool to think the Chantry won’t try to punish the Circles, for what Kirkwall did. You remember what Leliana said. The mages are stuck in a war for their own survival. We will find peace nowhere.” “Always a ray of sunshine,” Varric remarks. He throws his hand into the air, and the cards rain down like confetti. Merrill giggles. He says the unthinkable: “What if we split up?” “Don’t say that,” Hawke says immediately. “We stay together.” They cannot lose them and Kirkwall both. They’ve lost Carver and Leandra and Lothering, that awful mansion, their uncle and cousin too. Kirkwall will never welcome its champion home, not with Starkhaven’s army occupying it, not with the Divine’s Seekers crawling through Darktown tunnels for any hint of rebellion. Hawke has lost their home. They cannot lost their friends too. Bethany and Merrill are not enough. They look helplessly at Isabela, who smiles sadly. Isabela, who has never had much at all: she puts a stop to that though. Isabela fans her cards out in front of her lap. She taps a queen, then looks at Hawke. “We’ll have to keep running, for a long time. Especially if the Divine is after us.” She does not need to say it: I will follow you. She came back even after the Arishok killed the Viscount. She will not abandon them now. Hawke smiles, heartened. They know where they will go, now: Wycombe, then Llomerryn, and onward. “How much further ‘til Wycombe?” they ask. “Fenris? You’ve clearly been there before. What are our next steps?” Fenris says, “We don’t move on until Anders can move. It would be safer to split, but I am reluctant to risk missing a rendezvous.” There it is again, unspoken: I followed you from Kirkwall, and Anders too, and I will not leave me now. Do not leave me now. Fenris takes Anders’ hand into his own and his face twists. Hawke shifts, uncomfortable. Everyone has their tragedy, but it is harder to synthesize and react when the stage itself has been removed. Kirkwall is gone. What is the next act? Varric says testily, “We can’t live on the run forever.” Bethany snorts. They have, from the Marches where their parents met, to Denerim and the Hinterlands back out to Lothering, across the Waking Sea and Kirkwall again. The Hawke siblings can. Varric, though, hates moving. He is as solid as the Stone that birthed him, though he would never admit it. Kirkwall is their home, but for Varric, it is part of him. Hawke feels guilty. They cannot ask him to leave. They cannot ask him to go. Bethany, though, is irritated. “We can. I can. I don’t like it, but it’s better than letting the templars make me Tranquil.” She picks up the cards they have put out and shuffles them anxiously, fans them out, then shuffles them again. “We all have had to run, Varric. All of us except you.” Varric is taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean, Sunshine?” His tone is less testy and more surprised. Bethany gets bitter, Hawke knows that better than all of them except maybe Anders, but she tends to keep that anger to herself. Merrill murmurs, “Oh, don’t start.” “Maybe I should,” Bethany says. “Maybe we need to be honest about what the next week is going to look like.” She turns around. “Aveline! Come back here. We all need to talk.” Isabela says, “I think you and I define ‘need’ differently, sweetling. Is there really anything more that needs to be said?” Aveline stalks over. She stares at Fenris warily, but pushes herself between Merrill and Varric.  It’s weird to see her without her armor, her hair unkempt, and tired. Even after they buried Wesley, Aveline kept herself clean. “What?” she says. “What now?” Bethany says, “We need to decide now if we’re going to split up.” “No,” Hawke says immediately. “Hawke,” Aveline starts, but Hawke’s heart is pounding in their chest, and they feel like their sister has punched them in the stomach. They cannot think to lose them all. Merrill and Bethany aren’t enough, not after fleeing Kirkwall. They need more. They want their friends around them like a bulwark against the storm. The rain picks up outside, thunder shaking the woods, and Hawke feels momentarily reassured. They cannot split up just yet. “Ma vhenan,” Merrill says, “calm down. We’re here, right now.” Hawke looks at her. She looks so weary, so deeply sad. She left Clan Sabrae behind, or they left her, and who knows what they will face, with Sebastian occupying the city? Andrastians don’t like the Dalish, however hands-off and kind Sebastian’s missionary approach is. “Bethany, go on.” Bethany’s eyes flick to Hawke, then to Varric, and then to Avelien. Staring at Aveline, Bethany says, “We’re three mages, two elves, a dwarf, a pirate, and the Champion of Kirkwall. Aveline, you’re the only one of us who can move relatively...unmolested. And together we stick out. When we’d have to pack up, we were able to pass because we were a family, and Andrastian, and Mother was always good at talking to guards and templars. But everyone knows who the Champion is. Everyone knows they travel with a Dalish elf and the apostate who set the mages alight.” Hawke says, “When did you become a poet? Is that what they teach you in the Circle? And here I thought it was just blood magic.” Bethany scowls. “You know I’m right. Stop deflecting. You always do that, since Father died. I wish you wouldn’t. You can’t laugh this off this time. Our house has been destroyed. Our parents are dead. And there’s a warrant for your head, and mine too. And I don’t think that dragon lady is going to save us this time.” Hawke pushes Merrill off and stands up abruptly. “Then what do you suggest, Bethany?” they snap. “I got us out of Lothering, I got us into Kirkwall, I got us fucking out! With the help of a few miracles. So what do you think? Can you conjure something up?” “Hawke, sit down,” Aveline says. “Oh, come off it, Aveline,” Hawke says, exasperated. “You had your tantrum earlier, it’s my turn now.” They laugh at the sour face Aveline pulls. It is all utterly ridiculous, and they rejoice viciously as they make it all worse. “Stop joking? We’re a bad joke. A pirate, two apostates, and the Champion of Kirkwall get stuck in a cave. Got a punchline?” Aveline pulls herself up, and Hawke laughs again. “What? What are you going to do? Hit me? I thought you delegated that to your subordinates. Anybody know what happened to those elves who killed that guard who raped their sister? Aveline? Any guesses?” They step closer, staring right up in Aveline’s face. “Come on, it’s a helluva punchline!” And then Anders croaks, “Enough.” He paws at the collar of his robe. “I can’t breathe.” Fenris hurriedly unbuttons it for him, and Anders smiles at him. Fenris caresses the edge of his jaw, and Anders grabs his arm to level himself upright. Hawke deflates, relieved that he has woken up, and that it is him staring sternly at the lot of them, not Justice. Perhaps they can make it through this after all. “Well,” Aveline says, smiling despite herself. “The revolutionary himself. And not possessed. For once.” Anders grimaces, and gestures. Bethany gets up and pours him a glass of water. He downs it and clears his throat. “Din’mean to interrupt a good screaming match. But.” He rubs at his chest, over his heart, where the templar raised his Smite. “Hi?” He smiles awkwardly. None of them have planned this far. None of this saw this coming, except, perhaps, Anders--and Hawke knows for a fact he was hoping he was going to die in the battle, that fucking fool. Hawke swallows hard, tears springing to the edge of their eyes. These fucking fools: they all thought they were going to die before they got this far, didn’t they? “Don’t be cute,” Hawke says, voice breaking. “I’m mad at you. You were going to fucking let them kill you, you asshole.” They wipe at their eyes, cursing themselves. Bethany is looking at them in shock. Hawke musters a smile, casts about for a joke. “None of us planned this far, did we? None of us thought we were going to survive what Kirkwall was going to throw at us. But we did. And I for one think it’s more a miracle than that dragon dropping out of the sky to save us from the Blight. That we made it out alive. So let’s not throw that away. I don’t want us to separate.” They look at them all, their friends. “You lot are all I have left. All I want. And I don’t want to leave you behind.” Isabela bites her lip anxiously. “Aw, Hawke! And here I was going to sell you all to the Blind Men.” “Shut up and stop ruining the moment, Isabela,” Aveline says wearily. “Can we salvage this?” Varric offers, “Group hug?” Fenris says flatly, “No.” 17. “Hey, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.” With that, the tension dissolves, and Hawke begins to laugh. They throw themself down next to Fenris and pull him into a hug, messing his hair. “Gimme a hug!” they say. “I deserve it, I saved your sorry ass.” Fenris says, “Ugh.” He scowls but does not pull away. Aveline huffs and moves to Varric. Hawke can feel Varric glaring at them. They purposefully turn away from the two of them, grinning a tad maniacally at their other friends. The fissures are obvious. Hawke thinks, maybe it’s like the Fade, and they’ll go away if I don’t look at them. Merrill gets up and begins moving around the shelter, pulling together a meal. Bethany follows. Isabela creeps closer to Hawke, Fenris, and Anders, watching the others fondly. “Damn, Anders,” Isabela says. “I didn’t think you were going to be there when you woke up.” Anders winces. “I wasn’t so sure either,” he says quietly. Fenris tightens his grasp on his hand. Hawke worries that he is hurting him. They aren’t quite sure about the two of them, though they had almost felt themself falling off the precipice into love with both men. They have that intensity, that fervor, that adoration that feels akin to worship--but Merrill’s love is calm like the surf lapping at the shore at low tide, and Hawke is not yet another ship to wreck in the storm. Anders and Fenris seem tender, anyway--desperate, but tender. Hawke says, “So. Still alive then?” It comes out more sour than they intend. “Despite your best efforts.” Anders looks guilty. “I didn’t want to die,” he claims. Fenris looks away sharply, hair hiding his face. Anders bites his lip. “It wasn’t--well, I made it. You got me through. The wardens always said I’d go out with a bang.” Hawke starts to laugh, which is better than crying. “Wait until they hear about what you did in Kirkwall!” “Which was not a suicide attempt,” Fenris says meditatively. “So you say.” “It wasn’t. Fenris, you know it wasn’t.” “I do not want to discuss your propensity to self-destruction right now,” Fenris says, voice strained. “But we will.” Anders looks irritated. “It’s not self-destruction, it was basic self-preservation and you know I had no other option--” “Maybe I should leave you two alone,” Hawke suggests. “Somehow. Because we’re stuck in this cave until the rain lets out. And it’s the sort of situation where we need to rappel down, so we’d need to do it together.” “No,” Fenris says. “Hawke, back me up in this.” Hawke really does not want to get involved in this, but they have never been able to tell their friends when to learn some emotional continence. They sigh. “You let us know you were planning something. You told me we needed to prepare to flee. You did not tell me you were planning to blow up the Chantry!” Hawke shrugs. “To be fair, it was a little obvious, with the sela petrae.” Fenris gives them a dirty look. Hawke spreads out their hands. “What? Come on. Sela petrae, drakestones, all those dark murmurings in the sewers--I just thought it was more than a one-man show.” Anders smiles slightly. “Well, you know me. I like to hog the stage. I didn’t want to bring anyone down with me.” “Don’t I know it!” Isabela snorts. “And you were only three drinks in, too….” One day Hawke will have the bravery to ask exactly how the two met, and what they did. Today is not that day. They love their friends, truly, but they are so much, and today is too much, and they do not want to know. Fenris says, “I take exception to that.” He is very still. “‘Bring anyone down with you’--who do you think we are, then? Mere incidental acquaintances?” Isabela bumps Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke blinks. That means she wants them to make a joke. “Acquiantances to murder, you mean,” they try. “Uh. Accessories.” Isabela rolls her eyes. Everyone’s a critic, especially when your friend has tried to kill himself. Anger lights itself in the pit of their stomach. They swallow it, it isn’t productive, but testily, they say, “I helped you find the materials to make the bomb. You should have just told me, instead of trying to be a martyr. You’re my friend. I care about you. If we hadn’t done anything to stop Meredith, Bethany would’ve been made Tranquil too. I thought I made it obvious I supported you, we could’ve worked in tandem with the last of the Viscount’s family--it didn’t have to end like this. There could’ve been another way.” “No there couldn’t!” Anders stands up suddenly, eyes flashing blue. Merrill and Bethany turn around simultaneously from the mouth of the cave, and everyone’s attention is glued to him. Hawke notices Aveline’s hand drift to the handle of her sword, Varric fingers a bottle of knock-out powder he keeps at his waist, even Isabela already has a dagger in her hand. Anders wrestles Justice back. “There wasn’t,” he repeats. “I tried all other ways. Orsino too. Endlessly. When the Left Hand of the Divine came, I knew it was over. The Chantry would rather kill us than let us go. And I wasn’t going to sit down and let them brand me--” “I’m not disagreeing with that!” Hawke snaps. “I just--I’m your friend, Anders. We all are. I’ve known you for almost a decade. You did not have to do that alone. We’re just as implicated as you were ever going to be.” “Leliana used to be better,” Isabela says. “Before the Chantry got its claws in her again. But--we’re here now, aren’t we? Together?” She looks at them all pleadingly. “So do we have to fight? The decision was already made, why talk about it now?” Anders’ eyes flash again, but Fenris grabs his arm in a bruising grip, and Hawke winces. Isabela tends to agree with them, she hates anything that restricts herself and has enough empathy to hate prisons for other people--but Isabela hates conflict, and hates being trapped into defending a position. Anders and Fenris both need clear lines. Hawke puts their head in their hands, frustrated. Varric shakes his head angrily. “Because some of us didn’t want to be driven out of town,” he says. “Because some of us think killing a grand cleric is a fucking stupid way to try to convince people you’re not an evil abomination. Because some of us believe in using our words.” Hawke thinks, well that’s not where I wanted the conversation to go. They open their mouth to disagree, to defend, to protest, but Merrill gets there first. “Varric, please,” Merrill says. She is vibrating with tension. Hawke reaches for her, but Merrill brushes them off. “If it wasn’t going to be Anders, it was going to be me. Or Feynriel. My clan. That lyrium. Or even Hawke, you know Meredith was trying to push them out since they killed the Arishok. Varric, don’t do this. Please.” Varric’s face twists. Hawke is terrified again. He comes across as easy-going, but he disagrees with Anders on most things. Hawke had been afraid Varric and Aveline wouldn’t have fought with them against Meredith; both of them knew she was crazy, but neither of them like risks. They love Kirkwall and its structures, oppressive or not. But both of them are the reason why Hawke has made it thus far, from Lothering to a hole in the wall in the Free Marches, as it pours outside. Aveline got them to Kirkwall, Varric got them out of Lowtown. They’ve only made it this far because of them, and they don’t want to know how far they can go without them. “The pillow,” Varric says. “The fucking pillow.” He laughs shortly. “That’s what gets me, every time. You gave me it. And why? Because you didn’t want to deal with the fucking consequences. Your little revolution, your fucking lover, your clinic--you were ready to give it all away. Because you were done. You wanted your blaze of glory--and now we have to deal with it. Kirkwall, Kirkwall’s gone. The Hanged Man? Probably burnt to the ground. I know they went for your clinic. And Blighted Prince Charming’s seized all our assets and is tracking us like a bloodhound. Because you were pissed at the grand cleric. At the Chantry. So you decided to burn it all down, and leave us in the ashes.” Hawke says, slightly impressed, “Damn.” It is slightly better than what they were expecting, and at this point they are just relieved no one has hit anyone yet. Next to them Merrill relaxes slightly, and she slides her hand into theirs and squeezes it comfortingly. They are upset Anders prepared to die. They are upset he treated his revolution like suicide. They are so utterly relieved Varric is angry about that too, and not that he is still alive. Anders closes his eyes and sags visibly. He hugs himself, nails digging into his arms. Fenris says, “Don’t do that, you’re hurting yourself.” Anders gives him a wretched look. “Isn’t that all I do?” he murmurs. “No,” Varric says. “It isn’t, you asshole. You hang out with me, and that was a good choice. And I suppose Broody was a good idea too. How old are you know? Past the fucking age to know that when you hurt yourself, you hurt the people around you. Us. And I might not agree with you, I might really want to hit you right now--” “Varric,” Fenris says warningly, and Varric puts his hands up. “I didn’t say I was going to do it,” he says. Hawke shoots him an amused look: while Fenris is around, they finish silently. “But, anyway--I don’t actually want you to hurt. Else I wouldn’t have sunk so much cash into keeping the Carta off your back. Especially when you helped out with the strike. You owe me your fucking life. Live it.” Anders says, “I didn’t know you cared.” Varric says, “Fuck you. Hawke, I have terrible taste in friends.” “Don’t look at me,” Hawke says mildly. “I’m terrible too. I’m the one who went digging around in shit to get the explosives for him.” “So what now?” Isabela says. “Are we all good? Because the rain’s stopped, and we should get moving. Anders? You’re not going to blow yourself up? And Fenris, you’re not going to tear out Aveline’s throat? And Bethany--” “What?” Bethany calls from deep in the storeroom, where she is packing their bags with Aveline. “I’m staying out of this!” “You do that, carry on,” Isabela says. “Keep doing that.” They pack up, Fenris and Merrill fretting quietly over exactly how to write the apology in Elvhen and what wall on which to pin it up. Fenris speaks the dialect the clan whose storeroom they borrowed uses, but doesn’t know how to use their alphabet, and while Merrill knows the characters, she puzzles over the words. Hawke has managed to pick up over the years that Elvhen and its dialects are based on intent, and change according to the context. The two of them can’t seem to decide on how to convey the context of the situation, and disagree on what they are enmeshed in anyway. As the others bustle about packing, Varric walks to Hawke and gestures at the two arguing elves. “If I write about this,” he says, “I’m skipping over this part. Because I have completely lost the plot.” Hawke heaves their pack onto their back and whistles for their mabari to join them. “We’re all fucking pissed at each other, but we know that’ll pass. We’re not separating.” They smile. “We’re getting through this together, somehow.” Varric says, “I hope you’re right, Hawke. Because I’m not so sure anything is resolved.”

