#who at the very least seems less war hungry than he is

[tubapun]

Apparently there's rumors that biden is dropping out and someone else is going on the ballot BUT the rumor was started by Bill o Reilly so who even knows at this point

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, pillory, elf-reader, orc assailants, war between orcs and elves, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, poor confinement conditions, starvation, piss drinking, cumflation, mindbreak, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

The orc camp smells of blood and sweat and other obscenities you and your snooty elven nose fear naming. 

They’ve stripped you and your fellow troops of all weaponry and armor—ugly bastards even took your boots! Leaving you in only silken undergarments, standing barefoot in the cold, wet mud. 

It’s to make it harder to run away if you were to escape, you suspect. You can’t decide if it’s a clever tactic or simply a cruel one. Either way, it’s the least of your worries... You haven't been fed or given water since yesterday when you were all captured—paired with having been made to march for half the day barefoot, all tied up by your wrists, one behind the other, toed along like animals with mean tugs that had more than one of you falling face first in the mud—who knows how many of you will be able to continue walking when they decide it’s time to start moving again—much less run away if and when the opportunity presents itself—leaving you hopeless if someone doesn’t do something soon.

And it turns out that someone is you.

“Hey!” you yell. Bruised hands gripping the splintered wooden bars of your crudely built prison, glaring at the two brutes standing watch.

They acknowledge your shout, but neither of them gives any reason for you to believe they understood you were talking to them. Looking at you, then at each other.

“Yes, you two, guards!” you make clear.

They continue to look at you, yet don’t make a move.

You sigh exasperatingly—yet with how tired you are, it’s more a full-chested groan unbecoming of a fine elven knight, but under the circumstances, you couldn’t much care. 

“I know ungodly monstrosities such as yourselves don’t require much to sustain your foul existence, but elves need food—at the very least water!” 

A fellow elf grabs your shoulder gently, saying something under his breath, perhaps in an effort to make you quiet, but you nudge it off and continue your rant in spite of it. 

“If you plan to keep us alive—as I would think, given your decision to cage us—I would advise you to meet us with the bare necessities!”

Both guards look away toward another orc—one sitting on a thick log at the mouth of one of the nicer, warmer-looking tents they’d pitched—perhaps the biggest one—sharpening his blade with a rock.

He doesn’t look up from his handiwork but speaks, “The elf is hungry?”

You scowl at the question. “Yes, you oaf—the elf is, in fact, hungry.”

He lifts his blade and looks it over—one side, then the other—before sinking it deep down into the mud. Tossing the rock away, he stands and whistles sharply, prompting the two guards to wander off as if to get something. Meanwhile, what seems to be the commander starts walking towards the prison.

Regret starts to fester as he approaches, and you’re reminded once again why the inferior race best you in battle time and time again despite your obvious intellectual difference. Three cabbage heads taller than you, his weight must be about four or five, maybe even six, times yours—built like a grizzly bear—plus his armor, which easily adds another.

He unlocks the prison, and you step back on instinct.

“Come. You will be fed,” he says, opening the gate wide.

You look behind you—all the other elves have scurried back into the far end of the cage, leaving you alone in your endeavor, which only feels foolish now that you’re sure he’s going to use those blood-dirty hands of his to squish your head clean off your shoulders as soon as you step out.

Even still, maybe by the adrenaline of imminent death or the lightheadedness of starvation, you dare ask, though a little cautiously now, “What’s on the menu?”

The orc snorts—perhaps at your pickiness—finding your resolve to uphold your standards funny, given you weren't in much of a situation to make demands. You could scoff, too—of course, you can't expect an orc to understand anything about standards.

He smirks, answering, “Something to keep warm."

Or perhaps he was laughing for an entirely different matter...

The guards return carrying something. You spot them behind him, trudging loudly in the slop before halting—mounting something close to the firepit.

By the time you understand what it is, it’s already too late. Your hair’s grabbed—as well as your entire skull—taken in one meaty hand, pulled out of the safety of the cage, and shoved harshly down into the wet dirt.

He locks up the gate again as you lie there. And you take your chance to try and run, crawling forward—fighting through the clay, dragging you down. Scrambling for balance, you’ve barely even made it up on your feet once he grabs you again—this time leading you towards the other two standing in wait along the torture device they’ve set up just for you.

You’re lifted to stand atop a crate, making you the right height, then bent over—with your wrist led into each their position as well as your throat, shoved down as the lunette comes down and successfully locks you in place—perfectly trapped in the pillory with no means of escape.

You pull and struggle, toiling against the wooden plates—too late for any such silly thing as regret you can only whimper in short, panicked screams and cries—but it’s no use. The hand comes back and grabs your hair, yanking it tightly, making your neck crane as he forces you to look up despite the fixed position.

He smiles down at the look on your face—watching your tears make clear streaks through the mud, lips wobbly as you begin to beg, “Please—I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Oh, don’t worry, little elf,” he cuts you off with a coo, grabbing your jaw in his other hand. “You’ll be fed, just like promised.”

Something behind you rips your silk cloth away, baring you. You stiffen all over, breath hitching as useless fists whiten in their restraints. You want to kick, to thrash—but poor balance only results in you choking yourself—and so you’re left to stand there, helpless—bowed and nude before three orcs you’ve angered with your reckless entitlement.

“Mh, pretty elf holes…” one of the guards behind murmurs, cupping your asscheeks and spreading them to take a look, filtering grubby fingers through the crack and lips, rubbing over both holes.

You shake, trying to thwart their efforts. But a gritty pad roughs over your clit and finds purchase below it.

“Stop, stop! Don’t!” you wail, but it pries you apart anyway—wriggling inside your cunt in a brutish shove, it sheathes itself deeply in curiosity to see how much you could fit, eagerly pumping it inside knuckle-deep before pulling back out—then repeating the motion—promptly finger-fucking the tight opening with a digit the size of an average elf’s manhood.

You sob, heaving for breath. Shaking your head in shame as you start to slicken—if just to make it a little more bearable, but the wet noise of it only serves to make you wish they’d killed you instead.

“Shh, elf. Don't cry.” The commander orc in front of you keeps his hold on your hair, talking down to you as he admires your despair. “We’ll give you what you beg for…” He strokes your cheek harshly with the other hand, smearing your tears before moving on to his armored belt. 

You whimper as it drops, revealing what must be your newest and truest worst nightmare. 

“A warm meal in all your hungry holes.”

The two guards take turns behind you. You can’t see them, but they’ve made themselves more than known—having stretched out both your openings to accommodate their overgrown size. 

They seem to like it when you cum—keeping their fat fingers on your clit and always fondling your tits, rubbing your nipples as they fuck your womb deeply until you wet them with your fluids. Your knees gave in a little while ago—their groping now the only thing keeping you upright, and the steady pounding the only thing keeping you awake.

Meanwhile, the commander has his fun with your face. Making you cuddle his heavy ballsack, dousing your face in the rank. With a dagger threatening your pretty eye, he'd coaxed your tongue out to play sooner than you’re proud of—now pliantly hanging from your mouth, licking every foul-tasting patch of his toad-like skin—feeling worse than a beggar eating scraps.

But you ought to thank him. Earlier, he’d tried forcing his length down your throat—making your jaw all but unlock to make room. His cockhead is the size of your fist—in the end, you could only suck on it, only able to satisfy him and his harsh scalp-ripping grip on your hair by prodding his dickhole with your tongue. He started petting you when you did that, making you feel all the more defeated.

His mercy tastes worse than the rancid white you’d been made to swallow. You’d wanted to bite, but the dagger he’d earlier stabbed into the wooden plate for safe-keeping keeps you sweet as you lick and suck the prominent veins running up his fat size—face glazed in sweat and spit, both his and yours.

“Poor elf-bitch…” he jeers while twirling a lock of your fine hair around his crooked finger. “Fed twig all your pretty life—of course, you’re hungry.”

He chuckles, voice hoarse and muted—almost soft, were it not for its gritty timbre. Keeping his cock resting heavy against your face, covering your eye while rubbing the base against your pouty lips.

“A mouthy whore like you needs real cock. Only happy when you’re pounded like meat.” He hums, “In your natural state, pleasing those bigger and stronger than you as a good pet should.”

He laughs louder, rumbles with it enough to shake the ground, then breaks away from you.

“Leave her cunt to me,” he says, folding his arms upon his chest, leaving his heavy cock to swing between muscle-ripped thighs as he leers at the scene. “Prissy elf pussy’s mine to breed.”

One of the guards soon takes up the vacant spot in front of you, putting his leaky tip to your lips in a sloppy kiss before pressing through to fight your throat for space—putting you in an air-tight spitroast—with your ass already being forced to play host for the other intruder, getting your drenched and swollen pussy slapped by a pair of weighty balls on each of his breath-robbing thrusts into your guts.

“A'right, boys,” the commander announces, “Let's stuff her ‘til she’s big and round. 'See if she's still hungry then.”

They both groan and dig in as far as your body allows, bordering on its limits, making you stretch to take them deeper before planting their seed—coming in fast ropes at first, then thicker waves, and finally smaller spurts aided by the shunting of their hips as they rut against you—feeding it to you without rush, one dose after the other, until their balls were all good and empty.

Then they sigh, breathing heavily, waiting for their seed to be settled and swallowed in your bowels before slowly sliding their spent cocks out—letting the overdose spill from your holes as you take a weakened breath and quake in the aftershocks, left hanging in the stand with a body full of orc cum and something else, something that's made your mind feel all funny and flirty. 

Then, stomach heavy and warm, hanging with more weight than your breasts—tender and oddly tingly all over—you croon, like a cow, when the commander lifts your hips and eases inside your cunt only a short moment after—starting to pound you softly but deep enough to make your head hang and tongue drip with drool, moaning like an animal in its heat, all silly, like a mating-call, waiting for your womb to be fed with the same warmth.

He cups your buttcheeks with both his thumbs hooked within your ass, and still, he feels you tremble and cum without your clitty being touched—milking him for his spend, begging him with your tongue out in sweet mews. "Bleath, bleath, mathder~"

And although he can't see it from his position, it still makes him smile. “That’s right, dumb little elf-pet. Beg, and you will be fed.”

You clench up and throttle when he finally blows, and the warmth swarms your gushy insides in heavenly goo—leaving you feeling cozy from the inside out—cross-eyed and panting in utter ecstasy.

He also waits—waits until his cum takes root and his cock unswells for a good minute or two before pulling out with a throaty sigh. Then he rounds the pillory, a heavy step at a time, until his lousy and still steaming cock is met face to face with your sweaty flush-cheeked expression.

“Still hungry, elf-girl?” he asks, jostling the sloppy member against your equally drowsy face. “Or was it thirsty?”

He picks your chin up with a hand, holding it steady while watching your half-mast and glazed heart-eyes lazily blink up at him—grinning and humming at the sight.

“Tell me, elf-pet, which of it was it you were whining about?”

Drool spills from your mouth as you answer, speech slurred like a drunken degenerate, “Both~”

He clicks his tongue, “Spoiled.” But he doesn’t seem angry—no, rather pleased. “You’ve been well-fed for now—time to wash it down.”

He lifts his heavy slug and puts the numb tip to your lips, which eagerly parts wide for him to press inside softly, filling the drizzly cavern, cockhead resting neatly on the wet bed of your tongue. 

You obediently await it with your eyes locked onto his—both moaning once it comes. Hot and salty-sweet, it pours onto your tongue and sloshes down your throat, spilling from your mouth and somehow splashing all over your face—making you shudder in warm bliss as you gulp it down as if it’s in another class from the aged wine back home.

“Drink, elf-slave. Drink and be grateful,” he instructs, and you obey, allowing the piss-stream to hit the back of your throat where you could glug it all down with minimal spill.

When it stopped, you sucked his tip and tongued the slit like before, cleaning it dry of the last drop, saying, “Thank you—thank you, master.”

Elves never cease to surprise him. Always so prissy—high and mighty creatures—and yet they fall the farthest from grace when pushed. 

He had many different ideas on how to make an example of you to the others—cease any ideas they might have of uproar and rebellion. Leave you here for the ogres and trolls to come and have their sloppy seconds. Tie you up by your ankles and drag you behind the horses through all the muck. Let the rest of his troops have at you until you met with your unfortunate end.

But no. He thinks not.

“Let’s move—” he announces to the camp. “Time to take our bounty home.”

After all, for all your whining, you did have a point earlier—you elves are only good to them alive and well. Best get you to the nearest market and sell you.

The guards unfix you from the pillory and start hauling your collapsed form back to the cage.

“No, not her,” he corrects them, thinking of your pretty eyes and soft tongue and that pretty elf cunt that milked him dry like none other. “She rides with me.”

On bearback, he ties your hands around his neck and lets you sleep with your head on his chest, riding backward with your legs draped over his—still naked with your cum-belly leaking out over his saddle—making a mess he’ll have you lick clean later.

“Tell me if you get hungry again, little elf,” he sneers, though a little fondly. “I’ll feed you again.”

And you, despite groggy, with eyes closed, mumble back dumbly, “Thank you, master.”

♡ PART TWO

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[number1villainstan]

I just saw Dune Part 2 (2024) with some friends so here are some Thoughts i guess

I feel like on the whole these movies are trying to either downplay or cut out a lot of the misogyny/sexism in the book, although Herbert's view of gender roles is so pervasive in the book that it's hard to change without completely changing the worldbuilding (the Bene Gesserit especially) and/or certain characters and getting second-order effects that weaken or change the main plot. But they did a good job at least making it much less in-your-face and offensive than in the book. One of Chani's lines is about how "men and women are equal" in the Fremen, and while I don't really think that's supported by how the movie depicts Fremen I can see and respect where they're coming from

It's still a very male-dominated movie, but it's honestly pretty faithful to the book, and like--what are you gonna do? It's Dune. You can't exactly just genderbend Paul and get the same story, at least not when the Bene Gesserit are still what they are

wait now i'm thinking about an AU where the Kwisatz Haderach turns out to be a trans man. ideally you'd get both the canon critiques of white savior mythos/the Messiah trope and a deconstruction of the sexism and strict gender roles of the society of the Dune universe. also ideally you'd get a whole bunch of other queer characters in the same AU. you could also do an AU where the Kwisatz Haderach/a potential Kwisatz Haderach turns out to be a trans woman, or even nonbinary, but i feel like those would make for very different stories cuz AGAB/ASAB seems to matter like A Lot in the Dune universe

the movies did manage to completely get rid of the homophobic parts of the Harkonnens' characterization though. i did like that

although it was still using disability/deformity as shorthand for Ugly Evil Guy which :/

but enough about the Problematic Elements(TM) let's talk about the actual story

Chani was a lot more politically and generally assertive in the movie than I remember her being in the book, although it's been A While and she was also very much a Main Character who had thoughts and opinions and importance outside of the male characters she was affiliated with (as much as anyone can escape the political black hole that is Muad'dib but) AND! she actively advocated for Fremen self-governance in the beginning! although she didn't keep it up cuz she got sucked into the Paul black hole. this may have happened in the book it has been like two years since i read the first book and it was very disjointed reading cuz College(TM). I also liked the ending part, where it was implied that Chani was leaving, on her own, because she was angry with Paul, which implies More Character Development. (Also they didn't seem to do the Fremen polygamy/concubines thing in the movie, which was a good call, i feel like that part of the book was maybe informed by anti-Arab racism)

Jessica was incredible, of course. Love me a good ruthless woman. Her main character trait/motivation was definitely Paul's Mother but her main personality trait seems to be incredible ruthlessness. there is no madonna/whore complex to be found here no sir

(i may be wrong about that part but eh)

And of course the Harkonnen Blood reveal. the story definitely sets up Atreides as The Good Guys (fair, just, merciful, looking out for and caring about the people under their rule) and the Harkonnens as The Bad Guys (cruel, unjust, power-hungry and traitorous), which makes the reveal that Jessica and Paul have Harkonnen blood an incredible symbol of Paul's corruption arc. He goes from "I must do anything possible to avoid the holy war" (the Atreides way) to "CONQUER ARRAKIS AND ELIMINATE ANYONE WHO STANDS IN MY WAY" (the Harkonnen way) over the course of...technically years, in the book, although that wasn't super well communicated in the movie I feel--in the movie it was only months, cuz Alia hadn't been born yet by the end. And right before we see the worst of it we end up learning that Jessica, his mother, was a daughter of Baron Harkonnen. Jesus fuck.

there's definitely some Not Great elements about using ancestors/blood to determine morality but still

princess irulan was introduced! as an independent character and actor in her own right oh my god! although she still falls prey to the sexism infusing the original material

the dune books (at least the first two) are in this weird state where there are very strict and specific roles/walks of life that female characters are allowed in (domestic/family life and religion) and men dominate Everything Else and nobody every questions that, not to mention the whole thing about how apparently even the very female religion/psychic field is supposed to be dominated eventually by This One Man who can do it better than all the women, and yet all of the female characters are well-developed and feel like people. ykno aside from the complete lack of protest in being shoved into a sexist role

anyways irulan got more development than i remember from the books, i loved that, and that we got her POV too. these movies are really working to uplift and spotlight the female perspectives that were often somewhat sidelined in the books and i love that

also stilgar's (blind?) faith REALLY came through which i liked

overall, yeah, the movie was great. it's very faithful to the spirit of Dune while addressing some of its flaws/datedness--it understands what its message is and what it's saying, and the way it's constructed really hammers home the critiques of imperialism and racism the original was built on

I think this is gonna end up a trilogy, based on only the first book, and it very much seems like the third (and final?) movie is going to specifically focus on the war against the Great Houses after the Emperor falls, which iirc was kinda glossed over in the book/between Dune and Dune: Messiah. I can't wait to see what they do with it

[theladyragnell]

AC for Alex/Thom?