[lisinfleur]

Raiders

Author’s Notes | Oopsie! I forgot the notes hahaha @allvikingsfanfic thanks for this request babe!!! Hope you enjoy! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking Age Au, requested by anon for 5CW5   Words | 2484 ⁑ Warnings: None

Things were quite simple for you: to be a prisoner sucks, but less than being the princess of that stupidly small kingdom. It's not like you had waited for any chance of being anything more than a wife, but your father had the worst finger in the Earth to choose you a husband!

Daughter of a lands lord, you thought your father would marry you to someone from the capital, but here he came with the local prince, son of the local king. A narcissist son of a bitch who slept with you once in a lifetime and had the audacity to spat at the breakfast table in the morning after your marriage that you weren't properly educated to please a man.

What he was expecting from a virgin damsel like you? The experience of one of the servants you were tired to see him cheating on you with?

The truth is that it wasn't so unpleasant to see your husband beheaded by that Norseman commander when their army invaded your place. But to be a prisoner wasn't good at all.

You were confined to a cage in a kind of a chariot, under the sun, in the middle of your front-yard, listening to their voices speaking on that foreign language you couldn't understand.

Once, that commander stood in front of your cage, speaking with another man, surely about you. He was handsome, different from the man you had ever known. His hair was cleaner, braided. His clothes were strangely beautiful and his voice sounded different from any other you had ever heard.

But he didn't try to speak to you and they were there around two days now. You saw some of them passing with chests of gold and silver. And one of them even passed carrying your chest with your dresses!

"HEY! THESE ARE MY CLOTHES!!!"

You yelled, but he ignored you completely, taking your dresses away. You sat, unhappy, in a mound of straw near the edge of the cell, but then, that commander came near, throwing some papers on the ground, picking up a torch to start a fire.

You recognized those parchments by the color of the wax seal and the silky ribbon attached to them. It was the property papers and some of them would be able to stick the claim over those lands! What was that idiot doing by burning those papers???

"HEY! STOP IT!! STOP!!"

You started yelling hysterically, trying to get his attention. Perhaps, if you could tell him about the papers and teach him how to use them to keep the lands, he would release you or even give you some fair fate.

You couldn't let him literally burn your chances that way!

"STOP!!!"

The thinnest of your yells finally attracted his attention and he came closer to your cage; his face frowned, bothered by your screams.

"What is this that you don't stop screaming, woman? For the love of Freyja, shut your mouth!" he spat, harshly.

But instead of paying any attention to his rough words, what caught your attention was the language he was using.

Your language...

"Can you understand me? Oh, dear Jesus! You speak my language! You can't burn these parchments! They're important!" you tried explaining, but he frowned even more.

"What are these parchments?" he asked looking at you.

"Documents... Documents that set the land as yours?" you asked back, not really getting he didn't understand what you were talking about.

"I need no documents," he answered, "My land." he pointed down to the ground. "Whoever says it's not my land..."

His hand touched the sword and you understand he would surely kill whoever dared to say it wasn't his land.

Functional. But not practical.

"Why fighting if you can just stick your claim and not be questioned about it? Those papers are given by the king of England and warrant these lands to the man who possesses them. I can show you!" you said, looking at him. "I can teach you how to read them, so you'll see I'm not lying. If you keep those papers, then nobody will be able to take this land from you."

He twisted his face, looking at you.

"Why would you teach me? I'm your enemy."

Logical. Not exactly real.

"Let's say you kinda saved me from a bastard. So... I owe you my freedom. I teach you, you set me free. It seems a good deal, don't you think?"

He wasn't very leaned to take your deal, but he knew his brothers would be pleased to understand the things written on those papers and the Englishmen had tried to negotiate with those papers before... Maybe knowing how to read them wouldn't be something useless after all.

"Fine... You teach me. I set you free. Until then, you're my slave. What is your name, slave?"

Slave...

It was worse than before, but at least there was a good perspective at the end of that way. You chose to keep yourself meek. To lose his trust wouldn't be a good thing.

"I'm Y/N," you answered, seeing when he came near the door of your cell, opening it before wrapping a rope around your wrists. "That's not necessary... I won't flee," you promised.

But yet, he tied the knot.

One step at a time, you thought.

"I'm Hvitserk. And I tell you what's necessary. Now walk, slave."

You couldn't exactly understand why he asked your name if he would keep calling you "slave". But you just followed him, silently, gathering the parchments when he allowed you to come closer, carrying them with your arms tied.

He took you back into the castle and you saw lots of things messed up, but somehow, his men were organizing themselves a good clean space where they could sleep all under the roof.

Hvitserk didn't give you too much time to observe. He took some more parchments from another of his men, preventing him to burn them and walked you into the library, sitting you down on a chair at the bigger table.

"Now, teach me."

So eager!

"Things are not like that, Hvit-ts-serk," You struggled with his name, trying to organize the papers over the table with your hands tied as he was locking the door behind the two of you.

The library was a real mess. Your husband would have a heart attack if he could see his precious parchments and books spread out that careless way.

"Could you please release my hands?"

Hvitserk looked at you with a frowned face and you sighed.

"Look... I'm your slave, right? It means you have the right upon my life. If I try anything stupid like trying to flee or harm against a man that's twice my size, is trained, and carries a sword that's, at least, a thousand times sharper than any of my dangerous needles - with which I had hurt my own fingers thousands of times, by the way - you can please spare me from my life for I'll have proven you that I don't deserve to live over my own stupidity! Come on! What can I do? Kick your leg and try to run ten meters into this heavy dress?"

The frown on his face became lighter and his eyes observed your dress, kinda running your whole body, causing you to blush. In his mind, your math was right: he could cross you with his sword without even have to walk towards you. So, he unsheathed his sword and used it to cut the rope on your wrists you slowly rubbed trying to get rid of the bothering sensation of the sisal.

"Thank you... Now look," you said, placing one of the parchments in front of him "Each one of these drawings is a letter. You must understand each one of them first, then how the combinations of them work in two, then three, then how you can form words with them, and how to put these words together in a sentence. You see, this is a whole sentence," you showed him a group of words from a dot to another. "The document is formed of dozens of sentences gathered together in paragraphs. I won't be able to teach you how to read these documents in a day. It will be a process. That's why I'm telling you this is worth my freedom: I'll be your slave for a while... And after this, you'll be able to read not only these documents but anything wrote by an Englishman."

It was a long and complex process that was bothering Hvitserk only by hearing your explanation of the whole shitty path he would have to follow. Maybe Ivar would like to learn this more than him. And Ubbe would surely have the patience to follow the whole bunch of steps you said. But neither of them was there and both of them would like to have someone with that knowledge. He couldn't let it pass...

You saw the commander sighing, bored.

"Fine... Where do we start?"

"From the beginning," you sighed as well, sitting by his side.

It would be a long way.

Hvitserk wasn't a patient man and his mistakes could quickly build up his anger, causing him to leave you for days waiting to continue his lessons.

You were restrained to the library, but he ordered you were fed even when he wasn't coming. Two good meals a day, as much of water you needed and his strange custom of a bath every week. Somehow, it made you feel more comfortable with yourself. It was different, but something you would turn into a habit.

He also ordered a bed to be brought for you and installed at the end of the library hall. Some blankets of yours were brought and you started having some comfort to sleep.

In return, he came back after three days out and found the whole library clean and organized.

You got rid of your petticoats and he taught you how to braid your hair like one of them, making your life pretty easier without the strands of hair on your face or the complicated hairstyles you were used to having your servants making on your long hair for the dinners and events your husband wasn't there to settle anymore.

Instead, your lessons with Hvitserk started becoming more pleasurable as he was progressing and starting to find pleasure in what you were teaching him.

He learned more of your language with words he didn't know. And ended up teaching you some words of his language, making it easier to teach him how to use the words.

It took you around a year, but finally, the Viking commander was able to read the complete extension of the parchment he was about to burn when it all started.

"In the name... of the King... And Our Lord Jesus Ch... Christ. And what is this bunch of risks?" he asked, pointing the king's signature near the seal of wax.

"This is the signature of the King. Signatures are personal ways to write your name. Like the wax seals I explained before," you said, smiling at him.

"And why do you Saxons put your god on everything?" he complained. "This Jesus... It’s your god, isn't it?"

"Kinda," you said, smiling. "To put things under the name of Jesus Christ and seal it having God as witness kinda puts over the men's shoulders the weight of an oath that God himself will punish them if not respected. It is like an oath over your arm ring," You explained, remembering his explanations about that jewel.

"That sounds weird to me. We fulfill our oaths on our own honor. It's reprovable by the gods to break an oath, but well... It is up to you to become a dishonored bastard..." he said, making a roll with the parchment he just read and looking at you. "Speaking on oaths... You did your part. I can read now and understand what the Englishman say and write, as you promised. It means... You're free to go. You're no longer my slave."

Those words were everything you wanted to hear, and somehow, they sounded heavy and sad.

Where would you go now?

What would you do with your life?

You could travel to your aunt's house near your father's former farm, but you were sure she would stick you up into a convent to live the rest of your life isolated, serving God or whatever those women locked in monasteries on top of the hills were used to doing.

And...

You would never see Hvitserk again.

Somehow, it was what was sinking your heart deeper into your chest. You got used to his laughs, his words, the time by his side. Even the way he was bothered sometimes with his impatient way to not accept failure on something simple like syllables... Everything was good about his presence...

And you didn't want to lose it.

"I... I changed my mind," you mumbled, catching his attention. "I don't mind being your slave... I mean, I could teach you more things and..."

You sighed.

"I have nowhere to go. And I don't wanna leave now that I got used to your presence..." you said, seeing his lips curving into a small smile.

"You're a free woman, Y/N. You can choose to follow me if you want to."

He liked your presence as well.

Hvitserk got used to having you around and it was pleasing him to notice the blush on your cheeks and to know you didn't want to leave anymore.

"What does ‘amen’ mean?" he asked, out of nowhere, surprising you with the strange question.

"What?"

"I asked... what does ‘amen’ mean? And also... there are some strange things in this castle. Other than the crosses, other objects are repeating itself in the rooms... Are they sacred or something?"

His questions bugged your mind and you frowned, but he came near, touching your chin and causing your cheeks to burst in red when he smiled so close to your face.

"See... There are many questions I have about your people, your ways... And I'm sure you have many questions about mine. I could show you the way of my people. My homelands... And you can teach me more. There are plenty of reasons for you to stay, dear Y/N."

Dear...

It almost melted you in his fingers and he smiled, noticing it messed with your heart.

"Yes... I... I'll stay," you said.

"Yes. You'll stay," he repeated, smiling bigger.

There weren't too many things he really wanted to learn about the Saxons' customs for real. But any reason was a good excuse to keep you close enough for him to melt your heart.

And he was going very well with that pair of green eyes and those sexy smiles!

Soon, he would be the reason for you to stay.

Maybe, he already was.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

|| @bluearchersstuff || @ivarswickedqueen || @directionlessbuthappy || @akamaiden || @bang-kim-bap || @cris101071 || @solveigs-temple || @volvas-temple || @alicedopey || @captstefanbrandt || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla || @lol-haha-joke || @normatural || @readsalot73 || @shutter-bug124 || @rekdreams247 || @slutforasoldier || @naaladareia || @laketaj24 || @therealcalicali || @grungyblonde || @arses21434 || @honestsycrets || @rabeccablake  || @2thequietone4 || @blackspiritshake || @vikingsbifrost || @sincerelysinister || @x-valhalla || @allvikingsfanfic || @harringtonsbaseballbat || @lyanna-the-giantsbane || @chinduda || @isthat-tyra98 || @hissouthernprincess || @xinyourdreamsx || @thiahilmarsdottir ||

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

[ticklikeabomb]

Convincing Loki to help you out - Part 3 (Finale)

Pairing : Avengers x Gender Neutral Plus Size Reader ;  Loki x Gender Neutral Plus Size Reader (platonic)

Warnings : Language, Endgame events altered, Death of character

Word Counts : 1.9k

Once the teams have been split, everyone got into those terrible red and white Quantum Real uniforms Tony designed and circled the entry of the device. "Everyone knows what they're supposed to do", said Steve looking at everyone warmly before his eyes narrowed on your figure to which you grazed at him with a smug smile. They nodded and Natasha commented "See you in a minute" to which you made a grimace, not feeling like it. "Come on Loki Luke, let's get this junk started", you grabbed the God of Mischief and traveled back to 2013 Asgard, ending in the prison district. You saw Loki's room and turned to the present version telling him, "You could at least clean your room." He rolled his eyes before turning towards you, justifying that it wasn't his room but his cell. "Hmm…even in jail you have to be a fancy bitch, don't you?", you commented while passing the cell. 

You saw Rocket and Thor hide and in the middle of a commotion. And then you snapped when seeing Rocket's hand lift. "Don't you dare slap him!", you said through greeted teeth and preventing the hit. "Y/N the mission", whispered Loki. "If I know that you did it, you can say goodbye to that furry thing between your legs", you threatened the Guardian. He swallowed harshly and dropped his hand. "We'll gonna check out what's happening in New York", you said softly to Thor and calmed his anxiety down with some of your powers. Giving a deadly look to Rocket, you grabbed Loki once more and disappeared. 

You ended next to Tony who slightly jumped, "God, you scared me." "What's happening? Tony?", you heard Steve on the comms. "Y/N and Loki are here", answered Scott. Tony commented on Steve's ass and you checked him out. 2012's Loki version began impersonating Rogers once more during his life time and you turned towards him, "You surely like impersonating Steve in particular, hein" and saw Loki's cheeks turn a slight pink shade. "It's ok if you wanna bang him, he surely must be righteous in ALL the places", you joked. "Would you Stop!", he greeted through his teeth making you chuckle and Tony smirk. "I hate you", he tuned towards you. "Yeah, yeah, love you too". Passing him a Pym Particle you told him you were going to check on the events in Vormir.