(Visiting their home for the first time! You and an anon both asked for the exact same thing, I am assuming because everybody wants Thom to visit hill country, so I am doing the prompt twice. Here's Thom in hill country (implying an epic fic as backstory, but shh), and in a few days we'll get Alex visiting somewhere I haven't decided yet!)

Thom, ever the diplomat, took some time to consider his first impression of Tirragen as they rode over the crest of a hill and into the fief, and decided that “brown” just about covered it. The late-summer dead grass waving in the wind was pale brown, the recently harvested fields darker brown, the lakeshore mud was brown, and the buildings in the settlement nearest them were brown. Even Tirragen’s hold was brown, stone much the color of the dead grass.

The lake, at least, was blue. It was some relief from the monotony.

“Not as luxurious as you’re used to, no doubt,” said Alex from up ahead of him, who for someone with no Gift at all had an uncanny facility for plucking thoughts out of Thom’s head.

At least he could occasionally be wrong. Thom had only grown used to luxury in Corus, and that had lasted no time at all next to the country upbringing of Trebond and the lightless austerity of the City of the Gods. It was just that apparently a small taste of luxury was worse than none at all. “You should have seen the monastery,” he said, encouraging his horse forward a bit to ride next to Alex. “For a place supposedly sacred to the god of the sun, it wasn’t a very bright place.”

“Tirragen gets light, at least.” Alex pulled to a stop before they could descend too far down the hill, shading his eyes with a hand and inspecting his fief. “The fall crops are behind.”

It had been the same everywhere, but Thom had spent years with his teachers hammering concepts of balance into his head. The new king had spent a perilous hour holding his kingdom together with magic. Thom was going to have to write him to reiterate that they were in for a troublesome few years and just hope that he would listen, after the exhausted way he’d asked them to get away from Corus before fingers started pointing at them. “Not quite as far behind,” he said. He hadn’t particularly known anything about crop growth and its projected rates when they left Corus, but he was learning them quickly enough.

Alex, who’d known the crops and their growth rates better the closer they got to arid hill country, lowered his hand and kicked his horse into motion again. “Behind enough to give us a hungry winter, and with Eldorne and Malven even more out of favor than we are, we’re not going to get much aid. I need to see how our grain stores do, and how much we need to save for seed if the crop gets spoiled. We just need to keep hill country from raiding across the Drell and starting another war for Jon.”

That was, Thom was almost sure, the most words Alex had strung together at once since they’d left Corus. When Thom had met him, those first awful months of trying to establish his place and letting himself be lost in his own pride, he’d picked his words carefully, with a talent for compliments that could make a man feel like he’d been slapped and a sly turn of phrase. On their journey, he’d simply seemed too tired to speak. Trust a man’s home to get him talking again. “We?” said Thom, when Alex twisted, seeming to expect his commentary. That was fair enough. Thom had certainly led him to believe he had commentary on everything. He suspected Alanna found it embarrassing, the way he’d learned to rattle on over the years.

“I assumed that if you were so interested in taking all your magical measurements about crops, you might have plans for what to do with them. The raiding is my business, unless you have insight from Trebond, you must get Scanrans across the border.”

Less often than they might. When their father had told Thom rare stories about his childhood, before everything, Scanran raids had featured heavily, the reason he’d gone for his knighthood instead of to the cloisters. King Jasson’s ambition, though, had given Trebond breathing space. “No plans yet,” Thom admitted. Saying that Jasson had made Thom’s life as a baron better, for all he was in the process of disinheriting himself, seemed cruel when he was riding across old Hurdik lands. “Agricultural magic was never my specialty. I’ll have to come at it from the side of the Dominion Jewel, and that’s half a country away, so it will take some work.”

“I’ll send out for any books you need, and our crop records are at your disposal.”

Thom hated crop records. He’d been spoiled, letting Coram deal with them, but that was why Coram would be a better baron than Thom would, especially given Alanna had more than enough to do and no interest in inheriting the mausoleum herself. “Fascinating evening reading, no doubt,” he said.

Alex twisted again, gave him the level look that meant You’re the one who wished yourself on me, remember, but didn’t comment, just kept riding on. “It will be hard work,” he said eventually.

Hard work, like Thom didn’t know the meaning of it. Like he hadn’t gained his Mastery young while leading everyone to believe he was too stupid to do it, playing a double game and advising his sister from a distance. If there was one universal among the young knights of the palace, no matter which side of the attempted coup they’d fallen on, it was that they thought life in the Mithran cloisters must have been soft and easy. It was disappointing that Alex, generally one of the more intelligent of them, seemed to feel the same. “Somehow I’ll survive.”

Alex frowned a little, with an assessing look that reminded him of Alanna’s George, who did not like Alex at all. Not that Thom could blame him. There was a reason Thom and Alex were rusticating in hill country for the foreseeable future, and they were lucky not to be doing it under guard like Delia. “I imagine we both will,” he said eventually, like it was a burden and not the best piece of optimism Thom had heard in months.

Thom looked off into the distance again, at the various shades of brown, at the blue lake reflecting the blue sky. In the distance, at the keep, they were raising the flag as their lord approached, the black and purple standing out in the landscape. It wasn’t home, but then again, he wasn’t sure, after so long, precisely where that was.

“It’s all very brown,” he drawled, at his most affected and court-mannered, and hoped Alex could hear the joke and the truth all braided together.

Alex just smiled a little, eyes on the flag at the keep, and dug his heels in, and Thom did the same, until they were cantering toward Fief Tirragen, and all the work that waited there.

[thebrickinbrick]

Passing Gleams

In the chaos of sentiments and passions which defend a barricade, there is a little of everything; there is bravery, there is youth, honor, enthusiasm, the ideal, conviction, the rage of the gambler, and, above all, intermittences of hope.

One of these intermittences, one of these vague quivers of hope suddenly traversed the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie at the moment when it was least expected.

“Listen,” suddenly cried Enjolras, who was still on the watch, “it seems to me that Paris is waking up.”

It is certain that, on the morning of the 6th of June, the insurrection broke out afresh for an hour or two, to a certain extent. The obstinacy of the alarm peal of Saint-Merry reanimated some fancies. Barricades were begun in the Rue du Poirier and the Rue des Gravilliers. In front of the Porte Saint-Martin, a young man, armed with a rifle, attacked alone a squadron of cavalry. In plain sight, on the open boulevard, he placed one knee on the ground, shouldered his weapon, fired, killed the commander of the squadron, and turned away, saying: “There’s another who will do us no more harm.”

He was put to the sword. In the Rue Saint-Denis, a woman fired on the National Guard from behind a lowered blind. The slats of the blind could be seen to tremble at every shot. A child fourteen years of age was arrested in the Rue de la Cossonerie, with his pockets full of cartridges. Many posts were attacked. At the entrance to the Rue Bertin-Poirée, a very lively and utterly unexpected fusillade welcomed a regiment of cuirrassiers, at whose head marched Marshal General Cavaignac de Barague. In the Rue Planche-Mibray, they threw old pieces of pottery and household utensils down on the soldiers from the roofs; a bad sign; and when this matter was reported to Marshal Soult, Napoleon’s old lieutenant grew thoughtful, as he recalled Suchet’s saying at Saragossa: “We are lost when the old women empty their pots de chambre on our heads.”

These general symptoms which presented themselves at the moment when it was thought that the uprising had been rendered local, this fever of wrath, these sparks which flew hither and thither above those deep masses of combustibles which are called the faubourgs of Paris,—all this, taken together, disturbed the military chiefs. They made haste to stamp out these beginnings of conflagration.

They delayed the attack on the barricades Maubuée, de la Chanvrerie and Saint-Merry until these sparks had been extinguished, in order that they might have to deal with the barricades only and be able to finish them at one blow. Columns were thrown into the streets where there was fermentation, sweeping the large, sounding the small, right and left, now slowly and cautiously, now at full charge. The troops broke in the doors of houses whence shots had been fired; at the same time, manœuvres by the cavalry dispersed the groups on the boulevards. This repression was not effected without some commotion, and without that tumultuous uproar peculiar to collisions between the army and the people. This was what Enjolras had caught in the intervals of the cannonade and the musketry.

Moreover, he had seen wounded men passing the end of the street in litters, and he said to Courfeyrac:—“Those wounded do not come from us.”

Their hope did not last long; the gleam was quickly eclipsed. In less than half an hour, what was in the air vanished, it was a flash of lightning unaccompanied by thunder, and the insurgents felt that sort of leaden cope, which the indifference of the people casts over obstinate and deserted men, fall over them once more.

The general movement, which seemed to have assumed a vague outline, had miscarried; and the attention of the minister of war and the strategy of the generals could now be concentrated on the three or four barricades which still remained standing.

The sun was mounting above the horizon.

An insurgent hailed Enjolras.

“We are hungry here. Are we really going to die like this, without anything to eat?”

Enjolras, who was still leaning on his elbows at his embrasure, made an affirmative sign with his head, but without taking his eyes from the end of the street.

[agaypanic]

Eric Forman x gn reader where Eric realizes that he’s in love with his friend (childhood or recent friend up to u) because they’re just as nerdy as Eric is so they go to every movie/convention etc. together but reader also doesn’t get along with Donna very well. So one day Donna says something out of line or her and reader get into an argument and Eric has a realization of “oh, I don’t like this” so he tells Donna off and goes to comfort/confess to reader <3 (no Donna hate it’s just for the plot 😭!!)

Second Best (Eric Forman X GN!Reader)

Masterlist

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Summary: Eric thought that Donna was who he was supposed to end up with. But after a clash between her and his best friend Y/n, he realizes he’s been after the wrong person this whole time.

A/N: donna’s ooc for plot convenience teehee

***

“Eric, we gotta hurry up, or we’ll miss the movie.” You called out, looking down at your watch. Ever since you and the gang went to see Star Wars for the first time, you and Eric were hooked. So hooked that this was the third time you were going to see it. The rest of your friends, not being as nerdy or invested in science fiction as you and Eric, immediately declined the invitation to come with.

Eric ran down the stairs into the basement, patting his pants to ensure he had his wallet and keys.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Eric opened the basement door for you, looking at the rest of his friends. “Are you guys sure you don’t wanna come?”

“No way, Forman. One time’s enough.” Hyde responded, reclining in his usual chair.

“Yeah, Eric. No one wants to be part of your and Y/n’s little nerd fest.” Kelso said absentmindedly, eyes glued to the television.

“Donna?” Eric looked at the girl hopefully. She looked at Eric, then at you, face pinching with a bit of distaste.

“No thanks.”

Eric didn’t know why you and Donna didn’t get along. But it sucked because you were his best friend, and Donna was the girl he’d been crushing on practically his whole life. Whenever he asked you about it, you said you had no idea why you were Donna’s least favorite out of the group. And he didn’t wanna ask Donna because that might cause a rift in your friend group.

“Okay then… Come on, Y/n. Let’s go.” 

***

Donna’s little act of animosity was long forgotten by the time Eric parked the Vista Cruiser at the movie theater, thoughts of it being drowned out by the excitement of seeing A New Hope. Like the last two times, you and Eric were completely invested in the movie, pointing out the little things that you hadn’t noticed before to each other.

This is why Eric loved hanging out with you. Ever since you two met, you’ve been bonding over the same things. Comic books, superheroes, music nobody else really seemed to like. This Star Wars movie was just one of countless things the two of you could nerd out over together without judgment from the other.

“God, that was awesome,” Eric said as you and him exited the theater. 

“I don’t know if it’s possible, but I think it gets better every time we watch it.” You said as he unlocked his car, allowing you to settle into the passenger seat.

“I guess we’ll have to see it again to make sure.” You nodded in agreement before the two of you fell into silence, wondering what to do next. “Want me to take you home?”

“I’m actually getting kinda hungry.”

Eric looked up in contemplation, wondering what the best option to suggest was.

“Wanna go to the Hub?” You had probably been to that little food stop a million times, but that didn’t stop you from nodding enthusiastically.

“Hell yeah!”

The Hub wasn’t very crowded when you got there. While Eric went to order food, you nabbed the table next to the bathrooms.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” Eric said, setting the receipt on the table before going through the door. You fiddled with the paper, waiting for Eric to return or for your order to be called. 

Less than a minute later, someone walked into the nearly empty food joint, stopping right in front of your table.

“Hey, Y/n.” You looked up to see Donna looking down at you. “Where’s Eric?”

“Uh, in the bathroom. Why?”

“I wanted to talk to him, figured if he wasn’t at home or the theater, he’d be here. But since you’re here…” She settled into Eric’s seat, locking her hands and looking at you suspiciously. “What’s up with you and Eric?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re always hanging around him, pretending to be into the same stuff as him. You can drop the act.”

“Donna, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You could’ve laughed; this conversation was so absurd. “It’s not an act; Eric and I like a lot of the same stuff. That’s why we’re best friends!” Apparently, Donna wasn’t believing a single word coming out of your mouth.

And Eric, listening through the small opening of the bathroom door, couldn’t believe a word she was saying. But you and Donna were too into this developing argument to notice him or his eavesdropping.

“There’s no way!” Donna let out a little laugh, but she seemed far from amused. “There’s no way you just happen to be so into every little thing that Eric’s into unless you’re trying to get into his pants.” She laughed again at the thought, while you were both offended and somewhat horrified by the assumption. “As if he’d ever want someone like you.”

You abruptly stood up, grabbing your things as you looked at Donna in disbelief.

“You… you’re so- God, Donna! You’re just unbelievable.” You turned on your heel and stormed out of the Hub, many different feelings brewing inside you.

Meanwhile, Donna stayed sat at the table, waiting for Eric, who decided now was the time to come out of the bathroom.

“Oh, hey, Eric!” Donna grinned as if she wasn’t waiting for him and was surprised by his presence. However, the smile faded when she noticed Eric’s angry expression. “Eric, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Damn, Donna! You have a lot of nerve to say all of that to Y/n and then ask me what’s wrong.”

Donna was taken aback. She clearly didn’t expect anyone else to hear your conversation, especially not the topic of said conversation. She tried to speak, maybe say that she didn’t know what Eric was talking about, but he silenced her with a raised hand before putting it back on his hip like the other.

“No, no, no, no. You’ve had plenty to say. Now it’s my turn. You know, I thought that maybe Y/n had done something to you without knowing it, and that’s why you don’t like them. But no! They haven’t done anything to you except be my friend and have common interests with me. Just because Y/n likes all the stuff I like doesn’t mean they wanna ‘get in my pants’! And even if they did, that’s none of your business.” Eric didn’t care about all the attention he was bringing to himself and Donna, too blinded by anger. He leaned down to be face to face with a speechless and taken aback Donna. “There’s nothing wrong with me, but I know what’s wrong with you, Donna. You’re jealous for no reason. Now look, whatever thing we had between us is over. Whatever I felt for you is gone, because I don’t wanna be with someone who disrespects someone I care about.”

Eric didn’t stick around to hear Donna try to form some kind of rebuttal. She called for him, but he ignored her, walking out of the Hub and looking around for you. You had only left a few minutes before him, but you were nowhere in sight, not by the door or by his car.