You arrived after the Keeper finished his famous 'One soul for a soul' part. "Alright Kim Possible what's going on?", you chanted while seeing them fighting each other. You rolled your eyes and sighed before paralyzing the two Avengers. You nodded at the Keeper and said "How's life, Skully?" "Long and empty", he responded. "Yup like my sex life. Happens. " You marched at the former SHIELD agents and they seem in pain. "What are you doing?", asked Clint. Your tone got solennel, "My job." Natasha's eyes widened and she whispered, "You gonna jump aren't you?" "It won't work, it must be someone you deeply love", said Clint. "No shit Sherlock." Turning to Red Skull, you saw him nod. You looked down the cliff and exclaimed before jumping, "This is gonna hurt like a Motherfucker." The only thing that was heard next was your skull fractured on the stone. 

Natasha and Clint woke up, water surrounding them and the most beautiful sky they've ever witnessed. Inside her palm, Natasha had the soul stone in her possession. They sighed and activated the Pym Particle to get back to the present timeline. As planned, everyone arrived at the same time with the Infinity Stones. Some of them let out a happy scream of joy for achieving the Heist until Loki noticed your absence. "Where's Y/N?" He looked at Natasha and Clint and repeated his question with a firmer voice. "Where are they?" They bowed their head and said, "They sacrificed themselves for the Stone." The room quieted down, everyone giving you a minute of respect for what you've done. Loki left the room and ended near the compound's lake. "Why did you do it?", he mumbled to himself. 

In the meantime, Tony carefully inserted the stones on his Gauntlet and Hulk reverse snapped everyone back. They felt the air around them shift and truly realized it worked when Clint's wife called him. Their joy quickly vanished when Thanos' ship shadow rotated above the compound and bombed the place. Recovering their senses, Tony, Steve and Thor marched at their nemesis. The fight 2.0 began. Thanos was on the verge to get Thor when Steve wielded Mjöllnir. "YESSS", shouted Thor. Thanos and Steve fought until it was only The Captain facing Thanos and his army. "On your left", he heard the comms. Two simple words warming his heart. Portals opened up, the World's Mightiest Heroes joining each other for one purpose. One order and everyone ran into battle. 

Before crashing against the army, the right fling was decimated by an unknown force. "ProtoVision" by Kavinsky was blasting in the air. You appeared in a grand entrance, sword in hand, decimating everyone in your passage. The Avengers seeing you alive, proudly shouted into battle. "Hello Thanos, long time no see", you faced the Titan, who tensed at your presence. You didn't give him a chance to respond and attacked. Steve, Tony, Thor and Loki joined you. Each taking a turn on the Titan. At the corner of your eye, you saw Peter fleeing with the Gauntlet and decided to give him a hand. He didn't see the Alien coming behind him at full speed. You intervened the moment the monster was about to stab him but ended stabbing you instead. You fell to the ground, bleeding out. Loki was by your side, "Y/N, hey it's gonna be ok. I'm here." You shook your head and told him to go gets his revenge before, once more, passing away. 

The fight escalated. Doctor Strange had to control the breach before it drowned the place while Thanos called for back-up. The Avengers were on their lasts ressources when Carol Danvers came crashing the Alien Spaceship. It was her turn to face off Thanos. She was keeping the Gauntlet from him while standing her ground. Thanos managed to take the upper-hand and take the Gauntlet back. Tony pushed further by attacking Thanos but was projecting to the ground by the Titan. "I am the inevitable", he proclaimed before snapping his fingers. When he saw it didn't work, you let the masquerade fade away and transformed from Tony to yourself, the Stones glowing on your bare arm. "And I am the beginning and the end", you said with a piercing gaze and snapped. 

You felt the Stone's powers invading you, burning you whole. Thanos and his army vanished while you laid on the ground, breathing weakly. The Avengers kneeled before you and asked how you managed to come back. "I was created to keep the Stones safe and hidden. In doing so, I managed like a cat to have an amount of life chances. Six stones, six lives. I just used the last one. No coming back anymore", you spoke slowly, a silent tear sliding down your face. While you were telling them how you managed to come back, you traced a code in the dusty ground. Natasha noticed your move but quickly focused her gaze back on you dying. "I got my wish. I won't die alone", you said before slightly pushing your sword to Loki's direction. "You're worth it", and with that your body glowingly faded away. 

————-

5 months later

The compound has been in reconstruction after the Grand Battle. Natasha recovered your code left on the dusty ground, tracing every formula with Tony and Bruce's help. Until now it was a dead-end. "If they left this behind it's not a coincidence", said Tony, while scratching his neck. "Sir, there is a delivery guy outside the compound's door", exclaimed F.R.I.D.A.Y. Confusion was written all over their features seeing that the package came from you. They intercepted the delivery guy and asked them about the package. He checked his notebook and declared that they that received instructed to deliver it today. Tony called everyone on their provisory conference room. "Why today?", asked Rhodes. No one had an answer. Inside the box, Tony recovered an USB drive to which he uploaded on the main screen. 

It was a video recording of you facing the camera.

"Hello, if you see this message it means I am no longer. Obviously, otherwise that would be weird me watching this with you. So dramatic, right?", they heard you chuckle and couldn't help smile at the screen. "I know you all loved me and will miss me so much to the point of questioning if life is worth living without me in it, but it is. I would like to use this tragic moment to leave my last impressions and directives to you." 

"Rhodes…would you slap Ross for me. Pleeeasse. I can't stand that one. Squirrel if I find out you slapped him, I will come back and cut not only your furry D but both your hands", you said with a piercing look. "Alright, I get it no slapping, Jeez", spoke Rocket in the room. The others looked at each other confused except for Loki who laughed out loud. "Little Ant, never stop growing, the stars aren't the limit." "Awnnn so cute", exclaimed Scott with a dorky smile on his face. "Clint I have been willing to ask you this for some time now. …WTF is that hAiRcUt ?!? Bruce, Hulk…Hulce, the new look definitely threw me of the grid. Wasn't expecting it but as long as you're in peace that's what matters. And ohh by the love of the cosmos NEVER DAB AGAIN." "Bro what?", Tony turned towards his friend who only shrugged. 

"Thunder Thor out here killing all the humans with that amazing smile. Never stop doing that. Hmm who next? STEVIE-OHHHH, I know what happened in that office. No, I wasn't creeping around like some", you said insinuating it about him. "She knows she means everything to you, trust me for once. The past should stay in the past. It's time for the world to meet the Nomad *winks* you know what you gotta do." Steve's gaze briefly landed on Sam.

"Tony, Metal man himself. You can go rest now. You did good. It's time for your second journey, tiny and cute Morgan. Natasha, the spy of it all. I think I left you a task didn't I. Here let me give you one more hint. 'What you're looking for is closer than you think'. And finally, the one and only God of Mischief, Low-key. It was fun hanging out with you. Who thought you were more than just an amazing haircut. Don't do anything stupid but in case you do, don't forget about me. Take care of our baby."

"Anyway this is fucked up. If I had to choose a song to describe my life it would be Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. It started slow, hesitant, simple before unexpectedly accelerating. The Rock'n'Roll notes overflowing my existence. Yeah you better be ready, sometimes I'm deep ok. Well 'was'. You were my Rock'n'Roll part and I would like to thank you for that. For a small fraction I didn't just exist but I lived. Bye Losers and live freely you little birds. " 

The video ended with you smiling at the camera. 

"Oh I almost forgot, btw, Nick Fury and Maria Hill are Skrulls. Peace!', your voice was heard for the last time on the tape. 

The audience turned towards Fury and Maria, who felt very uncomfortable. They revealed their true identity before 'Fury' declared, "We can explain." 

* gifs not mine, credit to owners*

PERMANENT TAG LIST : @arrowswithwifi @poetic-pixie @theshortegg @kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls @prettybubblesintheair @yafriendlyfangirl @marshmallow-witch @ms-cellanies @the-feckless-wonder @cfisher290 @thefangirltheycallviolet @river-fics @lilulo-12 @fanfictionrecommendations-com @spetzerfehn @angieptt @wayward-timetravel-collecter @ashley17jacobs​ @lokithedancingqueen @wildsoul1221 @introvertedsin @robertconradjr @francezka10  @titty-teetee @breezy1415

[pointy-hat-witch]

kiribaku 29

29 - Kiss as a promise

Thank you ahhh I struggled to come up with an idea but I think it was worth it! Even though I maybe almost cried haha have fun

You can ask for another prompt from this list! 

—-

It never occurred to him, to not have Bakugou by his side. Since the moment he dashed down the mountain fleeing the panther-like creature, his wing suffered a deep scratch, so he had to change back into his human form, and Bakugou came flying from out of nowhere, crashing into his pursuer. It took him about 15 seconds to blast it into oblivion with a maniac laugh and Kirishima was gone. The smoke swirling around the ashen hair boy glowed with the remnants of his explosion, framing him like the king he was born to be.

At first, Bakugou wasn’t exactly keen to have a companion on his journey. It was his alone to prove himself worthy to be king of his barbarian tribe, not depending on any help. Especially not on this “fuckmunch shitty-hair changeling”. But this didn’t deter Kirishima from his resolve, stubborn couldn’t even begin to describe his determination.

So, for better or worse, Bakugou had to accept Kirishima as his new travel companion. It took Kirishima a few weeks before Bakugou let him sleep in his immediate proximity and another few weeks until they ate together from the same fire. It all skyrocketed after their first fight together. When Kirishima changed into his dragon form, wing finally fully healed, smashing through the lines of the orcs, changing back into his human form and protecting his skin with his remaining scales as he slashed at the incoming wave, Bakugou was the one who was captivated by this sight.

From that time on, they were inseparable. Bakugou trusted Kirishima with his back as Kirishima trusted Bakugou with his. They were soon known as an unbreakable force and word got around as far as back to Bakugou’s tribe. A raven was sent for Bakugou to come back and to take the throne as it was intended from the time of his birth. For a second, Kirishima thought, that was it, that was the end of their journey together. But as if Bakugou sensed Kirishima’s nonsense, he grabbed him by his scarf and yanking him forward, crashing their lips together.

“Don’t even fucking think about getting rid of me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The years to come just strengthened their bond further. It was well known within their tribe and the land they reigned, they belonged to each other. (Though, if one did have a request it was best to come to Kirishima first as to have his support when they stood in front of the king as it was also known that the king couldn’t say no to his partner. This was why everyone held Kirishima in high regards. Not that they thought, he “tamed” the barbarian king but that he nurtured his human side. Ironically, since he wasn’t fully human himself.)

In the years to come, they fought side by side whenever monster attacked, neighboring tribes trying to invade their growing kingdom or the human kingdom tried to annihilate them. They were unstoppable which soon was a universal fact and fewer and fewer fights were to be fought.

One night, a cold winter night where Kirishima and Bakugou cuddled tightly together under their sheets, sharing each other’s body heat when a dream came upon Kirishima, a premonition. His mother had often spoken of their lineage as wise and all-knowing, even though Kirishima doubted that part for himself, but he couldn’t deny that every once in a while he dreamt of occurrences that took place in the near future.

His dream brought him onto a battlefield, surrounded by enemies, Bakugou defending his back. They were both out of breath, Kirishima felt his power dwindling. Bakugou didn’t fare any better, his body was littered with scratches, blood oozed out of a few deeper wounds on his chest. And there were so many enemies, too many. Kirishima knew they wouldn’t come out of this alive. Not by some miracle. Bakugou let out a roaring battle cry as he lashed out forward, Kirishima followed suit.

There were flashes of swords, of arrows piercing through the air. Kirishima heard a shout, an outcry. Jerking around, his eyes landed on an arrow sticking out of Bakugou’s back.

Everything around him turned red, his inside boiled, his throat burned, his eyes stung. A heat inside bubbled up, breaking through his skin and with a roar, Kirishima’s human form burst up in an instance. His dragon form towered over the army of enemies and for a second time stood still. It was completely silent, everyone stared up in awe at him, his dragon-self more majestic than ever covered in blood that glittered on his scales.

He inhaled and with a loud roar, Kirishima let loose a ray of fire. He planted himself right above Bakugou, turning his head around them, turning everyone in their vicinity into ash. As the beam of heat ebbed away, Kirishima coughed, shrinking in on himself. His human form felt so weak in that instance but with all his might, Kirishima wobbled over to Bakugou’s motionless figure on the ground.

“Katsuki.” Kirishima huffed, grabbing Bakugou by his shoulder and turning him around, careful with the arrow. He snapped off the shaft before laying Bakugou’s head on his lap. Bakugou coughed, blood shining on his lips, eyes unfocused at the sky.

“Katsuki.” Kirishima whispered, wiping the sweaty hair out of his face. “Talk to me, my love.”

“Ei-“, another cough, “Eijirou.” Kirishima forced himself to smile. “That was fucking awesome.”

Kirishima laughed out, feeling empty inside. “Thanks.”

Bakugou huffed. “Don’t feel smug”, he inhaled deeply, a rasp filling his lungs. “That’s the least you should be able to do.”

His one hand caressed Bakugou’s cheek, the other lied idle on his chest, feeling the tremor every breath brought with it, feeling Bakugou’s heartbeat slowing.

“Learnt from the best.” His lips were dry, a film of ash and soot covering his face. His eyes burned, but Kirishima refused to give in. Not now, anyway.

Bakugou let out a small chuckle which turned into a cough. “Ei.” He rasped.

“Yes, dear?” Kirishima bowed his head, his face right above Bakugou’s, forcing him to meet his eyes. A mistake he realized. As soon as Bakugou’s eyes met his, both their eyes filled with tears. They both knew what was happening, they both knew this was it.

“I don’t-“ – “I know.” Kirishima didn’t want to hear Bakugou sayi it. The first tear fell on Bakugou’s cheekbone. “I know.”

Bakugou closed his eyes, tears spilling over. Another raspy inhale before he opened his eyes again. They were glassy but they locked onto Kirishima.

“Thank you.” He exhaled slowly. “Thank you for everything.”

Kirishima pressed his lips in a thin line, not daring to blink, fearing he would miss even one second. “Thank you, Katsuki.”

“I love you.”

The first sob broke through Kirishima’s lips and he had to take a deep breath.

“I love you, too.”

Bakugou relaxed, his lips forming one of his rare, genuine smiles. He looked at peace. Another slow exhale and Kirishima felt his heartbeat stop inside Bakugou’s chest.

Another sob shuddered through him, forming a roar as he screamed into the sky. His whole being felt as it would shatter, his chest heaving as every heartbeat hurt-

Kirishima jerked up, heart stuttering in his chest, Bakugou jumping up right next to him.

“Wh- Ei!” His eyes darted over Kirishima’s figure, instantly noticing his panic. “Ei.” He whispered into his ear, both arms rounding around his shoulders. “It was just a dream.”

His arms darted around Bakugou’s waist, pressing his face into his neck. The tears fell unwillingly, sob after sob wrecking his body. Bakugou was bewildered, to say the least. He hushed Kirishima, caressing his back, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

It felt like an eternity until Kirishima slowly calmed down, taking deep breaths.

“Bakugou.” Kirishima whispered, his voice thick from crying. “There is going to be a war.”

Bakugou stilled for a second. “Tell me about it.”

And Kirishima did. He told Bakugou everything from the stories he heard from his mother and everything that happened in his dream. And that he knew it was going to happen. Something they couldn’t change.

Bakugou didn’t interrupt Kirishima once and stayed silent for a long while after Kirishima had finished.

“I tell you what.” Bakugou finally said, eyes locking with Kirishima’s. “Whatever will happen whenever, I will be by your side until the end.”

“So am I.” Kirishima nodded.

“And I promise you”, Bakugou cupped Kirishima’s face with both his hands, wiping away the remnants of his tears, “when I die, I will find you again. In whatever lifetime that will be.”

Kirishima’s eyes widen. It never occurred to him, to not have Bakugou by his side. His lips split into a smile.

“So will I.”

It hurt. Kirishima knew, as well as Bakugou, no matter when Bakugou will die, Kirishima would outlive him for many generations. It would take Bakugou a few lifetimes to find Kirishima again, if ever. But when Bakugou’s lips found his own, every doubt vanished. Kirishima was filled with hope, a certainty that Bakugou will find him.

–

They had another two months with each other. Kirishima lived every day as if it would be the last one, spending as much time as they could together. They traveled over the mountains, flew through the clouds, rode through the grasslands. Kirishima soaked in every laughter, every smile from Bakugou, cataloging it in his memory.

–

Seeing Bakugou die, again, almost made his heart stop dead in his chest.

–

The many years to come were the hardest he ever lived. Kirishima had lived for a long time before Bakugou came into his life and he knew from the beginning, they didn’t have much time together in comparison to his vast lifespan but Kirishima feigned ignorance. Believing they had all the time in the world. But now, it caught up with him. It felt empty. It took a long time until he could spend time with other humans again, his thoughts, though, lingered with Bakugou whenever he was alone.

After so much time, Kirishima couldn’t count his age anymore, he greeted death with a smile.

–

The ashen blond hair that glowed with each explosion was like a punch to his face. Kirishima stared at the boy in front of him, exploding the last of the villains around them.

“What that all of them?”

Bakugou jerked around, a maniac grin on his lips. He locked eyes with Kirishima, and his breath hitched.

“Found you.”

Kirishima’s lips curled up into a smile. “As you promised.”

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

corasharper replied to your post:

Sansa: *exists* multiple sects of the g*ot...

i saw someone deadass blame her for not having enough food to feed dany’s army l o l

lmfao i’ve seen the same multiple times. i mean it’s not like sansa has been canonically planning and trying to store as much food as she can from a largely uncultivated and hardy region to ensure that her people, their forces and any of the refugees that would probably end up fleeing to winterfell (their main, defensible base) would be fed through the long winter.  

gonna put the rest under a cut bc i’ve got a rant.

it’s not like as far as sansa knew, jon went to get an alliance, presumably as an equal to this new invader since she trusted him and defended him against all doubters who said she should take over from him because she believed he would honour and not dismiss the trust that the entire north placed in him AS THEIR KING, and get access to dragon glass, which really is the MOST useful weapon against the others, y’know, given the fact that the NK killed a dragon with about as much effort as it takes to blink. 

 meanwhile, what was it that d*ny did to ALL those carts of food from the most fertile region of westeros that she could have actually SECURED for her own armies and brought with her, that even cersei was cognisant enough to (try to) have brought to KL? and how exactly did the NK tear down the wall again?? drastically reducing the time that the North had to prepare for war??? 

things that sansa knew nothing about and therefore couldn’t prepare for and even if she could how is it that it should fall on her alone to prepare for an extra army, shouldn’t the supposed great, kind, deserving leader, a queen with SUCH a good heart, of the army of the dothraki and unsullied, people who crossed the narrow sea for her, prepare for her own people? especially since the night king’s army is a legitimate threat to HER as well, not just to the North??!?!? 

At best she’s short sighted  and arrogant as HELL and assumes that people are obligated to see to her needs first wherever she goes and will do so unless they want to be eaten or burned to death by her overgrown iguanas.  nothing about the food argument paints d*ny in a good light, the most antis can accuse sansa of is being petty and that argument is weak as hell if you have half a brain cell. 

also like the whole idea that sansa alone should be managing everyone’s food supply bc she isn’t some “uwuw badass who rides on dragons” is 76 shades of yikes. 

[takerfoxx]

So…I recently finished up Shiki. And boy, do I have…opinions!

See, this anime has got me feeling more conflicted than I’ve felt about any show in a long time, and it was honestly kind of hard to watch at times. And I mean that in the best possible way.

See, on the surface, Shiki doesn’t seem to have much special about it. The plot is as follows: in a small, insignificant village in the Japanese mountains sometime in the 1980’s, a mysterious family moves into a grand, western-styled house. At first the locals are curious, but overall unbothered and welcoming. But then people start to die from a mysterious illness, in which the victims become sleepy and lethargic, isolating themselves from everyone before simply dying. What is more, soon there are rumors that those who have died of this illness have been sighted walking around after dark. As the deaths mount up, it is up to our protagonists to…yadda, yadda, yadda.

Look, the new family are vampires. They’re sneaking into people’s homes and turning them into vampires. This isn’t a spoiler, the show doesn’t bother to hide it, it’s made explicit in the freaking opening. It’s pretty much Salem’s Lot set in a Japanese village instead of an American town. Hell, the author has already confirmed that Shiki is meant to be a Salem’s Lot homage…with a few twists.