You were gone.

***

Donna was right, in a sense, though you’d never admit it to her. No, you weren’t pretending to have similar interests with Eric to get with him. But you’d be lying if you said that all that you had in common and all the time you spent together bonding over what you had in common didn’t lead to you developing a bit of a crush on your best friend. But you had to keep it a secret; it was your only option. Eric had been hopelessly in love with Donna since you were little kids; you had no real chance against her.

You felt bad leaving Eric at the Hub but figured it wouldn’t matter the second he saw Donna. He’d forget that you were the one waiting for him and have another moment with the girl of his dreams that he’d definitely tell you about the next day.

You should’ve been asleep, like the rest of your household, but Donna’s words kept you up. So you decided to go to the kitchen and have a late-night snack, especially since you ran away from the dinner you were supposed to have.

While quietly rifling through the fridge, you heard a knock at the front door. You decided to ignore it. You obviously weren’t expecting anyone this late at night. But whoever was outside persisted, knocking loudly and more frantically this time. So you left the kitchen, thinking you should at least check to see who’s there.

“Eric?” You had taken a quick peek through the window on the side of your door and were surprised to see the best friend that you had abandoned. You opened the door, watching him light up as he saw you while trying to catch his breath. “What are you doing here?”

Eric brought you into a hug that you confusedly returned.

“I heard everything Donna said.” He answered. “I’m sorry she said all of that; you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“It’s fine, Eric, really.”

“No, it’s not. She treated you like crap because she was jealous and thought you liked me.”

Your hands slowly clutched onto the back of Eric’s shirt.

“She… she wasn’t wrong.” You replied quietly, barely audible enough for Eric to pick up. But he did and hugged you closer to him.

“Well, she was wrong about one thing.” Confused, you looked up at him just to find him already looking at you. “When she talked about me not wanting someone like you, she was wrong. I do want someone like you- I want you, you know, specifically.”

Unable to take the sudden burst of excitement from Eric’s timid confession, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and gripped him tighter. Eric happily accepted the affection.

“You’re the best friend anyone could have, Eric.” Eric rubbed your back.

“Nah, at most, I’m second best to you.”

[sugar-coated-prat-dragon]

Title: Hunith went hungry countless times so her son could eat

Episode: The “Moment of Truth” questions

Questions by @tansyuduri

Tagging: @miyriu

Books used as references: “The Magic Begins”, “Dangerous Quests”, “The Death of Arthur”, “Lancelot and Guinevere” and the “Heroes” Guide

Question: It was normally a lord's responsability to make sure raiders did not come and take food? I know it’s a border region in Cenred's kingdom, but it doesn’t seem to have a lesser noble of the kingdom ruling over it?

It also must be far from Cenred's court. Since Cenred would have more of an interest protecting villages that actually provided him food. (Thus kept up their side of the feudalism deal?)

My answer: When Merlin first came to Camelot, he noted the table in the great hall had more food then he’d ever seen in his life and that just this one feast alone could feed his entire village for a year.

Also, according to the Camelot maps, Ealdor is very small (barely a blip on the map) and the only houses on the map in that village seem to be tiny ramshackle huts.

If you look above Ealdor in the map, you can see Jarl’s castle, which is much bigger then the whole of Ealdor and therefore their likely isn’t any nobles anywhere near them (since everything nearby seems to be unoccupied land, caves and forests).

Considering how little food Ealdor has been mentioned to produce, it’s likely Cenred doesn’t even take food from them, since less then a tables worth of food at a single banquet is hardly worth taking and likely only taxes them to farm/live there.

Book description: Merlin enjoyed just looking at the great hall with its rich wall coverings and vast hanging chandeliers, at the beautifully carved wooden tables laden with more food than he'd ever seen in his life before.

This one feast would feed Merlin's entire village for a year - but he was in too good a mood to begrudge the guests their meal.

Question: Why didn’t Uther send only a few men as Arthur suggests. ESPECIALLY since there is little likelihood of any of Cenred's soldiers being in the area to know?

My answer: Uther himself admits that Cenred had never been openly hostile towards them without good reason and was therefore shocked when the mercenaries attacked without provocation.

(THIS 👆 could also be a major reason why Uther was not willing to send aid to Ealdor, even in the form of a few knights. He was not willing to risk starting a war with a neighboring kingdom who had so far never attacked with provocation).

(Source: “Traitor Within” book)

In the “Lancelot and Guinevere” book, Morgana muses to herself about how Uther always considered the ‘bigger picture’ and acted accordingly.

In many ways, Uther sending even a few soldiers to Cenred’s kingdoms would be a bigger risk and he would consider it not worth it, especially given how the ‘bigger picture’ is that he’d be risking war in order to protect a tiny village that isn’t even on his land.

1st Book description:

'We've had reports that mercenaries are streaming into Cenred's kingdom,' he announced to the assembled councillors.

Uther frowned. Cenred had never been openly hostile towards them without good reason. It seemed strange that the situation had changed. 'Do we know why?'

2nd book description: Morgana had been angry with Uther before, but this time her rage against the king's indolence left her physically shaking.

She had long ago recognized that Uther would always make an appeal to 'the bigger picture, but the least she expected was that Arthur would plead for Gwen.

(Source: “Lancelot and Guinevere” book)

Question: So from what we see, Merlin's diet growing up would have been milk, grains, eggs, and likely some fruits and vegetables as we saw those taken earlier. Perhaps every once in a while some meat?

My answer: Merlin mentioned that men would go out to trap animals for food when times were desperate and they were facing starvation.

As Hunith grew sicker as the result of the deal with Nimueh, Merlin recalled the countless times his mother had gone hungry so that he’d never once had to miss a meal.

Book description: “Dangerous Question” book

In the little village where he'd grown up, men would go out and trap animals for food. In lean times, it was a choice between that and starvation.

But the Crown Prince of Camelot sat down to a banquet every night - he had no need to hunt. This was just sport to him, the challenge of his wits against the beast's.

Taking the life of a feeling, thinking creature for fun? Merlin couldn't see how it could ever be right. Yet he knew that Arthur was a good man. It was very confusing.

Book description in “Dangerous Questions”:

Merlin remembered how she'd always been there for him when he'd got upset, unable to come to terms with the great powers that had been bestowed upon him.

The countless times she had gone hungry so that he d never once had to miss a meal.

Question: It seems like most of the Ealdor did NOT know about Merlin's Secret?

Book description:

As Merlin's childhood friend, William of Ealdor was the only other person, apart from Hunith, who knew Merlin's secret.

Question: What is Merlin’s relationship like with the other villagers in Ealdor?

My answer: Merlin admits to knowing people back in Ealdor, who thought they could get away with anything just because they were good looking and skillful. (Funny enough he thinks about this while watching Arthur throwing knives at his servant).

Book description:

Merlin watched with a frown as the boy scurried back and forth across the yard, the young knight throwing dagger after dagger at him - hitting the target spot-on every time. He would, of course.

Merlin knew the type - even back in Ealdor there had been people like that, who thought that being good looking and skillful meant they could do whatever they liked.

All the girls fancied them too. It was funny how girls couldn't spot how much of a prat someone was if that someone had big enough muscles.

[evolutionsvoid]

The land has seen many of war through the ages, and the memories and scars they have left behind persist to this day. While much has healed throughout the years, and the land has found a shaky period of peace, there still remains old wounds that refuse to fade. One such scar can be found near the mountains, in a "kingdom" that appears to have been long abandoned. Nestled within the crown of jagged rocks is an old fortress, a dusty castle that seemingly harbors no people or purpose. Though it may look that time forgot this crumbling structure, it serves as home to at least one soul. One who infests this ancient scar, who dreams of rupturing this wound and continuing a crusade that was lost so long ago. In this empty land, there is a castle, and within this fortress, its own false king...

Though no people can be found here, the castle is still maintained and the lights in its windows set aflame. The halls are empty, and the rooms only have dust fall upon their beds, but one being still calls this place home. Though a shiny crown may be perched upon his head, his crimson robe of shoddy patches and stitching show a less noble and regal side to him. He is King Olaf the Seventh, though many would contest his role as "king." With no people under his command, and his desolate land host only to rock, there seems to be very little to actually rule. Those in other kingdoms prefer to call him "False King Olaf" for they see no authority to him, rather finding him more a power hungry loon. But few say this to his face, for he is easily irritated and quick to throw out executions for those he despise. Though no peasants call him "king" and he has no followers to bring him tribute, he does have himself an army, one passed down from a more notorious ancestor.

If you were to ask how King Olaf the Seventh earned such a prestigious title, he would proudly inform you that he is the latest, and rightful, descendant of King Olaf the First. Though some folk may be unshaken by this name, others would recall in fear the other moniker this lord was known as: The Patchwork King. An odd being of stitched cloth and burning determination who came to this land long ago, and ripped this castle away from its previous owners. Though this odd doll was but one man, in short time he forged an army of living armor and laid siege to the many kingdoms around him. These mindless metal automatons spread across the land like a plague, and many fell to their cold blades. The Patchwork King brought about much death and destruction during his attempt to seize control of this continent, but eventually he was beheaded in combat and his war was brought to an end. At the time, folks hoped that was the end of this stitched-together tyrant, but as Olaf the Seventh here shows, it is far more difficult to end the Olaf lineage than one would imagine...

Though he and his descendants may seem like simple living dolls, there is an odd trait to their kind. Beneath this cloth skin and crude stitching, is actual flesh and blood. Olaf lives, in a way, and few can truly describe how this is even possible. Even more baffling is this flesh's ability to heal and regenerate, to a level where people thought the Patchwork King was immortal. No matter what wound is inflicted upon Olaf, even the loss of a limb or two, it is quick to grow back in the matter of minutes, even seconds. His flesh and cloth writhes and twists, eventually pulling his wounds closed or even forming brand new limbs if the severed one is not hastily reattached. With this, arrows and blades are useless against him, as they create injuries that vanish moments later. Even poisons have been found useless, as it seems his impossible biology renders them impotent. It would seem the Olaf line is truly unstoppable, but history has shown a rather odd weakness.

While an Olaf may shrug off most wounds, it appears that decapitating one can lead to a strange situation. Though his head be lopped off his body, the head will still live and curse at you while the body flails and fumbles. If a helping hand is close by, the head may be reattached and the horrid wound will vanish, causing all to be well once more. But if the head is not quick enough to return to its body, than another head will be regenerated in its place. What emerges is more than just another noggin, but an entirely new Olaf, with completely new mind and personality. When the Patchwork King was decapitated, he was not slain, but merely cast aside as a new head was regrown. Thus, King Olaf the Seventh is not the seventh son of the Olaf line, rather the seventh head to call this strange body his own.

With his head mounted firmly upon his shoulders, Olaf the Seventh holds claim over this empty kingdom and its metal army, but many know he pales in comparison to the original Patchwork King. While old tales paint Olaf the First as a cunning and ruthless tyrant, current stories reveal Olaf the Seventh to be little more than a spoiled brat. He wields the title of "king" as a privilege and excuse, believing that being this ruler gives him power to do anything he wants. He acts like his word is law and his commands unquestionable, and any who hesitate or doubt will earn his ire. He throws tantrums and tirades whenever things don't go his way, often throwing in his favorite phrase of "I am KING!" This is his response to nearly any question granted to him, as he finds almost everyone beneath him. As the seventh Olaf of this prestigious lineage, he demands respect, reverence and obedience. After all, he is a master tactician, a fearsome warrior and an all powerful king, despite the fact that he is absolutely none of these.

While he may boast his brains and brawn, King Olaf the Seventh brings very little to the table. His plans are often childish and blunt, believing his metal army and title will allow him to win any battle. Though he says he loves the battlefield, Olaf tends to stay far from actual combat, lounging about in a luxurious personal siege tower. While his automaton men shred foes, he will sip wine and marvel at his own brilliance. And if actual battle were to be brought to him, one would find him a clumsy warrior. His fighting skills are quite sad, and the best he can do is uselessly swing his scepter about, with each successful blow mere luck. Unfortunately, few will actually be able to reach him, for he sits behind waves of metal men who will gladly chop up his enemies.

His metal army is one of many things he inherited from the Olaf lineage, the others being this empty kingdom, old castle and a vast wealth of stolen gold. If you ask him, he earned all this by......well, just being an Olaf. He truly cannot comprehend why peasants and other lowly folk cannot achieve such heights as he. He gained all this by working very hard! They are just lazy and stupid! Those who try to point out he didn't actually do anything to gain this will be met by his Tin Soldiers. These are metal automatons cobbled together with pieces of armor and crude forging of cheap metals. Within the castle is a massive workshop that is fully automated by these Tin Soldiers, who take ores mined from the bowels of the mountains and eventually convert them into more Tin Soldiers. While his numbers are many, their construction is shoddy. They are born from magic pulled from the Stitched Manuscript, an odd tattered tome that was brought over to this land in the hands of the Patchwork King. From this book he summoned his great power, and commanded legions of strange and deadly automatons. But as Olafs were beheaded and killed, the knowledge of how to actually read and use this tome was slowly lost, until Olaf the Seventh was left with barely an understanding of these words. So now he can only use the weakest of spells to birth the most simplest soldiers. They are not very bright and not very sturdy, as Olaf has them crafted from very poor metals. But he makes up for this lack of quality with sheer quantity, burying foes beneath waves of metal men and iron blades.

While King Olaf is lacking in many things, his metalwork is surprisingly good. It seems that was the one thing he inherited from his lineage, as he can do wonders in blacksmithing. Though he can use this to craft better new soldiers, he doesn't waste his time with "simple minions." Instead, his eyes are on a much greater prize. Though King Olaf the Seventh claims himself king, many refuse to view him as such. Instead of recognizing the fact he is a fool with no actual background of ruling, he tends to blame folks' doubt on other things. One being that he doesn't have a queen! All kings have queens! So Olaf has tasked himself with getting one, but obviously he has had a terrible time doing so. It must say a lot about his character if absolutely no one is willing to put up with him even with his riches and castle. After being snubbed many times and foiled in kidnapping potential wives, King Olaf has tasked himself with building a queen, one of both beauty and strength! He dreams of having a wife made of iron and steel, whose sheer presence and power will make other kings fearful and envious. However, it should be noted that doing this requires far more potent magic than he has access to, and thus his creations tend to come out...wrong. Some simply don't work, some explode, and others find this new found life incredibly painful and horrid and proceed to do nothing but scream and pull their bodies apart. Despite nearly being killed by a few of his failed queens, he still puts in an honest effort.

And all while he works away and plots in taking over the surrounding lands, there does happen to be one other soul with him. Scuttling about on metal limbs and often carrying a tray of food and wine, the head of Olaf the Sixth remains as a miserable servant. He once called the shots in this castle, but a freak accident removed his head and made way for Olaf the Seventh. As rule of their lineage, the previous king must serve as assistant to the new one, while the past head is executed. Olaf the Sixth now acts as butler to the Seventh, though he is very weary of this position. He was once known as Olaf the Wise, but now he takes care of the False King who is an utter buffoon and egomaniac. Olaf the Seventh treats him like garbage, often kicking him about or throwing him down the stairs when he is angry. Any legit advice or concerns are ignored, with the Seventh believing he is far smarter. It has gotten to the point where Olaf the Sixth has been stripped of his name, and the king now refers to his sad servant as "Oaf." Oaf must now suffer this endless ridicule and watch his past efforts wasted as Olaf charges forward with each reckless and stupid plan. He would protest more, but his mouth as been cinched mostly shut and a nail has been embedded somewhat into his skull so that Olaf can smack it when he gets annoyed.

Though King Olaf bears an army and a desire to rule the lands, most people ignore the foolish ruler with the belief he is no threat. He has lost all the fear his lineage once held, and is seen as a rambling madman. However, the towns and villages closest to his kingdom retain some terror, as he frequently sends his Tin Soldiers to rob them and attempt a takeover. Though these often fail, many perish to their blades. And though he faces defeat many times, he continues his efforts and seems to be gaining some stronger allies. Some worry that he may not be inept forever...

However, there are some who do take King Olaf seriously as a threat. A particular group of odd "knights" have encountered him before, and know that he is a danger. The Knights of the Wrong Table were once contacted by him in an effort to have them work for him. At first they were wooed by the idea of having an official king recognize their order, but soon his insidious plans came to light. After breaking it off, the two have been at odds ever since. The Wrong Table seeks to squash King Olaf's efforts to conquer the poor villages in his wake and other crazed schemes, while the False King seeks to punish the foolish knights who refused his oh so gracious generosity.