So yeah, on its surface, there doesn’t seem to be anything special. We’ve seen this kind of story before. Even if Salem’s Lot didn’t exist, it’s not like the whole vampire invasion story hasn’t been done before. In fact, given how slowly paced the first entire third of the show is, I can’t blame anyone who got frustrated and gave up. I mean, it still treats the whole vampire thing like it’s some sinister mystery that the characters have to figure out before it’s too late, despite letting the audience in on the secret pretty much from the get-go. I can really see many people pretty much tearing out their hair and screaming at the characters, “It’s vampires! You’re being attacked by vampires! It’s so obvious!”

But no, the show takes its time, slowly building tension, making us spend time with all the townspeople as they go about their lives while trying to make sense of these strange happenings. Hell, it’s several episodes before we even see any of the vampires. And of course, you have the small band of heroes who figure out that something’s up before anyone else, and they start poking around and try to warn people, only to get laughed at and ignored, and of course the vampires are secretly sabotaging them and destroying their credibility, so blah, blah, blah, we’ve seen this before!

But it is then that the show finally tips its hands, and it does so so subtly and elegantly that you might not even notice that something’s up before it’s too late.

See, we then start to see things from the vampires’ (who refer to themselves as the Shiki) point of view. We get to meet them and come to know them. And we learn what it is that really sets this story apart from Salem’s Lot.

And that is this: becoming a Shiki does not turn you into a demon. Oh, you’re still a vampire. You’re an undead being with the standard collection of advantages (immortality, super-healing, can hypnotize those you feed upon) and weaknesses (sleep during the day, sunlight is deadly, circulatory system is vulnerable, need an invitation, aversion to religious totems), that requires blood to live. But it doesn’t change who you are as a person. You’re still you, but with an unbearable thirst for blood, and it is how you deal with this thirst that can change you. Some are already nasty people who continue to be nasty people, some are otherwise decent but go along with things because what else can they do, some truly hate what they have become but reluctantly go along with it because the thirst is just that bad, and some outright refuse to hurt anyone no matter how badly it hurts. We come to know the Shiki just like we came to know the villagers, with some being pretty evil while others are completely sympathetic and others are sort of a mix of bad and good.

But what makes it kind of brilliant is that it doesn’t somehow change the complexion of the whole vampire invasion thing. It doesn’t make it some kind of misunderstanding and the vampires were the good guys all along. No, they really are invading and killing people to add to their ranks, though their motivations are more about loneliness and desire for some kind of sanctuary than to build an army or anything like that. But it still doesn’t make it right, especially since there is the new wrinkle of whether or not someone who has died rising up again as a Shiki being a chancy thing. Some do, but others simply rot, so some of the people they kill are just dead, which in a way makes things worse. They even start to kidnap people from the city as a food source. What they are doing is still monstrous, and the show makes no pretentions otherwise.

So you start to feel conflicted. It’s not that you start rooting for the Shiki to succeed (or maybe you do, but you’re not supposed to), but you do start to feel for many among their number, and want them to have some kind of happy ending.

But then the show tips its hand again, and all hell breaks loose…but to talk about that we have to go deep into spoiler territory, so if you’ve already seen the show or just don’t care about spoilers, check under the cut for the rest.

In their desperation to survive, the human resistance start to take more and more drastic measures to warn the others, with the one in the lead, the town’s doctor, who had already been outwitted by the Shiki on several occasions and had been personally warned by them, being forced to resort to horrific means in order to gain an advantage.

He uses his authority as doctor to isolate one of the infected and keeps them hidden until they die, deliberately fudging medical records so the Shiki would not be informed of their death. Then he keeps close watch on the corpse, waiting to see if it would be one of the ones to rise up.

It is, and now with one of the Shiki under his power, he closes the clinic and starts to subject his new prisoner to a variety of torturous tests, checking to see if it is indeed harmed by sunlight (she is, and graphically so), repulsed by religious iconography (she is), affected at all by drugs (she isn’t), if it can heal from any injury (she can), and so on, until he has learned all that he needs and kills the Shiki with a stake to the heart. He carefully documents the whole process, cataloguing irrefutable proof that vampires exist and now walk among them. Smart plan, but it should be noted that the Shiki herself has no idea what is going on, and is fully awake through the whole process, bound and gagged and feeling everything that he does to her. She struggles, she cries out, she begs him to stop until he gags her, because as far as she knows, she had gotten sick, passed out, and woken up to find the doctor torturing her for no good reason.

Oh yeah, and did I mention that the Shiki also so happens to be his wife?

It’s a truly horrifying scene, not only because of what he’s doing and who he’s doing it to, but how cold, clinical, and detached he is throughout the whole process. And given my rant from earlier, it should have made me lose all sympathy for him.

…and yet, it didn’t. Because I understood.

Honestly, that’s what makes Shiki work. That’s the whole point. It’s a lot of otherwise decent people who do terrible things that are wrong, that are evil, and yet they don’t lose their sympathetic points, because you kind of get it, because you can’t say that you wouldn’t do the same in their position. After all, considering the situation, what else could they have done? And even if you don’t agree with that, you can at least understand why they made the choices they make, as they always fall in line with understandable human nature.

But of course, that’s just the first two-thirds. You know that sooner or later, the rest of the village is going to wise up to what’s happening. And they do: the Shiki are finally exposed.

And then all hell breaks the fuck loose.

The script is flipped yet again, and the last six episodes or so are the humans fighting back and doing a damned good job of it too. Suddenly, the hunters become the hunted, and the Shiki are dragged out from their hiding places and exterminated. Graphically.

This ought to be gratifying to watch. This ought to exhilarating. Finally, the invading monsters are getting what’s coming to them! They brought it on themselves, after all.

But it’s not. Not at all.

Because we’ve already gotten to know several of the Shiki, some of them even before they were turned. We’ve come to empathize with them and the community they’ve built. And now, seeing them not as monsters fleeing a hunt that has gone all wrong but as victims who are terrified for their lives, who desperately seek any way of escape, who die screaming for mercy, often at the hands of their former friends, is heartbreaking. Even the Shiki leader that masterminded the whole thing breaks down crying, wondering if this is punishment for having killed so many people…but then she says that it can’t be her fault, because she didn’t ask to become a vampire, it was forced on her! So how can she be blamed for just wanting to have others like her around to keep her company? It’s a very poignant breakdown to watch, as this ancient monster grapples with her own guilt and inhumanity and the unfairness of it all.

But it goes beyond that. See, we all have a little bit of a monster inside us, and though they may have begun as innocent victims, it doesn’t take long for many of the villagers to succumb to theirs.

There are many that are just a little too gleeful about bashing the Shiki’s heads in, about dragging them to burn in the sunlight, about stabbing them and beating them with pipes, despite many of them formerly being their neighbors. Some admit to specifically targeting those that they had already disliked, while others are quicks to kill actual humans that they merely suspect of being Shiki collaborators. One innocent family that had nothing to do with anything is massacred just because one of their relatives had Shiki connections.

But even with all that violence and cruelty, it isn’t as if the roles are completely reversed. Many of the villagers outright refuse to have anything to do with the massacre because they can’t stand the thought of killing their loved ones. Others do take part in the killing, but it’s clear that they hate it, and one man, upon seeing how the Shiki are being tortured to death for no reason, proceeds to give each every one of them a merciful quick death to end their suffering before breaking down and crying. And all the while, we continue to see the damage that the Shiki’s wrought, from a meek housewife who has gradually gone insane as her family dies and rots one by one to a poor little girl who has watched her own family disappear and resorts to digging her own grave because she’s convinced that she’s next. Even the worst and most violent of the villagers gets the chance to verbally tear down each and every one of the lead Shiki’s justifications for her actions, brutally smashing all of her defenses. And though he has been portrayed as a pretty terrible person thus far, he’s actually right in everything he says.

I’m not going to give away the whole game, but suffice to say, things end pretty badly for both sides. A lot of people die, and the few survivors end up scattering to the winds to try to move on and rebuild their lives. So basically, neither side really wins. But then, it was never about sides. The plot is propelled by sides, yes, but the focus is always on individuals, about the good and bad in everyone and how extreme situations bring that out.

Of course, the next question would be how it holds up to Flip-Flappers, which I had watched immediately before. And as for that…apples and oranges, man. Flip-Flappers was a very throw everything at the wall and see what sticks kind of show, while Shiki had a concept that it stuck to from beginning to end. But I will say that Flip-Flappers didn’t always stick the landing and Shiki was more consistently good from beginning to end, but Flip-Flappers heights were higher than Shiki’s heights, and leave it at that.

Anyway, I am way behind on the Best of the Super Juniors tournament, so I’ll be taking a break for a bit. After that…I dunno, maybe I’ll put it up to another vote.

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

Love, Death & Robots.

Can I just say, how happy it makes me, that the anthology series is back?

I mean, Love, Death & Robots isn‘t the first by a long shot … but still, I am glad that this art form is back. It lends itself so very beautifully to the telling of small stories.

I lnow I am late on the band wagon, but this is my hot take on Love, Death & Robots. Just fresh of bingeing it. No reflection just feeling … or in other words, the result of rubbing my last two sleep deprived braincells together.

It‘s just my opinion, nothing more.

On the technical side of things …

This show is fucking gorgeous. The style usually goes with the general tone of the story, all of them competently and craft fully realized. The same goes for the voice work, the sound design and the soundtrack.

On a side note, diversity is so so, could be better but could be worse … I‘d say average …

It‘s definitely NC-17. Blood, gore, violence, sex and lovingly rendered co**s. We have it all. If you are sensible … you might want to skip some of the stories …

Beware … here there be spoilers

"Sonnie's Edge"

A woman named Sonnie remotely controls a genetically-engineered monster in underground gladiatorial battles. A rich man offers her a lot of money to lose, but she refuses. After she wins the combat, he comes back to make her pay, only to discover he got things very wrong.

I really liked the concept of the story, though not so much the execution. I am just not a huge fan of the „live begins at rape“-trope and I thought that backstory element was rather clumsily handled. I also feel like we could have reached the same twist wit a different backstory …

It‘s a really great twist.

I mean, I am not to clever, maybe you‘ll see it coming a mile away … but I still think it‘s a good twist …

Carefull, gore and boobs …

"Three Robots"

After the destruction of humanity, three robots take a vacation tour around seemingly abandoned city, trying to understand how humans lived based on their limited knowledge of them and the things they left behind. The surprise comes when they met a cat.

It‘s exactly what it says on the tin. It is sweet, adorable, funny … surprisingly meta in it‘s message, without getting too heavy handed, it has kittens … I love it.

If you have problems with skulls, skip it, there a loads of it here …

"The Witness"

A woman witnesses a murder in a building in front of the hotel where she is staying. She flees from him through a surreal city.