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

"King Olaf the Seventh (and Sixth)"

Bout time I did more work on the Wrong Table, and thus I decided to update some villains! Here be the mad ragdoll himself!

[sonicasura]

The monster hunter ask got me a idea imagine this: kaiju no8 monster hunter AU. Reno is a rookie hunter that wish to become the best hunter in the world but first he needs a hunter companion. So he gets to meets kafka who is also looking to become the best hunter. So in their first hunt they went to hunt a great jagras. The hunt was doing alright. Until they got ambush by a very angry and hungry pickle. Reno and kafka try their best to defend themselfs but kafka got grabed and thrown away leaving Reno all alone. Reno stood no chance and was pit down Reno close his eyes and waited for the worst but then another monster appear. This one looked like a oni. So a turf war happend and Reno faited and wake up in the camp where kafka was waiting him with a nice meal. So what do you think? (My english is not very good xd)

Just know that Deviljho surprise encounters ruined at least four of my hunts in Generation Ultimate. I prefer dealing with Rajang than the pickle. Considering the English language sounds like it mugged other languages and stole pieces that it liked, I'm not surprise it's difficult for others to learn much less improve on.

Love this idea though. Reno definitely is suspicious about the strange monster that intercepted the Deviljho. Meanwhile Kafka purposely dances around the question.

I honestly was just gonna drop Kafka in main stream Monster Hunter and let him accidentally cause problems for the Hunter Guild's. Unknown monster with what seems like Elder Dragon strength. Only for this sighting to spitball into something more as the behavior exhibited is eeriely human.

[tina-mairin-goldstein]

So, I saw a post from ao3commentoftheday about talking to mulitshippers for more works with your rare pair tag, and I would love to elaborate on mine.

My two very rare pairs at the moment are Marvel MCU based: Ancient One/Kaecilius and Pepper Potts/Tony Stark/Stephen Strange. Allow me to introduce to the reasons I like these.

The Ancient One is a very underrated character without a lot of backstory! But we DO know she lived a very long life, and no one really knew her. We can easily assume this long life was lonely and hard. That she definitely lost everyone she ever knew and loved through illness, injury, and old age. Mordo stated that he didn't know much about her, that no one did.

I like giving her Kaecilius as a partner because he can relate. They cut it from the movies, so he seems like a stereotypical power-hungry villain, but he did the things he did because his son, and then his wife, both died, and he just wanted them back. He understands what it is to lose the people you love. His robes are also the ONLY ones we see in the movies that are the same color as TAO's, which indicates that they were equals in rank. So, no power imbalance to worry about if people are going to take it to that. No teacher taking advantage of her student. Maybe they aren't in it in for the long-haul, it isn't a deep all-consuming love, but they at least get an equal and someone who understands their pain out of the relationship. There are also many indications that they knew each other well before the rift between them. Now, that doesn't always mean a romantic relationship, but fandoms have shipped for less.

Bonus: TAO was confirmed to have seen the future, so she knew what would happen, but she chooses Kaecilius anyway, so they can both be happy and have companionship, at least for a short while. You get a doomed-by-the-narrative couple. Or an AU where they can find peace and healing in each other and find happiness again.

Moving on to Pepper Potts/Tony Stark/Stephen Strange.

I will be honest that I only know Tony and Pepper's relationship from the Avengers movies, as I haven't been able to watch the Iron Man movies, but I really like what I've seen.

Stephen is one of my favorite Marvel characters. He and Tony are similar in ways. Rich jerks whose lives get upended by devastating injuries. They have a lot in common they can bond over. And in Infinity War, we know Stephen saw 14,000,605 futures and only saw where they won. But we don't know what he considered winning, really. There could have been others where they 'won'. But Stephen is a doctor. We see him time and time again reference his oath to do no harm. He became a surgeon to save lives, and his own above all others. Tony reversing what Thanos had done and most everyone living could have been what he saw... But he didn't give the Time Stone up to Thanos immediately despite only seeing one future. He only did it when Thanos was killing Tony. The fandom has certainly latched onto this potential.

BUT what about Pepper? She and Tony survived rough times together, their relationship survived it. They are very much partners and in love. The fandom usually just casts Pepper aside with no explanation (did she die in the battle? Die giving birth? Did they get divorced? We don't know). She already loves Tony. She clearly cares for the people he cares about. So, if he cares about Stephen, it's not much of a stretch to say that she would care about him too. Plus, given the fact she loves Tony despite his less-than-pretty-history, she could totally love Stephen! From what I've seen, she is a caring person. Stephen saved Tony, which would at least get her to talk to him. He doesn't have many people. Things can go from there.

Why are we wasting a perfectly good F/M/M ship just so it's a traditional two-person couple? Why can't Morgan and Peter have THREE amazing parents who can teach them tech and magic? Why can't these three battle scarred people find love together?

That is my TED talk on my rare pairs. Thank you!

[lime-sketches114]

Hello everyone back at it again with another God of War Fanfic! This time with a special twist to the narrative of Ragnarok!

This is gonna be a "my version" spin of what would happen if Flash went with Atreus to Asgard after him running away. Can't wait to see what happens here!

It kinda a long one!

Hope you guys like it!

An Arm For An Arm

{An OC × Sindri Fanfic}

{Flash x Sindri}

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Severed limbs, "censored cursing", "Dark theme", Old Scars, Curses, Dark magic, Anxiety, Depression, Trauma, etc.

SPOILERS FOR GOD OF WAR RAGNAROK

Heimdall simps I see you (⁠눈⁠‸⁠눈⁠)

Rating: Mostly Fluffy with a splash of tomato sauce {Reader's Discretion is advised}{mostly mild}{Heed thy warnings please}

★★★★★★★★★

{Flash POV}

After Atreus ran away from home and I followed him things have been...both annoying and difficult. Mostly because his Giant Magic rubbed off on me when he transformed to run away. I've been stuck as a tiny ferret dragon ever since we got to Asgard and so forth! Good thing I used it to my advantage bc Heimdall would've offed me on the spot if he saw me. Good thing I can hide in shadows pretty well...

Ever since Odin talked about this mask, it has been very strange on the last mission with Thor. Nearly got my tail singed in Muspelheim. Thor didn't seem to mind me thanks to Atreus lying for me and saying I was a new pet more than a Fae in disguise. My magic has slowly been returning ever since Ragnarok started. More or less when Baldur fought us last. First my power came back, then my speed, now my shape-shifting. All that's left is...

"You seem awfully quiet..." Atreus said in a soft tone, concerning my well-being.

I snapped out of my thoughts, "Huh? Oh yeah...just been thinking of things..."

"You worried about Sindri? Father? The others?" He held my tiny form up to his face.

"Yes, especially after what you've done. If it wasn't for your resistance, Sindri would've have gotten much more damage than just a paw swipe. Just wish I wasn't dragged by you and somehow changed into this!" I pouted.

"Well either way we have another mission...and I have a bad feeling it's something other than bonding time with Thrud" he sighed.

He was right. Once we got down to Odin's chambers. There was Thrud all excited and once he said "Heimdall" I knew I was screwed than from our slight mix up once we first got here. I was pissed to say the least. Heimdall was the last person we both wanted to paired up with. Baldur was a punching bag (literally) compared to his guy! I doubt my speed could match his cockiness and "foresight".

Once Heimdall looked our way I growled at him. He chuckled and tapped my nose with his finger. I nipped at him.

"Woah~ Better keep that rodent in check... wouldn't want anyone to catch anything" Heimdall mocked in a sny kind of way. I hissed at him.

"She's not dangerous...so leave her alone" Thrud sighed as Huginn started to swarm around us.

"You defending a useless animal? Please..." Heimdall scoffed.

"She's pretty useful if you respect her like I do, she's very loyal" Atreus huffed.

"Vermine like that are snacks for my mount...anyways let's just get on with our mission before I grow bored." Heimdall stretched before glaring at me in a thinking type of way.

~~~~~~~~~~

Once we reached Helheim, we ventured around trying to follow this stupid mask. Heimdall went another way thank the gods. Which left Atreus and I with Thrud. She was a spunky lass I tell you that. If anything happened to her so help me...I don't care who her father and mother are. With each battle I could see their bond growing brighter. My crystal just shimmered with pride in this relationship.

"So might I ask something, Loki?" Thrud spoke up.

"Sure, what is it?" Atreus answered.

"Why do you have a ferret companion? How did you two meet?" She asked innocently.

I never gulped so hard. I wrapped over Atreus' shoulders in nervousness.

"My father and I found her when I was younger. She was cold and hungry and we gave her a home. She's been with us ever since. Her name is Flash since she's like lightning with how fast she can move her long body" Atreus partly lied. Thanks for the word play genius.

"Oooh, that's an interesting name. Fits her" Thrud smiled and scratched my head and jaw. Good gods her hand was soft! I started to purr wildly.

"She likes me awww~" She chuckled.

"She also has a mate at home. She terribly misses him."

F**k...way to go Atreus....telling my love life....

"I hope you get back home soon after the mission. I would miss my significant other if I was away for a long time." She smiled.

. . . . .

...I will protect this girl along with Atreus...

After she stopped petting me, the pair opened a door that lead to Garm's holding place. That wolf looked even more gigantic once we got up close. One by one both Atreus and Thrud unlatched two of the three chains locking the giant soulless wolf away. Once we tried to third one, Garm woke up, tearing the very chain off the floor. I had a bad feeling along with the others. Even more disappointment came when the chamber behind him was a F**CKING DEAD END!!!

This mask...getting on my last nerve.

With this grand mistake, we hightailed back out the area. Thrud kept on worrying what Odin would think of this. That coward wouldn't be the least of my worries...

That was until Heimdall showed his smug ass face...

"My My what a mess you two have made! Letting the Realm eating wolf loose! What would everyone think..." Heimdall said in a smug tone. His smug look turned at Thrud for that comment.

"It was a mistake, leave her alone" Atreus spoke up, "I'll take the blame for it!"

"Oh you will...you see with this there's surely no retribution" Heimdall chuckled, "once your gone our lives would be so much better....one way or another... half-breed"

My fur frizzed up. I growled at him. My fangs bared and claws bared.

"Leave him alone Heimdall! Once I'm a Valkyrie-" Thrud spoke up.

"Such a childish dream... you're not ready nor will you ever be..." Heimdall smirked. Thrud threw punches at him. Time after time his smug look grew brighter.

I wanted to wipe it off so fast.

I want to see his face when I punch him...

My fur began to glitter red and gold before I kept towards Heimdall. Both Thrud and Atreus saw as Heimdall almost got clocked by my fist.

My fist?

Wait! I'm back!!

"You better eat those words, Heimdall" I hissed at him.

"I knew there was something off about your little...rat" Heimdall smirked and circled me, "A Draken disguised as a little ferret...I know who you are..."

I glared at him. My eyes changed from blue to a red hue. My fangs bared.

"You're a Fae...An a spawn of Titania no doubt..." Heimdall laughed, "Falishia...how the mighty have fallen...the Failed Dragon King"

"I'd hold your tongue if I were you Heimdall...Do you want to end up like Baldur?" I flipped my long dagger in my hand.

"Please...I know it was the boy's father that killed him," Heimdall glanced at me, "you're nothing but a weak, useless husk of what you once were!"

I growled and swung at him with my daggers. With each swing he kept on dodging or deflecting them. That was until I actually landed a "hit" on his cheek. That really set off some bombs in his head, see him touch his cheek where a tiny stream of blood dripped was priceless.

But...

The next thing I knew was Atreus warning me once I looked at him. Then I was pinned to the wall by my own dagger. Lodging it into my right shoulder. I grunted in pain as I growled at Heimdall who picked up the other dagger I dropped.

"Heimdall stop this!" Thrud yelled at him.

"You hold your tongue girl, or I'll do much worse than what I intended to do to her..." Heimdall smirked and raised my own blade against me.

With one fell swoop he severed my right arm in the middle of my upper arm area. I roared in pain. Blood painted the wall and floor where I stood. Heimdall smirked with pride until Atreus pushed him out of the way while Thrud set me loose.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry..." Thrud looked panicked.

"don't be... I've been through worse..." I coughed up blood.

"You asshole!! You'll pay for what you have done!" Atreus screamed at Heimdall before running over to me, "This...This is all my fault..."

I wiped tears from his eyes, "no it's not...go back with Thrud... I'll be fine"

"b-but your arm...what will-" Atreus sniffed out before I stopped him.

"Trust me..." I pulled him closer by his collar and whispered, "Thrud needs a friend more than an enemy... I'll find my way home"

Atreus sniffed and wiped his tears. Thrud looked at me and I nodded to her. She took him away. Heimdall looked at me once more before tossing my dagger at me.

"one day... you'll lose EVERYTHING you hold dear... I'll make sure of it" Heimdall chuckled before Huginn swarmed around the three of them. After they left I spat out blood. I looked at my severed arm as it started to turn black and fade away into ash. Sh*t.

Not now...I have to get back...

I slowly got up, picking up my daggers. Holding my bleeding arm as I tracked down a realm door spot. I grabbed a spare realm seed I snagged and prayed to Yggdrasil. Soon the realm door opened. I drudged inside and hoped I'd make it back.

Sindri

That's all I could think about.

Why did my dumb ass self have to get into trouble.

Another door opened up and I trudged inside and to the other side. I could hear the others talking. Kratos and Freya must've made it back from the Norns like they planned. I had to hurry. I pushed the door with my shoulder the best I could. Freya spotted me first.

"Flash! You've returned-" Freya announced before I fully opened the door. I could only see the horror in her eyes once I collapsed in the foyer. The next voice I heard was pure horror to my ears once Freya ran towards me.

It was Sindri.

"Flash! Nononono!" He ran with Brok to my side. He almost gagged at my wound.

"What in all the nine realms happened to s'ya?!" Brok spoke out.

"Helheim...and Heimdall..." I flinched at Freya's magic.

"Heimdall...?!" Freya looked shocked, "why did he..."

"That... Pompous pr*ck wanted to make me suffer more...being a Fae and all..."

"I KNEW IT!!" Mimir gasped as Kratos made his way to us.

"What do you mean, Head?" Kratos grumbled.

"She's one of the daughters of Titania! I knew you looked familiar!!" Mimir said happily.

"Titania...but how did you?" Freya tried to patch up my wound.

"I get around...one way or another... I'm still a Draken but I'm also a Fae..." I sighed then I looked at Sindri.

"She was known as the Dragon King! I know it's a more masculine term but when do dragon ever follow rules" Mimir quoted.

"I can't seem to heal your wound fully..." Freya leaned me up.

"Kratos...burn me" I demanded.

He nodded and grabbed his blades of chaos and lit them a blaze. He started to cauterized my wound. I quickly latched on Sindri. I screamed in pain. I clawed his pristine armor and buried my face into his neck. All I could think about how scared I made him. I kept on whimpering apology after apology into his armored tunic.

Once Kratos was finished, I took a breather, but it wasn't for long until...the curse set in. My wound started to burn with dark magic. I screamed again as a new black arm replaced my old one. Black smoke rolled off the surface like ashen soot bellowing out of a volcano. I then passed out into Sindri's arms. My body taken its toll for something I could not stop.

"The Dragon King's Curse..." Was all I could hear from Mimir before nothing...

~~~~~~~~

Once I woke up, I was in my room. Sindri was sitting next to my bed. I could see a bandage wrapped around his head now. Did Atreus really hurt him more than I thought? I can't imagine what he was thinking before I came back.

"Sindri?" I said hoarsely.

"Flash...!?" He perked up. He wasn't the only one that perked up. A little black blob moved in his lap then popped it's head up.

"Crimson...?" I spoke up. Crimson chirped and wriggled her ferret like body over to me from Sindri. I cried and held her close, "you're back! I was so worried..."

Crimson chirped then bit my nose.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

She huffed and turned to Sindri. When I looked at him closer I saw he'd been crying. His eyes and cheeks were all puffy and red.

"Sindri...I...I'm so sorry" I leaned up to reach for him but he quickly grabbed my hand...then my black arm.

"What is this? Mimir said it was a Curse..." He said with a stern tone.

My ears drooped a bit, "Yes but it's more of a weird blessing...people call it a curse bc of the magic...it's something we must contain once we take the oath of Power" I looked at my hand.

"I thought we'd be more honest! You should've told me!" He said with more vocal concern.

"I thought it never would lead up to this...I thought it wouldn't be...not since..." I started to tear up which he rarely seen me do. He cautiously touched my cheek.

"Since...what?"

"I lost my best friend...and my first love..." I sniffled out. Crimson whimpered then tapped my ruby crystal that was on my choker necklace. It showed a picture. A memory.

"Her name was Scarlett...she was the only one who could stand me and told me I smelled good. We were inseparable...until one day when some rogue dragons came to destroy everything...and me." I clenched my fist. "She told me to run when the leader found us. She turned into a wyvern and fought the best she could. I couldn't help her bc I couldn't transform properly...she died as a result of me being weak..."

"Flash..." Sindri said quietly.

"and now..." I looked up at him with a tear stained face and touched his bandages, "I couldn't protect you from Atreus...Atreus and Thrud from Heimdall...or you from the horror of seeing me!"

Crimson tried to lick my tears away. She purred sorrowfully as she nuzzles my cheek. Sindri moved to the bed, sitting next to me, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around me. Being brave about his fear of the beasties he lifted my scrawny ass into his lap and sat criss-cross on the bed with his back on the wall. Crimson looked at him and smiled and returned to being my left arm tattoo.

"I guess I haven't been honest too...you earlier actually scared me than beyond just scared" he spoke out, "Long before Atreus was born, Brok died in an accident at the forge...I went to the Lake of Souls to get him back but...I couldn't get the last part of his soul back...I could still feel the Souls clawing at me. Once I returned Brok thought he was just knocked out for a while...it's eaten at me ever since..."

"Sindri..." I placed my hand on his cheek.

"I hope you can forgive me..."

"You sound just like my twin sister...she brought me back to life after...an "accident"...that was after a bout of sadness after Scarlett's death... I'll spare details" I sighed, "Promise to never leave my side, and I'll do the same?"

"I Promise"

"Good" I hugged him tightly. He hugged me back.

Once we pulled away he noticed something clink against his armor. It was a blank crystal on a golden chain. The crystal sat just on his sternum.

"What is this?" He lifted the crystal.

"It's a symbol, the crystals represent the heart, usually it's on a simple cord with beads or something but I thought a gold chain would do nicely... normally the more finer metals are saved for females for....engagement" My ears turned red as my cheeks as I looked away. Once I looked back up at him after hearing a squeak I saw he was beet red and steaming from the head. Uh oh.

"Sindri?" I cupped his cheeks, "Sin-DRIIIII?! Mmph?!" He soon kissed me without warning. I kissed him back. We stayed like that for a long while before departing. We rested on each other's foreheads. He then soon flinched doe to his injury.

"I love you" he chuckled.

"Love you too, ya pansey" I smiled, "come on, the other must be dying to see if I'm ok or not."

He nodded and we both got up. Hand in hand we made our way down to the foyer. There Atreus was waiting with the others. He looked like we went to Helheim again. He lifted his head to see me.

"Flash! You're ok!!" He raced up and hugged me.

"Told ya I would be, I hope I didn't scar ya too badly"

"Not too much, but I fixed my mistake with Father, nothing to worry about now" He smiled.

"I'm glad" I smirked and ruffled his hair with my new arm.

"Woah...cool arm..." He gasped.

"I'll tell you more about it later, Kiddo" I winked and saw Brok trudging our way with something in hand.

"Fixed y'er daggers! Figured you'd want something less f**cked up since it's touched by that taint-stained prized show pony" Brok handed me new daggers made from my scales.

"Thanks Brok"

"Figured you want'a match your new accessory ya' gave us a scared about! Don't ever do that again!" Brok huffed.

I laughed then turned to Kratos. He looked at me like he had a plan.

"I know that face...you have a plan, Kratos" I put a hand on my hip.

"A simple one...Since Heimdall not only wants to kill my son but people I considered family... there's nothing better than a fair trade" He grunted.

"and what's that?" I smirked evilly

"An Arm for An Arm"

[meowww-ffxiv]

3, 12 and 22 for The Meowdred :D for the dawntrail ask meme ^^

Ahhh thank you!

Under the cut because of the embargo.

Ask meme.

.

3. What was their initial impression of the four claimants? How did this change over the course of the story?

Wuk Lamat reminded Mordred eerily of himself when he was sixteen or seventeen. Boisterous, full of bravado, and quivering with fear and uncertainty when he thought no one was looking. But Mordred was that way when he was younger because despite his many friends, he felt small and runty and unsafe by himself. With Wuk Lamat, he had the impression that she was just insecure.

She did so much better than him already. She had a solid foundation, naive though she was of her own country's peoples and affairs. Mordred's prevailing first impression of Wuk Lamat was, "I can work with this; she can work with this." Her growth in a couple of months astounded him, to be honest, but he was pleased all the same.

Koana was the second claimant that Mordred considered to be a potential ruler. But the kid's absurd lack of charisma really worried Mordred because, knowing as many world leaders as he did, Mordred understood that there needed to be at least...something, you know? Koana would've made a good advisor, Mordred thought. And things ended well on that note, so he was glad.

He did also mention to Wuk Lamat more than once that she should know how to assist and assign the people under her. Let them help her help her people, and so on. Hint hint nudge nudge she should better acquaint herself with her brother's talents. She took that waaaay further than he ever thought she would, which, yay.

Bakool Ja Ja stepped on Mordred's tacos while he was hungry so there was almost a two-headed casualty if not for Krile's intervention at the START of the expansion. He had more than once just wanted to kill him! Why not! He was getting out of hand! Valigarmada was where Mordred very nearly started setting his hellhounds on Bakool Ja Ja, but Theodore and Krile kept talking him down.

He was glad(?) that they did so later on. Looking back, Bakool Ja Ja's bluster really did seem like something he used to cover up some kind of problem. But did Mordred care! Less than he should... Thankfully, he had already resolved to deferring to Wuk Lamat's judgment, and she chose mercy. The kids are growing up way better than him.

As for Zoraal Ja. Honestly if Gulool Ja Ja hadn't reassured Mordred that should none of them impress him, he wouldn't yield the throne at all, Mordred would've started drafting plans for assassination lmfao.

He was kind, whatever, but he'd lived through the aftermath of three wars. Every time in every war he had been knees-deep in the blood and ashes, and just as he couldn't let go of his hatred of Garlemald, Mordred couldn't let go of the hatred for those who would stoke another one. And Zoraal Ja would. So he'd have to die. To do less would be irresponsible, in Mordred's opinion.

--These were very dire thoughts of course, but as the contest progressed and everything seemed pretty low-stakes outside of a few hiccups, Mordred finally internalized that this wasn't That serious. And he chilled out a little ^w^

And then. Yeah.

12. What was their opinion of the culture of recycling souls and the use of regulators? Did this change as the story progressed?

OK. Mordred can't lie. He had a whoooole Emet-Selch level villain rant in his head about how this was violating the sanctity of life itself when he first learned of it. He didn't VOICE it, but that villain monologue was 75% complete before he realized he was sounding like his worstie Emet-Selch and stopped.

Here be the thoughts that prevailed once the knee-jerk pearls-clutching had passed:

Mordred had been around the globe long enough to know that cultures developed within a certain context -- he was a historian as well, so he SHOULD know. And the context for this, as Sphene explained to him what sounded like an Umbral Calamity, was that Alexandria faced the brink of total annihilation.

Mordred could not, in any good conscience, say that this was wrong or disgusting for the people of Alexandria to have found a way to preserve their existence. To survive. He knew intimately what that desperation was like when you watched everything and everyone around you die by the day, the hour, the minute. He was there in the aftermath of the Seventh Umbral Calamity. He buried disfigured, burned corpses with his hands, when his shovel broke.

His question was, did it have to continue to be this way? Because it seemed quite obvious to him that the way they were was no longer sustainable. This stuff worked while they were floating in limbo, probably. But Alexandria had made it to the Source! 🎉🎉🎉 Here, we shall live, die, and know!

That was something Alexandrians would need to think about and decide for themselves, though. Mordred foresaw the dissolution of the dome at some point in the future and Heritage Found being fully integrated into Tural, with all the caveats and culture clashes which would come with that. He believed that it was more important to lay the groundwork to allow Alexandrians an exit and a smooth integration with their fellows in Eitherys than to dwell on what their dead-end survival culture was.

And being who he was, Mordred immediately zoned in on the...hideous power imbalances that Alexandria suffered from because they played so fast-and-loose with their memories, just to live with loss. For one truth had always prevailed in these places: the less you know, the more control others had over you. And if fucking McMurdering someone deleted all their memories in everyone's heads, then no amount of wisdom or teaching would ever stick with these people. All that Big Brother gotta do is snipe the revolutionary and bam, done.

Theodore told Mordred to be careful about his thoughts because Theodore was an Ishgardian noble and lived in perpetual nervousness of peasant uprisings. He expected the blowback of Alexandrians realizing how much of their own personhood were kept suppressed would create something akin to that civilization who nuked themselves in the Dead Ends.

22. What are they doing now?

Side quests and Wachumeqimeqi quests! Mordred tended to like crafting/rebuilding, and since nothing was extremely urgent back in Eorzea, he'd elected to stay awhile.

It also had to do with Theodore. And Theodore's concern for Erenville regarding his mother. Mordred knew they were good friends and that Theodore felt particularly keenly for another's loss of their mother, so this was an emotional support train.

But this was just how love worked, wasn't it? You were embraced in an ever-wide web of people who cared for the people who cared about you, and so were part of them, too. To be known was to be loved, to be so profoundly a part of the world you inhabited that your lives were enmeshed in all the others'.

Cahciua needn't worry. For her son was indeed well-loved, and always would be.

[konigsrose]

Pt3 of König’s Rose… 🌹 we love protective König 😍

Things did not improve for Rose. The current political situation had resulted in some issues accessing certain literature she needed for her thesis. There was a time when a brief trip over to Russia - admittedly with several complicated documents to give permission - would have made it possible to see these documents in their originals, or at least decent copies of them. Now this was entirely impossible, and Rose feared she may have to begin an entirely new thesis after seven months of painstaking but ultimately fruitless work. Rose was very much aware that compared to the horrors being faced by those involved in the war, this was nothing… But knowing that didn’t make her own life any easier. She wouldn’t lose her position on the course, she was trapped in a contract for at least three years anyway, but it had seriously dampened her enthusiasm.

It didn’t help that she had other, less academic issues at the university too. The President of the university had a son in the second year, Markus; Rose was supposed to be one of his tutors. Unfortunately Markus was an absolute dolt with no respect for women, who had decided Rose wasn’t worthy to be teaching him. In fact, Markus was outright harassing Rose now, making disgusting comments whenever they happened to be out of earshot of others, and on a few occasions when he knew they were in a camera blind spot actually trying to touch her. He tried to play it all off as compliments, that he just wanted a chance to be with her, but Rose had made her feelings on the matter very clear. She had no real friends in Berlin to talk to about this, and knew that given her thesis’ already shaky ground, going after the President’s son for harassment probably wouldn’t end well. If he’d got into his second year without anyone doing anything about his sleazy, sexist behaviour, what was the point in Rose reporting him?

She had had a run-in with Markus as she was leaving the library today. There were no cameras in the stairwell, and of course, when she left the stacks he had followed. His usual litany of “compliments” followed her down the stairs, and he had tried to put an arm around her waist. Rose had pushed him off her, and he’d made a joke about her playing hard to get, but she had seen the momentary flash of rage on his face. Rose didn’t know how many times she would have to tell him she wasn’t playing hard to get, she really wasn’t interested, but it didn’t seem like it would ever go through his thick skull. She had cried on the way home, unable to help herself. Everything was going wrong, she was exhausted, she was broke, she was hungry, and she had never felt so miserable and so trapped. When Rose saw König by the lift as she arrived back at the building, she knew she was a mess, and tried to bow her head so he wouldn’t notice her puffy red eyes and tear stained face. She did not speak to him. He glanced at her, but did not say anything either, at least, not right away.

“What’s wrong, little Rose, had a fight with your boyfriend or something?” He waited until they were in the lift to speak, and König tried to keep his voice light, hoping a joke might diffuse the tension that the little metal box of the lift seemed filled with.

“Maybe if I had a fucking boyfriend that might solve one of my problems at least.” She spat, irritated by the comment. Did König really think she was that pathetic? At least if she did have one, he could put Markus in his place; he’d probably take no for an answer if it came from another man.

“I assume you are not crying because you do not have a boyfriend, then?”

“No, König, that’s not why I’ve been crying, I’m not that pathetic. Actually, I probably am that pathetic, but right now being single is the least of my worries.” Rose was about to cry again, she couldn’t help it, and bit her bottom lip hard in an attempt to stop a sob escaping. König was silent. Rose made him feel more nervous than he felt out in the field sometimes, just forming words around her was difficult. When the lift arrived on their floor, he turned right, rather than left, and walked with her to her door, still in silence.

“Do you…” he hesitated, nervously. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Seriously? Why would you want to listen to me crying and wailing about my own stupid choices ruining my life?” Another tear had escaped, though Rose desperately tried to blink it back.

“I do not want to leave you alone like this. It is not right for a crying girl to be left to cry alone.” Rose looked into König’s face above her, and saw nothing but earnest concern. She hesitated; but she needed a friend, and he was the closest thing she had right now. She nodded, opened the door, and he followed her in.

“Tell me.” He said, simply, sitting on the loveseat against the wall, his huge, thick thighs taking up most of the space on it. Rose’s already wobbling resolve broke, and she allowed the words to spill from her as she collapsed into the little space next to him.

“It took me 4 years of study and then 3 more working to save enough money and be accepted on this fucking PhD, I’ve given up a decent job, a flat where I actually had nice things, my family, my friends, all for this SHIT! I spend all day doing other people’s fucking work, the war means I can’t even access what I need for my thesis, I get harassed by some untouchable dickhead constantly, I can’t afford to fucking eat most days, and I’m still years away from completing my stupid doctorate. I can’t go home, because if I go home I’ve wasted the last 7 years of my pathetic worthless life for nothing!” Rose’s wild ranting dissolved into sobs, face buried in her hands, as her whole body shook. König sat there, completely at a loss for what to do. He did not do social situations in general, and this was a particular social interaction he was wholly unprepared for. When he saw crying women it was usually in the line of duty; comforting them was not a part of his job. He placed a massive hand on Rose’s shoulder, and awkwardly patted it.

“Little Rose… I… do not know what to say.” He thought for a moment about each of the things she had listed. Most of them he had no help for, but the part about being harassed; well, that he could deal with, at least. Part of him wondered if hugging her would help, and he longed to let her cry on him, to hold her tight in his arms until she had calmed but… He didn’t have the courage to do that, fearing that given she was already being harassed by one man, the arms of a relative stranger may not be what she needed. “Who is he? Has he hurt you? Why is the dickhead untouchable?”

Rose let out a dark laugh at that last question, for some reason the phrasing of it amused her in her hysterical state.

“He hasn’t hurt me but he says things, disgusting things, and tries to touch me. I’ve told him a hundred times to leave me alone but… He’s the son of the university President, he can do what he wants. He knows where all the cameras are, and even if he got caught they’d probably just pack me off back to England anyway.” König’s fist was clenched on his knee, and the hand on her shoulder seemed to tighten painfully.

“I could… talk to him. Once I have spoken to him, it will not happen again, I am sure.”

“No, König. I appreciate the offer but… I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t want you to get in trouble. He’ll get bored eventually.” Rose, even through her tears and tumbling emotions couldn’t quite believe he had just offered that. He barely knew her, they had only spoken a few times, why on earth would he be offering to do such a thing for a woman he had only just begun talking to? Maybe this was another one of those soldier things, protecting the innocent or something like that, like it was his duty to look after her?

The confusion had at least distracted Rose from her tears, and she wiped her face with her hands, looking up into König’s pitying expression. Mein Gott, he thought, she was pretty even when her green eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. He wished he could find something else to say, something to fix it for her. She said she couldn’t afford to eat… Maybe he should offer to buy her dinner? But that would mean he would have to take her to dinner, and make more conversation, find other things to say to her - the thought of it made his lungs feel like stone, unable to breathe. Sheiße, why couldn’t he just talk to her like a normal person, without his stupid brain disconnecting from his even stupider mouth. She looked so small, so soft compared with his massive muscular bulk, and he was beginning to feel even more anxious with the way she was looking so intently at him.