What it say on the tin. The twist isn‘t really a surprise if you pay attention, but it‘s a case of blink and you miss it.

I like the concept a lot and the execution was alright …

Nudity … lots of it … also blood … so, if that is a no, for you … skip it. Otherwise, I really like the twist … I say that a lot …

"Suits"

A small community of farmers pilot mech suits to defend their land from an invading swarm of insectoid aliens.

Again, what it says on the tin … a little heavy handed with the characterization, but they have only minutes to establish them, so that‘s O.K. for me. The characters are all very sweet and caring … not so much a twist ending as a WTF moment.

The violence is relatively tame … maybe PG 13, if you can stomach alien blood and a major character death …

"Sucker of Souls"

Awakened by an archaeological excavation, a bloodthirsty demon fights a crew of mercenaries.

What‘s on the tin.

I really liked this one. I like the  archaeologist, I like the mercenaries, … The ending is a bit … not disappointing … but you feel a bit cheated.

I also feel like this could work very well as Terror AU, with Goodsir being the archaeologist and the mercenaries being Crozier, fem-Blanky and … maybe Fitzjames …

The actual gore … rather graphic, though the style isn‘t hyper realistic … if you‘re sensible, definitely skip this one …

"When The Yogurt Took Over"

Yogurt developed by scientists becomes sentient and takes over the world.

What can I ay? It‘s what‘s on the tin.

Rather tame, except for a few moments of very dark humor … the style is very cartoony, so … not for the faint of heart maybe, but it should be fine for most people.

"Beyond the Aquila Rift"

Blue Goose's crew—Thom, Suzy, and Ray—are on a mission to reach beyond the Aquila Rift, but an error in the routing plot causes unexpected events to happen.

Sort of, what it says on the tin … but not …

I really liked it, … not particularly gory per see except for a quick scene … but if you hate spiders, definitely stay away … also boobs …

This one would also make for a great Terror AU, with Crozier as the Captain and Sophia as his long lost acquaintance …

"Good Hunting"

In early 20th century China, a boy becomes friends with a shape-shifting huli jing after his father kills the huli jing's mother. Years later, living in a steampunk Hong-Kong, they find each other again.

I really like the idea behind this … the thought  that magic can not exists in a world full of iron and steam. I loved that concept back in Lords and Lady's and I still love it.

I just could have done without the sex trafficking …

I‘d prefer d if she‘d just gotten a new body on her own terms, … Because I really like the concept that she has to change herself completely in order to control this new magic …

Definitely not for the faint of heart … what‘s on the screen is upsetting enough … the implications even more so …

Also, lots of nudity …

"The Dump"

A city inspector tries to convince Ugly Dave to move out of his house which is located in a dump. However, Dave and his pet are not intent on doing so.

This one was wearing tapp shoes … but I still like it … its cute … and dark … sensible people … maybe skip it …

Nudity … death and gore … also a puppy …

"Shape-Shifters"

Two close friends in the Marines with supernatural powers have to fight one of their own in Afghanistan.

Whats on the tin. Short, sweet, heartbreaking … gore … major character death … Nudity

"Helping Hand"

An astronaut faces a life or death situation after an accident while spacewalking in orbit. Now she has to decide, arm or live …

This was a hard one for me to watch … not so much for the gore … there is none … but just seeing her being so brave and inventive and … so so fucked … it was a hell of a ride, for me it was worth it …

God damn she is awesome!

"Fish Night"

Two salesmen get stuck in the desert, and discover that the desert is not what it seems at night.

I love it!

I loved the concept wen Pratchett came up with it for wee free men … where he mentioned it in a throw away line … and I was angry at myself for days, that I never came up with it myself …

Spooky, pretty … bloody … there was a shark … Nudity

I was sad, but I‘ll definitely give it a rewatch …

This doesn't so much work as an entire Terror AU, but I feel like, the concept does lend itself easily to being used with Silna …

"Lucky 13"

A pilot recalls her missions aboard the dropship Lucky 13, which had already lost two crews before.

Boy did I cry at this one … bit gory … and onions, so many onions … who the fuck needs so many onions at this time of night?

But yeah, I have a thing for ships … sue me …

"Zima Blue"

A reclusive artist gives a final interview after 100 years.

I love this … the style is very stylized and lends itself beautiful to the story … ah … I think this is even something for the faint of heart … also, in my case onions …

"Blindspot"

A cyborg crew attempts to rob a convoy.

What‘s on the tin, pretty straight forward … nothing special … but I feel that is less the stories fault and more the fact that it is simply outclassed among all the others …

Violent, but cartoony … so … no idea … proceed with caution?

"Ice Age"

A couple who just moved into the apartment finds a civilization inside an antique refrigerator.

What‘s on the tin.

Really sweet, really cute … cute couple … I feel like, some of the lines could have used one more rewrite, but that is me nitpicking. I really liked it, it was awesome, definitely gonna rewatch it … I feel like this is even for the faint of heart …

It is also very refreshing to see a married couple just hanging out together … love it

"Alternate Histories"

Multiversity, an alternative history research simulation app, shows the viewer the death of Adolf Hitler in 6 different timelines on their welcome demo.

I feel like Douglas Adams came back from the dead to write this … I get defined Hitchhiker vibes.

Ah … dark, but super cartoony, so the violence is rather tame … still, not G rated, despite the style … Nudity

I liked it a lot …

"Secret War"

A platoon of Red Army soldiers hunt down the undead in the forests of Siberia.

What it say on the tin.

The style is super realistic, so nothing for the faint of heart. Blood, gore … more blood, more gore …

I liked it …

And, is it just me, or is the Lieutenant the spitting image of John Morfin?

This would make an amazing Terror AU, you pretty much only have to change the names … even the Lieutenants second gives me Collins vibes …

I hope I got all the Nudity, but there is a lot of it … not even always in a sexy way, just in a “humans sometimes are naked” way …

And that was  Love, Death & Robots.

Was it good?

Hell yes!

Do I want more?

Definitely …  though I don‘t have to high hopes for a potential second season … once burned twice shy … But I‘d be delighted if we get one as good or even better.

[jd-the-anime-fan]

Whichever question you wanna answer most for all of then

I chose number 4

Has your character witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

Derormr at first didn’t care much for the Stormcloak Rebellion but after witnessing Torygg’s death at Ulfric’s hand however, he starts to despise the rebels. Part of his reasoning for forming the Ebonheart Company is to help repair relations between both Nords and non-Nords. Elisif, Sonaire, Horoth and Ushwei know about it

Ingda first joined the Dawnguard for the potential of money, but soon realised the scale of threat they were facing when she met with Harkon. The same is true for Alusati and Ra’thri-Dar. Serana and Athasai know this.

Kayesek failed to save his father when their home was attacked by bandits, his brother disowned him and he moved to Chorrol in Cyrodiil. Despite his brother’s cruel words to him, the event made him determined to try his best at preventing a similar tragedy befalling other families. Only Yaznakh, Enron and Lydia know about it.

Gelor was more or less bored with the lack of life/world-altering events going on when he was a boy as he was born after the Great War and found a shrine to Mehrunes Dagon, left completely undisturbed. He had always had the hidden, controversial opinion that Dagon brought about a catalyst for rebirth from the ashes. When Dagon first spoke to him, it became his main purpose in life to revive the Mythic Dawn. Silus knew before Gelor killed him.

Rena grew up in the slums of Bravil and despite her parents trying their best to provide for her they were still poor labourers. When she discovered her gift in haggling she realised the potential for earning money almost instantly, it made her determined to never fall into poverty again. Daro’adhi is the one who knows.

Lisnna was ostracized by other nobles as she was a bastard of a much-beloved man who was considered honourable. The scandal caused him to give up his position in the court, the death of her mentor during the Invasion of Wayrest, who taught her magic, the only person she felt truly close with gave her the conviction to train her magical abilities and try to take Wayrest back from the Corsairs who overtook it. Mausis, Loueus, Borgakh, Erandur and her colleagues at the College of Winterhold know.

Loueus was always a worshipper of Hircine, believing strongly in the potential for the Bloodmoon Prophecy of the Fourth Era to come about in his lifetime. While it’s a far-off date, the corsairs that overtook Wayrest were commanded to root out any sort of Daedra worship. This included the hunters Loueus grew up with, he was out hunting when they were attacked and killed. Mausis, Lisnna, Erandur and Borgakh know.

Mausis always experienced prejudice on account his Orcish heritage and after the Invasion of Wayrest, in which he lost his adopted parents and many of his mentors. Like his friends, he wants to take Wayrest back from the Corsairs but knows he needs power to do it and uses the skills he has to become a squire in an attempt to work his way up the social ladder. Lisnna, Loueus, Erandur and Borgakh know.

Yaznakh always wanted to join the Legion as her Altmer father was a Legionairre. When she first started losing friends though, that’s when the cruel reality of war sunk in for her. Fighting in the Great War made her stricter and harder but also installed in her a burning desire to stop the Dominion from taking Tamriel or die trying.

Daro’adhi, like Rena grew up in Bravil’s slums. Her parents were Skooma addicts, unfortunately her mother died after a bad batch of the narcotic and her father desperately tried to use their inheritance to pay of a powerful skooma dealer. It didn’t work, her father was killed and she was left an orphan. Because of this, she learned to be a thief to survive and hates both skooma and the scum who peddle it, as she puts it. Rena, a few other rough sleepers in Bravil and several members of the Thieves Guild know.

Ushwei was once loyal to the king of Black Marsh but questioned why more wasn’t being done to help Argonians outside of their home province. While it annoyed him that he typically got a cryptic answer about how any Argonian from outside Black Marsh was a traitor he still loyally served. Until one day a group of Dunmer refugees, a child among them, was caught trying to cross over to Cyrodiil through Black Marsh due to a lack of regulations of Imperial authority on it’s borders. The king spun a tale about how they were spies of the Great Houses and ordered them all executed. Despite his pleas for mercy, Ushwei was ignored and resigned as the king’s bodyguard, claiming he didn’t want to serve a monarch who cowered at the sight of a little girl. Brand-Shei, Madesi, Sonaire, Horoth and Derormr know what happened.

Veesk was always ostracized, so she basically grew up very bitter but once she learned of the Shadowscales, made it her mission to seek out the Dark Brotherhood. Riraisa and the rest of the Dark Brotherhood know.