“Thank you, though. For the offer. And for letting me vent.” Her hand reached out to the one on his knee, and wrapped around it, tiny compared with his. It was warm, and soft, compared with his calloused and scarred skin. König’s heart began to pound in his chest, his mouth going dry, as she continued to stare up into his eyes with that sweet, desperate, sad look on her face. He needed to get out of here, needed to get away, before his panic took over completely. He pulled his one hand quickly from her shoulder, the other from under her soft fingers, and stood up, eyes darting around for an escape. Rose jerked back in shock, afraid she had done something wrong.

“Sorry, I, um…” She stammered, eyes full of fear.

“I hope you will feel better little Rose. I will leave you, now.” He managed to mutter, before leaving the flat without so much as a glance behind him. Rose’s heart sank as the door closed. She finally had an opportunity to make a friend, and a really kind, chivalrous, gorgeous one, and had scared him off already.

König returned to his own apartment and sat on the floor, his back to the cold wall for a minute or two to try and let his heart return to a normal pace, desperately trying to even his breathing. He hated that he felt like this over something so simple as a conversation with a pretty girl, when he could put a bullet through a target’s eye from hundreds of metres away without so much as a blink. He knew he had never been good with people, it was why he preferred to stay silent most of the time, why when he wasn’t at work he preferred to be in the gym or in his apartment alone. What was he thinking, when he had followed Rose to her apartment? Did he really think he could make her feel better? He had probably only made her feel more awkward, Verdammt! Well, there was one thing he could do, even if she had asked him not to get involved… That little Arschloch would never touch her again.

It was not hard for König to find the name of the man harassing Rose. The University she was working and studying at was fairly obvious, given the location of their apartment building, and it didn’t take much work to find the name of the President, and then the name of his son, especially with König’s military connections. He knew Rose had warned him against seeking out this stupid little man, but he also knew if he did things right, she would never need to know he had anything to do with it. A drunken accident, perhaps, was in order; nothing too severe, maybe just make sure his hands would not be reaching for Rose again. The last thing Markus heard, before the pain took over, was a deep male voice speaking in German.

“You will not lay a hand on my little Rose again.” It was not a request.

When Rose next saw Markus, he had a black eye, and two broken wrists. Apparently he had fallen down some stairs and broken both of his wrists at once. This seemed like a rather odd injury, and the details were hazy even in the rumours… How would he also have ended up with a black eye if his wrists had taken the brunt of the fall? But he was a hard drinker and definitely partied hard; maybe the reason it was all being kept so secret was that he was high or drunk when it had happened. Rose wouldn’t put it past his family to want to hush that up, given his father’s position. She had the tiniest little hint of suspicion that maybe, just maybe, König may have had something to do with it… But she brushed that aside quickly, sure that there was no way König cared enough to get involved, especially after the way he had abruptly left her flat. Either way, Markus’ injuries seemed to have knocked the arrogance out of him. Still, the thought of König’s words rang in her ears.

“Once I have spoken to him, it will not happen again, I am sure.”

[ironheartedfae]

Timing: Current Location: Deersprings Feat: @lithium-argon-wo-l-f & @ironheartedfae Warnings: mild gore tw Summary: Ren is so small she steps in a puddle and it looks like she dove in the deep end.

Night had fallen, and with it the temperatures. Few folks roamed the streets at this hour, fewer in a place like Deersprings. Not where the respectable citizens of Wicked’s Rest made their homes. Where less things went wrong. Or at least less than everywhere else in this accursed place. Cozy streetlamps hummed with electricity. The few houses with inhabitants still awake lit up with their warm orange glow. Dispelling the gloom of the rain outside. Even the more built up areas of the neighborhood seemed to have a hush pulled over them. The streets themselves appeared to glisten with the dancing droplets of rain. Lulling everyone and everything into a false sense of security and comfort.  

It would have been a picture perfect depiction of a cozy town in rural Maine, except– Except this was Wicked’s Rest. And nothing was ever as it seemed. 

The silence broke like a brick through glass. A splash (far too big for the puddle it came from) erupted out of the nestled little pothole it sat in. Seemingly pouring out a pool's worth of liquid that did not want to stop. A scrawny arm braced itself on the ‘edge’ of the puddle, and tried in vain to pull itself from the depths. Something just underneath the surface was thrashing and trying its very best to keep whoever’s arm that belonged to from doing its job. 

With as much grace as a turtle trying to right itself from its back, a second arm and a head appeared above the water. With one final push against something the tiny redhead was able to dive out of the water. 

Ren gasped for air, greedily taking in anything her hoarse throat would allow. Anger was perhaps the only thing keeping her going, because it sure as hell wasn’t preparedness or well-restedness. Did she really ever stop to take care of herself? No. Did it matter? No. Of course it didn’t. She had a job to do, even if she wasn’t getting paid. If she wasn’t going to take care of the monstrous puddles and the disgusting creatures they housed, who would? 

Another head…thing… bobbled up from the puddle. An ugly moss covered maw, hungry and wildeyed. Clearly just as displeased with the situation as the nymph. Though it was more on the ‘get this iron knife out of my side, and let me eat you’ side. Ren whipped around and screamed at the thing, not quite ready for another plunge into the frigid waters that still soaked her through to the bone. Maybe if she could just entice it out of the water, then she could do some real damage. 

Rainy. It was certainly more wet here than Gael supposed he expected from a place in Maine which seemed kind of obvious the more he thought about it. Granted, it’s not as though he wasn’t used to rain; indeed, he remembered the knee-high mud of the wet seasons. Unlike then, however, he was thankful that he had his own place this time, located in the rather nice neighborhood of Deersprings - a normal place for a normal guy like him. It was evening now, and instead of frequenting one of the many bars in town or having a preexisting engagement with one of the many unique individuals he had met online, Gael was at home, curled up on an old couch in his highly minimalist (and only half-unpacked) living room, a lamp on the small table next to the arm as his only source of light. In his hands was a tattered old copy of one of the Star Wars books from the extended universe and a pair of reading glasses that he didn’t realize he hadn’t needed in several months rested on the bridge of his nose. Setting down his hot tea, steaming from a wide mug with a chemical equation pun on it, he started to turn another page of his book when his head turned so sharply it made his neck pop and he dropped the novel, where it landed on the hardwood floor with a papery smack. Gael, eyes wide, didn’t think twice as he leapt off the couch with unexpected agility, flying across the room and wrenching open the door as he heard a female scream pierce through the rain, through his walls, through his concentration. Out he stumbled into the chilled night air in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, quickly glancing around for the source of that noise. It didn’t come from a neighbor’s noisy movie, he was sure he would’ve been able to tell… Then he spotted something. At the far end of the stretch of road was what appeared to be the silhouette of a figure on the ground. Gael broke into a sprint, splashing in the puddles and blinking back the raindrops that caught in his eyes as he kept them on the figure on the ground. “Hey!” He called to the figure before clumsily coming to a skidding stop near what seemed to be a young adult and he dropped to a crouch. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked urgently, placing a hand on her shoulder. She was frigid to the touch but he didn’t recoil, though he did immediately notice it and put a pin in that. “Did someone hurt you?” He asked, before turning his head to regard the…. “What is THAT?”

Waterlogged and far too cold to function, Ren barely noticed the man racing up to her side. Instinct, and a stark lack of comforting gestures in her life still worked though, as she jumped when his hand found her shoulder. Scrambling to the side for a split second getting stupidly close to the puddle once again. The nymph didn’t respond. She didn’t have time to. The creature saw the opportunity just as plainly as the stranger had seen it. 

A sturdy set of jaws opened wide, yawning hungrily as it came down on Ren’s leg. Grabbing just above the ankle and pulling. The vodnik could have just as easily snapped the limb right off, right then. It wasn’t like the bug was hard to break. It wanted to bring her back to the depths. Back underwater where she couldn’t breathe, could barely see, and it had all the advantage. 

Wide eyes frantically searched for anything that would slow her descent into the frigid pool. One hand was able to use her remaining knife, drive it as far into a crack in the concrete as she could. The other reached out, a rare and desperate call for help. Even if her voice betrayed her, even if she couldn’t vocalize how scared she was. How she didn’t think she’d be able to really survive another plunge. And how she didn’t want this to be where her story ended. Ren’s terrified gaze shot up to the stranger. 

Please. Please be able to do something. 

The girl flinched, which Gael supposed was to be expected - she was shaken, frighteningly cold, and they were both staring down some… mutated snapping turtle or something that poked its ugly head out of the water. He had never seen anything like it and for a moment, he was frozen himself, tensing up as what was happening before him happened. She moved away and the creature took an opportunity to snap at her, ensnaring her ankle and starting to drag her into the murk of what he thought was a normal, shallow puddle. A knife went into the concrete and her hand reached out to him. Move. Her expression shredded through his animal fear and without a second thought, Gael pushed himself onto all fours for a second before one arm extended down the length of hers, wrapping his hand around her upper arm and starting to pull her towards him or, specifically, away from the puddle. Leaning forward on his knees, he reached forward, past her and attempted to grasp a handful of the slimy substance that was on the turtle-salamander thing. With a heave, he started to pull IT up too, with the shaken understanding that if he got both of them out of the water they could try to get it off her. “It’ll be okay,” He assured her, his voice urgent but strong and while Gael couldn’t be sure if that was true, he wasn’t about to let whatever this was go. “C’mon, you ugly–”

Just like that, the touch she’d run away from had become a lifeline. The stranger was pulling Ren away from the puddle. Using her as an anchor, he was able to wrench the vodnik from its watery den. He probably had no idea how good of an idea that was. Or maybe he did. Either way, the nymph wasted exactly no time to use the distraction (and the leverage) to add a little oomph to her kick. The beast’s jaws were still tight around her other leg, but now that it was out of the depths she could see her other knife. Still buried between a mound of rock like flesh, and algae coated shell. A flash of excitement washed over her. The tides had turned. 

Cold as she was, the next few movements were quick. Far more so than anyone in her situation should have been, but slower than she’d like. Ren twisted, wrenching the bite in further, but giving herself access to more of the creature. The previously concrete-bound knife found its way into the thing’s jaw. It roared in pain, which gave the nymph a split second to remove her leg. 

The moment she was free she was on top of the thing. Knives blurry, hitting any and every target that wasn’t completely sheltered by the creature’s thick moss covered carapace. Adrenaline was doing most of the work. If she slowed up, even for a moment, it would fight back. The pain in her leg would get to her. The frigid temperature shift would slow her to a crawl. Ren had to keep going. For both their sake. This stranger who pulled her from certain death didn’t deserve to follow her into that fate because she made a mistake. No. She’d keep going until the job was done. Possibly well after. It wasn’t like she was thinking clearly after all. 

As Gael pulled the two of them further from the puddle, he noticed that she also thought quickly, much quicker than he would’ve if he was on the other side of his scenario. He felt her weight against him, using him as a support point as he was using hers to heave the monster. She kicked the creature and around the time he acknowledged that there was a knife lodged in the monster, she had pulled her other knife from the concrete and plunged it into the mass of moss, flesh and teeth. The creature cried in pain (or was it rage), Gael fell back with a splash as the sound reverberated in his ears and the girl, who was moments ago in the jaws of the mutant, now took her knives to it in a flurry of attacks, visceral stabbing sounds, blood being pulled from the body with the metal of the blades. And for a few moments he sat there wondering if maybe he– he definitely hadn’t made a mistake but from the way she moved, the way she had bitten back as soon as she was able, the man knew that he didn’t just help out a random stranger; she was trained, though he couldn’t be sure in what. But, despite her being a stranger and an efficient weapon-user, she still seemed so young. She persisted after the pained grunts of the mutant turtle-salamander stopped, effectively dead (or so he thought) and again, without thinking about the long-term, Gael reached for her and, placing his strong hands on her icy upper arms, started to pull her away from the monster. He wasn’t sure how she would react and he was ready to take a knife to the arm himself but he figured she was in fight-or-flight mode. He was familiar with the adrenaline pumping through him - he had to be pulled away from fights sometimes too. To feel someone else, to pull him up from the edge he’d stumbled from. “It’s okay,” He said, making himself heard clearly through the rain that fell on them. His tone was loud enough but carried a calm, even if he was still afraid about the situation, about what she could do to him. “It’s okay.” He repeated.

A rush of air was all Ren felt as she was pulled from the beast. Now still, dead as a doorknob, blood pooling around it as the wake of destruction and fury subsided. Its powers now gone, the puddle was just a puddle. And the kid was just a kid. Scared and frantic, being pulled off of the vodnik and into someone’s arms. Her mind was moving too quickly to process. Too panicked to stop and think about the reason she’d been so aggressive towards the creature was at least, in part, because of the stranger. Because she wasn’t the only one there, the only one who’d lose if she failed. 

“Let me GO you stupid–” Her heartbeat was still raging against her chest. “–stupid turtle!!”    Each thump grew a little more distant though, as the cold caught up with her. Ren’s struggles against the arms that held her were less like a trained soldier trying to escape, and more and more like a tired toddler vehemently disagreeing with bed time. That, and the puncture wounds in her legs. Draining life down into the sewers with the rest of the rain. 

It took more than a few moments for the nymph to really tell what was going on. That the creature before her was already gone, and the only danger she was still in was from blood loss. Harsh ragged breaths slowed and calmed to a steady and even keel. Ren’s unblinking stare relented as she relaxed, if only a little. She turned, cocking her head to the side so she could see exactly who she was dealing with. Surprised that the face wasn’t as unfamiliar as she might expect. Gael. From the internet. The kind man who asked– 

“Gre–eeen.” A strange first word to say, definitely not a thank you. And followed quickly by a slumping. As adrenaline crashed, shock came. Ren passed out. 

Her pulse pounded in his ears, her low body temperature clashing with his, her thrashing against him was reminiscent of a child but at least she didn’t take her knives to him. Gael remained as sturdy as he could, the rock against her crashing waves of fear and primal response to survive and as she slowed down, no doubt because of both whatever hypothermic episode her body was going through coupled with the open puncture wounds in her leg freely flowing down into the gutter, he pulled her a little farther away from the corpse of the monster, a little closer to him. She didn’t want to hurt him, that much Gael was able to gather both from how she actually didn’t attack him and how her brain still raced with thoughts of the monster that lay in its blood before them. Her heart rate lowered, as did his and when she turned her head, he tilted his in kind, wanting to make eye contact with her, show her that he was there right now. ‘Green’. That was all she said before she fell unconscious and he adjusted quickly, catching her before she could hit the pavement. It didn’t take long for him to connect the dots. “I have you, little fern,” He said quietly, getting to his feet, cradling her close to him to share his body heat with her and, with one last look to the mossy abomination at the edge of the puddle, he turned and carried her to his house as fast as he could.

* * *

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but in the span of it, Gael had taken the girl home, wrung out as much of her as possible, dried her the rest of the way and used one of his at-home kits to patch her up. He wasn’t sure how to fix her alarmingly-low body heat so he did what only made sense to him - he started a fire in his previously-unused fireplace and cranked up the heat. She was on his floor in front of the fireplace on a pallet of blankets, underneath his thickest comforter. Near her was a spare change of clothes - they would’ve been too big for her but dry clothes were better than none, or so he figured. Gael sat next to her on the floor, close to her, having since picked his book back up though he made sure to be positioned in a way that he could see and tend to her the second she responded. He checked her heart rate periodically - slow, but there.

In the time between falling and waking, there was a sense of peace that Ren didn’t often get to experience. Dreamless sleep, however short it stayed for, however it came to be, was preferable to the litany of nightmares and anxious imaginings of a troubled mind. Eventually, Ren’s eyes fluttered open. The crackling of a fire almost had her believing she was back at camp, but her camp had never been this warm. Not quite enough time had passed that she’d been able to fully heat through to her core, but the blankets on blankets on blankets did a number for her skin. For the strange tingling in her leg that still didn’t quite feel like it was there. A blessing in disguise, surely. If she could feel it, she’d feel the pain that came with. 

Everything was like a foggy daydream. The kind of comfort that only existed in stories and only for princesses and those who were pure of heart. Ren wasn’t that. She couldn’t ever be. The nymph was only ever doing her best to be something she wasn’t. Doing her best to not be a monster like the vodnik outside. Memories filtered in like falling snow. Bits and pieces here, slowly coating everything and uniting into one big picture. 