Enron used to be an optimistic soldier in the Aldmeri Dominion army during the Great War unfortunately, the deaths of his parents and friends, among them the love of his life.  As well as his participation in atrocities absolutely broke him. He grew to hate the Dominion because of this, which was only exacerbated by his superior’s flippant attitude towards his loved one’s deaths. However, he saw his desertion as the first step towards redemption and decides to dedicate his life to helping people. Yaznakh, Kayesek and Lydia know.

Sonaire saw her husband killed by hired thugs sent after her and her spouse by her father, who had planned to marry her off to someone else. Coincidentally, she was rescued by members of another bandit group who were rivals of the thugs that invaded her home. One of them, an Orc named Guro, taught her everything she knew about how to fight. She stayed with the bandit group until they were dismantled due to numerous factors. She later joins the Ebonheart Company, though they don’t find out about her past until much later.

Horoth, as a Dunmer raised on Solstheim, was quite xenophobic to outsiders. The feelings of resentment against Argonians he was taught also fed into this. However, after he was helped out by Ushwei, he started to become a bit more open-minded and even grew to have a great respect for both Ushwei and Derormr. Sonaire, Ushwei and Derormr know.

Riraisa’s change was purely accidental, where she was from, due to the events of the Red Year and Argonian Invasion she was taught to never harm a child, anyone who dared to do so were to be given the most severe punishments. After fleeing from town guards as she unwittingly made herself an accomplice to a serial killer, she arrived in Riften. Hoping to find work in the orphanage, she came across Grelod abusing the children in her care, next thing she knew, she’d slashed the old hag’s throat open. She was later kidnapped by Astrid and was inducted into the DB. Veesk and the rest of the DB knows.

Thalas’s parents were nationalistic Bosmer who despised the Aldmeri Dominion, one night after a heated debate during a political trip with several Thalmor representatives. They were set upon by Thalmor agents. She survived the encounter as she was hunting for food to return to her parents at the camp they set up. Thus her vendetta against the Dominion began.

Athasai lost his wife, son and daughter to a vampire. A pure-blooded Bonmasu who charmed his way into the hunting community Athasai belonged to. On the 20th of Evening Star (Molag Bal’s summoning day), the vampire revealed himself along with a coven of other vampires. After killing his family, the same vampire fed off Athasai, though he had already drank blood from each member of Athasai’s family, meaning he didn’t take enough to kill Athasai and inadvertently turned him into a pure-blood Bonmasu. He turned from a mild-mannered hunter into a ruthless avenger, hellbent on tracking down the vampire that ruined his mortal life. Serana, Alusati, Ingda and Ra’thri-Dar know.

[dachi-chan25]

Game of Thrones Season 7 Episode 5 Recap Pt. 1

I seriously need to vent about “Eastwatch so bear with me please.

WARNING: SPOILERS; not a D@€n€r¥$ fan; Jonsa shipper so yeah I’m biased af.

Before diving into the recap:

1.- This are only my opinions, humble analysis and random thoughts/musings about the episode, and I am in no form or way trying to convince people I know everything or that I’m absolutely right and whatever other reading is wrong, I actually Love that thing about fandom that everyone sees things in a different way, is fascinating

2.- I’m the literal embodiment of the Salt Throne, and I feel specially salty about this episode so if you are not comfortable with that stuff I highly recommend you not to read this. I will always stay in my lane and I am not closed off to debates as long as you extend the same politeness and respect of course.

3.- My analysis of certain ships/characters is based on what I think and feel as an audience, but in no form or way do I think people shouldn’t ship/like said ship/characters. Believe me on the fact I will always defend the right to love what you love, even my most hated NOTPS are valid and I will always support the shippers and multishippers even if we don’t interact.

————

1.- Back on the lake near HG, Bronn and Jaime are fine (I already knew they weren’t going to die but I am glad they don’t even have a scratch) and golden boy is pissed cuz Bronn wasn’t delicate enough during his brave rescue, and Bronn is like yeah but why did you do such a stupid ass thing she has a dragon Jamie a dragon!!!! but our Lannister boy didn’t even cared he was willing to die to get rid of D.

OK, but that was really what a hero would do??He doesn’t know D, and the good things she has done, and we know Jaime is more than flawed, he has done awfull things, and in his mind D is the biggest threat he has ever faced (I mean he is not wrong) and still found the courage to charge at her, he just watched his man die horrible painful deaths (mind you he got PTSD from his time with Aerys right then and there) and instead of fleeing like Bronn suggested he fought and was willing to die just so he could get rid of D… That really makes you think.

Anyway Bronn is like fuck you, you can’t die before you pay me dude! but you’re totally on your own if the Dragon Woman comes to KL xoxo.

I truly love Bronn.

2.- So yeah we’re strolling through the Field of Fire with Tyrion, he looks absolutely horrified (he should) while the Dothraki take swords and weapons form the dead (yikes, can we talk about the lack of humanising of the Dothraki? We only got to know them a lil’ back on s1 and s2 and still they look like terrible people with a ruthless violent culture and no real good redeeming qualities, I mean we don’t even get a lot of depth on any Mereenese, Yunkai or Astapori beyond the ohh wondrous mysha bullshit!! and then we have Dorne, you know the PoC of Westeros, storyline absolutely butchered and thrown to shit, and this actually stinks of racism) anyway we have like what 50? 100? Soldiers and I’m supposed to pat D in the back for not killing everyone??? You kidding me right? There were 10,000 Lannister-Tarly soldiers, she killed ¾ of the army, and yet she dares to say she didn’t came to murder them or orphan their children with the same condecending tone she used for the Meerenese, Astapori and Yunkaii people???? Miss me that bullshit, she had an adavantage from 10-1 there was no FUCKING way the Lannister-Tarlys were going to win, besides if she has the noble pure righteous heart she loves to parrot about she would have given them the chance to yield before she went Dracarys on their asses (you know like Jon Snow did in the BoB telling Ramsey they should have a 1 on 1 so other people wouldn’t die) she should have taken the food, but she didn’t so it would be real nice if she stopped with all those pretty but meaningless speeches that only make her look like a hypocrite (but I totally understand why she doesn’t “if I look back I’m lost” which basically means I’m too lazy and proud to learn from my mistakes and accept my flaws) anyway it all boils down to “bend the knee or die even tho I just said I didn’t came to kill you after I had already killed most of you” and I kid you not, just 5-10 people bent immediately, only when Drogon screeches menacingly at them is that most drop to their knees absolutely terrified (*instert the “this is not freedom, this is fear” meme from Captain America) what kind of choice is this???? No choice at all, is either accept me as your newest overlord or die in the flames (yikes, I never wanted her on the IT but now more than ever).

Other thing that piqued my interest is that she uses her famous line about destroying the wheel, basically this is a medieval equivalent of communism, she says there will be no more powerfull high lords and helpless small folk, okay good, totally support this, but D you seriously need to ask yourself how are you going to manage the transition and if your replacement of this feudalistic system is all the power lies in me, my Dragons and my small council if/when I’m in the mood to actually listen then no fuck you. Communism is something we know, something we’ve seen before (Cuba, Russia, North Korea) and it has failed, even if theoretically it seems the most humanitarian and fair, in practice it has always caused an awful whiplash of tyranny, poverty and opression (history exists guys, and even if Westeros is a fantasy setting, GRRM based a lot of the stuff in ASOIAF in actual historical events) our society was not ready in any form or way for that kind of government and neither is the Westerosi society, but D is not a politician, she is a Queen and therefore she doesn’t care about future problems and consequences ‘til they hit her face and then she whines and complains about it.

Fortunately the Tarlys are having none of that overlord (overlady???) bullshit and will not kneel, is no secret I dislike Randyll Tarly cuz he is ruthless with his soldiers (flogging them for real??) and the way he treated Sam (fuck him) but he has a lot of strenght and dignity, he refuses to kneel because he already chose a side and he would stand by it even if it meant death, he is a hardass motherfucker if anything, Tyrion is like dude you seriously are going to fight for my evil sister? Point is that Cersei and D really give not much of an option do they Tyrion? As a matter of fact this scene is a good parallel to Cersei’s 7x01 one in the IT trash talking D and convincing (tho she is much more diplomatic) the Reach Lords to fight with her, then we see Randyll talk with Jaime and he says he only answered the call cuz he knew what Cersei does with her enemies. Here we have D’s pretty speech about how Cersei is evil and she is clearly the better option while intimidating them with her Dragon and Dothraki.But is the same! even if Cersei is more subtle in her approach. Anywhoo Randyll is like you say whatever you want about Queen C, but she is not a foreign invader with a army of infamous pillagers and rapers and dragons who burnt all the food of the Reach (k I added that last bit cuz I’m salty that no one seems to give a fuck about the food) and I know some people have been saying he sounded racist (he does not) that is not the case at all,every country requests being a citizen (among other things) to occupy a position in the government, because you have to know the country, lived there, care at least a little about it’s people and know them and let them know you, D meets none of this requirements, and yes it’s not her fault, it’s her dad’s and Robert’s that she had to live in exile, but still she has no right to proclaim herself as the better option when she has done nothing to show it.

So Randyll is ready to die, Tyrion wants to save him (I guess to convince himself that he made the right decision in supporting D) and suggests he is sent to the Wall, but Radyll is like nah man she has no authority to make me do shit cuz she ain’t my queen. Dickon (my brave and beautiful, and dumb son) steps out and says he won’t bend the knee also, Randyll and Tyrion collectively lose their shits (bitch me too the fuck) because they don’t want him to die and let house Tarly die with him (this rings to close to Tyrion cuz his evil sis killed the Tyrells and Aerys killed a Rickard and Brandon Stark, how is this any different from what D is doing now?) but D is ruthless and says she already gave them an option, Tyrion is still trying to be like hey how about you don’t start cutting heads off??? and D is like LMAO who said I was beheading them? Tyrion is left speechless (why were you expecting dude?? You watched her burn the army and the food, and she almost burnt your brother and your bff) but really is heartbreaking because he wanted so hard to see the mericful woman he admired and believed in and only sees a tyrant.

So of course I cried, because I played myself living in denial and happily shipping Dicksa (we can’t have nice things, but my ship is not going down, you can’t kill what is already dead!!!!) and beyond that it was heartbreaking seeing Randyll holding his son’s arm and them dying on ther feet. And I was reminded of one of the heroes of the mexican revolution, Emiliano Zapata who once said “I’d rather die on my feet, than live on my knees” what the Tarlys did was a common tragic hero trope.

After the Tarlys get roasted, everyone is on their knees and I would love to slap the satisfaction out of D’s face, because this is awful.

———

I rambled far too much so this needs a part 2