She had been hunting down the creatures. Reports of puddles, and people falling into them, had tipped her off to the possibility of the hulking fae puddle jackers. Ren followed her senses to one, and promptly started a battle she had no real hope of winning alone. Bitterly, she also remembered Emilio’s words. Ones that almost stung as much as the bruises and bumps that now littered her body. Even the poorly healed wound on her side had something to say about this endeavor. Opening up slightly, and weeping blood and fluid into the flannel that still stuck to her skin with the rain and sweat. 

Clothes sat beside her. And beyond them, Gael. A concerned gaze drifted around the room, until she finally got the energy to speak up. “This is… your house?” 

She stirred and after a brief coin toss in his mind, Gael opted to tilt his head from his book, regarding the girl with a gentle expression though he couldn’t keep the relief he held inside from tumbling out in a sigh. “It is,” He smiled softly. “It’s good to meet you in person,” He said, setting the book aside and starting to get to his feet, the bones in his knees and back popping like a symphony of twigs being snapped. “Ah, I’m getting too old to sit on the floor,” He scoffed lightly. “Stay there, let me get you some tea.” He made his way into the kitchen where he had a fresh kettle brewed, one of his mugs set aside. “I’m pleased that you’re awake,” He called briefly, pouring the tea and bringing it back before stooping to put it on the ground next to her. “I closed you up on your leg,” He explained. “But I didn’t change your clothes or force-feed you any medicine.” He assured before realizing that she might not even remember what happened before this moment in time. Or even if she knew his name. Gael supposed he was just… he wasn’t sure if it was his ability to quickly move on from events or the inevitability of what might happen if he lingered too much in the past but he needed to remember that she was attacked by some… mutated turtle, they were both in the rain, she killed it with such anger that he had to pull her off of the corpse. It was a lot and while he didn’t want to dredge the topic, he felt like maybe he needed to. “I’m not going to ask what that thing was out there,” Gael started slowly. “So instead I’ll ask if there’s anything else I can do to help you right now.” He gave her an earnest expression, not sitting down yet in case she did need something, whether it was painkillers, a bandage for that wound on her side that he didn’t dress or address, or an anchor to pull herself up so she could stand herself.

Coming in to a place she didn’t recognize would’ve been a lot more startling if she hadn’t talked to this not-quite-stranger for so long. The internet was odd. And Ren couldn’t fully understand most of what she saw there, but on the ‘social media’ thing, there were a few folks who’s steady influx of advice and dare she say friendship kept her going. Kept her focused enough to do her job. And maybe even helped her be better at it. Even if that wasn’t something she was ever going to share. 

She should have been more nervous. Maybe blood loss and the chill that still bit at her bones kept her calmer than normal. Like a beehive in smoke, or any other bug during winter. Instead, the nymph took the time to take in her surroundings. Mentally writing things down so she could chart them later. Gael hadn’t made it to a file yet. After this though? Probably would earn more than a few pages. Silently, Ren thanked whatever divine force saw fit to inspire her to leave the journal at home for this particular hunt. If she had brought more than her knives, they either would have been lost to the dizzying abyss that the creature made out of the puddle, or they would have been soggy and useless. 

A bit like she was feeling now. “You are very kind to do these things.” Ren tucked her legs up, strained as it was to do so, it felt better. Safer. Curled up in a tight ball with the blankets still surrounding her. “I should just go.” The house seemed bare, empty. Like he hadn’t been there very long. But it was warm and inviting all the same. Not to mention huge. Like one of the bigger buildings back at the compound, but most of them were brimming with activity. “Do you live here alone?” 

“I’m happy that I heard you,” Gael responded before realizing what he said and he cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m not happy that… whatever happened happened but I’m glad that– Well…” He furrowed his brow as he thought about what he wanted to say that didn’t make it seem like this was a positive encounter. Granted, it probably would’ve gone worse had he NOT had his… strangely sensitive hearing. That wasn’t a conversation for now though and instead, he faltered for a moment before nodding at her first statement. “It’s no problem.” He settled on saying. The second one rolled around and the professor wanted to protest - she was still injured, chilled and the rain hadn’t subsided yet, which he didn’t think he wanted her out in. Not that she was Gael’s child, but his fatherly tendencies, the ones that admittedly sometimes misfired due to his inability to have children of his own, activated the second he saw her and it hadn’t subsided yet; he wouldn’t tell her but he found himself protective after their interaction online and what had just transpired. “I used to; recently I got a roommate and he’ll be moving in soon,” He explained, opting to sit next to her once more, slowly lowering himself with a grunt as he made sure not to move too quickly as she seemed like the type to be put on edge easily. Once he was on the floor again, he used the back of a knuckle to scoot the mug of tea closer to her, if only to let her know that it was okay for her to drink. As though to prove to her that it was safe, he gathered his own mug from the table behind him and held it up, propping his elbows on his knees as his legs were loosely crossed at the ankle. “And… I can’t tell you what to do but it’d give me peace of mind if I could at least drive you to wherever you live,” Gael added softly, taking a sip of the tea - ginger and lemon, one of his favorite combinations. “I also have a spare room if you don’t want to do that and you can wait until the rain is gone.” He offered, nodding behind him to the darkened hallway. “You can change your clothes, it’s on the ground floor so you can see the door.” He wanted to ask where she did live, if there was someone he could or should call to help her but he didn’t want to move too fast - she was the one in an unfamiliar environment after killing a monster, she was the one who had to adjust to a new location. She reminded him of his eldest sister. “What’s your name?”

Happy he heard…? Oh. The scream. A moment of anguish too loud to keep inside. Ren didn’t have the time to feel guilty about it then, but now? Well there was a list starting to compile. Was this what Emilio meant? Worrying about people you barely know. With Gael, even less than the detective. Only a few conversations, not even in person. Ren could see use in herself with the way she walked Perro for Emilio, but it wasn’t like she’d ever done anything for Gael. Nothing but be a stubborn little shit online. Slowly coming to senses on things she never really knew how to interact with. 

She was an arrow, when she wasn’t pointed at a target, what good was she? Ren’s gaze flicked down to the cup. To yet another source of radiant heat. Why were people always trying to give her food, drinks, clothes, and a place to stay? Her mind tried to wrap itself around the mug and what it meant just as her hands physically did. As they curled around the warm ceramic her fingers actually started to come back to life. Breath was still an effort, but each rush of air that wasn’t icy cold was nothing short of miraculous. 

The nymph was quiet. But that wasn’t surprising for her. She was always one who was better at listening than any hope she ever had at being a conversationalist. He wanted her to stay or at least wait out the rain. But Ren already felt like she was an imposition. Walking the line between grateful for the help, and still somehow feeling wrong for accepting it. The two conflicting feelings swirled in her stomach like a stormfront. All she could do was focus on what sensations surrounded her right then and there. Emotions and their ilk would have to come later. Would have to sit and fester for just a bit longer. Waiting out the rain didn’t seem like such a bad idea. 

Each bit of speech came with another set of notations. The door, the clothes, the way the rain continued to beat against the windows. How every once in a while she heard a fat drop sizzle on the fire, having made its way down through the chimney. She noted boxes, either the new roommates or maybe from whenever Gael had made this place his own. There was the kitchen, a set of stairs, a couch with a strangely sparkling side, that seemed to drip down to the floor below. Dizzying and dazzling in the firelight. Ren hadn’t hit her head or anything like that, but she was still reeling from her unconscious stint. Still seeing long trails to every source of light. Almost made her want to kick back to the other kind of vision, mapping things out by heat rather than visible light. However, she wasn’t sure she had the energy for that effort. 

“Til the rain ends.” Ren agreed. Though, it’d been raining the last few days. Maybe it’d rain forever. Maybe she could sit in this dreamlike fantasy and pretend it was normal. Pretend she was human. Pretend she could have family. Then when the rain washed away, dried up and opened the skies once again, she could vanish. Back to normal. To hunting and protecting. To learning and living on her own. 

“You… you can call me Ren.” 

She was quiet. Gael was also able to gather that online - English wasn’t her first language and if she was as similar to his sister as she seemed, it probably took her a while to compile her thoughts into sentence structures that were considered ‘passable’ to outsiders. So when she did speak, he made sure to pay close attention to the things she considered important enough to say. To his relief, she agreed on waiting for the rain to pass and he smiled, taking another sip as he noticed that she held the mug if only to get some of her lost body heat back. “‘Til the rain ends, you got it.” Things had calmed down, and now that the two of them weren’t actually in the cold, ceaseless rain, hearing it on the windows and roof brought a sense of peace with it. Although… should Gael have gone back out there to dispose of the body? Would it even still be there? Surely he could send it to the biology department or one of the labs in town, right? Maybe Dr. Kavanagh would like it– no, she dealt with people though she DID like taxidermy. What… what was he going on about. A thing was dead on the street, the girl had signs of hypothermia and Gael was just sitting on his floor like a fool thinking about whether or not a doctor would like to taxidermy it. “It’s nice to know your name, Ren.” He pulled himself out of his silly thoughts and gave her a smile. “I wish we met under better circumstances but that was clever, reminding me of your favorite color.” He gazed at the fire now. “You don’t… have to answer if you don’t want to but what are you doing out here? Do you live around here?” He was expecting her not to answer; she seemed like a private person, after all, and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by prying. Maybe he should’ve asked if she was hungry. “Ah, never mind. Are you hungry?” He asked instead. “I can make you some–” What did he have available. “Sandwiches.”

It was a toss up. Ren wasn’t even sure if she was going to answer. It was perhaps the least he deserved. Most people didn’t take it super well when you told them you were there to hunt creatures like that down. Unless they were also a hunter, which… Between the cozy environment of the less-than-filled house, the gentle nature, and the constant emotional support… Gael was probably not one of them. It was something she wasn’t sure what to make of. Be honest, open to conversation, as it were. 

Silence won. For now. The concern that laced her brows together showed off the war going on inside. The nymph simply shook her head. “I cannot speak of this. Just… I am trained for it. Keep people from being hurt.” A compromise. Somewhere between honest and safe. “Creature was called Vodnik.” There were more in the area, that part was better to share. The more information Gael had, the less likely he was to fall into a deep puddle and never come out. “Makes small puddles big. Angry, territorial. Many arrive because of rain.” Didn’t really account for the cold though. Maybe the deepened water was just naturally chillier than what would have been seasonal. That didn’t fully explain why it felt almost icy. Magic never really made a whole lot of sense though did it?  

“You are Gaheel, yes?” Not at all pronounced correctly, but Ren had only ever seen the name online. It didn’t fit on her tongue super well. Didn’t mix well into the strange accent she carried all her diction with. “I– It is– nice. To meet you in person too. You have many words, all of them are well thought out.” Strange, how someone who spoke so eloquently could pull that out of someone else, almost like he pulled her from that puddle. Around someone like Emilio it was easy to remain the quiet wallflower. Just watching and giving what amounted to a little more than grunts and affirmations every once in a while. With Gael, she felt like she had to give something back. Like it was unbalanced, somehow. With her quiet nature. 

“Sandwiches…” It wasn’t unfamiliar. Ren had plenty of sandwiches before. Carbs, protein, it was a good way to keep herself going. Easy to make, and sometimes she could even find partial loaves of mostly not-moldy bread in the dumpster. If she was lucky, she even got to them before the mice did. “...Why are you doing all of this?” 

Another pause. Gael took a drink of his warm tea, though he was starting to feel the effects of his heater turned up as well as the fire, combined with the fact that he chose sweatpants. It was fine, so long as she was comfortable, or rather less uncomfortable. When she started speaking, again, he took her words and put them into a mental notebook of his own - she wasn’t just studying flora and fauna, she was a hunter of beasts, which in his mind was compartmentalized of “mutations, possibly having escaped from a lab”. ‘Vodnik’, in his mind, was either a corrupted version of lizard or snapping turtle as it carried qualities of both. Then again, it was coated in so much moss and slime that it was hard to get a distinct shape of the creature, save its flapping maw and sharp teeth. Possibly a young alligator? As for the puddles, he was sure that the rain was just getting in his eyes and Gael was falling into the illusion that the puddle was deeper than it actually was. None of this was verbalized, and instead he shook his head with comprehension. “Okay. You’re a protector, and you heard about this… vodnik, so you came here to keep it from hurting anyone.” He summarized her explanation, keeping a note to mention that she was the important part of it, not the mutant. He didn’t want to think about what sort of nightmare camp she might’ve trained at - he knew people who were hunters, but she gave him the impression that hers was less of a familial hobby and more of… child soldier stuff. She then said his name and Gael recognized it even if it wasn’t correct, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. “I appreciate the compliment, Ren,” He bowed his head respectfully at her though he couldn’t keep himself from smiling slightly sheepishly. “I imagine a lot of people think I talk too much about too little so it’s nice to hear that sometimes maybe that’s not the case.” He raised one of his eyebrows and set the mug down. Sandwiches floated through the air, as did his recollection of what all he had in the house for her to eat, when she asked him a new question and brought him back down. “Well,” Gael reached up and tapped on his shadowed chin in thought. “I heard someone call for help, I went out there and saw someone getting attacked by a creature.” He walked through the series of events. “You said you keep people from getting hurt but you got hurt.” The chemist spoke mildly, keeping his tone from getting serious or dramatic. “So I couldn’t protect you from getting hurt but I can do my best to help any way that I can now.” He leaned forward slightly, giving her a soft expression. “I’ve had my share of accidents, my share of getting hurt on my own and sometimes I wished someone would be there to lend me a hand; so I lead by example. I wasn’t about to leave you outside, in the rain, injured and dying from exposure regardless of who you were or why you were here.” He shrugged. “I guess I just like helping people.”

All of this was a lot to consider. And considering her lack of practice in the act, it was a play on more than just words. Ren shifted, trying to find a better position to sit in. One where she could keep her head on a swivel, even if she didn’t need to right now. The open concept (though that wouldn’t be what Ren would call it) house was actually quite good for her state of mind. Being able to see almost all the doors and windows from one central point, whoever designed it must have been quite smart. Or so the nymph thought. Ren had a tendency of thinking most  people were a lot more intelligent than her. 

Gael was definitely among the top. Right up there with Nora and Emilio, though each possessed a different kind of intelligence. Emilio knew a lot about a plethora of supernatural things. Nora knew a lot about modern things, social media and other things teens and young adults would like. And Gael, well, it seemed he knew a whole lot about the heart. Cared more than maybe anyone Ren had ever met. Or at least, cared in a much softer way than most. In a way, the wounds covering her body were far more familiar than this shared comfort. Than soft voices and careful explanations. 

She could tell (or at least thought she could) that he was being far more cautious around her than he might have been if it was someone else. Maybe that was a good thing. Ren knew well enough from the argument with the detective that going around and telling people who’ve already made the dumb decision to care about her that she was something worth derision more than gentleness, it didn’t really go over too well. 

But he liked helping people. That’s what he said. Emilio couldn’t really verbalize it more than just the fact that Ren was a kid. An infuriating statement the nymph tried her best not to take poorly. It wasn’t untrue. And maybe that’s what made her more mad. Just like everything else, it was one more thing she was trying to pretend she wasn’t. Like she wasn’t a monster, she was a hunter. She wasn’t fae, she was human. She wasn’t a burden, she was accepting help. She wasn’t a kid, she was just…  She didn’t know the alternative. Adult? Sure, but that carried weight she didn’t know if she could properly carry. Not alone. 

“I try to protect people.” There was a long drawn pause. A breath and a release. Both the air in her lungs and the weight keeping her shoulders held up and tight. “I am beginning to think I am… not as good as I should be at it.” Not good at picking out right from wrong, not good at fighting things by herself. And where did that leave the fae hunter of fae? Ren didn’t know how to be a person. Not really. “It was–” Another pause. A risk. “Thank you for helping me. I did need it. I do not know what would have become of me or beast if not for intervention.” 

“All any of us can do is try,” Gael replied gently after the newest pause; he wondered what she was thinking, what all was going on under the surface. He often wondered that about Ariana too but he had long since grown accustomed to waiting for answers, if they came at all. He also had gotten used to sometimes not receiving any. “Helping others is one of the most fulfilling things you can do, whether you’ve been trained for it or not.” He said mildly. “You protected me. Your knowledge and intuition, your skills and tenacity kept that… vodnik-thing from hurting anyone else here.” He gestured in the direction of the neighborhood. “These people, including me, had no idea there was anything out there. “You’re young and very skilled.” He continued. “I’ve been doing my job for 20 years and I still learn things, wish I did things differently.” The professor glanced at Ren. “But all we can do is try to be better, improve ourselves.” Gael licked his lower lip, picking up his mug and taking another drink of tea. As he did, Ren thanked him and his brow raised in evident surprise - he recalled when they last talked and she vehemently told him not to, to take it back and he heard from other people not to do that. She must’ve considered it at length if after the way she responded the first time, she thanked him now. It caught Gael off-guard but only for a moment before he shook his head. “Keep it; you don’t owe me anything.” He waved lightly. “I’d do it again.” He smiled before starting to stand again. “Now! You want a sandwich?” He asked, deciding to try to let her know with his actions and way of conversing that he wasn’t thinking hard on this, debating, judging her. She was here, he was here right now.

Ren hadn’t needed more proof of Gael’s kindness, but he kept supplying it all the same. Not accepting the thank you in the way that she learned was enough to release her. For the first time since she picked it up, the nymph sipped on her tea. Let the hot liquid soothe her frayed mind. Reminded her of the days Darya would bring soup to the shack in winter. Ren missed those days. When all that was expected of her was to survive the cold so she could learn more in the spring. Cons of bringing a bug into your family. Ren wasn’t much good to anyone when she was this chilled. 

In her mind, the acts displayed were not even. Gael said he’d do it again. Said she was skilled and that she kept the neighborhood safe. But that was what Ren was supposed to do. To the not-warden warden, this was just like… breathing. It was a struggle sometimes, sure, but it was a part of her life. It was what gave her purpose. Patching people you barely knew up, after pulling them from the jaws of certain death?? That wasn’t his. It felt mismatched. Like she did still owe him something. 

“Try to be better.” She repeated, quietly this time. More to herself than anything else. Settling into the phrase in more ways than one. Ren nodded and took another sip. Food would be welcome, might even make her start feeling more like herself. The clothes would probably do wonders too. One of her hands fell to the pile, while her eyes flicked over to the door that Gael had mentioned. 

“I– will get these on. If you do not need help in the kitchen.” 

After more creaking of his bones and a hand resting on his back for a moment, Gael had made it to his feet again and he shook his head. “No no, you can go wherever and do whatever; sandwiches are very easy to make.” Her muttering about ‘try to be better’ didn’t go by him unnoticed but he let it go as he tended to do that, as well. “Take your time.. And the bathroom is right next door in the hall.” He spoke clearly and pointed to let her know, not that he wanted her to stay in the parameters that he set but rather so she didn’t get mixed up or The professor headed into the kitchen as he assumed the young protector was going to change her clothes and he opened the fridge, holding it open for several long moments before realizing that he didn’t know what she’d want to eat. Instead of asking her, however, he just got a few different options out and he’d put them on a plate for her to pick for herself. Ham, turkey, a half loaf of bread… Cheese. Gael only had one type of cheese. He figured she wouldn’t be picky but still. He gathered all the ingredients, leaving the condiments put away for now - if she wanted them, he could get them. He got a serving platter and placed all the different options on it in a rather “By the way, I appreciate your help,” Gael called as he made the platter look as special as it possibly could considering it was a bunch of packages of processed meat and cheese. “It takes a special person to go out of their way to protect other people.” When it looked serviceable enough, he gathered the plate and made his way back into the living room.

With Gael in the kitchen, she had a little space. Enough room to decide that standing on her own was a good idea, even when it really really wasn’t. The weight on the limb, not all together that much but enough, sent a shiver of pain right through her whole body. The couch was enough of a crutch, the most Ren would accept right then at least. As if to mark her for being weak the strange scratchy and shimmery substance that coated the arm of the chair stuck to her still sweat-damp skin. Wouldn’t come off, even when she shook it vigorously. Her mouth opened to ask, but caught a piece of the plastic on her tongue instead.  

“Ah- aaugck.” What followed was a bit of a dance. Uncoordinated and extra clumsy with the added injuries, but something to behold all the same. Ren rattled her head like a dog that had just licked a lemon, just as surprised and just as disgusted. The plague of glitter only spread, leaving almost a cloud about the girl like she’d just been sprinkled in fairy dust. Irony at its best. “Gaheel what– Why does your couch attack with glimmery dandruff??” 

The man was already returning, a plate of something in his hands while hers were still battling with the tiny shards of plastic. Just the right amount of ridiculous, all things considered. Ren had gone toe to toe with the creature in the streets and yet a bit of glitter managed to throw her so far off her game she was acting like a puppy or a kitten testing out its new limbs. Afraid to touch anything, lest it spread more. It was remembering the vodnik though, that brought something out of her. A bark of laughter as the girl imagined what it would have looked like, dealing with the same predicament. Instead of moss, a thick coating of shiny…whatever this was. The laugh multiplied, as a spell of silliness slipped through the delirious state her mind was in.  

It wasn’t often she was able to just be a kid, but something about this place felt comfortable enough to try. 

Gael was on his way back, somehow not having seen her when he heard her call his name in her unique way of saying it and he glanced over to find her in a sporadic pseudo-dance, fine particles of– uh oh. Hurriedly placing the platter on the counter, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing as she did - it was a new sound, hearing her emote in such a positive manner. It was uplifting and even though he hated that damned glitter, he internally thanked it for creating this particular scenario which seemed like something she needed after the stiffness, the closed-off behavior, the frenzied stabbing of the monster. “Gah, I’m sor–” He cut himself off with a laugh, approaching her, braving the puffs of glitter once more to rescue her and Gael offered out an arm for her to take as support. “I forgot about your ankle!” He tried to sound worried but instead, he just kept smiling and it grew wider. He waved the glitter out of the air but of course the stupid stuff was so fine that he couldn’t keep himself from breathing more of it in and his laughter became mixed up with coughing. “It gets everywhere - you’ll be seeing it in your dreams,” He coughed out another laugh, gently leading her away from the couch where he gently tried to pat some of it off of her. 

“Sorry, little fern,” Gael used the nickname without even realizing that he had, though he DID notice that she was warmer than before - still cold but it was more manageable than when he first found her. “It’s very… sensitive–” He barely finished his sentence before turning sharply, dipping into the shoulder opposite her to sneeze. “Aaagh it got up my nose again.” He still smiled though and regarded the girl who now shimmered in the light of the fire. “You can take a shower - most of it will come off. If you don’t want to do that, it won’t be the end of the world,” He shrugged casually, taking a step towards the room. “Would you like some assistance?” He asked once he got his own breathing under control though he stuck his tongue out, feeling the particles in his mouth - a curse. That’s what it was. But also somehow a blessing right now.

Just like that, they were both caught in a storm of shimmer. Of much needed levity to dispel the gloom. The rain had brought her here, for that she had to thank fate. Even if to do so meant stepping more towards the way the fae would think of things. That’s what they did, right? Listen to fate and nature as if they were the divine words the world turned by? If it meant moments like this, Ren could see how one might fall to its siren song. 

Each time she tried to compose herself, more glitter got stuck. Either on herself, or on Gael. In a way that only made the fit of laughter worse. It was a breaking point, for better or worse. Everything that had happened up until then, everything that Wicked’s Rest had thrown her way, Ren had weathered. More or less. She had learned so much, almost none of which was what Darya had wanted her to. With each new day, each new face she greeted, each that she allowed to see her as a person, she was starting to feel a little more like one. 

The dizzy smile faded back to the stoic stare, but maybe just maybe it was lighter. Warmer. Not just in temperature (thanks to the professor and his quick thinking) but like her soul had lifted something off of it. Like laughter was the medicine she had needed all along. It wasn’t a crime to smile. She didn’t have to feel guilt for finding glimmers of joy in moments of anguish. Ren did her job that night and she was able to be a person after. Didn’t have to be one or the other. It’d take some practice, but this town was pulling her in a new direction. Only time could say where it would lead next. 

[mogodogo2nd]

Shameless repost from my reddit(how to turn kenshi into a utopia)

I love harsh and bleak worlds, especially ones I can change, because I have an "I can fix her" sort of mentality with those types of games, and find that sort of fantasizing very interesting. So, I decided to write up a plan to turn Kenshi into (somewhat) of a utopia. So without further ado, here is my multi-stage plan to (unethically) turn Kenshi into a utopia.Oh also, this is impossible to do in game.

Step One: Ally with the Shek.

The Shek may be a somewhat genocidal ethnostate, but they are the least bad of the three major factions in my opinion, and may cooperate with the plan, and if they don't, we can take control of their government fairly easily by challenging Esata to a battle and having Cyber Beep wreck their ass.

Step Two: Assassinate Holy Lord Phoenix, and imprison the high inquisitors(for their knowledge of the holy nation) and take control of the holy nation

The holy nation may not cooperate, but the shek are strong enough to distract the holy nation, and the anti-slavers and mercs can be used to quell rebellions. It is imperative to keep their mining equipment and farming equipment, and to minimize the casualties, though. We will immediately stop the war in the United Cities, and give them their dumbass land.

Step Three: Start slowly freeing slaves and discouraging discriminationWe can't shock the holy nation into a slaveless and diverse nation, we will have to slowly start passing laws around slavery until slaves can't be abused as much, and enough laws around discrimination so that a hiver can't just be enslaved for the crime of existing around stack. Also, once non-humans and women have rights and can work, so efficiency of the farms will increase quite a bit.

Step Four: Tear down the statue of Holy Lord Phoenix and free the slaves of rebirth

This may seem like a stupid decision, but to my knowledge, the only thing rebirth slaves do to my knowledge is build a big-ass statue and waste precious resources.

Step Five: Use the Resources from Rebirth to Encourage People to build farms

By giving people who start up farms tax cuts and free resources from the ruins of rebirth, we can get a lot of excess food, and also have less of a need for slaves, as well as giving jobs to people, so we won't have massive hordes of hungry bandits killing people and stealing their food.

Step Six: Settle in Shem

This will just boost the amounts of food and other resources we can produce massively, and will also make traveling shem a lot safer.

Step Seven: Start sell large amounts of food to the UC

Since we have an excess of food from our other exploits, we can most likely undercut the prices of the food produced by the UC, giving us plenty of cats in the process.

Step Eight: Build Outposts outside of the hiver villages.

This may seem stupid, but we can give lost hivers a place to stay, and also plenty of free labor and soldiers, which will come in handy later.

Step Nine: Wait for the UC to put tariffs on imports

Because we are undercutting the cost of food produced by the UC, the UC will probably start putting tariffs on imports, which may seem bad, but...

Step Ten: Use the tariffs as an excuse to go to war

At this point, we will be more powerful than the UC, with the more powerful holy nation and the shek kingdom on our side, and we can start a war with the UC.

Step Eleven: Assassinate Emperor Tengu and install a puppet governor

Little did Tengu know, but there was a skeleton crossbowman who had been waiting above his throne room for him to declare war, and immediately JFK his ass the second he does. The person who replaces Tengu will be a spy from our side, and will immediately surrender.

Step Twelve: Launch attacks against the slaver work camp

The combined forces of the three biggest factions will spell death for the slavers.

Step Thirteen: Abolish Slavery and make being poor legal again

Rather self explanatory, isn't it? Dissenters will be few and far between, due to the large amounts of freed slaves.

Step Fourteen: Reintroduce Garrus, Beak things, and Gorillos into the Cannibal Plains

Cannibalism is not a sustainable practice, as diseases can spread much quicker through eating people, and is therefore biologically discouraged. The cannibals would much rather eat animals than people, as it's coded in their DNA, and once they start eating animals, they probably will stop eating people. Also, release cleaner units to de-toxicify the land(read step 16-17).

Step Fifteen: Make peace with both hives

Maybe by a gift, or by new robot guard, but the hives can probably be satisfied with relative ease, which will come in handy later.

Step Sixteen: Kidnap a bunch of cleaning units from the ashlands

Hear me out, also it's not that hard because we allied with the southern hive

Step Seventeen: Make the machines work

They will start cleaning the southern portion, and make the land more hospitable to life besides landbats, and also make more of them to clean up the rest of kenshi.

Step Seventeen: Do Shenanigans in the foglands

Basically set up a wall around it, as well as killing all the fogmen in it, so the fog islands will be safe to settle in. It may be a genocide, but they are literally bipedal animals at that point. If they can be cured, cure them instead, but they probably can't. Also, make friends with mongrel.

Step Eighteen: End the Reavers

I hate them, send them into the same peeler with Savant

Step Nineteen: legalize hash to improve relations with the swamp people

And maybe kill off a couple rogue bandit groups. You can also start settling there for free meat and farmland.

Step Twenty: Bask in your (sort of) Utopia, where food is readily available from the reformed Holy Nation, the United Cities(fish) and other things from the swamp. We have plenty of other resources from mines in the Holy Nation, (and mines elsewhere). We also have plenty of manpower, and can easily destroy any rogue bandit groups. After this, we can start to socially reform the nation(s) we control, and are basically on top of the world.

Edit: Apparently Tengu is already a puppet, take control of the trader's guild and nobles, I'll elaborate further later.

Comment if I missed anything, I apologize in advance for the spelling and grammar errors.

[shipcestuous]

What do you think of Ray and Rachel from War of the Worlds? They become really close and have a lot of intimate moments, and Ray will do literally anything to keep her safe. I love when he sings her the lullaby and kisses her as she falls asleep, or after he kills Tim Robbins in the basement and Rachel gets into his lap and tries to comfort him, and then we see them sleeping in each other’s arms. So sweet.

Ray and Rachel in War of the Worlds. Their father-daughter relationship is one of my favorite things about this movie and I love how Ray will do anything to protect her.

I'm sorry for taking so long to answer your ask! It has been a long, busy week.

I recently rewatched this movie. It's funny, when I saw it when it first came out, I wasn't that impressed. I love disaster movies, and a lot of times creature features and alien invasion movies can be classified in the same category. So I think I had certain expectations of fun and War of the Worlds was a lot more serious and small-scale than I was expecting, even though it was directed by Spielberg and was a big mainstream release. But every time I have watched it, I've liked it more than I did the time before. Now it's a movie I like quite a lot, and even though it was made in 2005, I think the special effects still look really good.

To get back on topic, Rachel and the brother, Robbie, have come up at least once and possibly twice. And they have a lot of sweet moments. But there's really a lot to be said about Ray and Rachel as well. They have great development over the course of the movie.

It's unclear how long Ray and the kids' mother have been divorced but she's remarried and expecting another child so it has been at the very least a couple of years and in my opinion probably a lot longer, maybe even most of Rachel's life. The kids have a bedroom at Ray's place but it's clear enough that he hasn't been very involved in their lives. Aside from Robbie calling Ray out for caring only about himself, Ray didn't know that Rachel was allergic to peanuts, it seems like he didn't know about her competition prize, he didn't know her favorite lullabies, he didn't know about her anxiety or how the others calm her down, etc. So when the kids are handed off to Ray, she's less hostile towards him than Robbie but also doesn't exactly trust him, per se.

I love that after the kids are dropped off, Ray just goes straight to bed and tells Rachel to order food if she's hungry. It's the absolute least he could have done.

I think it's a very critical moment when Robbie wants to run off and join the fighters (I could rant about that, but it's off topic), and Rachel pleads with him: "But who is going to take care of me?" That line is as much about Ray as it is about Robbie. Even after all they had already been through in the movie at that point, Rachel still wasn't sure about Ray as a father. But then Robbie does run off. Robbie/Rachel is still a sweet relationship, but he abandons her, he really does. And Ray is the one who is there for her, and like you said, he'll do anything to protect her. (And interestingly, by running off, Robbie is showing that he trusts Ray to take care of Rachel. So it's almost like he trusts Ray before Rachel does, even though he was the more antagonistic one. Maybe because he's older and remembers when they were a family?)

Those scenes that you mentioned towards the end of the movie are so sweet. She's asking him to sing her favorite lullabies and he doesn't know them, but he does his best. Later, he's traumatized by what he had to do, overwhelmed by what they've been through and having it all on his shoulders, and she comforts him. And you really see how far they've come.

And then we get our happy ending and so much promise for the future of this family. And you know that Ray is going to be a lot more involved in their lives and probably live closer. And with the world thrown into chaos, things are going to be very different. And Rachel and Ray are definitely bonded by the intensity of what they went through, a million close calls, and seeing so many people die.

It'll be quite a few years before Rachel is an adult but her father is played by Tom Cruise, who ages at half the rate that everyone else does, so that works out. I feel like Ray would still be basically the same guy and look essentially the same even 20 years later.

It's funny, I've seen so many Tom Cruise movies, but it seems like he doesn't play fathers very much. So this movie is kind of a rare thing in that respect.